“I don’t do that no more, BabeScott. I don’t do that no more.” Those words, muffled by the bars and safety glass, but still clear to my understanding, met me as I entered the jail’s visitation booth this week. It’s been nearly three weeks that I’ve been missing “Mandhla” at the Center, today was the first day I’ve been allowed to visit him at the local police station. He’s being held for breaking into a local tuck shop (food & snack shop) about 18 months ago and stealing food. He was seen with some buddies eating all the evidence, and now he is awaiting his bail hearing, nearly three weeks after his arrest. Along with Bikho, the Center’s other builder, I’ve been taking food to Mandhla 2-3 times per week. The basic ‘pap/sudza’ (think grits) and bread gets to him, but the guards take the meat and gravy for themselves. Mandhla is definitely the ‘bottom of the food chain’ in many ways.

   Though he’s in his mid-20’s, Mandhla has a second grade education, cannot read, and lives with his only surviving relative – a brother who deals drugs to put food on the table. As things now stand, Mandhla is relegated to a life of abject poverty, competing with the masses of men who are illiterate, for manual labor jobs. I give him some clothes to keep him warm in jail. In the ways of this world, Mandhla is a beast of burden on two legs… nothing more. While his youth benefits him now, his strength will fail and his eyes grow dim too quickly. In a slow economy and as winter cold moves in, the lack of food will take a toll. There are millions like him across this country… the lost generation… the first orphans and vulnerable children of the AIDS pandemic.

      But Mandhla is different, and it’s not just because he is my friend.  Mandhla is a good guy; trustworthy in his care of the Litsemba Center’s keys, diligent in his work habits, quick to learn new skills and take on new tasks. He’s eager to learn and a bright student, always ready to hear the week’s Bible Study story, and always quick to smile. But Mandhla doesn’t do drugs, he wants to learn to read, and he has eyes and a heart for the mercy and justice of the Kingdom of God. He is excited to be working on the Litsemba Center, and he “gets” what we are trying to do in his community.  He is a believer, and he is becoming a follower of Jesus. Mandhla is different because he is being transformed by the love of God, - the life of Jesus in his life.  He knows he did wrong by stealing, he doesn’t make any excuses to me or Bikho. He knows that his actions will have consequences and though frightened, he is willing to pay the price. But the important thing to Mandhla right now is that he is sorry for what he has done, he is repentant, and he has turned away from that life. He is hungry for a better life – on the inside. Mandhla is becoming a man. For now, he is behind bars, but I have been blessed today to spend ten minutes of visitation time with a young man who is not captive to his environment. God is working, God is breaking in. I call that normal, I call that miraculous. Pray to our Father for Mandhla and the millions of young adults like him in southern Africa.

Closing Note: Names have been changed in the above story. Also, here I’m speaking to any cynics  (like I can be too often!)who think we might be getting ‘played’ by a manipulative kid.  Becky and I have ‘been around the block’ for quite a few years now, working in some desperate places with some pretty troubled folk; our radar for such stuff is pretty sharp.

Late-breaking addendum - Monday, June 7.Couldn’t see Mandhla Friday or again today; he’s been moved to the Nelspruit Prison, now loaded into the general population. Ugh. Will try to see him in the next day or two. Pray for him.