The Thin Places

Waiting for the bus to the next village out of the capital, I was beginning to realize it was going to be a long day. It was the end of the month, which in Botswana means when everybody is paid, and therefore when everybody goes out and buys a months’ worth of food and supplies, and often booze. Another guy going in my direction informed me that a bus had gone by 10 minute before and that it was full. 

“An actual bus or a combi?” I asked. The combis are always full by this stop, but I’ve never seen a bus full anywhere near here. He swore it was a bus, but said another one was coming soon. We debated a bit on when another real bus would actually come, and I wondered if I made the wrong decision by not going directly to the bus rank for transport, even though it would be back tracking. That guy caught a hitch with a passing car, and I began to wonder if that was my best option. Another guy sat next to me and showed way more interest in me than I was happy with, and so after some awkward small talk I was happy to flag down a passing bus and literally run away from that situation. The bus was not completely full, but I did make the hour trek standing up. Happy to be on my way, it didn’t bother me at all.

Once we got to the next village, 1pm by this time, I got groceries and a bite to eat, and headed to that bus rank a little over an hour later. The bus rank was crowded. My usual stop to catch a combi had a line of fifty or sixty people in it. Usually there is five to ten at most. And we waited. And waited. Finally a combi came, and it fit about 10 people and a whole seat of beer, and was off. We waited some more. A guy came up and talked to me and I thought he was going to hit on me, so I wasn’t very talkative. Then another guy came up, proclaimed he was in love with me and wanted a serious relationship. I told him no, I was leaving soon. He kept bothering me. I told him I definitely wasn’t dating him if he couldn’t take no for an answer; yes means yes, no means no. He still bugged me. I finally told him off and turned away from him, and he laughed and left me alone. A third combi came, filled, and let people that wanted to stand come forward, so I jumped at the chance, since it was after 3:30 at this point. Our crammed combi puttered to Letlhakeng, bumping along the 26km of dirt road that will be repaved someday.

Getting off the combi at the hitching tree, there were already 20 people waiting for rides, and as I soon found out, not that many people stopping to give said rides. I let others fight over a truck or 2 at first, thinking it would clear the crowd but combis kept dropping more and more people, so I soon realized I was going to have to fight my way into a truck. Around 6 a truck came and I pushed into it, not caring which village it was going to. Once I got situated I heard a lot of people saying Salajwe, so I knew I scored a ride all the way home. Bumping along the road was chilly and uncomfortable, and a former Lempu student kept trying to talk to me until I basically had to ignore her for her to get the idea that I couldn’t talk to her then, because I kept getting sand in my eyes every time I turned to face her. Hopefully she stops by school next week and I can explain I didn’t mean to be rude.

When we got to the next village, I realized I had been mistaken and the ride was stopping there. It was after dusk although not completely dark, and I was stuck. I could sleep at Aileen’s but I knew she and I didn’t have a spare sleeping bag for this cold night. And I was a little annoyed that people told me the truck was going all the way to my village when it wasn’t, and I said so to the driver, trying to shame him a bit into helping me. He offered to take me in a few hours after he picked more people in Letlhakeng, but I turned him down saying I wasn’t allowed to travel at night. I tried to flag the next truck coming along, and lo and behold, it was a teacher from my school! He said he’d call someone else to pick me up since he was full, but the old women in the back squished and made room for me. This was one of the most uncomfortable rides I’ve ever had. It was freezing, dark, I felt unsteady in the truck like I might get bumped out, and I was sliding off the wheel onto an old lady next to me holding a child wrapped in a blanket. 10 minutes in I thought we broke down, but we started up again minutes later. 

In the midst of all of this, as the dust cleared from passing another vehicle, I glanced up at a magnificently starry sky and perfect crescent moon. I pushed my head scarf back for a minute, forgot how cold and uncomfortable I was, and just gazed. And remembered that God is here, even in this moment. And I said thank you. A minute or so later I looked back into my lap as I braced myself the best I could and tried to stay in the truck, and in my spot in the truck. When we finally reached my village, it felt like we had been in the back of that truck for hours. My teacher dropped me at school, and I made the seven minute walk to my house in the dark, avoiding cows and cow poop as I waded through the deep sand. It was 8 hours after I left the capital this morning, and I had made it 160km, or 100 miles.

My day wasn’t bad, just exhausting. In the midst of all of the chaos and traveling, God showed up, just to say hi and let me know He’s still there. In the middle of the desert, on the edge of the Kalahari, in between 2 small villages on a dirt road, is a thin place. A place where for a moment, the veil separating heaven and earth was thinner than usual, and a holy moment happened.