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Published: November 5th 2005
Nairobi, Kenya
Miranda, Marit (Dutch girl met on the airplane from Dubai) and Bryan arrive in Nairobi. Our first stop was the Commercial Bank of Africa to get shillings. We took the train across Kenya to Mombassa. Then we went up the coast to Lamu. —
May 5th 1994 SOUTH AFRICA: The Transitioning to Democracy With the exception of the
United States and
Israel, most of the world had imposed sanctions against South Africa, and was opposed to white minority rule. In 1976 when the Transkei became independent, the practice of restricting black South Africans legal place of residence to homelands or reserves was already entrenched in the apartheid system. Although these homelands appeared to be run by the black people, in reality they were run by the whites. This system of "oppression by remote control" was quite simple: white people put black people in power and allowed them to stay in power as long as they obeyed the whites.
The Transkei, was typical. A Xhosa man, by the name of H.M. Mayekiso (Mr.Mac), was loaned a large amount of money, with which he was able to purchase almost all the businesses and property in Butterworth. He owned everything and could do anything as long as he repaid the loans, with interest, on a monthly basis and did what the government told him to do. The courts, the police, and the church were all
Namirembe Guest House Kampala, Uganda
From Kenya we traveled to Uganda: Kampala, Mityana, Mbale, Lake Victoria etc. This is the view from the Anglican Cathedral looking out over the capital. in his pocket.
The Presidential Suite
The Canadian media had greatly oversimplified the situation in South Africa as a problem between black and white. Rather it was a complex mix of Xhosa, Zulu, Afrikaners, English, Colored, (mixed race) and Indians. We found South Africa to be a wonderful country of great beauty: lots exotic wildlife, tropical vegetation, etc. As Miranda and I looked out the car window we passed
Village of Mvezo, the home of Nelson Mandela. Our trip from Umtata to
St Chad's Church in Butterworth took less than two hours. Upon our arrival we were greeted by Archdeacon MacDonald Ziqu, a jocular priest with a great sense of humor. He and his wife Gertrude welcomed us warmly to South Africa. "You will be staying the night at the Presidential Suite at one of the Transkei's major hotels. It is owned by our church warden, Mr. Mac."
The Presidential Suite was so named because it was reserved for the President of the
Republic of Transkei when he visited. Our first meeting with the owner took place the following morning. Mr. Mac was impressive. He was well over six feet tall...his hands were three times the size of mine. Although he spoke softly,
Bronte Hotel, Harare, Zimbabwe
We traveled south to Zimbabwe. We spent quite a bit of time 'relaxing' in Harare and Bulawayo. he was somehow intimidating, yet he was charming and generous to the new priest from Canada. He made available to me anything I needed, from his tape recorder (to practice my Xhosa), to his Mercedes Benz automobile (although I suspect that my driving worried him). We were really enjoying our new parish!
A typical day
St Chad's Church and the attached Rectory were on Mnyani St. off Kentani road in the Colored Township. I noticed there was little or no racial tension in Butterworth. Most people were nice and friendly with each other. One day as I was getting my haircut, Ruby, my collared hairdresser, explained why. Transkei was not just for blacks but for people who did not follow the race laws. She explained that because Rowen, her husband, was white and she was not, they had moved to Butterworth. Many others had similar stories. Therefore there was much more racial tolerance in Butterworth than in other parts of South Africa. A typical day in Butterworth went as follows:
6 a.m. - Arose and had breakfast. Said good bye to Miranda, who left to teach at New Horizon School.
7 a.m.
Butterworth, Transkei, South Africa.
From Zimbabwe we continued our journey: Pretoria, Johannesburg and finally Butterworth. - Watched news and weather on SABC: temperature
—low: 40 degrees F
—High: 75 degrees F. A warm sunny day but getting cold at night. (Early winter)
7:30 a.m. - Morning Prayer & Bible Study
8:30 a.m. - Morning Walk
9:00 a.m. - Prepared service
—Sermon
12 noon - Purchased items needed for the Sunday service and pastoral visiting. Also bought lunch at Mr Ndukwana's store.
