My colleague, Helen, and our NGO partner, Alex, were oh the same flight as another fellowship group headed to Tanzania. After a full week of on-boarding, we were ready to start our actual fellowship and get working on our projects.

We left in plenty of time for the airport as planned by the meeting group. We all piled into the van, comparing how much luggage each had brought. It was a hot topic to see how many bags each had packed—some unwritten competition as to who was the worst offender in the most number of bags department.

I had previously been accused of being a bad offender with three bags, but I had one large checked bag, one overhead compartment bag and one under the seat bag. I saw that many people had two large checked bags—so I considered it a wash vs. my three bags. I am not sure the others saw it the same way.

We all fit in the van—barely. The luggage was piled up to the ceiling behind the seats and the van was filled—including the other’s NGO partner, who was Sister Zeta. I had spent breakfast with her and there was something powerful but peaceful in her smile. She radiated warmth with her smile I enjoyed talking to her over a bountiful breakfast spread at the Hilton.

Underway to start our adventure, we sped past some of the familiar sights we had seen in the previous week I had been in Johannesburg. It was a Sunday morning, so they went past much more quickly than previously (traffic there is orderly but can be horrific—spending hours stuck in traffic across the sprawling out Los Angeles like suburbs of Johannesburg).

Coming over a hill, the driver saw the police on the side of the road monitoring speed too late. With a motion from the standing car, they waved us over to the side of the road.  I had heard about the fine “system” and was curious what would happen and thankful I wasn’t the driver.

The police officer approached warily and scoped out the car carefully. The driver offered a typical excuse (late to the airport) delivered apologetically but with the full knowledge it was a futile exercise consider the amount over the speed limit he had been caught doing. The police offer looked in the car, spied all the people, but lingered on Sister Zeta. He then walked around and checked out the registrations, seemed to literally kick the tires and came back.

The police offer looked in again at the driver and Sister Zeta, and then let us go. We all looked at each other and laughed. The power of a sister indeed.