by Tim Merriman
“Time to go,” she said merrily, breaking up the reading session as Daudi and Ramla came along to watch. She gave Masozi instructions as they walked to the track. Another blind boy with two good legs was already there along with two strong youngsters in wheel chairs. Rope lanes and a beeping sound at the finish line guided the blind boys in the race. When the starting gun sounded, Masozi began his ungainly lope with one hand looped over the cord. He built up to his fastest speed and covered the fifty yards with the third-slowest time of the four. He was out of breath, but thrilled with the unusual competition. He and the other three contenders were laughing and hugging at the finish line.
“I am Masozi,” he said to the tall blind youngster who had won the race.
“I’m David,” the boy proclaimed. “How did you lose your sight?”“I stepped on a mine left buried near my home. It blew off my leg and blinded me with small slivers of steel in my face. Here you can feel the scars it left.” Masozi found the hand of his new friend and held it to the reminders of the deep wounds on his forehead and cheeks.
“I thought you were from California. There’s no mine fields in California. Where are you really from?”
Masozi’s smile faltered for just a moment, but he found he couldn’t lie to his newfound friend. “We have come from Kenya. Best runners in the world come from Kenya, you know.” Masozi was happy to point this out despite the fact that he was not Kenyan by birth.
David didn’t seem to mind where Masozi came from. He was simply impressed by his attitude and his ability.
“You’re missing a leg and still came in third. That’s great, Masozi. I didn’t do much in outrunning you with two legs, did I?”
Masozi’s smile returned in full force as he realized that David was not going to reveal his story. “They just told me to run like the wind and so I did. I am having fun, David,” Masozi proclaimed with genuine joy. Though he meant what he said, he still limped a bit from the chafing of his artificial leg made worse by the hard run. Masozi had been living with that daily pain for so long, he rarely even thought about it. His body made constant adjustments in gait to avoid making it any worse.
A few minutes later, the Olympics committee lined up the winners and presented medals. Masozi received his bronze medal, silenced with awe at what had happened. The national anthem of the United States was played over a portable music machine and Daudi and Ramla watched with great pride for their friend. After the ceremony, David followed them through a lunch line and back to the cottonwood tree to eat.
“Why did you come from Kenya?” David asked. “Just for the Special Olympics?”
Daudi looked at Masozi, and realized how David had gotten that information. He looked around and found no adults in earshot. David seemed genuinely interested, so he decided to share their story. “We came to America to meet Kamau Akama and give him a message.”
“Kamau who?” David wondered.
“Kamau Akama, president of the United Nations, the big man in New York City, known all over the world.”
“Oh, him,” David answered, pretending he knew who Daudi was talking about. “What’s the message?”
Daudi looked at the ground, hearing his grandmother’s voice in his head and seeing the faces of the children in the orphanage. He said thoughtfully, “The world must know about the children of Africa. Our people are dying—from wars, from disease, from starvation. We must help those who cannot help themselves. It is true, I need medicine for myself, but there are so many others who need it, too, and they have no hope if those who can help never know how much their help is needed.”
David was quiet for a moment, taking in what Daudi had said.
Masozi broke the silence by asking, “Where do you live, David?”
“I live in an orphanage, Masozi. My parents are dead,” he said with no hint of self-pity.
“Us too,” Masozi explained. “We lived in an orphanage in Kenya but they have run out of the medicine for Daudi.”
“What kind of medicine?” David asked.
“The new triple drug for HIV,” Daudi answered. “I’m HIV-positive. I will get AIDS soon without the medicine.”
“That’s very serious,” David said.
“Very serious,” Masozi echoed.
“Ramla is with us, too,” Daudi said, realizing that David could not see her. “She does not speak. But she is our friend and helps Masozi see.”
Ramla looked up and her deep brown eyes flashed over at David. His head tilted and he faced her direction.
“I’m sure she’s a big help. I have a friend here also who helps me the same way. Joe and I are from the same orphanage in Independence.”
Masozi cocked his head to one side. “And where is this Independence? I have never heard of this place.”
“It’s in Kansas. Way down in the southeast part of Kansas.”
“Kansas?” Daudi and Masozi spoke in unison, a look of amazement spreading across their faces.
“Kansas is exactly where we are heading. David, can we go with you?”
“Golly, Masozi. I don’t know. Five of us came in a van with one of our teachers. There’s lots of room,” David answered.
Daudi looked worried when he leaned forward to whisper. “Will they ask for papers or money? We have no passports or permission letters of any kind. We lost what we had at the airport in San Francisco.”
They all sat and thought about what they might do to get the Africans in the van to Kansas. While David and Masozi plotted, Daudi began to read again and a crowd gathered again to hear him. Daudi was proud to read for so many and he used his voice as he knew how, painting wonderful pictures in the minds of the listeners.
“My greatest wish now,” she added, “is to get back to Kansas, for Aunt Em will surely think something dreadful has happened to me, and that will make her put on mourning; and unless the crops are better this year than they were last I am sure Uncle Henry cannot afford it.”
