THE AFRICAN BUS RANK

Mayhem in the city center.

Noise, racing engines, squealing brakes, bus horns, yelling people.

Jostling, aching bodies laden with burdens of groceries or tools and babies—one on the back and one or two toddlers beside.

Toyota van buses jockeying like ants for position to enter or leave Mbabane’s bus rank. (In America we’d call it a bus station. Maybe “rank” fits it better here because of the smells and flaring tempers, and crime.)

Petrol and diesel fumes belch into the air and choke and cloy the throat.

For thousands of Swazis this is a twice-a-day battle. Buses are their only choice for transportation.

Tens of thousands of lives intersect here.

There’s another bus rank. It’s at the foot of history’s most infamous hill—Golgatha--a site chosen by Rome to display its most dastard deed. Everybody would see the Crucified One here and shudder at Roman power.

Interesting: locals tell us that Jesus was not crucified up on top of the hill but rather at its base in Jerusalem’s garbage dump—right at a major traffic-point for the city.

One thing for sure, everybody saw it. Many shuddered. Those that knew the Nazarene wept. As Jesus hung there you can be sure priests in the temple were smugly rejoicing that the rabble rouser was getting justice.

Imagine their shock and the mayhem when the temple veil suddenly rent open and totally exposed the Holiest of all places—the place where forgiveness could be received. The core structure of their exclusive access to God was destroyed.

Not just tens of thousands but all of humanity’s lives would intersect here. Amid all the jostlings, chokings, achings of life Golgotha’s cross stands accessible to all—not just an intersection but a decision-point—the place where forgiveness can be received.