by Karen Rispin
Daddy was all ready to go, too, and he didn't look any sicker than yesterday. I wondered if Sandy had imagined him being sick.
I guess Mr. Barnes thought Daddy looked sicker, though. He boomed, "Kevin, you look a bit peaked this morning."
How can he make everything he says sound like an announcement? I wondered.
Mr. Barnes was still talking, "I noticed you didn't eat breakfast this morning, either. Why don't you stay home and rest today?"
Sandy and I looked at each other.
"No,Joey," Daddy answered. I let my breath out in kind of a sigh. "Hazel and I have already hashed this through. I gave my word that I'd be there to preach today, and I won't go back on that. I have promised Hazel I won't make any more commitments like this one until I'm completely well, but I do feel I've got to go this time. I've already committed myself. I would appreciate your prayers that what I say is effective."
"Well, if that's how you feel about it, let's pray right now," Mr. Barnes said. He prayed about Daddy saying the right things. Then he prayed about Daddy getting better.
Maybe Mr. Barnes does have a few good points, I thought.
It turned out that the "church" didn't have a church building yet. It was only about fifteen adults and a bunch of little kids.
Alex Barnes stared for a second, with his eyebrows kind of frowning, and then asked really loud, "Is this it? Where's the church?"
He looked so stunned, I couldn't help laughing. Lisa gave me a really dirty look.
Hasan came over right then, and Mom started introducing him to the Barneses. Hasan must have heard Alex's comment, because when he shook Alex's hand he said, "The church is not buildings, it is the people of God coming to worship God. Is that not so, Mrs. Scott?"
We all sat in a hot, sandy, open space, and I thought about what Hasan had said. All the adults had agreed, so it must be right. "The people of God coming to worship God." That sounded neat. All of a sudden I had a picture in my head of God's people, all over the whole world, who were worshipping that Sunday. Different languages, different places…but, if Hasan was right, all one church.
I looked around and wasn't mad about having to come to Hasan's church anymore. It was neat to be in such an interesting part of God's church.
I glanced around and noticed that we were near some African houses. They were made out of chunks of coral and had tin roofs. There were coconut palms behind the houses and a bunch of brightly colored chickens pecking around. People were still coming toward the church. Some looked as though they'd walked a long way.
All the kids sat on the ground, except for us. That made me feel kind of funny. I mean, I knew the church people were having all of their guests sit on chairs to be polite, but that meant that some of the women were sitting on the ground.
First Hasan stood up. I couldn't understand everything he said. I know Swahili, but sermon Swahili is hard. They use big words and fancy grammar. I could tell he was talking about us being honored guests, and then he said something about the Barnes family giving him much joy because they were new workers with him for the Lord. He kept talking for ages.
I wasn't really paying attention. There was this ant lion hole in the sand right by my chair leg—I kept watching it and hoping for an ant to fall in.
Suddenly Mom and Sandy stood up, and I realized we were supposed to be standing to sing a hymn.
"Anika, pay attention," Mom whispered.
Hasan hummed a note, and we all started in singing "God Is So Good" in Swahili. Everybody except Mr. Barnes, that is. He bellowed it out in English at the top of his lungs.
After about four more hymns, Daddy got up to preach. He talked about serving God even when it will cost you a lot. I wondered if he meant preaching today. I looked around; most of the people were listening closely. Maybe it was worth it for Daddy to come preach.
When Daddy was done, Hasan got up and started talking again. Like before, I didn't really listen. A fly landed on my cheek, and I brushed it off, but it just kept hopping over my hand and landing again. A sweat trickle ran down my back.
I noticed Lisa kind of hitch herself over in a funny way, so I watched her for a minute. Four times she tried to skootch her chair away from the African man on the other side of her. She couldn't get far, because her chair was already right against her dad's chair. Mr. Barnes finally glared at her, and she held still.
