by Karen Rispin
Oh great! I thought. Now I not only have to try and fit into a place I've never been, but I'll have to do everything right so Uncle Kurt thinks Christians are good!
Daddy glanced at me. I must have been looking worried, because he reached over to touch my cheek and smile. "Don't worry, Anika. I know we're not perfect—we make mistakes and we get frustrated with each other… but God never said we had to be perfect to be used. I just wanted to let you know a little of what's going on and to ask you just to be yourself. That's the best way you can help."
I thought for a minute about what Daddy had said. What would it be like to stay with people who were having marriage problems? Did they fight a lot? Were they mean to each other? I wondered what it was like for my cousin Tianna. I couldn't even imagine having Mom and Daddy mad at each other all the time.
I swallowed and said, "I can witness to Tianna, I guess."
"Be careful, Anika," Daddy said gently. "You tend to jump into situations and act without thinking. We'll have to proceed with a great deal of tact and even more prayer. In fact, why don't you and I pray together right now?"
"Can't I just pray in my head?" I asked. I felt confused inside, and I didn't want to try to pray out loud when I didn't know what I thought. Besides, what if a stewardess came?
"If that's what you want," Daddy said. He leaned back and shut his eyes.
I tried to pray for Uncle Kurt and Aunt Doreen, and especially for Tianna—but it's hard to pray for someone when all you remember about them is that their room used to be full of Barbie dolls and comic books. Worries about Daddy being sick and about how I'd fit in when we were in Canada kept getting in the way. It was like my brain was full of noise.
Then I got this idea that made it all make sense. I've never been able to be quiet about a good idea.
"Hey, I know," I said, sitting up straight and shaking Daddy's arm. "Probably God just wants us to go to Canada to help Uncle Kurt's family. After your tests are OK, and Uncle Kurt, Aunt Doreen, and Tianna all get to be Christians, we can just come back to Kenya."
Daddy laughed and said, "I wish everything was always that simple."
It made so much sense to me. I couldn't be wrong, could I?
Chapter Two
I looked up. The seatbelt sign was off, and I'd never even noticed when we'd quit bumping around.
"Anika," Mom said, standing up, "I'd like to sit with Daddy for a while, so I'll trade you seats."
I groaned, but obeyed. When I sat down, Sandy was looking out the window, and her head blocked the view.
"Hey, neat!" she said.
I ignored her. She was probably just trying to make me jealous that she had the window seat.
She looked over at me and said, "No, really. Look," and moved back so I could see.
I still ignored her.
Mom said, "Anika," in her warning voice. I sighed and leaned over to look.
The clouds were gone, and the land looked really weird. It was all tan and pale with wrinkled little brown hills or mountains, but right across the middle was this green strip that got wide and narrow. There was a smaller silvery brown strip wandering through the middle of the green one.
"That's the Nile River, girls," Daddy said very loudly in his tour-guide voice.
I looked around nervously, sure everyone was staring at us. When I turned back to our window, Sandy had stuck her head right in the middle of it again.
"Hey! Move back," I said.
"But I can't see if I back up."
"Well, don't cover up the whole window!" I said.
She didn't budge, so I shoved her. She shoved me right back.
"That's enough! How do you expect to act properly in front of Uncle Kurt and Aunt Doreen if you can't even get along now?" Daddy said. "Apologize to each other, and work together."
Sandy and I both muttered, "Sorry." She sort of half leaned back, so I could see out OK—not great, but OK. Daddy started tour guiding again. It was embarrassing.
I tried to pretend I was a sophisticated world traveler looking out at the Nile River. It's hard to do that, though, when you and your sister are having a secret shoving fight.
"Would you like a hot washcloth?" someone said right in my ear. I jumped. A stewardess was leaning over my seat with a pair of tongs holding a white washcloth. It was steaming.
"Um, I guess so," I stammered.
She dropped it in my hands, then smiled at Sandy and held another one out to her.