4:00 p.m - Went to the library
5:00 p.m. - Returned home and talked to Miranda about school
6:00 pm - Went to Randy's for supper and watched two videos : "Leviathan" and "White Hunter Black Heart"
10:30 p.m. - Returned home and went to bed.
Knobkerrie
I was given an invitation to visit Miranda at her new place of employment, the local English
—speaking school, New Horizon. Mrs Enid Ryall, the headmistress, took me on a tour, giving me a chance to meet some of the children in their classes. What a delight! They liked my sense of humor and laughed and giggled at my stories. The only person who did not seem to be enjoying herself was the stern-faced headmistress.
One timid
Mr Ndukwana's store
Miranda and I would often grab a bite to eat at Mr. Ndukwana's variety store . I was particularly fond of his Cornish pasties and samosas. little girl asked, "Father, why do you always carry a big stick? It is not to beat us?"
I held up my
knobkerri and told them it was not to hurt children, rather to scare away large dogs. "There are many, many big dogs in Butterworth and I ..."
Enid Ryall interrupted, saying, "You do not need to carry a walking-stick! Simply look the dog in the eye and say, 'What do you think you are doing?'"
I responded, "What if the dog speaks only Xhosa?"
The children laughed. Mrs Ryall did not! I decided to stay clear of Enid Ryall.
**Now I should mention for the record that I used my walking stick to scare dogs away—not to beat them. I would never hit an animal.
***Well that is not exactly true. One evening Miranda and I were walking in Extension 2 when a pack of dogs came charging toward us. I swung my knobkerri in front of the leader of the pack. Unfortunately I misjudged his speed and struck him squarely on the snout. He let out a yelp, then turned tail and ran away. Luckily the pack followed him
The Butterworth Country Club
Miranda, her boss and headmistress, Enid, and Sheba (the dog) take advantage of the large golf course and its grounds in Butterworth. and we were not hurt.
Kickback 1990
A particularly corrupt Bishop from an "independent" church had had an accident with his Mercedes and but was not insured. Due to the grace of God, Mr. Mac, who owned a car dealership and was a good friend, agreed to make the insurance claim under his own fleet. The Bishop was elated at Mr. Mac's generosity and wanted to make him a substantial gift of several thousand
rand (the South African currency). The gift was to be presented to Mr. Mac at the Presidential Suite of his hotel. I was asked to bless this gift!
There were several speeches on how good a friend Mr. Mac was to this Bishop. Mr. Mac told those of us assembled that he was doing what he did out of the goodness of his heart, and expected nothing in return. The Bishop made another speech in which he explained that Mr. Mac deserved the money, then looked at me and said, "You are Mr. Mac's priest... you must make him accept this gift out of the love of God." Of course I was expected to give a little speech and say what
H.M Mayekiso (Mr.Mac) Butterworth (Gcuwa), South Africa
"Mr. Mac" and Bryan in front of St. Andrews Church, Kentani. Behind it was the Seminary where B taught Xhosa pastors. (Fall 1990 FotoetimePhoto CR) a good Christian Mr. Mac was, bless the money and pass it onto Mr. Mac.
I felt sick. To me this was insurance fraud with a kickback to Mr. Mac. How could I bless this? All eyes were on Mr. Mac's priest. I slowly walked over to the table holding the money, picked up the large pile of cash and said, "What we should do is give this money to the poor who live in the squatter's camp."
Shock! Mr. Mac and his Bishop friend were stunned. The poor never got the kickback: Mr. Mac's wife snatched the money from me and gave it to her husband, everyone was embarrassed and lost face. Yet, I can honestly say that I was never called upon to bless another kickback.
Attempted Coup - Umtata 1990
"I would stay away from the window," said the Dean of the Cathedral.
"Are we in any danger?" I asked, with some trepidation.
"Of course -- this is Africa," he answered with a chuckle as the guns and mortar-fire blasted two blocks away! I had been trying to phone Miranda at home to tell her that I was all
Kentani Seminary.
