Impopotha: Bernard Wrankmore

Fifty years ago one of the early missionaries found a little coloured boy, the son of an English colonial officer and a Swazi woman.  He put him on his horse, clothed him, taught him and when was grown up sent him off to find his way in the world, just saying: “When you get a chance, do something for the Church in return.”

This man, now grey-headed, said that he had bought a little farm and wanted to give a piece of it to the Church.

So we built the little church of St Anthony on the small hill overlooking half of Swaziland.  At one end is the round apse in the chancel.  It was closed off by two big doors so that it could also be used as a school.  Outside the building was whitewashed so it could be seen from miles away with its great cross of sky-blue tiles.

On one visit Ruth, the mission land rover, was towing a big trailer picked up on a scrap heap and we nearly got stuck in the mud several times but Ruth carried on for 30 miles.  It was nearly dark when I arrived at Mpopotha, a hot meal was waiting at William’s house.  The number of church congregations grew from two to twenty-five.

We welcomed a variety of people and groups to work with us.  One of the most colourful was Bernard Wrankmore.  A letter came from the Archbishop of Capetown saying, ‘We have an excellent but unusual man in mind for ordination.  Could he come to you for some of his training?’  So Bernard joined the team.  He had worked in several countries, amongst other things he had been a camel-driver, organiser of prize-fights and country-dancing.

I travelled with him to Capetown and found myself sitting in a small dinghy while Bernard searched the seabed for abalone – large edible snails.  I was given a hand-pump to supply him with air.  He had no mask and told me there was a limit of thirty seconds without air, after that he would be drowning.  It was a terrifying experience.