When the stewardess went on to Mom and Dad, Sandy and I just looked at each other, each of us sitting there holding the hot washcloths. We both burst out giggling.
Sandy held hers up by one corner and looked at it like it was an unknown species of animal, and we both cracked up all over again.
Something bumped my arm, and I looked up. It was the woman from across the aisle. I'd noticed her before. She was sort of old, but looked rich and pretty.
"To wash with, no?" she said with a French accent, and pointed in a graceful, lazy way with her whole hand at my washcloth.
I managed to thank her.
"You have such nice family," she said with a smile. "I have much enjoy watching you."
I stammered a thank-you again. She nodded her head gracefully, then turned and picked up her own washcloth.
"She must think we're really stupid," Sandy whispered as she rubbed her hands on her washcloth.
I nodded. The woman across the aisle obviously was a sophisticated world traveler. She'd never be afraid of going to Canada.
"'To wash with, no?'" Sandy imitated in a whisper, and made a dainty swipe at her cheek, then looked past me with one eyebrow up. I followed her glance, and cracked up completely.
The lady was delicately patting one of her eyebrows with her cloth. Her eyes were elegantly shut.
I tried it, half in fun, half to practice being elegant. The washcloth felt so good on my face that I gave up elegance and buried my face in it. It was super to get rid of some of the itchy, stale feeling.
When I looked up, the woman across the aisle was watching me with a twinkle in her eye. I wasn't sure if I should feel stupid or not. I think she was going to say something, but a stewardess pushed a cart between us and said, "Would you like something to drink?"
Later, when the stewardess brought our supper, Mom leaned forward and asked us to say grace for ourselves.
I said, "You pray," to Sandy.
"You—you're the oldest," she insisted.
I sighed, ducked my head, and muttered, "Thank you for the food. Amen."
The meal was neat. The main plate was about twice as big as a postcard. There was a bun, butter, jam, a tiny salad, dessert, salt, pepper, and a piece of cheese, each in its own separate container. The silverware was about half the usual size and freezing cold.
I tried to eat very properly, sure that the woman across the aisle was watching me. I snuck a look at her, but she had all her attention focused on the man sitting next to her. They were talking in French and laughing.
By the time we finished eating, the plane was starting its descent to land at Schiphol airport in Amsterdam, Holland. The stewardesses rushed to get all the trays cleared in time for landing.
It was dark, and the plane's lights tipped and swung as we circled the airport. If I leaned forward and Sandy leaned back, I could see the wing in the glow of the flashing red light on its tip. More and more flaps lifted up. The engines quieted, then there was a bump, and the runway lights were tearing past the window.
We were down.
A second later the plane shuddered with the noise of the reverse thrusters. We slowed, stopped, and started taxiing back to the terminal.
"Girls, stay in your seats 'til most of the people are off the plane," Daddy said. "That way we'll miss the rush."
The second the plane stopped, people were on their feet getting their luggage down. I stood up to get ours out of the overhead compartment.
The woman across the aisle touched my shoulder again and said softly, "I have liked to wa
tch you so much, can you permit me giving you an advice?"
I nodded dumbly.
"I have seen so many—how you call it—adolescents are feeling bad, feeling embarrass by family. You will never make this mistake please. Your family is most nice. To pray is not embarrass. I wish I knew to pray better."
She patted my shoulder, smiled, and followed the man she'd been sitting with down the aisle. I stood there with my mouth open, watching her elegant form until I couldn't see her anymore.
"What did she say?" Sandy asked.
"Nothing," I said and pulled down Sandy's bag.
"Tell me!" she insisted, grabbing her bag.
"It was private," I said and turned my back on her.
"OK, girls, let's go," Daddy said, and I sighed with relief.
We jostled slowly down the aisle, past the stewardesses, who were smiling and shaking everyone's hand. The woman's last phrase kept sticking in my head, "I wish I knew to pray better."
Schiphol airport was so huge and strange that I forgot all about the woman. Sandy didn't even remember to bug me any more about it. All the signs were in about seven languages and had big pictures over them.
