The Story of the Pants-less Prince

 

“Mzungu! Mzungu!” yells a small African boy, standing not a half a foot higher than one’s knee, from across a small field. The man had seen this boy before. This boy greets a team of Mzungu’s each and every day, as they head off to ministry. This time, however, the man was by himself. He was out checking to see if the Dala Dala (African transport vehicle) had arrived to take his team into town. It hadn’t. The sun was hitting its three o’clock position in the royal blue sky. The wind was cooling on the surface of the body. The man looked for a seat in the shade of a small concrete building.

 

The young boy finished his approach as the man took his seat on a small incline at the side of the building, along the dirt path he was walking on. The boy stood close to the man with his right hand outstretched from his body to greet him with a handshake. “Jambo”, says the man, to the boy: as that is Kswahili for hello. The boy replies with a hearty “Jambo, Jambo!” The man motions his hands for the child to have a seat, as he lacks knowledge to say it in Kswahili. The young boy takes a seat directly in front of the man. Staring at the man, wide-eyed, as if he was awaiting something spectacular to happen. His eyes caught the man’s attention. They were like pearls inset upon the dusty face of the African child. In these eyes he saw a part of himself.



For days, months, and years now, this man had hidden away a treasure. He has had this treasure for years. Since he was a young boy. A pearl deep inside that wouldn’t see the world as often as it should. It is a priceless treasure that cannot be bought with money; it isn’t sold, or traded at a local supermarket. It was an incredible gift that had been given to him. The man shared this treasure with many people throughout his life, but he tucked it away quite often, like a golden pocket watch put into the pocket of ones coat. One may catch a glimmer of light off the surface of the watch. But as fast as one sees it, the glimmer can be lost, back into the pocket of which it came.

 

Not a moment had passed from when the man and the boy sat down, when the young boy’s sister shows up and greets the man, in the same way. The boy tells her to sit down with them. She does.

 

Time passes as the three of them sit there staring at each other with looks of curiosity across their faces. Nothing but the warm wind is heard, as it passes through abandoned houses and concrete structures. The children would smile and laugh quietly amongst them selves every now and again, but the man sat quietly as he did not know what to say. The (English-Kswahili) language barrier had proven to defeat the man as he sat on the dirt. He decided to pray. After a moment of silent prayer, a thought came over him. “I should read the Bible to them”, he decided. “Truth is truth, even if they can’t understand my language,” he thought to himself. He took a moment to pray once again. He prays that the gift of tongues overcomes him, as to make sharing the truth with these kids easier. The man then, flips open his Bible to the story of Jonah.

 

He started by asking them if they know about the story of Jonah. “Jonah! Jonah!” they began to chant. He didn’t know if they were just repeating the word they heard, or if they knew what he was talking about, but he continued anyways. He then began to read the story, word for word. Slow enough for them to understand, as if he was speaking their language. They listened intently as the story unfolded.

 



The Call. The Runaway. The Storm. The Boat. The Fish. The City. The Repentance.

 

The man had finished the story just as the Dala Dala arrived. The man said his goodbyes as the others were greeted with big hellos, and even bigger smiles. He didn’t know if the children understood anything he had said, but he had faith that the Lord impacted them in that moment, even if it was just a tall mzungu man wanting to spend time with them.

 

That was the first time in months that the man had stepped aside and took time to invest in someone’s life. He took the opportunity to share the treasure he had with these children. It was a truth that boiled like a steaming kettle, underneath his skin. He was able to share a love with them. A love that the man thought had left him some time ago. A love he had for another child in different far away land.


The Man and the Boy - Act III - Coming Soon