My grandfather, Mongangane Wilfred Mofokeng, didn’t bequeath us a trust fund or tracts of fertile land — his wealth is his life story. A dedicated missionary of the Dutch Reformed Church, who exerted himself in its work and the community, he built Gelukspan Hospital and several churches and schools in the area of Ditsobotla, known as North West today.
His name is not recorded in the stone of the church, the hospital does not bear his name anywhere, and not a single school was named in his honour. He didn’t set out to be recognised. He was just doing his work as a servant of the Lord. But as his descendants, we run the risk of our history being erased.
I set out to record the story of Mongangane in 2019 as part of my master's degree. It was my desire to write him back into history. I have always had an itch to tell his story and told myself that someday when I retired I would revisit this part of my life. Little did I know that time was not on my side. The key components of this story, which are the people who knew my grandfather, were dying and taking the stories with them to the grave, which is the tragedy of oral traditions.
As a practising Christian, with the Dutch Reformed Church now known as Uniting Reformed Church, I had some pertinent questions myself. I chose to stay active in the church while other family members opted for other religions and churches. The second part of the book is a self-inquiry. A journey of self-discovery as I make sense of my family legacy.
I traverse some historical turf to learn about the work of the Paris Evangelical Mission Society among Basotho, the tradition of hymn singing of Lifela tsa Sione, and the Beersheba Massacre of African Christians in 1858 which is hardly spoken of.
In my own way I make connections about the history of a church that justified segregation and later apartheid and how I still remain a part of it. I don’t set out to paint my grandfather as a perfect man. The choices he made continue to reverberate in our daily lives.
What do we make of our African traditions and customs that were sacrificed on the alter of Christianity? What do we have to confront as we chart a new path and reconnect with our identity as Africans across all spheres, the church included?
I close off the book with an ascent of Thaba Bosiu in Lesotho where I stand at the tomb of King Moshoeshoe, the founder of the Basotho nation. He arrived there in 1824 from Butha Buthe and shaped his nation. Next year marks 200 years since then, and how timely that as Basotho celebrate this milestone the new generations take a critical look at how far they have come.
The Man who Shook Mountains by Lesley Mofokeng is published by Jonathan Ball Publishers
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