We followed Daddy, who seemed to know where he was going, and came to a huge hallway that looked miles long. People were walking along between solid waist-high railings, but they were going as fast as if they were running. Daddy walked straight toward the end of one section and stepped on. It was a moving sidewalk, like an escalator only flat. I grinned and followed.
"You should rest, Kevin," Mom said. "I've heard that there's a lounge here reserved for missionaries. I'd like to find that."
Daddy nodded like he was thinking something over. Then he said, "You're right. I am tired, but we've only got a three-hour layover between flights. I'll rest on one of the couches in the duty-free area so the kids can look around."
"What's he mean, 'duty free'?" Sandy asked me.
I shrugged and said, "It has something to do with taxes. I think we're sort of in between countries, so we don't have to pay any taxes. That makes things cheaper."
Then we were there. The duty-free area was a wide, bright area with very fancy shops. Mom and Daddy sat down on a big, shiny black couch.
"You girls can look around," Daddy said. "Just make sure you're back in an hour."
We nodded and started to take off.
"Don't forget to get something for each of you to give your aunt and uncle," Mom called after us.
Sandy and I walked into the nearest shop. It was full of odd kinds of sausages, cheeses, smoked meat, and fish.
"Hey, Anika," Sandy said, "look at this. Smoked octopus."
I squinched up my nose trying to imagine what that would be like to eat. I kind of liked the octopus we'd eaten at the coast in Kenya, but smoked? Maybe it would turn out to be great, like green eggs and ham in that Dr. Seuss book. For a second I even thought about buying it to see. I giggled and said, "We ought to buy some for Uncle Kurt."
"Gross!" Sandy said. "Mom would probably make us eat it."
"At least we'd find out what it tastes like," I answered. "It costs enough that it ought to be good.
"You're weird," Sandy said.
"Sophisticated people eat all kinds of things," I said, turning my back on her, my nose in the air. Just then I almost collided with the most handsome man I've ever seen. He dodged, a disgusted look on his face, and swept past.
Sandy laughed out loud. I would have kicked her, but she was out of range.
We looked in the other shops and saw raw and cut diamonds, camera and video gear, expensive sports clothes, fancy chocolates, and all kinds of neat things.
"We've only got fifteen minutes left," I said, looking up at a big clock. "We'd better find something for Uncle Kurt and Aunt Doreen."
Sandy made a face, but we started to look. She chose a net bag of tiny round cheeses. I couldn't find anything.
We passed a shop that sold flower bulbs packaged in cardboard boxes. I grabbed the nearest box I could afford and bought it. Then we ran to meet Mom and Daddy.
When we were standing in line to go through security to board our next fight, I took out the box of tulip bulbs and looked at it.
On the bottom was a list of countries with little pictures of flags. Underneath the flags was written, "It is illegal to import these bulbs into countries not on this list."
Canada wasn't on the list. Oh no, I thought. It's against the law to take these tulips into Canada. I stared at them a second, then stuffed the box into the very bottom of my bag.
The next airplane we were on was almost empty. As soon as the seatbelt sign went off Daddy said, "Let's each find a row of seats and get some sleep. It's already midnight by Kenya time."
I lay on my back across three seats with my knees doubled up so they wouldn't stick into the aisle. Airplane noise filled my head, and the blanket over me was scratchy. I kept worrying about the tulips and thought I'd never go to sleep, but I must have. When I opened my eyes, the window in my row of seats had sunshine in it.
My face felt all squashed and itchy where it had been against the seat. I rubbed it and sat up. Mom saw me and said, "Hi, sleepyhead."
"What time is it?" I asked. My voice was all croaky.
"It's past noon in Toronto, but it's still the middle of the night in Kenya. My watch says 4:30 a.m.," Daddy said, grinning. "You slept a little more than four hours."