Kentani Seminary was a school for training pastors. I taught Biblical Scholarship with a focus on Luke/Acts. The idea for creating such a Bible School in the Transkei came from its founder Harry Oosthuyzen. right, and so were the other priests at the Synod. However, I discovered that all communication to Umtata had been cut.
"Don't worry too much," teased the Dean. "Nobody will shoot a priest! It is bad luck!"
I was told that Mr. Mac and his 'friends' were attempting to overthrow the Government of Transkei. Apparently, two nights before there had been a high-level meeting in the Presidential Suite of his hotel at which it was decided that the time was ripe to topple the government. All assumed that the coup would be successful because the present government had fallen into disfavor with the 'white' government of South Africa. When the coup failed, everyone was shocked, particularly Mr. Mac. He was questioned by the police, but nothing more happened (except that this failure was an embarrassment).
Mr. Mnyapi
The town of Butterworth was a small, industrial community with a number of distinct neighborhoods. The downtown consisted of a library, a central square with a bowling green, Sparg's Supermarket and the
Wayside (an upscale hotel/restaurant where we liked to eat). Just outside of town was
Butterworth Lake, formed by the Gcuwa Dam. It was so large that
The Tobatshana (Toboshane) Congregation
This church not far from Butterworth had a very loving and caring congregation; Mr. Mnyapi is in the centre of the backrow. people went boating on it.The main road was King Street and ran up hill to the top of town. This higher-ground neighborhood was one of the best, with large homes, beautiful lawns and gardens. All in all Butterworth was a very pleasant place.
Miranda and I made several inquiries regarding the history of region, and were surprised that the British missionary Nigel Fox was still remembered. Granny Gojo helped us put some of the pieces of the puzzle together. Sipho Mnyapi had become a teacher and retired with his wife near the little town of Tobatshana (now called Toboshane). He was a lay reader in the Anglican Church until he passed away, and I was honored to be asked to preside at his funeral. Both my wife and I found the history of this community fascinating.
The Archbishop's Visit - July 1991
Secret security forces took their place around our house. Large crowds gathered near the entrance door, waving, cheering and ululating. The Archbishop, the Archdeacon and I passed through the crowds and were met by the waiting church women and other well-wishers. Our large dining room at St. Chad's Rectory was filled to capacity
Tobatshana (Toboshane) Transkei, South Africa
Bryan and the beginnings of the new church in Tobatshana. (Summer 1991 FotoetimePhoto CR) as we arrived for dinner. Desmond Tutu was a world-recognized and outspoken figure in the fight to end apartheid in the 1980s. He had lowered his profile after the 1990 release from prison of Nelson Mandela.
After dinner, the Archbishop toured the area, including the squatter's camp, and then arrived at the Town Hall. The building was packed, with hundreds of people waiting to hear him speak. Although he is not a tall or large man, Desmond's presence filled the hall. He had proved himself over the years to be a Spirit-filled Christian, one of those great souls who cannot be bribed or intimidated.
He spoke about the foolishness of apartheid and the racial hatred. "Separating people because of the color of their skin is as ridiculous as separating people on the basis of the size of their nose." He asked us to "imagine a society where people with small noses could not marry or socialize with those with big noses. Imagine having one set of toilet facilities and drinking fountains for people with big noses, and another set for those with small noses. Imagine spending millions to set up a government department of
Big Nose Affairs."
The Archbishop's visit*
The Archbishop, Bryan, and the Archdeacon walk about the field in front of our home. *Distortion: Travelblog photos are best viewed with Internet Explorer or Microsoft Edge. Everyone present was charmed by his wit and reason. Then the Archbishop turned deadly serious: "White oppression is ending. The threat is no longer from them. The history of Africa has been to replace one set of oppressors with an even worse set of oppressors."
I looked over at Mr. Mac as Desmond continued: "There are black people, our own people, who, out of greed and lust for power, will treat us more brutally than the whites ever did. The real risk to liberty comes from our own. Remember, the devil is an equal-opportunity employer. He will use our own people to do his work if we let him ...."
