My mission trip to
swaziland
3 days | 486km | 9 missionaries
I have always wanted to go on a mission trip, especially when I was young but never could afford it. Even going across a border was something I could only dream off. I got my passport three years ago and was planning to visit Lesotho but never got around to it. When my church announced about the Swaziland, I never hesitated. This was a golden ticket to do something for Jesus. After much planning and preparation, I left with a Doctor from my church on Friday, the 16th of May 2025, 6am. We were to pick up someone from the Durban Bus Terminal at 6h30am and head to Richards Bay, where we would meet the Pastor who was in charge of the entire mission. We would pick up more members and more resources and then head to the Swaziland Border. That would mean we would land at the border at approximately 12h30pm.
That didn’t happen.
The Bus was delayed for an hour. So we arrived at the church an hour later. Then we stopped in Hluluwe to eat and while we were fellowshipping, we discovered that we needed certain documents to cross the border for the vehicle we were using. We then stopped at Mkhuze to print those documents which we had to request over the phone. We eventually arrived at the border at around 2pm.
We then travelled to Matata, to a Full Gospel Church there. It was also a school that teaches autistic children. We had our orientation about Swaziland while we waited for supper to be made.
By this time I was starving, but we were taught about the Swati culture and what to expect. Afterwards, we ate supper which was chicken curry and rice with salad and heading to our bed and breakfast lodge which was an hour away. We only arrived there at 9pm.
The next morning, we headed back to the church in Matata where we grouped together and were introduced to the interpreters. They were Swati people who served Jesus and brought the Gospel to the lost.
We drove on dust roads to the homesteads, homes scattered across a wilderness, with grassy patches here and there, the presence of thorns and briers.
We were split into two groups and we arrived at our first homestead. Outside was a structure of blocks but inside was plastered, painted and the floor covered with porcelain tiles. The ladies sat on straw mats, the man sat on a chair and an old lady sat curled up on a mattress. Flies inhabited the house like an infestation. The smell of death lingered inside making it unbearable to breathe. After we ministered to them and prayed for them, we walked to another homestead. This family was even more poorer, consisted of only women because the men were either dead or were in prison. We prayed for them and gave them the Gospel. I noticed the concrete slab on our way out. It was a grave, according to the traditions of the Swati people.
We arrived at our last homestead because we needed to eat lunch and head to the next church outreach. I spoke to a lady who knew Jesus but was astonished at the absurdity of such a thought: “Jesus has a plan for your life and wants to use you.”
After ministering to her, we heading to Mpaka, where we had a children’s service. We played games with the children, ministered to them and gave them toiletry packs. We then headed to two other churches in Mpaka and prayed for the pastors and delivered literature. We then headed back to the same church and ate supper. There was an evening service where the pastor from Richards Bay preached an excellent sermon. We then prayed for everyone in the church. We then left and headed to Manzini, arriving at 10h30pm. That night we only went to bed after midnight.
The next morning, we headed to Phuzomoya, a Full Gospel Church located in the middle of nowhere. We arrived and I was to bring the sermon. this would be the first Sunday morning service I would ever preach at. Eventually, I was called up and I gave an encouraging message stating that whatever anyone as ever needed, God has already provided. In modern churches, pastors are praised for delivering short sermons but in Swaziland, if you don’t preach for more than an hour, you aren’t considered a man of God. After 30 minutes, I ran out of words. That means I had only preached for 15 minutes because I had a translator. I closed in prayer and sat down.
The Pastor got up and went to the pulpit, saying: “We all heard the man of God say that we already have what we need. So all those who are sick, please come to the front because you are going to receive your healing when the man of God prays for you.”
I was speechless. I only prayed: “God, please heal your children.”
Few people came to the front and I prayed for them. There was this one person in particular who came forward and as I was praying for her, she fell down when I mentioned: ‘By the Power of your Holy Spirit.’
She remained still for a few moments before manifesting, writhing and rolling on the floor as she screamed. The Pastor and the elder that came with us helped cast out the demon and she was free. This was the first time this happened while praying for someone.
After the service, we left to Matata, gathered with some from our team and headed to the Golela border where entered South Africa. I arrived home at 10pm with treasured memories and experiences. Swaziland was a country like no other. Fancy a trip there?
