Moffat of Malawi

(Time to read: 3 minutes)

Moffat knocked on the door and waited, clutching his broom slightly towards his chest.

“I wasn’t here last week. I was sick… So that’s why I wasn’t here last week.” He explains shyly to this white young woman he has never met.

I was house-sitting for friends in a wealthy estate.

“Okay”, I tell him. “I’ll let Sally and Raymond know. Thank you.”

“Thank you. “, he said, averting his eyes – weary. “And the back gates – can you unlock them for me? I need to clean.”

“Oh yes!” I had forgotten this was one of Sally’s instructions to me. “I’ll do that right away.”

“Okay. Thank you”, said Moffat. He walked gently down the stairs to continue sweeping the deck. Sally and Raymond had a beautiful, healthy garden.

After unlocking the gates, I had a niggling feeling in my stomach. I was currently working on a biblical counselling assignment about conversation – how to move towards others well. Yet, I hadn’t even asked this man’s name, nor had I introduced myself.

I stepped out and walked down into the garden.

“Hi,”

I didn’t know his name yet.

“I’ve unlocked the gates so you can go there now. I realise I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Marine”

Immediately a gracious, humble smile broke out.

“Oh, Morine! I’m Moffat. Thank you!”

I asked how long he’s been working here.

Since 2019 in the estate, he tells me. But only since March for Sally and Raymond. He took over for a friend who has gone back to Malawi.

“Oh, you’re from Malawi.”, I smile. Malawians are notoriously friendly. Hard-working, warm, and humble. It made much sense. I grew a deep warmth for Moffat from that moment.

We spoke about his family in Malawi, how he misses the life there. He says his country is beautiful, and the people are good. Life in South Africa by comparison? “Walking here is hard” as he put it. I asked him to tell me more.

He tells me that there are lots of police around. When they catch you, they ask for money. Last week, his friend was beaten up and they took his bicycle.

“Too much. They beat him up too much…” he says, looking down at the ground. His voice hid the hint of many more stories like this one.

I tried to imagine it. I drive everywhere, so even as a woman I feel relatively safe. For Moffat, as a foreigner, walking around is a risk. It doesn’t matter that he works hard and well – always with a grateful smile. It doesn’t matter that he treats those around him with courtesy and kindness.

“Life is not easy here…”, I comment. I didn’t know what else to say…

“No,” he replies, “but I pray to God. I pray to God and He helps me.”

My heart swells. And for a moment I see the face of Jesus in the face of this man.

We talk some more about a few things. I tell him it was really good to meet him, and we will chat more.

“Yes – it was good to meet you, Morine.”

He says my name as if he has known it for ages.

(Painting: Unknown)