Glinda leaned forward and kissed the sweet, upturned face of the loving little girl.
“Bless your dear heart,” she said, “I am sure I can tell you of a way to get back to Kansas.”
As he read, Daudi could not help but think of Rosa Carson and Sister Mary, wondering if they ever worried about where the children had gone. He was just thinking that perhaps they needed to find a good witch like Glinda to help them along their way, when David’s teacher came looking for him.
David had worked up what he hoped was a good reason to take his new friends to Independence, embroidering the truth. He was a little surprised to find his teacher more than willing to bring the three along. The teacher did not explain, but she didn’t believe the kids were from California and she assumed they were in some sort of trouble. Though she wondered at the wisdom of taking them across state lines, their rumpled clothes and thin bodies had her concerned for their safety. She decided she would do well to deliver the children to authorities in Kansas and let them sort it out. Children, especially those with special challenges, should not be wandering the streets of a gambling town alone and she thought it might be better to just keep the kids with her since she could not easily leave her other charges alone while trying to arrange something with the authorities in Reno.
The games were over just after noon and Daudi had read more out loud than ever in his life. For most of the morning, seventy or more children had drifted in and out of the crowd surrounding him under the cottonwood tree. Many of the children had given him slips of paper with their e-mail addresses, asking to keep in touch. He did not admit that he had no idea how to use e-mail, but vowed to figure it out as soon as he had a chance.
As the event came to a close, Miss Tammy, as David called her, loaded the five children in her charge into the fifteen-passenger van and then settled the Kenyans in the rearmost seat. Even with two wheelchairs, they had ample room for the new travelers. Daudi and Masozi were unusually quiet, unsure of what Miss Tammy was thinking or how much to tell her. Ramla simply watched the movement out the window as
they drove east toward Colorado, where they would stay the night in a hotel. They enjoyed a quick dinner at a fast-food restaurant and rolled on until they were near Steamboat Springs by ten p.m.. Though they’d been laughing and joking in the van, exchanging stories from their day at the Special Olympics, the children were all exhausted and quickly settled into the three rooms rented by the Independence School District at a Super 6 Motel.
* * *
Ramla was frightened by being separated from Daudi and Masozi, so she feigned sleep until her roommates were snoring lightly, and then slipped out into the hallway. She tapped on Daudi’s door and he answered with a sleepy greeting. Without a glance, she entered the room past him, curled up on the end of the double bed and went right to sleep. Daudi lay on the huge bed next to Masozi, who was asleep almost as soon as they hit the sheets. Coming from equatorial Africa, where air conditioning was found only in the big cities, had not prepared their systems for the dry, cold air blasting into their room. Neither had known how to turn the machine off, so they snuggled under the covers to keep warm. As Daudi lay listening to his friend’s regular breathing, he wondered what would happen to him without the medicines. He had been without for over two months now and he knew that this yellow brick road was going to be long and hard on his health. He was already feeling weary to his bones, and coughing from time to time, but knew he could not stop to rest for any length of time. He had to keep moving to get to New York in time for the conference. That was his best chance to talk to Kamau Akama. He wondered how long it would be before his cough became worse. Would he get sicker and be unable to see his quest through to the end? Or would he simply die right away? He did not share his fears with his friends, but he talked to Mamere in his mind at these times.
Mamere. I may come to be with you soon. My medicines are gone. I want to see Kansas. If I can follow Dorothy’s yellow brick road, I think I can reach the land of Oz. Or at least I can reach New York to meet Kamau Akama. I will survive till then because I know you will help me. I remember how you kissed my face like the good witch kissed Dorothy to protect her on her journey. And this is such a long journey. I must explain how sick many of us have become. When Kamau Akama sees me, he will see the thousands like me that are still in Africa. I will ask for help for all those who cannot help themselves, just as you said.
Sleep pulled Daudi beneath its veil and he sat on Mamere’s lap in his dream, remembering better times. He even thought in the dream that it must be a dream, a good dream and he wanted to stay here as long as he could. Mamere laughed and held him. “You are very special, Daudi. Do not forget that. Very special. You can do anything.”
Chapter Seven
The kids woke early. David led the Africans to the pool before breakfast. They pulled off their Special Olympics T-shirts, and David immediately realized the Africans had no swimsuits. He suggested the pool water might help clean their travel-worn clothes. It looked more inviting to play in the cool blue water than to scrub clothes in the bathroom sink, so they went right in after helping Masozi remove his metal prosthetic and get to the edge of the pool.
Ramla sat by herself in the shallows and watched while Masozi and David splashed water towards Daudi, making him laugh and run from the blind friends who could so easily track his movements. When Miss Tammy called them out of the pool to eat breakfast, they toweled off and headed to the motel’s lobby to get cereal, Belgian waffles, bananas, and yogurt. They had no idea where they would be by the next mealtime, so they tried to eat what they could and put a couple of extra pieces of fruit and bread in their plastic bag for later. A half-hour later, all the children were checked out of their rooms and loaded into the van.
