Johannes Mpinga Obituary, July 2005

The wind sighs and the stiff stalked yellow winter grass obediently whispers and rattles vaguely in chorus. A silence, a sadness, has descended upon the plot of land and the people who inhabit the place known as Anathoth.

Our friend, colleague, and workmate, Johannes Mpinga is no longer with us.

Johannes has gone on a journey. A journey that has taken him home to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. He left on Saturday night.

We all grew to appreciate and respect this proud yet humble man. Yet, as is so often the case, we did not know him.

He was at Anathoth the very first day we arrived. He was at Anathoth the Friday we all left, not knowing that this would be the last time we'd talk together, walk together over the beige winter stubble ground that he loved and cared for as if it was his own. For Johannes did truly own Anathoth. In his own special way, he watched over all the people, all the plants, all the trees, and all who entered her gates.

An intensely shy and private man by nature, Johannes sometimes struggled to communicate, and, in all probability, some strangers may have struggled to communicate with him. Thankfully, we grew to understand each other very well indeed. Yet, in truth, we did not know him.

His aunt Evelyn helped colour in the true portrait of Johannes in vivid detail when we met this past week. Once she'd stopped speaking; we all knew. We really didn't know Johannes at all.

In retrospect, if the truth be told, it was actually no surprise to learn that Johannes was wholly responsible for sustaining his aunt, his two teenage nephews and ten year old niece by giving them a whole lot more than half his salary each and every month.

It all makes sense now. Johannes, of necessity, cheerfully lived very simply indeed. He decided that he actually had no need for the lifestyle or the trappings that money can buy. He placed the needs of his family above those of himself. He was quite content to make the most out of what he had left over each month. He intuitively sensed that it was his God given calling, his duty to watch over his extended family, just as he watched over all at Anathoth. A true, composite picture of Ubuntu. (I am because we are).

At 9 am on Tuesday morning, the 9th August, at the Mpinga family home at the Orange Farm informal settlement, we'll intone our personal and private farewells to Johannes.

We sense that Johannes has already enlisted the support of all the other saints and angels of heaven to continue watching over all who enter the gates at Anathoth.

The peace which envelopes Anathoth, and which so many visitors find quite remarkable will continue. It is the Peace of the Lord.

We know beyond doubt that we will all meet Johannes again. Perhaps then will be the time we'll really know him.

For every meeting holds the seed of parting. We are but vagabonds of God, blown where the Spirit wills. Hopefully leaving behind a little of what we have garnered, while gathering up the stars.

The wind sighs and the stiff stalked yellow winter grass obediently whispers and rattles vaguely in chorus. A silence, a sadness, has descended upon the plot of land and the people who inhabit the place known as Anathoth.

Hamba Gahle, Johannes!
Until we meet again.

We go forward.
Roland Rink