I nodded and sat there with my eyes half-open. It looked like morning, but it sure didn't feel like morning. Being out of time with the sun felt very weird. We switched airplanes in Toronto, and by the time we were getting close to Calgary I felt numb all over. I looked over at Daddy and felt even worse. There were huge circles under his eyes, and his skin looked almost gray.
"Anika, go and wash your face and brush your hair so you'll look nice when we land," Mom said.
In the tiny, noisy bathroom, I pulled the brush through my hair, which was sticking out every which way from sleeping. My bangs were sticking up so that the red scar from the cut and all of my forehead showed. I glared at myself. My forehead wasn't really too green and purple anymore. With a sigh, I got the brush wet and tried to make my bangs lie down. Then I jerked at my too-small dress, which was completely wrinkled. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection and went back to my seat.
Sandy was glued to the window. "Look, mountains!"
"Mom said you have to go brush your hair," I said, holding out the brush.
"I did already."
"When, yesterday?" I asked. She made a face, then grabbed the brush and pushed past me.
I sat in the window seat and looked out. Straight below us the ground looked like a dusty quilt. It was mostly square fields. Some were so dark brown they were almost black, others were kind of gray-brown, and a few were bright green. If you looked way out, there were mountains like a row of broken teeth. I could see the snow on them. The mountains I was used to stood alone, each one by itself: Mount Kenya, Mount Kilimanjaro, Longonot. These mountains weren't like that. They all ran together, making a jagged wall all along the edge of the land. I stared at them with interest.
Even after the plane landed, I could still see the mountains along the edge of the world. They made me feel better. Exciting things could happen in a place with mountains like that.
In fact, the mountains made me feel so good that I forgot all about the tulips.
Walking into the airport, I felt like I was made of wood. My eyes would hardly stay open. We found our suitcases, then waited in line at customs. Mom kept anxiously watching the people through the windows. Just before it was our turn, Mom started waving madly.
"Look, Kevin! There's Kurt."
Daddy smiled and waved, too. I was still trying to figure out who Mom was waving at.
"Is that him?" Sandy asked me. "That tall man?"
I shrugged, but Mom said without looking back, "Yes. Look, Anika, there's Tianna."
I glanced up and saw a tall man who looked vaguely familiar. I stared, and he grinned
at me and waved. I sort of half waved back. He was holding on to the shoulder of a kid who was smaller than me. Whew! At least Tianna didn't look way older than me.
I waved at her, but she just glared at me, then turned her back. Her clothes were even nicer than Lisa's—whose clothes were outstanding—but her hair wasn't even brushed.
Sandy poked me, and I realized we were at the customs desk. The man was holding out his hand for my bag. Without thinking I handed it over and turned back to look at Tianna.
"Could you explain this?" the customs man said curtly.
I whipped around to see him holding the box of tulips.
"Um," I said and stopped.
With a frown, he turned to Daddy and said, "You realize it's illegal to bring these into Canada."
My stomach sank. He thought Daddy had tried to get them in by putting them in my bag where maybe customs wouldn't look as hard.
"I bought them!" I blurted. "They were for my aunt, only I didn't see that we couldn't bring them here 'til we were already on the plane." Well, almost on the plane, I thought to myself.
"Anika!" Mom said, frowning. "You should have told us!"
My ears felt hot, but I kept on looking at the customs man. He wasn't looking at me, though. He was frowning at Daddy.
"Take your suitcases and go over to that office, please," he said.
Chapter Three
I swallowed. Those tulips I'd bought were really getting us into trouble. Daddy picked up a suitcase and followed the customs man. You could tell by the way Daddy moved that he was very tired. Mom and Sandy followed him, but I hung back.
"It was only me," I called to the customs man. "Mom and Dad didn't do anything. Daddy's sick; please let us go through."
He didn't even turn around.
"Anika!" Daddy called, and I could tell it was an order. In the other room a fat woman with short blonde hair that stuck out all over went through every tiny part of our luggage, like we were smugglers or something. They even looked in Daddy's medicine bottle and asked about the prescriptions. Sandy kept glaring at me, and Mom and Daddy ignored me.