"Khaaah, Khaaa!" I suddenly noticed a horrible gurgling cough noise. Actually, I'd been hearing it all morning, but not really paying attention to it. I looked around and saw a girl not much older than me who was holding a baby. That awful cough was coming from the baby. The girl thumped her baby on the back, and it spit up some stuff. My stomach lurched. Then the baby coughed that horrible cough again. I frowned, wondering if the baby was going to die. The girl's face looked worried, but she was still listening to Hasan. I tried to listen, too, and decided he was preaching Daddy's sermon all over again.
I twisted in my chair to see the sick baby better and crossed my legs. That meant that my right leg stuck to my left leg instead of the chair. Sweat trickled down the back of my knee, making it itch like crazy. The thought of diving into a cool ocean wave was almost too much to bear.
Finally Hasan finished the closing prayer. Everybody said, "Aaaaaammmm," and stood up.
As soon as everybody stood up, I headed for Mom, but one of the ladies grabbed my hand to greet me. Her hand felt strong and calloused, and she held on tight and quizzed me about how I was and how Mom was. That's the polite thing to do. When she asked about my father, I didn't know what to say. Finally I just said, "He's well." I didn't want to explain everything. Besides, how do you say "hepatitis" in Swahili?
By this time, Mom was getting further away. I pushed my way toward her, then I had to wait for ages while people greeted her.
"Mom," I hissed, pulling at the hand that wasn't being shaken. I just had to ask her if we could help that sick baby.
"Anika, don't interrupt," was all I got for my efforts. By the time she quit talking and turned to me, the baby was nowhere in sight.
"Wecan't fix everything," she said when I explained. "You're right, though, the baby does seem sick. I'll ask Hasan what the situation is. Maybe we can help."
Daddy came over right then to say that Hasan had invited us for dinner. I almost died. We'd end up sitting for hours while somebody killed a chicken and made a whole meal, and we'd have to be polite in Swahili the whole time.
I gave Mom this really pleading look, but she never even saw me. It didn't matter, though.
"No," she was saying, "thank you very much, but Mr. Scott has been ill and needs to rest."
I think that's the only time I was almost glad Daddy was sick.
The cars were almost too hot to touch. Alex and David piled into our car with Traci and Sandy, so I ended up riding back in the Barneses' car with Lisa.
"Mom, those people stink!" Lisa said as soon as we started. "I thought I was going to pass out from the smell of that man next to me."
"Lisa! That's enough," Mr. Barnes bellowed. "We come all the way to Africa to teach people about God's love, and all you can say is that they stink?"
"Well, they do," said Lisa, and she shut up.
She was right, but I'd never thought much about it. I did on the way home, though, because no one said anything at all after Lisa shut up. I decided maybe the people smelled because they don't have running water, so getting clean is a lot harder. Then I remembered hearing that the workers on one mission station used to wash clothes together and then sort them out by smell.
Maybe they think we stink, too, I thought and shook my head. It's hard to try to look at the world from inside someone else's head.
As soon as we got home, Lisa went into the shower room and took the longest shower ever. It was like she was trying to wash off the smell of the African church.
At lunch Sandy said, "Mom, can we go swimming?"
"It's low tide, remember?" Daddy answered for her.
"Can you t
ake us over to the big beach this afternoon then?" Traci said. The big beach has a longer stretch of sand, so you can swim even when it's half tide. It's about a mile away from Bilge Water.
Mom looked at Daddy. He looked pale and tired, but he said, "We don't want to spoil this trip for the kids, Hazel."
Mom said she'd take us if the Barneses wouldn't, but that it would have to be a bit later on after lunch. Sandy and Traci cheered, but I just looked at Daddy. He didn't eat much lunch at all and left the table early to go lie down on a lawn chair out front in the shade.
Somehow I didn't feel like going down to the beach to poke around the tide pools. I sat out front with Daddy and read. He slept most of the time.
"Last one in the car is a rotten egg," Mr. Barnes yelled out the door, later that afternoon. "Tide's in, let's get a wiggle on." Daddy woke up with a jerk, then sighed and shut his eyes again. I felt like kicking Mr. Barnes.
