We
were planning to go to Mozambique, to the beach. However, an hour out of
Hoedspruit, my father realised he’d forgotten the car papers (in particular, the
logbook) so we turned around and came back. I think that this was God, because
we arrived in Komatipoort, a town three kilometres from the Mozambique boarder
on the evening of Tuesday, October 1 to find out that the
visa fees (per person) were far higher than we had expected. We would have to
pay $82 per person, with the possibility of having to wait several hours to get our car cleared and visas issued.
Because of this, we then made an impromptu change to our plans and went to Swaziland instead. Swaziland's economy is totally dependant of that of South Africa, and unless a person comes from a country that the passport officials don't know, they won't need to get a visa before entering Swaziland.
On
arrival at the Swazi/South African boarder we found out that I couldn’t get a
new visa from any of the Swazi/South African border posts. The staff didn't have that authority. It was disheartening, as this was a big part of the reason behind our holiday, however we still went ahead
and travelled into Swaziland. We had an amazing holiday on a little game
reserve. We then travelled back to Komatipoort yesterday. Once we were back on
the South African side of the border I felt a strong feeling that I needed to go to the
Mozambique boarder. It was like God wanted me to go. So I voiced this to my parents and after much discussion we
decided that after we been emptied the car, at the lodge where we’d stay the night at, mum and I would drive to the boarder (three kilometres away). The plan was that whilst
mum would wait for me in South Africa, I would walk across to Mozambique, and then walk back to South Africa in the same day.
So
this is what we did, though it did go exactly
to plan. Mum and I drove to the boarder, praying and committing everything to
God as we went. There wasn’t anywhere to park so mum pulled into the parking
area where the SA police had parked their private cars, so I hopped out and explained
the whole situation to them and why mum was parked there. They laughed and said
she could stay there.
I
went to South African departures, praying softly, and asking for favour. The lady behind the
desk who took my passport, and as she stamped it, she said that it was alright for me to walk over to
Mozambique and get stamped into and out of that country, before returning to
South Africa. She had already scanned me out of the country before she realised
that my visa actually expires on 1 January 2014 instead of 18 October 2013, but
because I was already ‘out’ of the country I had to go to Mozambique. So that
what I did, I walked over to Mozambique.
Here
again, things didn’t go to plan. I filled in the visa form, waited roughly about half an hour to forty-five minutes, and had my visa turned down. The reason was simple. The purpose, I wrote on my form was to get
a new South African visa. They weren't too pleased, so they sent me back to South Africa and, thus, I didn’t need to pay $82.
There
was another man, from Namibia or Botswana, who had his visa turned down too. Our
passports were given to a soldier who didn’t speak or understand a single word
of English, something that wasn’t easy to deal with, as this other man and I
didn’t speak any Portuguese.
We
were about half way across no man’s land when this man from Namibia/Botswana
realised what was happening. He then proceeded to kicked up a fuss about his bags being in a bus
that was near the Mozambique immigration office. We stopped and waited whilst
this man tried to tell a friend over the phone to tell the soldier, in Portuguese, what was
going with his bags. I was getting a little bit annoyed and my body language showed this. I
wasn’t too keen about marching about the boarder post with a soldier and this
other man, trying to find his bags, especially as it was getting dark. “God, I
could do with some help.” I thought almost subconsciously.
All
of a sudden and almost as soon as I’d thought this prayer, a white South
African man came up and asked what was going. I explained that the soldier had
my passport and this other guy was causing issues. So South African asked the
soldier in Portuguese, and I assume he said that I needed to go to the border.
I figured out that the South African man said he was going that way and I could go with
him.
Now,
I never go with strangers, ever. Its one of my personal safety rules, a rule I've made for myself protection, especially in here in South Africa! Now I had the choice of either going with this South
African man, who, in my opinion, was an angel who God sent in answer to my prayer, or I could refuse and have to march around the border post for another hour or two
with two strangers. In both cases anything could happen. So I went with the
South African man.
This
man drove me to the South African immigration department. Nothing happened and
I was able to share a bit of what I was doing in South Africa, why I was doing
what I was doing, and the reasons behind the need of a new South African visa.
Maybe God will use what I said in that man’s life.
Mum
had been praying up a storm in the car, which was now surrounded by the private
cars of the police officers stationed at the border. I was back with her after just over an hour since arriving there. After
waiting another ten minutes or so for the policemen to move their cars, we
were on our way. Mission completed, our prayers answered.
God
is SO good!