Happy Birthday Bianca and rest in peace always

Hi Bianca Warburton not sure if you remember me, but we sat next to each other at life group…two nights before you died (a year ago). No worries if you don’t remember me. .. It’s all cool. Avon and I know Clifford your husband pretty well. Well since it is your birthday today and it is over a year since you have been gone I’d thought I would dedicate a blog to you because you were a super amazing person.

Avon was at work when I got the message “Pray for Clifford, Bianca has been shot dead by an attempted hijacking.” I was alone at home doing the ironing and the message cut my heart like a knife. Bianca I didn’t and don’t know how to deal with death and couldn’t imagine ho Clifford was doing. I ran to my bedroom and fell to my knees crying to God. Why, Why, Why…why had he taken you? You were such a kind person, pure and God fearing. I just couldn’t understand.

Then God reminded me of the vision you shared with us during a prayer session. You had a vision of a little boy on a white horse going into battle. Your vision is still clear in my mind. You sensed that the boy was struggling to hold his sword to fight…. You interpretation was that God is the horse and he will take us into battle…but we still have to fight. A lot of people in that prayer session related to it. But to me you were not only talking about the present battles but the future battles that need to be fought here in Johannesburg. Which I believe is the battle of the hearts of people which is between Good and Bad. My racing heart then slowed down and I began to understand that your plan is so much bigger than I can understand.

At your memorial I went into a deep trance of thought. The song Malibongwe was playing and I envisioned you dancing. They told me you were such a good dancer. In my mind your spirit was dancing through the church. It was so beautiful…more beautiful than I had ever sensed a dance before. I then put myself in your shoes. Not that I was kind, pure and God fearing. But what if I died…was I ready….did you know that it was your time? Would everyone I love know I love them? Have I said enough, done enough… those kinds of thoughts? Because as I learnt more about you I realised that Wow you were amazing. You had done a lot. Sho when I heard Clifford talk about you (yes your amazing Husband) I couldn’t control my tears. I felt his pain as I pictured Avon in his shoes.. the pain of losing the one you love.

But Bianca I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for living your life and only fearing God. You were a helping hand in a township that most of us would never venture into. You saw past the crime and dirt or black and white. You used Gods gift in you to the fullest and were never afraid to show it. And as your murders go on trial I pray that their hearts get won by Gods love. That they see what they have done and they change for the Good. I pray that Gods goodness ripples all over the city of Johannesburg and that we win this terrible war for Gods Glory.

My first Middleton Funeral

There is a deep spiritual vibe experienced at a funeral. Avons uncles mother had passed away and we were to attend the funeral early Sunday morning (6am). I had never been to a Swazi funeral before and was curious to experience it.

The air was so fresh and the sky was cloudy as we walked up a narrow path to what appeared to be a grave yard. We had come a couple of minutes late so everyone was there already. The women stood on one side of the grave while the men stood on the other side.

The Swazi women sang so beautifully as if thier voices came from the beauty of the mountains that surrounded us. Their voices trailed through the maize fields and trickled through the streams. It was so hypnotizing that it took me into a day dream far back into time. I looked across the landscape and saw pockets of sunlight light up parts of the fields located on the mountains. I thought of the British colonizing the Zulus the Siswatis. I couldn't even put a face to the lady who had died but I felt a strange spirit pass over with the cool morning breeze. It was like there were spirits all around this land moving through the landscape with the wind.

Who was this lady that had died, was she white was she Black or coloured? These people that were here to wish her farewell were mostly Swazis yet the children she had were coloured some light skinned some dark (approx 8, I was told). If she was Swazi how did she come to love a white man? was it love that she experienced? In Swaziland, back in the days, it was common for the White men to have children with the Swazi women. Why wasn't it the other way around in those days? I was reminded of something Avons mom told me as was drove through the maize fields to the funeral she said..."these lands were now mainly run by the Chinese. You should see what kind of kids are born of a Chinese Swazi, there skin colour is just different!" She looked at me with a strange eye. I guess I had never seen a Chinese Swazi mix. But yet again it was the Chinese men that were having kids with the Swazi Women. You rarely see it the other way around. The funny thing is although there are coloured children and families in Swaziland...you tend to get a sense that they are a race of their own. They are not White and they are not Black. Yet as I looked at the faces surrounding the open grave it was clear it began with Black and White. Maybe I was questioning the beginning of it all because I was a first generation coloured. What would my children think they are? But to tell you the truth the body is just a shell for our spirit because once you die there is no colour.

I was brought back to reality when Avons mom tapped me on the shoulder and told me that I was standing on someone's grave. Yikes these piles of stones were someone's grave. I was so ashamed of myself. But had a bit of a giggle thinking gee "kanya.... trust you not to know".

After the funeral we went to visit another grave yard to pay respect to Avon’s Granddad. This Grave yard was a lot better demarcated with graves labeled with large stones and tiles. The air was a lot more misty and cold. Avons Gran was with us too and that was when it really hit me that gosh we are visiting her husband. How would I be if this was my husbands grave I was visiting.....I got chills down my spine as I limb onto Avons back because the grass was too wet for my new Christmas sandals. Avon’s dad told me who each person was. As I read each stone...Middleton,.... Middleton....Middleton, I stood proud and lifted my arms and said "Hi everyone I am Kanya, Avon’s Wife. Pleasure to meet you."

We then drove over to Aunty Maggie's house for breakfast. It was a huge house and breakfast was Chicken curry or Beef curry. Not your typical breakfast but when you are hungry anything goes down no matter what time of the day it is. We were all pretty hungry. I spent time chatting in the kitchen with the ladies. It was interesting to listen to the family stories and some of the unnecessary drama. All the women in the kitchen were all Middleton’s but we were all so different. We all got married at different times. Some had straight hair some had curly hair. We were all customized to different things some did dishes some didn't some talked more than others some didn't talk at all. I was the only one that hadn't had kids yet and there were chats of the when when when can we expect a baby. The Men were more similar in looks but very different in Character from DJs to race car drivers from Fathers to guys that are not fathers or some that are Fathers but still act like they are not.

This was the first real family gathering that we had had since our wedding and I really felt part of the family. Aunty Maggie even gave me violet shoots...which I am still trying to get them to grow (must be the Joburg air lol).