I went in the room to put my swimsuit on and passed Traci and Sandy coming out. They were giggling together about something. Alex and David were grabbing their towels off the clothesline when I went out to the car.
Everybody except Daddy packed into the Barneses' car. I ended up wedged right by Lisa. She stared out the window and wouldn't even look at me. It made my stomach hurt. Why can't this be peaceful and fun like other trips to the coast? I wondered.
The Indian Ocean made up for the uncomfortable ride. It's impossible to be sad or worried when you're playing in big breakers. They don't give you time. Before we went into the water, Mom asked everybody to come over so she could talk to us. Lisa ignored her and kept walking toward the water, but she was behind Mom so Mom didn't notice.
"This beach is close to Mida Creek inlet," Mom said. "Make sure you don't swim out too far, because when the tide turns that current is only two hundred yards off the beach. It could sweep you right out into the open ocean."
Mida Creek is the same current where Ali had caught those fish, and it is dangerous. I already knew that. This was the same old lecture we got every time we came to the big beach. As Mom talked, I watched the waves—they were super! I could hardly wait for Mom to get done so we could run for the water.
Close to the water, the sand was smooth and hard; I loved the way it felt under my feet. When the tail end of a wave hit me on the shins, I took some high gallops and dove straight through the front of an incoming wave. The cool, rough water cleaned all the dirt, sweat, and worry off of me. A few seconds later I was chest-deep, watching for the next wave.
I jumped it backwards, and it threw me up high and swatted me over the head and shoulders. I caught the next wave, swimming like mad just in front of the crest. It broke and buried my body in boiling foam and rushed me up onto the beach.
That afternoon was really fun.
That night, on the other hand, was one of the worst nights of my whole life.
"We must get Kevin to the hospital," Mr. Barnes's voice brought me fully awake. When we'd come back from the beach, I'd been more than ready for bed and had fallen asleep quickly. Now I sat up, startled by Mr. Barnes's voice, and blinked my eyes. I could see Lisa and Traci standing in the doorway of our room. Sandy wasn't in the room.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Your dad is really sick," said Traci, sounding half worried and half excited.
I rushed to the door in time to hear Mom say, "Joey, those hospitals are dangerous. AIDS is widespread here, and there's a real risk of exposure." She paused, then went on, her voice strained and full of concern, "Maybe I could get through to Dr. Bishop. They were supposed to be at Diani Beach."
"We don't even have a telephone," Mrs. Barnes wailed.
"Maybe there's one at that duka where we got lost. If not, I'll go all the way to Diani Beach to get Bishop—except I don't know the way. You can't leave Kevin, can you?" Mr. Barnes asked Mom.
Sandy had been standing by Mom. Suddenly she spoke up, "I know the way. I do, Mom. I really do. Please let me show him."
Mom looked doubtful and finally said, "Well, I can't go, and you have been good at remembering directions all your life, Sandy. Are you absolutely sure you know the way?"
"I do! Really, I do!" Sandy insisted.
Mr. Barnes said he'd trust her, so finally Mom said she didn't see that she had much choice. I wanted to go, too, but Mom knew I'm no good at directions. So, even though I'm oldest, she made me stay home. We all prayed together, then Mr. Barnes and Sandy left.
Mom wouldn't even let me come in with her to help take care of Daddy, so I ended up curled up in a knot in my bed. Traci came and sat by me and, after a while, so did Lisa. I just stayed curled up in a knot.
Just let Daddy be OK, I prayed over and over in my head. I'll go to the States or anything! Just let Daddy be OK.
Mrs. Barnes came in and put her hand on me, "Honey, your daddy is God's man, and I'm sure God'll be looking after him. Now I want y'all to get some sleep."
She made Traci and Lisa go back to bed and turned off the light. Just thinking about Daddy and how selfish I'd been about not going back to the States made me start crying. I stuffed my head under my pillow, because it's so embarrassing when people know you're crying. All I could think about was what Daddy had said at church about giving up things to serve God.
"Please; God, don't make him give up his life. I need him," I prayed.
