heading south

I was well prepared to leave for Zimbabwe, or so I thought. An alpha course, bible studies, prayer meetings, morning and evening worship sessions all behind me during the last year, I was well stocked to head south. Rob had become a particularly strong mentor, inviting me to his home weekly to study the bible, pray, and try to apply all this faith stuff to my life. I was all set to travel to Uganda to work as a physical education teacher across three or four schools, but all that changed when a position opened up in Zimbabwe which they considered a better fit. This was the chance to work at a national level within the head office of the Ministry of Education, Sport and Culture, working alongside the Curriculum Development Program and the Sport and Recreation Commission. When VSO approached me about this I thought it beyond my capacity, but the more I pondered on it the more exciting the prospect became.

Leaving my parents at the airport was emotional. My older brother Nigel also came to see me off. He was working in London at the time and we had re-connected during the interview process for VSO after years of estrangement. Staying at his flat turned out to be a turning point as we chatted into the wee hours, eating brie on toast and sipping a bottle of cheap red, reflecting on life's opportunities. The healing of this relationship, which has since become a close friendship, is genuine icing on the cake stuff. At the airport that evening Nigel gave me a cross he had been wearing around his neck. I took it and kept it close, trusting in it for some mystical power of guardianship in the days ahead. I thanked God as I walked stepped onto the plane. No turning back now. I thought about the life I was leaving behind - the rugby club, the school, the career plan, and a girl I had become very fond of in the church back home. If I looked brave on the outside as we took off from London, it was merely a facade.

News from Harare on the day we traveled was not good. Tanks had been brought onto the streets to quell gathering mobs protesting commodity and transport price hikes, a shape of worse to come in the decade ahead. When we landed in Harare myself and the other volunteers were driven to a hotel outside the city to begin our orientation until things settled down in the capital. The first night in the hotel I couldn't sleep. The other volunteers all seemed to be made of the 'right stuff' for VSO, but there in my bed, tossing and turning to the sound of Africa outside the window, I wasn't so convinced of my own metal. The next morning at breakfast I felt like a misfit. If someone had offered me a ticket home I would've taken it in a heartbeat. At dinner later in the orientation process I asked our trusty VSO field officer, what the tell tell signs were for volunteers leaving for home early because they couldn't hack it. "Usually it's the people who ask that question" was his response. Cheers!

When the orientation was over and all the volunteers parted for their respective placements around the country, I headed into my first day at work in the Ministry, downtown Harare. As I walked into the city the tallest building had a flashing neon sign at the top which advertised daily flights to London. "Come on Adrian, you tried this volunteering business and it wasn't for you - head off home and get your life back" were the taunts in my mind each day as I walked in to work. In the end I would extend my stay in Zimbabwe beyond the customary two years to stay a further year. Testimony not to my inner strength, or the incredible set of people and experiences around the corner, but to God's continued grace which sustained me during the highs and lows of life in Zimbabwe.