Then the Archbishop's mood switched back to jocularity as he finished his speech and was called to receive a gift presented by the wives of three of the Parish's priests. First, he thanked the women. Then, he gave Mrs. Ziqu (who was very, very black) a kiss on the cheek. Then Mrs Ndumo (brown) got a kiss. Everyone waited to see what he would do when he came to Miranda. In South Africa, black men did not touch white women.
The hall was completely quiet
Welcome, Archbishop!
Mrs. Gertrude Ziqu welcomes Archbishop Desmond during his visit (outside our St. Chad's Rectory home). as he embraced her and gave her a kiss. Then he leaned into the microphone and declared with a sparkle in his eye, "Different flavors."
I could see Archdeacon Ziqu chuckling at my Miranda being the Archbishop's 'flavor of the month'!
The Butterworth Country Club
It had been a long, hard week. I had one last stop before my day off officially began.
"Molo, molo, mFundisi," said Fr. Ziqu.
"Molo, Archdeacon," I replied. "My wife has once again forgotten to collect the Communion wafers from you for Sunday."
He laughed. (It had been the Archdeacon who had forgotten, but in Transkei the Xhosa never accuse anyone of anything directly!) "I will give them to her today."
The 10-minute walk from the Archdeacon's home to the Butterworth Country Club was beautiful. The houses dropped away and stands of trees cropped up on either side of the road. Things were much greener than in the center of town and you could imagine you had stepped into the country. Soon you could see the golf course with its neat, clipped greens. The whole area seemed like an oasis.
As I walked
Different Flavours!
Archbishop Desmond Tutu being presented with a gift at the Butterworth Town Hall through the club's gates and headed toward the club house, I was once again struck by the sharp contrast between the golf course and the "squatter's camp" on a low rise on the other side of the property. The buildings were ramshackle, with torn plastic bags caught up in the grass and bushes. (Some people we knew referred to the plastic bag as "Transkei's national flower".)
I headed into the club and turned left toward the bar. The Country Club was divided into two sections, the bar and the restaurant. It didn't look like much on the outside, but the inside was attractively decorated, with windows looking out over the golf course. Inside the bar section were several tables with chairs, plus a horseshoe shaped bar with stools. The club was already starting to fill, as Friday afternoon and evening was the busiest time of the week. Sean O'Meara called out, "Over here, Father," pointing to an empty seat at the bar. "What can I get you?"
"A
Castle Lager would be good."
"There is nothing better than a cold Castle on a hot African afternoon."
As we sipped our beer, I could tell that Sean was
Bryan and his colleagues
Archdeacon Ziqu, St Peter's Church; Father Bryan, St Chads Church; and the Deacon Zazaza outside the entrance to St. Peter's Anglican Church, Butterworth, Transkei. not himself. "What's wrong?" I asked.
A visibly shaken Sean replied, "You will never believe it."
"What?"
Sean told me that he had just returned from a business meeting with Mr. Mac. During the course of the meeting, Sean had heard a thumping sound coming from the back of Mr. Mac's Mercedes. As Sean watched, Mr Mac walked over to the boot (the trunk), opened it, and revealed a man tied up inside. His big fist struck the man's head, producing silence, and then he closed the boot. Afterwards, the business continued as if nothing had happened.
A crowd had been gathering at the bar as Sean told his tale. As he finished, the floodgates opened! We heard one tale after another of theft, intimidation and murder on Mr. Mac's part. It was no coincidence that the rectors of Butterworth had quit or transferred one after the other.
I must admit I was skeptical. On Monday I made my way to the Magistrate's Office and asked for the criminal proceedings against Mr. Mac. There were many, including a conviction for cattle theft, which in South Africa was worse than horse theft in North American's old
St. Peter's Anglican Church, Butterworth, South Africa
St. Peter's church taken from the road. Beside it was the residence of Archdeacon Ziqu west.
"Why is this man not in prison?" I exclaimed.
"This is Africa," replied the magistrate!
"Mini Mac"
Mr Mac had two sons. The first was Nash, a kind-hearted gentleman with a great sense of humor. The other, who I will refer to as "Mini Mac" was, well ... the opposite.
