BROTHER NICK QWEMESHA

We first met brother Qwemesha when he came to spend a week with us in Windhoek, the capitol of the present day Namibia. He was then the interpreter for the Preacher Training School in Kimberley, and made that trip to assist in our work and advise us as what direction we should plan for our own future.

Nick had been harshly treated by life in that his first wife had died leaving him with small children. His children were taken from him and placed in a government care center where they were badly neglected and some had died, however when he married again, those still surviving were returned to the new family. During those years he worked for the General Motors dealer in Kimberley as a driver. Drivers were sent to the assembly plant in East London, nearly a thousand miles away, where they were given the keys to new vehicles that they drove in a convoy of ten or so vehicles at a time, back to the local dealership.

He later left the driving job and worked at the best garage and service station in town as a pump attendant. I am sure that it was through this and the church that he became the interpreter for the preacher training school. All of our missionaries in town used that station and garage and of course he was a member and knew the church well. At one time he served as the minister here.

While we were on furlough in 1957 we bought a new Chevrolet that we bought with the purpose in mind of taking it back to Africa with us. Thus, we had our second left hand steering Chevrolet in a land where traffic drove on the left side of the road. That didn’t really bother much while we stayed away from big cities and heavy traffic. After we returned to our home there, we made a long trip to the coast for a mission meeting and Nick accompanied me in our car and often drove. As we were passing over the major mountain pass and had just passed the crest and were approaching a steep downgrade at Pietermaritzburg, I awoke to see that we were in a heavy fog blanket. Feeling sorry for Nick, I offered to take over the wheel. He pulled off the road so fast I have never forgotten it. There just happened to be a place to pull over right then and he was battling, in a nearly new car that did not belong to him. Nick took responsibilities seriously.

He was just as conscientious as an interpreter, but he would not translate for print. His spelling was not up it. Nick could anticipate my thoughts and be ready with the translation instantly, and he could do it in any of several languages. He was a Xhosa, with a Tswana wife, and who lived in a community that was a mixture of English and Afrikaans speaking white people. When the school moved to Natal, he lived among Zulus.

Years later, when he died, his mother and son sent for me to come down there to preach his funeral, even though there were several local missionaries present. I felt really honored to assist them. After we had retired and returned to America, we returned to South Africa to revisit the work, our daughters there, and to be at a granddaughter’s wedding. It just happened to be also that Conference was at Kimberley during our stay, so we made the trip back to be there with them. His widow, who is unwell, made the long and difficult trip back to Kimberley, just because she knew that “Mother Mills” and I would be present. She was one of those who came forward and gave us a really heart felt Christian Hug.

We truly left our hearts in Africa.