One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana. William Bond
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she would just leave the whole matter in God’s hands.
After singing the Shangaan version of “Silent Night,” the service ended and people began to make their way out of the church. Christine lingered in the church to wait for her mother who had tidied up a bit near the piano. As they were leaving the church, Mr. Rankin bade them a merry Christmas and they might have had to walk home with him and his family, but a Shangaan woman had lingered nearby to speak with Christine.
“Xe weni, Mu Shangaaniana,” she said, greeting one whom she had known since birth.
Then inquiring how she was, she said, “Wa hania xana?”
They chatted briefly, and Christine was glad that the Rankins had headed for home without them.
When Christine and Mother finally got home, they were a bit hungry, so after the lanterns were lit and some water had been heated, they had tea and enjoyed some of the fruitcake that Mother had recently made.
After they had finished eating, Mother poured more tea, but she took their plates and the fruitcake back into the kitchen. When she returned from the kitchen, she took a box out of the nearby hutch, and the two then played several games of dominoes until the mantle clock announced that it was nine o’clock.
It seemed to be time for bed, so they both went about their evening routines, and finally they knelt for prayer by the sofa. After the prayer had been said, they each picked up a lantern and bade each other good night before entering their own bedrooms.
Although Christine closed her door, she did not extinguish her lantern. Instead, she worked quietly on her project for about an hour and a half. When she felt that Mother was asleep, she quietly left her own room, and with a basket full of things in one hand and a lantern in the other, she entered the living room where she intended to silently continue her secretive activities. The mantle clock had announced that it was twelve thirty before she finished her project and finally returned to her room for the night. After putting out the lantern, she got into bed, but her mind was still excited, and sleep did not come quickly.
Would Mother like the surprise? She certainly hoped so. She tried to relax, but she heard the clock strike one, and later, she heard the chimes signal that it was a quarter past one. It was sometime after that when she finally fell asleep.
In the morning, Christine arose earlier than usual. After dressing quickly and quietly, she took the gifts which she had wrapped on the previous day out to the living room and placed them under the Christmas tree. She hadn’t had much time for shopping in LM on her way home from school, but she hoped that Mother would like the things which she had purchased for her.
She then went into the kitchen and built a fire in the woodstove. She boiled some water for tea, and she also cut some slices off Mother’s recently made bread. She set the table, put the bread, butter, and marmalade on the table, and lit some candles in the dining area and the living room. She scrambled some eggs and then placed them on the stove where they would remain warm but not get overcooked. The sun had been above the horizon for several minutes before she decided to call her mother for breakfast.
She knocked lightly on her mother’s bedroom door and said, “Merry Christmas!” Then, using a line that her mother had often used, she added, “Time to rise and shine!” She also said, “Put on your robe and slippers and come to breakfast. I have it ready.”
A few moments later, Mother came out of her room and entered the living room. “What’s this?” she exclaimed, showing complete surprise.
“It snowed during the night,” Christine replied with a smile. “We’ve had a blizzard, and we’re having a white Christmas—just like you used to have in Michigan!”
“My, my,” Mother said, looking around the room. “Someone has certainly been busy here. This is a surprise, and a lovely one at that.”
The paper chains that had decorated the tree were gone, and the tree was now decorated with numerous white paper snowflakes that were delicately shaped and quite different from one another. Yards of yarn had been strung across the room from the tops of various windows and doors, and from these strands of yarn, other snowflakes hung at various heights. It seemed that there were hundreds of them, and it appeared that no two were alike! The remnants from cutting the paper had been cut into tiny pieces to resemble snow, and these had been scattered on the mantle, the top of the piano, and on top of the table that stood behind the sofa.
Mother walked about the room, ducking to avoid some snowflakes while pausing to admire others.
“We’ve really had a blizzard, haven’t we?” she said, finally giving Christine an appreciative hug. “You really have been busy!” She smiled. “I can see that we are having a white Christmas…and perhaps it’s the only one in all of Africa! You must have been up all night.”
“I was up for a while,” acknowledged Christine. Then she said, “I have breakfast ready, so you just sit down at the table, and I’ll bring the tea and the food right in.”
“I love surprises…and I love you,” Mother said, as she embraced Christine. Christine then went into the kitchen feeling happy that her surprise had been well received. She carried out a pot of tea, and then, she returned to the kitchen to get the scrambled eggs.
Clara looked around the front room, and almost felt tears coming into her eyes. Her daughter was nearly grown and would be going abroad, before long, to continue her education. How would she ever get along without her? She also had a surprise for Christine, but she decided that it could wait until later.
After setting the plates down, Christine sat down, and Mother said a brief prayer. They said “Merry Christmas!” to each other, and then, they took time to enjoy the pleasure of a leisurely breakfast together.
Earlier in the week, Clara and Nell Rankin had volunteered to work at the health-care facility on Christmas so that Ms. Ferguson could have an entire day free from responsibilities. Clara had said that she would work in the morning, so not long after breakfast had ended, both she and Christine got dressed and then walked down to the facility that was actually comprised of three parts. Part of one building was known as the dispensary. This was where first-aid items, bandages, some medicines, and various medical supplies were kept. The other part of that building was used for consultation with patients, delivering babies, performing minor surgeries, and dealing with things of that sort. Nearby, there were six small Shangaan-styled huts where patients and their close relatives could stay during a time of recuperation. Things that required expert medical attention, of course, were handled in better-equipped facilities which could be found in Manjacaze or in other cities.
Ms. Ferguson was a capable nurse with years of experience who had managed the facility alone most of the time, but there were occasions when she needed assistance. In recent days, there had been several births and a variety of injuries, so Clara had been giving her a lot of help. Ms. Ferguson was very devoted to the people she was helping, but Clara and Nell Rankin had insisted that she take a full day off on Christmas. Clara had said that she and Christine could visit the patients or visit with each other until Nell Rankin came to relieve them in the afternoon. Christine had willingly gone along with this plan because it was sure to be more interesting than staying home alone.
During the time that they were on duty, there were no emergencies, but Clara checked on some young gals who had had their own mothers with them much of the time since they had given birth. Then, she and Christine talked about one thing or another until Nell Rankin arrived around 2:00 p.m.
As they were leaving the health-care facility, they saw some Shangaan women in the vicinity, so they went over to greet them, and the women seemed happy to see the one whom they had always known as Mu Shangaaniana. After a brief conversation, they wished each other a merry Christmas, in Shangaan, and then, Christine and her mother headed up the hill toward home.
Although many Shangaans had some knowledge of Christmas, their general poverty did not allow them to celebrate the occasion as the missionaries did. They had no Christmas trees or an exchange of presents, but sometimes they were able to have a meal that was more special than usual. Most Shangaans had never set foot inside any of the