Come, travel with me along the winding dusty roads of Zululand, a land rich in beauty, whose language (isiZulu) can be translated heaven. On the winding paths my life intersected with Africans in many areas. Sometimes the path led through the wards of the hospital as people lay recuperating from an illness. Some I met while teaching a class of nurses. Yet at other times it would be along winding roads as I went to their church services. Sometimes providing assurance at a kraal where I came to see someone who needed transport to the hospital. Later the winding roads led to a large city and...