We searched for Ndumiso for several hours today. Afterward we met up at the Good News Centre in Clermont, said a prayer, and then dispersed back to our homes.
Before we left, a man wandered in and asked if he could speak to Rick privately. Sonya and I watched closely as they walked outside to the porch, and I took as close a look as I could to see if he had anything in his pockets; then we watched from the window. We’re all trying to take every precaution to stay safe in this dangerous search we’ve found ourselves in, so after a couple of minutes I walked outside and hovered in the area down the steps. Just so the guy wouldn’t get too confident he could make a run for it.
I looked down the road and saw “Pinky,” the little boy I held in my lap as we drove him to the clinic after he blasted off his fingers with firecrackers. I had heard he was at Sunday school today but I haven’t seen him since we left him at the clinic.
I started shouting, “Pinky!” and then realized that meant nothing. “Little boy!” Still nothing. He was running away, not seeing or hearing me. I took off, with the slight thought that Rick might not like seeing me run down the road in the township. I caught up with another boy, who didn’t speak English, and I pointed to my hand, then to Pinky, then did a “bring him to me” motion. He did.
I was almost crying, asking the other boys to find out if he remembered me. Four men were sitting across the road and one held out his hand for me to shake it. They didn’t appear to be drunk, but I just waved and turned my attention back to Pinky.
He was very shy, which is unusual for a kid here, but he let me pick him up and take a picture. I tried to ask him if he remembered me, but none of the kids spoke much English. One of the men yelled the interpretation to the boy, so when I realized they knew English and seemed friendly, I got a little closer and told them the story.
They asked him if he remembered and he didn’t answer, but seemed happy and friendly. I told the other boys I’d been calling him Pinky and they (now all speaking English – that happens) laughed and asked him if we could call him that. He seemed happy with his nickname. He told me his name, which is either Boy, Lungelo, Wanda, Cricket, or something else. I’ll stick with Pinky.
When I got back I was instructed by Rick not to go running down the street in a township at dusk. I pointed and said, “I was with those four men there.” I don’t think that was too comforting.
Please pray for our other little boy, who is about to spend his sixth night away from home. Pray for God to build an impenetrable hedge around this little boy to keep him safe from anyone who would harm him. Pray for this community that is embracing us as we search for him, asking what they can do to help. Pray that the bad guys stay away, because we’ve had a few close calls. Above all, pray that God’s hand will guide us to where He wants us to go, and that the people we touch during this process will come to a knowledge of His Truth.
Next Comes Africa 