One day I dropped by the local video store to return some videos. The girl behind the counter was on the verge of tears.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
She explained that Mini Mac had taken out nine videos and was refusing to return them. They were now "his". The girl was going to have to cover the cost, and was very distressed because they were worth a lot of money.
"Why would he do that? He is not poor!"
"To show he is a big 'man'."
After pondering my response, I told the girl that I would cover the cost of the stolen videos. All she needed to do was tell people that Mr. Mac's priest had paid for them because Mini Mac had brought shame upon himself and the church.
It was like
The Potgieter Wedding:
Jackie March (bride); Bryan (at back); Archdeacon Ziqu; Jacob Potgieter (far right). We all had a great time. The Archdeacon's speech at the reception was a highlight: his sense of humour had everyone laughing. a 'petrol bomb' had gone off! The entire Mayekiso family lost face. From that day forward I knew I had made powerful enemies of Mr. Mac's family, with the exception of Nash.
St. Chad's Anglican Church 1992
"The Bishop is concerned about what has happened to the previous archdeacons: Miataza, Mzamane and Ziqu, and has sent me to sort out the corruption in the Church." That summarized the position of the newest Archdeacon of Butterworth, Father Livingstone Macingwane.
The new rector explained that "Mr. Mac was a brutal man" and referred to Mr. Mac as the 'Big Feet'. "It is time to remove those 'feet' from the necks of the people."
"But how can you stand up to a man such as Mr. Mac?" I asked, concerned for the new archdeacon's safety.
"Easily," he replied. "I am sending you to teach the people of St. Chad's congregation the Acts and Canons of the Church. Then you are to hold proper elections for wardens and the Station Committee." (Although Mr. Mac had 'ruled' the Anglican Church for ten years, he had never been properly elected.)
"Why have me do it?" I asked.
Home of the Head Mistress of New Horizon School, Enid Ryall
Miranda stands outside the gate to the lovely home of Enid. She was Melissa's boss. "Because you are a priest by calling, but a lawyer by profession," he answered. "Don't worry, Bryan," he assured me,"I will stand firmly behind you So will the Bishop."
I discussed the whole matter with Miranda. The risk was real, and yet we both felt it was God's will that we challenge the system of racial oppression that had enslaved so many people. The irony was not lost on us. The whites were using a black man to oppress the people, the blacks were using a white priest to challenge that system. Miranda and I excelled at our task. Proper elections were held, and, as a result, Mr. Mac lost power and face. I was the "Mfundisi who drove the devil out of St Chad's Church"! Father Macingwane had been true to his word and backed me fully. The new archdeacon smiled and said, "You see how simple it was -- and you were worried!"
St. Peter's Church Shooting 1992 (Blowback)
As Father Macingwane watched television with his four year old daughter, three miles away I was holding an emergency meeting of St. Chad's Church Committee. Mr. Mac, unhappy at having been excluded from a
Butterworth Hospital
Bryan was called upon to visit at the hospital and did the chapel services on occasion. position of authority at St. Chad's, had been attempting to intimidate church members. Even more frightening, I learned that the "police" were investigating me! People on the committee had been questioned about church doings. I felt we were in over our heads. So did the rest of the Committee. All of us decided to immediately go to St Peter's Church, and meet with Archdeacon Macingwane, to discuss our next course of action.
When we arrived at St Peter's rectory we were shocked by what we found. Someone had shot at the front of Father Macingwane's home. An hour before, while he and his youngest daughter had been watching TV, gunmen had opened fire on the front room. The bullets had hit the roof, so no one had been hurt, but the message was clear.
Somersault
After the shooting, Father Macingwane reversed his position regarding Mr. Mac and, suggested I to do likewise. He had collapsed under the pressure from Mr. Mac. Miranda's response was clear and unequivocal. If Father Macingwane and I reversed our positions after the shooting we were both "wimps". I reminded Miranda that she could be Mr. Mac's next target! I battled
with the decision. A delegation came to meet with me. They wanted to know if Father Macingwane and I had done a "somersault" and reversed our position. I explained that I had never been good at gymnastics and my position remained the same. The delegation was elated.
