Malungu!

Since last nights entry I have pondered a bit more on Habakkuk Mdolo.  This was an impressive man.  He had an understanding of truth, of right and wrong and he lived according to the truth.  He was not afraid to question tradition or to abandon tradition when he found it fundamentally wrong. 

It was custom in Xhosa life that when your family member died you put on a feast for those attending the services.  Habakkuk shared the story of his fathers passing and how the town Elders expected a great feast to be provided for them.  Habakkuk refused to provide such a feast.  He was a grieving son with his grieving mother and siblings.  Because he refused to provide the feast the Elders and others in the town refused to provide any help digging the grave and would not provide a service for his father.  Habakkuk did not care and went about digging the grave himself.  Perhaps did not care is not the right way to phrase that.  He found it wrong for his family to have to provide a feast for people who did not care about them or their father.  He chose not to participate in that tradition. 

I mentioned yesterday that Habakkuk was a boxer.  This served him well when men from other clans would come and harass him on his farm.  His farm was located quite a distance from his home and in a territory that was home to a different clan than his own.  He spoke of conflict because of it and more than once had to fight for his life.  I would not want to be on the receiving end of a blow from Habakkuk Mdolo.  His mitts were huge.  I loved listening to his stories and also enjoyed hearing him analyse boxing champ Mike Tyson.  He was determined that he could beat Tyson.  We will never know but I would have loved to see that fight. 

Malungu!  Not a very nice Xhosa term for a white fella.  I am sure it was during my time in Ezibeleni with Elder Bell when we visited Habakkuk in his home.  Here we were two white boys getting out of our car to go into his yard where he greeted us - incidentally, it had a garden that was well maintained and beautiful. As we were greeting one another some youth down the street started yelling "malungu, malungu..."  Habakkuk invited us to inside and then said he would be right back.  He took off after those boys and taught them a bit of a lesson in manners I suppose.  It was the one and only time I was ever yelled at in a derogatory manner.  I don't imagine those boys ever spoke ill to missionaries again.

I don't know where Habakkuk Mdolo is today.  I don't even know if he is alive.  Perhaps he is working his farm, teaching others to be self reliant and standing for truth and right.  Someday I hope to have the chance to visit with him again.  Anyhow, I wanted to record my memories of Habakkuk Mdolo, a man of great faith, an example of hard work and determination.  Love that man.