I must be absolutely (as opposed to partially) frank and honest in admitting that I really did intend the words to flow – if I’m permitted to allow this article such a description – entirely faithfully to that title from the very first line. I can assure you and perhaps the sigh of relief will be audible as I say – the flow will show; please be patient.
What I have to admit is that, occasionally, a name or sound will cause a beautiful song to come sub-consciously to mind and overpower a moment of concentration. Well, it happened here. The song is called ‘What a Beautiful Name’. Close to the title, but some distance away in meaning.
It is a song produced by a religious group in Australia, called Hillsong, who came up with songs so beautiful, both musically and lyrically, that I must devote a few words to them. Hillsong was a Christian community that started very small around 50 years ago, became hugely popular, especially in the United States, but then reduced substantially following leadership scandals. Let us stay, however, with the good and positive about the footprint they have left.
You do not have to be of the Christian Faith to enjoy the songs composed and performed by Hillsong, but especially if you are. And one of these achieved such appreciation in the USA that it got to number five in their hit parade. That is quite an achievement for a religious song. The ‘Name’ is, of course, ‘Jesus’, and it is more than likely that the song extended well beyond the Christian community in that country, inspiring many thousands of non-believers to think more carefully about their own beliefs. Another wonderful song by Hillsong is ‘I will Run to You’. No, I’m not on a commission deal for future sales of those songs. If, however, you are in the search for peace of mind after a troubling period or incident, I bet that you find peace in that song; the usual 10 bucks.
You have been gracious enough to allow me a little over 300 words before my addressing the title of the article. ‘What a Beautiful Place’ is how I would describe one of the truly wonderful parts of the country: The Mbuluzi Game Reserve. My introduction was somewhat chastening.
Arriving for the Three Reserves mountain bike race at 7am this past weekend in a part of Eswatini where summer temperatures can happily flirt with 42C, we endured freezing winter temperatures while waiting to start. Reflecting on the somewhat alarming comparison with temperatures in Europe and North America, which threatened to go above the chart, I set off in the company of riders dressed for the Arctic Circle.
I very humbly assume at this juncture that my Opinions Editor will not consider this a sporting article; because it is simply about a beautiful place and how I found it and what it may well offer. The early part of the race took you down to near a river with the majestic Lubombo mountains as a very close and quite spectacular backdrop. I nearly got off the bike and said: “I’m staying.” I was later told that Mbuluzi Game Reserve is a member of the ‘Big Five’. That is a group of five game reserves to partner in a new development initiative. It was very encouraging to learn that this immensely appealing game reserve can be part of an important expansion initiative to help develop our fledgling tourist industry. And hopefully be accessible and affordable to the citizens of Eswatini not as yet well-resourced, as are some, to actually build leisure residences in the reserve.
Those thoughts buzzed away in my mind as I pressed on along many attractive paths in an atmosphere of miraculous close proximity to real nature and such peaceful surroundings. It was, nevertheless, a reminder that ‘it was time for me to go’. The last mountain bike race of my life. Age has reduced balance and I no longer bounce like the earlier days. I dodged the tree trunks and bent almost to kiss the handlebars to avoid the occasional low branch while rehearsing my retirement speech (there would be no such thing but nice to fantasise). Then my front tyre went down; a valve problem. With 10 of the 40 kilometres still to go of this marvellous race I had to walk and run with the bike until a fellow rider stopped to assist. I think his name was Mack Ndlovu (announcement of the surname did cause me to look over my shoulder) who very kindly lent me an extraordinary item. It was a pump smaller than the tiniest original cellphone. One short press on the button and the tyre was fully inflated! Then he lent it to me. Such was the spirit of riders, organisers and volunteers. With required usage every one to two kilometres, it eventually got me home and in last place; the end.
The cynics among the readers – that is, my friends – will say that vanity prompted my explanation for coming in last. They would be absolutely right! But nothing can detract from the beauty of the event, in all its features.
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