Sara from A to Z - ZamNews!

This is a short version of a true story that I wrote up for a little family book my grandmother put together in 2012.

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"Only God Noes My Futuer"

This saying, painted on the wall of a village hut, could not have been more fitting. It was a perfect description for that moment in time, as well as my life!

Some friends and I were on a five day adventure to see the sights of Zambia's Northern Province. On the fourth day of our journey we decided to leave the main road in search of a waterfall mentioned in our "Little Known Waterfalls of Zambia" guidebook. We found ourselves driving miles into the bush following some overgrown tire tracks. Then suddenly we felt and heard a terrible crash underneath our car. The long grass had hidden a sharp rock jutting up from the ground and now our transmission fluid was gushing. We caught as much as we could in an empty water bottle, but our best sock-and-duct tape patching job could not do the trick. So with sun setting we left the car behind and began walking in search of help. After an hour, we came to a village. The people were friendly but didn't speak a word of English and we didn't speak a word of Bemba. Yet, as if it was inscribed there just for us were the words "Only God Noes My Futuer".

We did not have a clue what the outcome would be in this situation and could not see a clear way out, but I felt peace in knowing that God held my future in His hand and already knew just what was coming next.

As we were trying our best to communicate to the villagers through crazy looking gestures, we heard the distant rumble of a diesel engine. Amazingly, a large flat-bed truck appeared making a rare trip to a distant farm to pick up a maize harvest. Even more amazingly, the truck driver spoke perfect English and instantly stopped upon seeing our worried white faces and offered to help. This act of kindness was the first of many that night. He offered to tow us out of the bush as soon as he took care of the harvest. He explained to the villagers our predicament and they welcomed us into their village insaka to sit around the community fire and covered us with all of the cloths and sacks they could find when the night turned bitter cold.

After a long night and a bright morning, we found ourselves waving goodbye to our new village friends from the back of the flatbed truck on our way to the nearest mechanic, our car following behind tied to a fallen tree. By the end of the day, we were having dinner with friends back in Lusaka recounting the tale of our epic journey.

So whether it is being broken down in the African bush, or being dressed in a robe and wig in an African courtroom, I can truly take courage and comfort in the fact that "Only God Knows My Future".