This is the scene that confronted us late afternoon, a few days ago. Earlier on that same morning we had decided to take the road less travelled along Lake Kariba in Zambia. In true optimistic da Silva style we made this decision believing that of course everything would be ok, we would make it. And we did… over some pretty ridiculous little crossings that the width of the wheels barely covered… it was a matter of closing your eyes and doing it, and even though there may not be much wisdom in it, I do know they say that ‘Fortune Favours the Brave’… so I‘ll stick with that 😉

We met some beautiful locals along the way. A few who told us outright that there is too much water for us to make it (no mention of broken bridges). Some just looked at us quizzically, giving off slightly ‘you must be crazy’ vibes. There had clearly been very few vehicles along the road for quite some time. In fact, we drove past one tiny village and intrigued by the architecture, Eugene stopped and went to chat to the people there about the various little buildings.

Anyway. Carrying on with the road, we were suddenly faced with the challenge of the broken bridge pictured above. On wading across we soon saw that the water was thigh deep on the other side and that where the concrete was broken, the ledge was too severe for any wheel to go over – as it was on this side of the bridge too. So we decided (again in typical optimistic da Silva style) that we would try building the gaps in the bridge with surrounding boulders. Maybe, if we were really quick, we could even cross over before the night drew in, and then we could camp on the other side.

So! The boys set to work. First on this side of the river. Eugene measured the distance between the wheels, and then with rope and stones made markers so they could make a clear pathway through. It worked super well! And by the time they had finished with this side of the river, quite a little crowd of fascinated young boys had gathered around, and one or two had even started to help stack stones.

Now for the other side… the thigh deep water that needed bouldering up to be able to pass through. It soon became something of a muscle show as all the young men (including Gabriel and Malachi) started picking up the hugest boulders and chucking them in the watery pit before them. 

In the meantime, I decided to make some dinner. I knew that the boys would be famished, and also that if we did somehow manage to make it across the river that evening, it would be pitch dark by the time we set up camp. 

By 6ish, we realised that it was going to take quite a lot more boulders to fill up that gap, and that dinner and a good night’s rest would greatly assist energy levels to finish the job off in the morning.

So we set up camp, in the middle of the road. Or what we actually realised was nothing else than a cow highway, and got ready to eat. I was just about to serve up, when one of the little boys who had been hanging around the boys when they were busy, crept quietly up to me. His sudden presence startled me. He asked with me with a gesture of his hands if he could have some of our food, and held up a plastic bowl (kind of like that opening scene in Oliver Twist.)

A myriad of thoughts sprung simultaneously up into my brain… ‘Of course you can sweetheart! Give me your bowl – how hungry are you?’…  ‘If I give food to this one little chopper, aren’t they all going to want some?’… ‘I’ve only made enough for us as a family, and I know the boys are going to be starving because they’ve just been shifting rocks.’

I’m utterly ashamed to say that my instinct went with that last thought… I politely and gently, and probably rather sheepishly explained that we were 5 people and that there’s only enough for us. He nodded silently and walked away. 

And since that day, that little boy hasn’t left my head space. It’s like a question that resounds in my thoughtlife like a jammed doorbell. Asking what would so-and-so have done, and what about that person, and that person. And omygoodness, that person would never have refused a little boy food. Seriously Lara???? 

So here i am again, confronted by the difficult questions. The hard stuff… probably the necessary stuff of life.

And if i had the same scene around again, would i do it differently? That’s a good question. To be honest with you, my instinct still wants to provide for my family first. But on reflection, none of us would have come to any harm if we’d had a portion slightly smaller and let the food spread further. I realised that my instinct in this situation built a fence around my family, and allowed no-one in.

And then I am reminded of a beautiful quote,

‘When you have more than you need, it is better to build a longer table than a taller fence.’ (Anonymous).

I don’t think the author here was talking about when you have accidentally made too much pap and rice. I think they were talking about our attitudes towards giving. If our focus is always and only on making sure that we have enough for ourselves, then our lives will surely always remain small. 

So I guess the question you want to the answer to, is did we mange to get over that river? Well no, we didn’t. We woke up the next morning to a river that had clearly received a lot of rain upstream and was literally torrenting over anything that had been previously or potentially passable.

Yep, we were disappointed, and yes we had to turn back. We didn’t manage to build any bridge, either physical or relational. The real bridge was made by that group of little boys, pausing their days to help us try and get across the river.

Once again, i say to myself. Lara, you are living and learning. And truly, I hope I will learn.