One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana. William Bond
LM had to carry their luggage about three blocks and board an old ferry that had been in service ever since Christine could remember.
Fortunately, she managed to get to the ferry dock in a timely fashion, and the river crossing proved to be uneventful. After the ferry arrived on the opposite shore, she picked up her luggage and hastened to the nearby location where she hoped to catch the bus to Xinivani.
Christine knew that it was important to make it to the bus that went to Xinivani or she would miss getting the train from Xinivani to LM. It was a long trip to Mbabane, Swaziland, even if one made all the connections. If one failed to make all the connections, there were long delays, and the trip could become a nightmare. It seemed all the more concerning now that Sara was not traveling with her. It was frightening to consider all the things that could go wrong as one traveled alone. Finally, she was relieved to see that the bus had not yet departed.
After buying a ticket, she handed her luggage to a young man who was securing such things on top of the bus. She then boarded the bus and immediately noticed that it was nearly full. She was not excited to sit down next to a black man who was unshaven and seemingly unwashed, but at least she had made this connection and had found an available seat. Before long, the driver boarded the bus, started the engine, and their journey commenced.
It didn’t take long to realize that the man sitting beside her was wearing soiled clothes that reeked of urine, and she soon became aware of the fact that some people on the bus were carrying live poultry with them. The combination of odors seemed likely to become more offensive with every passing minute.
The unpaved road was taking them through a somewhat hilly region. Portions of the road were fairly smooth, but other sections were rough because of ruts or potholes. On long upward stretches of road, the bus moved so slowly that one feared it lacked sufficient power to make the grade, and on downhill stretches of the road, they often moved along at a rate Christine considered to be unsafe. When traveling at a rapid speed, the bus swayed a lot and dust often swirled in through open windows.
The swaying motion and the unpleasant odors caused Christine to fear that she was soon going to be sick. She tried to breathe the air that was coming in through the open windows, but the warm dusty air was hardly refreshing. The general noise and the unpleasant stench was making her increasingly uncomfortable, and she feared that she might soon lose her breakfast and embarrass herself. As they swayed around a bend in the road, she was afraid that she was going to be sick immediately!
Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, and the bus began to shudder. The driver soon brought the crowded vehicle to a halt. He stepped off the bus, examined the tires, and soon announced that they’d had a blowout and he would need to change a tire. Because this chore would take a while, several people, including Christine, decided to step off the bus in order to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Christine was glad for a chance to get off the bus, and as far as she was concerned, the unexpected stop had not come a moment too soon. She was grateful that she had not embarrassed herself by getting sick in the bus. She just hoped that this delay would not cause her to miss the train in Xinivani.
The driver had soon climbed onto the roof of the bus, located a spare tire, and used a rope to lower it to the ground. Moments later, he located the jacks he would need, and he set about the business of changing a tire. While he was busy, some men from the bus took time to have a cigarette, while a couple of others moved a short distance away from the bus to relieve themselves. Christine and some of the women stood in the shade that the bus provided and patiently waited for the tire to be changed and for the flat tire to be hoisted by rope up to some available space on the roof of the bus. Probably forty-five minutes had passed before everyone again boarded the bus and they were again on their way.
Things went well for several miles, and before long, they were again in a hilly region. As they were heading up a long grade, she continued to wonder if the delay due to a flat tire would cause her to miss the train in Xinivani. She was cautiously optimistic that she would make that connection when, suddenly, another problem developed.
As they reached the summit of a hill, the driver pulled off the road and stated, in Portuguese, that the engine was overheating and there would be a delay of at least a quarter of an hour. The announcement caused Christine’s heart to sink, for the chances of missing the train to LM had just improved. Many passengers decided to get off the bus, and once again, Christine stood near the bus to take advantage of the shade that it provided. Some men loitered with the driver near the front of the bus, and others sat on the bank that edged the road. Although people were not staring at her, Christine realized that she was the only white person who was traveling on the bus. Sara was not present, so she didn’t visit with anyone while they waited. In time, the driver took some water that he carried on the bus for just such an occasion, and he added it to the radiator. When he felt that they could proceed, he gave the word, and everyone returned to be seated on the bus.
She knew that the delays were no one’s fault, but she feared that she had now missed the train to LM. When they finally reached the train station in Xinivani, a number of people, including Christine, checked to see if they had missed the train to LM, and sadly they had! “What shall I do now?” Christine asked herself.
She had never missed this connection before, and she was concerned. What would she do? With so many people standing around the depot, she assumed that there must be other trains leaving the station, but she realized the only useful train was one that would take her to LM. As she stood on the covered platform, she felt very conspicuous. It seemed that she was the only white person in the area, and she wondered if all eyes were on her. If people were thinking about her, what might they be thinking? She saw an available seat on a distant bench, so she picked up her suitcase and moved toward it.
Sitting here and there along the platform, she saw a few beggars with outstretched hands. They were often seen at depots or other places where a number of people might see them and pity them enough to spare them a few coins. Their outstretched hands and pleading eyes made Christine feel uncomfortable, and for a time, she almost wished that she could be invisible. She continued toward the bench trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but she could not help noticing a pitiful old man who was sitting on the pavement not far from that bench. The opaque look in his eyes suggested that he was probably blind. For him, she may have been invisible, yet he seemingly sensed a presence and stretched out his hand toward her pleadingly. She felt real pity for the unfortunate man who had to beg for a living. She would like to have helped him—and others who were in need, too, but she was a schoolgirl living on limited means. Mother had advised her that, in certain places, it was unwise to hand out any money. It was hard to give to some and not to others, and a person who seemed to be doling out money was apt to be mobbed.
At last, she reached the bench and sat down. A few moments passed, and when she felt no one was watching, she stealthily took a few coins from her pocket and put them in the blind man’s cup. Although he had not seen Christine, he spoke words of appreciation. She knew that Jesus had acknowledged that the poor would always be with us, and her small bit of charity was pretty insignificant, yet she also recalled a Bible verse where Jesus had indicated that “wherever you have done something for the least of my brothers, you have done it for me.” In this instance, a small act of charity seemed to be the right thing to do.
About fifteen minutes after she had taken her seat, a train pulled up and stopped at the depot. A number of people boarded the train, but she knew that this train was not heading where she wanted to go. After the train had departed, there were very few people left on the platform. Even some of the beggars had departed from the premises. Christine had never spent a night in Xinivani, for it wasn’t much of a town and the hotel that she could see looked pretty dubious.
It was now midafternoon, and Christine was becoming very concerned. She didn’t like the looks of the hotel, and it seemed dangerous if not unthinkable to spend the night at the depot. Unfortunately, she saw no one to whom she could turn to for help. She was in a dilemma, and she silently lifted her concerns. “What shall I do, Lord?” she said to herself. “What shall I do?”
Several minutes later, it occurred to her that she ought to make further inquiries at the ticket window, but when she came to the window, she saw that there was no attendant on duty and the office