A Man Named Enoch…

As I pulled up to the office on my motorcycle, I noticed two things immediately. One,  I was the only AIM staff member at the office and, two, there was a man waiting at the front door balancing himself on his crutches…

I got off my horse and tried to get a quick overview of the reason for his visit. ” I am looking for Jumbo or Musa. They said I could get some food here. I have traveled very far today to get here.” (Jumbo is the head of AIM Swaziland and Musa is part of the discipleship team.) “They are not here today,” I replied, anxious to get inside and escape the constant chatter of the man. He mixed SiSwati, English and hand gestures and I had a difficult time following his desperate plea.

 My conscience is screaming at me and I can feel my insides churn as I look from my office window at him sitting on a 2-foot wall by the stairs to the office. I tried to calm the storm that was raging inside me by sitting down behind the computer and downloading emails. I got up again in time to see an older woman pulling him to his feet and onto his crutches. It was then that I realized that this guy was not pretending to be lame; he could barely walk with those crutches. I ran out and stuffed another R10 in his hand and said much softer and kinder,  “Please phone before you travel out here next time okay?” He was thankful for the rest of the bus fare and I went back inside and stood by the window watching this man struggle to walk. Every step was labored and with great effort and it took such a long time to travel 10 feet. He was going back the way he came, but now it was uphill…  It was so difficult that a bunch of school kids gathered around him trying to help. They were cheering his every step and celebrating in the victory of him not falling flat on his face. They tried desperately to flag a taxi down for this stranger. “Why didn’t I think of that?” I caught myself saying out loud.

“The need here in Swaziland is overwhelming, and it is simply impossible to help everybody.” This is what we tell one another.  A friend of mine, Doyle Wallace, along my dear wife helped me to process through this day which was one of the most significant experiences in my time here.

Tears rolled down my cheeks again as I asked God to forgive me. I was not only seeking forgiveness, but a chance to make it right. Jodi and I decided to get his number and do a home visit and take the man food – maize meal and beans and soya. My heart sank as I learned that Musa had lost his number. There was no way to track him down, no way for me to redeem this situation. I needed God. I needed a miracle.  I agonized over this for days, and then my phone rang two weeks later and it was Musa. “That guy is back at the office,” he said.  I was on my way back from a food drop an hour’s drive away and with a quickening in my spirit and a greater sense of urgency, I stepped on the gas.
So there we were again at the office, but this time I sat down beside him and listened. His name is Enoch and he is crippled due to chemicals, he explained. He used to work for a refrigeration company where he handled chemicals on a daily basis. “This is Africa,” I thought, “the stuff that people can get away with here.” I knew in my heart that if this man were in the States he would now be living off a hefty settlement, but here the company just changed their name and is still around while many ex-employees are either crippled or dead. He lost his sight for a while and could not walk. He is in a wheelchair most of the time but is trying to get his legs to work again, therefore the difficult crutch sway. “Enoch, I brought you the boxes of food today.” He was clearly very happy. I pulled my car close to him and helped him in. For the first time I noticed how worn his shoes were and how his clothes are very dirty. Enoch doesn’t smell like he had a bath in a while, but I couldn’t be more content in this moment to have this man in my car. I was at peace and knew that I was making a difference in this one man’s life. We stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken and I grabbed him lunch for his journey back home. Looking Enoch in the eyes I said, “Enoch, please forgive me, I should have helped you the other day, I am so sorry!” He just smiled at me graciously and said that he would like to bring me one of his chickens next time… he could not stop saying thank you. His heart was overflowing with thanks and so was mine. I sat back in my car seat as we headed to the taxi rank, and I realized God had redeemed this situation and taught me a valuable lesson. Good had come from this – I met a man named Enoch who helped me far more than I helped him…

This story is dedicated to Dani