That made me start crying again. I'd been too selfish even to give up living in Kenya. Well, I wasn't too selfish anymore. Right then I decided I'd be willing to live in the States forever, if that's what God wanted. If Daddy was willing to serve God even if he died, I wanted to serve God that way, too.
I thought about never seeing Kilimanjaro again, or dawn over the Indian Ocean. I thought about never seeing giraffes walking in graceful swaying groups across the golden grass. No acacia trees, or dukas with samosas…I started crying just thinking about it. But thinking about Daddy dying was even worse. Finally I'd cried so much I didn't have any tears left. So I went to sleep.
I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. My eyes were all stuck shut. It took me a second to remember What was wrong, and I sat up with a jerk. Sandy was back in her bed sleeping, but Lisa and Traci were both gone.
I jumped out of bed and ran into the main room. Mrs. Barnes was sitting there reading her Bible.
"Where's Mom?" I practically yelled at her. "Is Daddy all right? Did they find Dr. Bishop?"
"Well, hi, honey," she drawled, "I'm glad to see you've had a good long sleep."
Her slow talking had never frustrated me so much. Why couldn't she get to the point? "How about Daddy?" I asked again.
"Now just you take it easy. Your Uncle Joey brought Dr. Bishop back here last night, and your father is doing much better," she said. "In fact, he's asleep right now and so is your poor tired mother. You can go and see your daddy when he wakes up, if it's OK with Dr. Bishop."
"Where's Dr. Bishop?"
She pointed toward the front of the house, and I ran off before she had time to drawl another slow sentence at me.
Dr. Bishop was sitting in one of the deck chairs there. I hadn't seen him for ages, but I'd always liked him. He's a little man with gray hair and the friendliest brown eyes.
"Oh,hello, Anika," he said as soon as he saw me. "Your dad is OK for now, but I wanted to talk to you about something."
That sounded serious. I just nodded and waited.
"Don't look at me with your big brown eyes like that," he said, a smile curving at his lips. "I'm not going to eat you. I just wanted to ask for your help to give your dad a better chance to recover."
"I'I1 do anything," I blurted.
He looked at me thoughtfully for a minute. "Well, I really am glad to hear that, Anika, because I know that your mother and dad have been reluctant to go back to North America. A big part of their reluctance has been you and your love for Africa. But things have changed with your dad now, and I think he and your mom need to know they can make the best decision for all of you."
I swallowed hard, and my head started hurting again. So did my heart. We were going back to the States—I was almost sure of it now. We were leaving my home, and we might never come back…and I had to act as though that was OK.
"I—Ialready decided last night that it would be OK to move to the States, if that was what Daddy needed," I said, my voice coming out kind of choked.
"Good girl," Dr. Bishop answered. He has the warmest voice…It almost made me feel better. "Will you tell your mom and dad what you've decided?" I just nodded and he said, "Off you go, then, and enjoy your last day at the coast. Nobody's leaving here until tomorrow. Your dad should be feeling a bit better by then, and I'll be driving your car."
"What about your vacation?" I asked.
"Sometimes we have to give up things in the Lord's service, but I'm not worried. God takes care of us. Whatever we give up to him in obedience, he gives back eventually in blessing. Now off with you."
Even Dr. Bishop is talking about giving up things, I thought as I walked toward the beach. It was almost noon, but somehow I didn't feel like eating—or seeing Mrs. Barnes again.
I stood on the top of the hill above the beach looking at all the colors in the ocean at low tide. I might never ever see this again, I thought, and tears stung the back of my eyes.
"OK,"I prayed right out loud, "I'll go. Just please let Daddy get better." Then I gulped and changed that, too. "Imean please let Daddy get better if that's what you want. I know I'm supposed to pray that, but I still want Daddy better."
All of a sudden I felt really peaceful inside, almost happy. A verse came into my head, and this time it wasn't nagging. In fact, it made me feel good: "Let God have all your worries and cares. He is always thinking about you and watching everything that concerns you." I could feel God's love all around me.
I turned around and walked back up to the house to see if Mom and Dad were awake yet. I was ready to talk to them now.
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