The Bishop then summoned Miranda and me to Umtata. He told us that the situation had gotten out of hand. He informed us that he could no longer guarantee our safety. To our shock, he came right out and told us that Mr. Mac was capable of "doing us in". Clearly, the Bishop feared for our well-being. Miranda rose to the occasion and lectured both the Bishop and myself on what it meant to be a Christian. In the end, it was agreed that we would stay, but Miranda and I would have to sign a statement indicating that we had been warned of the risks and released the Diocese of all responsibility in the event of our death or injury.
Floored
I immediately dropped to our rectory floor. The automatic weapon fire I heard seemed to be coming from across the street. I really believed I was
The Park, Butterworth, South Africa.
This photo was taken in the middle of winter. LOL going to die at the hand of Mr. Mac's assassins. Then I heard the "boom" of rockets and mortar-fire. Surely this was overkill! After all, I was only one person, and unarmed at that. Yet, I kept my head down as a bullet ricocheted off the outside wall of our home.
After the dust settled, it became clear what had happened. The military wing of the Pan African Congress had attacked an armored truck which had just made a pick-up across the street at the Weir's store. In truth, violence was spreading throughout South Africa. Thankfully, this was not aimed at me.
Another Archdeacon
Father Macingwane resigned his position as Archdeacon of Butterworth as Mr. Mac had started worshiping at St Peter's Church (after I had forced him out of St Chad's Church). The new priest sent to take his place was Father Ntlali. He was a young but experienced priest. He had a wife, but no children. Right from the start he struck us as being filled with the courage and love of Jesus. I wondered if he would fare better than Fathers Miataza, Mzmane, Ziqu and Macingwane. In any event, we became good
African Cat
Brutus, a wild cat, moved in to our home and adopted us as his family! He loved to pose for photos and follow Bryan around the church. friends. He preached against Mr. Mac's reign of terror and once again, Mr. Mac lost power and face.
'Granny' Gojo
"...and he was prepared to do what was right when it was not in his interest to do so. He taught us how free men behave," said Mr. Letlaka, former Minster of Defense. Then he turned to Miranda, saying, "No less brave was his pretty wife, who was always prepared to speak the truth ... at the wrong time ...."
I looked around the room as people spoke at our final farewell in South Africa. Archdeacon Ziqu made a dramatic entrance. Father Ntlali pulled me aside and related the following story. 'Granny' Gojo, one of the oldest and most active Anglicans, had visited the Archdeacon. He asked her what she thought of the white priest. She looked confused and told him there was no white priest in the parish. He corrected her, telling her that the priest's name was Father Bryan Porter.
She started to giggle as she exclaimed, "You know, we have forgotten that he is white!"
As we started the long journey home, our first stop was the Synod office in
The Office/Lounge
The office/lounge at St. Chad's Rectory takes shape. Umtata. There we once again met with the dean, Father Mzamane (the Archdeacon of the parish up to 1990). I explained there had been a happy end to the struggle in his former parish. Dean Mzamane laughed, with a knowing look in the eye, and observed that the new archdeacon had "yet to be tested".
The ordeal did have a lasting effect on both of us. However, Nelson Mandela was finally elected president. Also Mr. Mac was 'struck' dead. The cause of death remains a mystery. It appears he just died. Many assured us he was verifiably dead. As they put it, "Mr. Mac is late. He is no more." Miranda and I decided to take a long time traveling home. We toured through much of, Zimbabwe and Zambia, then up to Egypt and over to Greece. In Greece we stayed at
Joseph House for several months as we became good friends with Marianne and Pier (the managers) as well a Laura, Kevin and Nioke. It was our base for exploring Greece.
On my return home I met with the Archbishop of Canada, Stewart Payne. He suggested I make myself available to the House of Bishops which was soon
to meet in Toronto. This led eventually to my posting in beautiful, historic Peachland.
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Links:
Biney
non-member comment
To Miranda
Great Work!