Miracles in Soweto

From the www.sahajafrica.net website.

Last night in Soweto it rained hard. It always does, or seems to, when we are about to meet for our weekly Beginners’ Programme, in Zola North, one of the poorest townships of Soweto. We meet on Tuesdays. Khayo (my wife) and I drove through the rain past Dobsonville and into Zola, on our way to Thathane Primary School, where the programmes are held. There were a number of new people last week, four ladies in all. We were thirteen on that day. One, in fact, had been there before - a few months back. But we hardly recognised her. She is a matric student in a nearby high school, but observing how she didn’t have problems with raising her Kundalini as new people tend to have that problem, we asked whether she had been here before. She then reminded us of her visit some months back. How happy we were. But the other three were indeed new people, and there was one whose shyness was quite remarkable. She was withdrawn until after the programme when a few songs were sung, spontaneously; and that seemed to do the trick, and she brightened up. She like the others told us their names when we all introduced each other. But I quickly forgot them. And we had not brought our register. We still have to get better organised with certain little things. But that was last week.

Then this week, driving through the rain, we were wondering how many would dare the elements. It’s not unusual that people don’t turn up when the weather is bad. And when my cell phone rang, just before we passed the Dobsonville Mall, I thought it would be someone saying - ‘Look Buti (elder brother) it’s raining, so maybe we should call it off’. It was Khantu, one of our most ardent Yoginis in Soweto. and she enquired how far we were? I told her we were just near the police station, and she said she only wanted to warn us that the key to the classroom was not there, as the child who normally collects it had not been to school that day. I thought, ‘That’s it. They are going to cancel’. But no, she said : ‘We will meet at Nonhlanhla’s’. I agreed.

The said Nonhlanhla is a mother of three, unemployed since the construction firm that hired her and many other women had gone bust last year, due to some irregularities with the awarding of tenders for a long-delayed hospital for Soweto. Her mother died only two weeks ago, and was buried with the help of neighbours’ contributions and the mother’s church members, as well as a generous contribution from the Sahaja Yoga collective in Durban - after an appeal went out to the different collectives in the country. Her mother had recently taken her Self-Realisation. She suffered from a stroke while preaching in church and subsequently passed away in hospital a few days afterwards. Nonhlanhla Nkosi bore the whole sad event with quiet dignity, and people were amazed at her self control; when usually she would have been expected to be in uncontrollable hysterics during the wake and at the funeral, which we attended with several other yogis from Soweto and lots of people from other churches. Nonhlanhla still regards herself as a Roman Catholic, and they were also there.

We duly arrived at the house for yesterday’s programme, and found a group of the usual people already there. Others came with us, after we went to fetch them at another house. In all about twelve women. Some wet, and others shaking off their umbrellas. Luckily the rain had just stopped, as it always does when we ask it to, with bandhans.

After we greeted the people in the house, we started preparing the altar on the living room table. Khayo usually does that, while I set up the sound system and the subtle system chart. There was one lady, quietly sitting among our usual members, and we both thought she might be visiting, and would perhaps leave. But no, she seemed to have also come for the programme. She was tidily dressed. Noting told me we had seen her the previous week, until she stood up and came to me and showing me a piece of paper said: ‘Here is my child’s papers’. I did not know what she was talking about, and thought she was mistaking me for someone else. I mumbled something, playing for time, but she just stood there and seemed to waiting for a better response from me. I then ventured to ask her to explain a bit. By now, I had recognised that she was the timid lady from last week, who was brought to life by the music. So that gave me an opportunity to find my feet, saying ‘Oh I almost did not recognise you. You were with us last week? What is this about your child’s papers?

‘Yes’, she responded, ‘I have brought these papers to thank The Mother’. We still did not understand.

She then explained that for five years she had been struggling with various government departments and officials, trying to apply for a disability grant for her daughter who is totally blind. And now since she started meditating last week, things had suddenly opened up. Officials had gone out of their way to help her. She had been telephoned by a top government official from the Social Welfare department in Pretoria, a white woman - she emphasised - who had said she would personally see to it that the case was attended to. The very next day, she saw a car standing in front of her home, and she thought the people in the car were perhaps lost. No, they were not. They came into the house, asking for her, and she realised these were government people from the Social Welfare department. They had brought her papers to her house! For her to fill out and hand back to the offices in Soweto. Something unheard of in the townships. At the very offices where the whole thing had been turned down for years, and where she was suspecting it was because of corrupt officials.

What was amazing was for this lady, Patience Kumalo, I think she said was her name, was that she immediately connected what was happening with Shri Mataji. One would not have expected that from someone who so recently got in touch with Sahaja Yoga. Like usual, we had sort of mentioned in passing the previous week, that as soon as people started meditating they would see changes in their lives. We were mot really expecting something like this, ourselves. So everybody was besides themselves with joy - and recognition. Yes Mother did this for this woman and her child. And we hope they were well received at the offices. We all did a bandhan for that, explaining what it means - and how it all works. And for the older ones, who have been coming for some months, this was just another story they could tell. Almost all of them have had what we call MIRACLES.

Nompi Sithole had been struggling for years without a proper place to stay. In the past few months she has been traced by an old man, totally unknown to her - who claimed to be her grand-father’s brother. He has offered her his house, as he realises he is about to die and had no children nor anybody close to him. The paper work has all been completed last month. Now Nompi and her children have a home. They recognised from the onset who was responsible for this. The Mother. Nompi and Nonhlanhla and a few others are becoming the core group around whom Sahaja Yoga is growing in the black communities of Soweto. After years of trying with no success.

There are many other stories and we will be sharing them with all of you in the coming weeks and months.

These ladies are meditating everyday in Soweto. And Our Holy Mother is showing Herself everyday to these people who are so deeply religious and God-fearing. Until now they were going to different churches, looking for God. Now they are staring to understand what Christ meant when he said : ‘The Kingdom of heaven is within you’.  Indeed Mother has entered into Soweto, and this is only the beginning. We have been going to Soweto for three  years with no apparent progress - but now we are being shown the results of patience and dedication and faith in the Mother. She  is teaching us so many things. The ladies sing heartily to Shri Mataji, realising in their own way Who she is and what She means to them. And to us all.

Thank you Mother.