10 Years in Bulembu
10 Years in Bulembu
By Cameron Morvant
I met Gavin in 2013 when I took my first trip to Eswatini. I was only twelve years old at the time. Two years before that, God called my mom to leave her house in Texas and travel to Bulembu, Swaziland for a week-long mission trip. I didn’t know where Swaziland was; I was only ten, and geography wasn’t my best subject. I hadn’t been out of the country before, and neither had my mom. She’s a teacher with a heart for children, especially orphans. When she heard that our church would be taking a trip to Bulembu, she knew that she had to go. I didn’t understand why she left at the time. But after she came back and told us about her journey, I knew that there was something special about Bulembu. More than that, I felt God calling me, not just for me to marvel at the work He was doing, but also to actively participate in it.
When Mom announced that she would be going back to Bulembu in 2013, I asked if I could join her. She said yes, but only if I raised the money myself. At this crossroads, the spirit of God worked through me more than it ever had before. I said yes. I would raise the $5,000 required to make the journey to Bulembu in 2013. My allowance may have been five dollars, and my reason for going may have been vague and uncertain, but I truly believed that I could put in the work and pay my way to Eswatini.
Nearly two years later, I was on my first flight en route to Johannesburg, holding a plane ticket bought with allowance and lawn mowing money. By the time I made it to Bulembu, I was twelve, but just barely. I was far out of my depth, going far beyond the only place I’d ever known, to work in a town I’d only ever heard about.
I met Gavin on my third day in Bulembu, in House 23. Mom knew him and his housemate, Charlie, from their old home in Persimmon. We arrived in the afternoon after work and sat down at the House 23 dinner table to do homework with the kids. Out of the six kids who lived there, three were older than me, and one was around my age. Gavin was five years old, and Charlie was six. After I got done with work in the morning, Mom and I would visit the house and help them work on their homework. I helped Gavin with his math problems, and Mom helped Charlie with his English.
Gavin reminded me a lot of my younger brother, Mason. He’s always been a very shy boy. He didn’t smile much when I first met him, and he spoke so softly that you had to lean in to hear him. He was also very bright, and hardworking for his age. We worked for about an hour solving addition problems with the single pencil he had from school. He didn’t have much; no one there did. I saw him doing laundry one day in a small plastic tub, and he only had two other outfits. But he never complained. Instead, he cleaned and worked and studied diligently—partly because he got to play when he was done, but partly also because he was grateful for what he had. For an American, it was a bit of a culture shock.
When Gavin and I finished his homework, we went outside to play soccer on the dirt road outside his house. All the other boys and girls came out to play around the same time. They kicked and kneed and headbutted the battered soccer ball up and down the road. Occasionally, the ball rolled down the steep hill to the row of houses below, and whoever was nearest ran to get it. On my third day there, I ran for the ball, tripped, and tumbled down that same hill. It wasn’t far, only ten feet or so, but I rolled headfirst until I hit the bottom. I cut my shoulder and got black thorns stuck all over my jacket, but otherwise I was fine. I threw the ball back up the hill, climbed up, and sat down to catch my breath.
When I did, one of the younger girls came and sat with me. I said hello, but otherwise I kept looking forward to watch the sun slipping behind the mountain on the other side of the town. When I looked back over, the girl was picking the thorns out of my coat. I don’t think she saw me watching; she was too busy with her task. I probably should have looked away, but I couldn’t. When I came on this trip, I had it in my head that I came to serve. My job was to help this girl, and all of the children of Bulembu. And yet there I was, being helped by her. In that simple gesture, I saw the same magic my mom saw. I saw what made Bulembu so special. As much as I’ve helped Bulembu over the years by building rock walls and pouring concrete and building a stage for worship, Bulembu has done infinitely more for me. I saw God in that little girl’s kindness, and in Gavin’s spirit, and in all of the men and women and children working in Bulembu. I never wanted to leave, and when I did leave, I knew I had to save up the money and go back as soon as I could.
I’ve been to Bulembu five times now—in 2013, 2015, 2017, and 2019. I turned twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-two in Bulembu. Gavin was six when I met him, and when I saw him this past July, he was sixteen. It’s mind blowing to see him grow so much in what feels like so little time. He’s even more like my younger brother now. I thought he resembled Mason when I first met him, but now I know it for sure. He’s quiet and a little awkward, but at the same time, he’s mischievous and funny and hardworking.
While I was in Bulembu, the Royal Rangers provided a week-long ranger camp for the town children and other children from all over Africa. Everyone camped down in the valley, made their own food, went on hikes, and worshipped God with their fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Meanwhile, the older Bulembu boys and girls helped to run the camp, including Gavin. He came and found me and my dad to say hello early in the morning on the first day, and then he went off to work, the same as us. He was always smiling, always laughing. He didn’t mind the work or complain that it was too hard; he took it all in stride and loved the good that he was doing.
I saw God in that little girl on the hill in 2013. But I also saw Him in Gavin. I saw Him in the shy boy wanted to play soccer and eat avo with his brothers, and I see Him now in the young man who works with great joy as he puts up tents for the Royal Rangers camp. And it’s not just him. The other boys from House 23, the staff at the lodge, that aunties and uncles at the houses, and all the workmen all serve with open and loving hearts. They work to better their community and give thanks for what they have.
For me, Bulembu is the eye of a storm. The world around seems messy and chaotic. There’s division and discord all around us, even in the church. But inside Bulembu, it’s easy to see the love of God at work, and to participate in that love alongside His people. It is a powerful emblem of just how good the love of God is.
It’s been ten years now since I travelled to Bulembu and met Gavin, my brother in Christ. I may not know what God has in store for him, or for me, but I know that the work He’s doing in the town of Bulembu, Eswatini is truly beautiful. I’m blessed to have been able to see such a beautiful town with my own eyes, and I’m thankful that so many others love this town as much as I do.