When they rolled south on Highway 40 towards Denver, Daudi and Ramla pressed their faces to the windows and Daudi gave Masozi a running report of the incredible views of huge mountains surrounding them.
“Masozi, the mountains here are as big as Mt. Kenya. But they go on forever. The land is green and tree-covered with deep, dark valleys and huge rock walls that reach to the sky. This is a heavenly place.”
“These are very good smelling mountains, Daudi.”
Ramla seemed enchanted with the scenery as David and Masozi played their own version of Rock, Paper, Scissors to pass the time. David noticed that Daudi was sleeping through much of the trip and asked Masozi if something was wrong. Masozi had not noticed how quiet Daudi had become. He assured David that Daudi was fine, but he made a mental note to ask Ramla to keep a close eye on his friend. He was concerned that Daudi’s illness might be making him more tired than any of them had realized.
A few hours later, Daudi awoke as they were arriving in another big city.
“Masozi, this is like San Francisco.”
“It’s Denver,” David explained, “capital of Colorado.”
“It is amazing, amazing,” Daudi raved as the van wandered through the ribbons of concrete where Interstate 70 crosses Interstate 25. The waning afternoon hours took them through the dry and dusty flatlands of eastern Colorado and into western Kansas.
“Kansas!” the kids yelled out as they crossed the border. “We’re in Kansas!”
Daudi whispered to Masozi and Ramla. “It is very bleak. I can see why a witch might live here.” They all shuddered and waited, wondering what they would do next, now that they had reached this milestone. Daudi recalled the description of Kansas from the book and began speaking the words softly from memory.
When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached the edge of the sky in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. The children all nodded solemnly. Somehow, they had expected Kansas to look more like the Emerald City and were now wondering if they had made a horrible mistake trying to get to this vast, bleak grassland. How could they ever find their way to New York City and Kamau Akama here amongst the prairie dogs? Though they knew the idea of a yellow brick road was only a story, deep in their hearts, they had all hoped it was true. They had believed that getting to Kansas was going to make their quest magically easier, and now they realized Kansas did not hold the answers. It was just another stop along a very long road they had yet to travel.
Miss Tammy had shown little interest in the Africans, other than asking occasional questions and ensuring that their basic needs were being met. Daudi thought her attitude towards them was somewhat strange, but had been grateful that she had not probed too deeply. David had warned Daudi to be careful what he said. David confided, “Miss Tammy is nice enough, but very suspicious of everyone. She likes catching us doing something wrong. I think she’s trying to figure out what to do with you once we get back to our home. I heard her talking on the phone with the headmaster, and I think she may be in trouble for bringing you along, so watch out. This could get weird.”
Daudi worried as they pulled into another motel late in the evening in Salina. It was the same routine as the night before, but he was uneasy with Miss Tammy coming to check on them every thirty minutes all evening. Every sound in the motel pulled Daudi from his restless sleep, but he wasn’t sure what to do next, so he napped off and on through the long night, trying to ignore the gentle snoring of Masozi and Ramla.
When they ate in the breakfast room the next morning, Miss Tammy was nowhere to be seen. Daudi, Masozi, David, and Joey enjoyed waffles with syrup, while Ramla ate a banana, staring out the window. Suddenly she jumped up and pulled Daudi to the window. He peered out in the morning glare and could see Miss Tammy meeting a woman and man in a white sedan. He did not know the meaning of the emblem on the door so he called Joey to look.
“What is that, Joey? Are they friends or family of Miss Tammy?” he asked hopefully.
“No, I’m sorry, Daudi. I was afraid of
this. That’s Children and Family Services of Kansas. They’ll take you to a foster home and you won’t be able to go with us. I’ve had to go with them many times.”
Daudi was stricken with fear, reminded of the vulture-man that first took him from his grandmother’s home. Ramla had gone straight to Masozi, who was laughing and joking with David. Daudi glanced at them, realizing that Ramla had already figured out they must run again and soon.
He hurried over to them and whispered, “We cannot stay. The authorities are here. They will take us to jail or back to Africa. We must go now.”
“Masozi, Daudi, Ramla,” David groaned. “I’ll miss you. You’re great, but you better go quick. They’ll be here very soon.”
The kids gave each other a quick hug and Ramla and Daudi led Masozi out the back door. Daudi stopped suddenly, turning back to grab the plastic bag they had restocked with fruit and bread from the breakfast bar, but it was too late to get it without getting caught. They fled through the breezeway behind the office and headed to the frontage road that led to the interstate. They crossed under the highway, working their way unseen into the strange city.
“Where do we go now, Daudi?” Masozi asked with great seriousness.
“I do not know. We are in Kansas but we must get to New York. Joey showed me on a map that it is a very long way still, but I have no idea how to get there,” he admitted.
Ramla pulled on Masozi, dragging him eastward. “Where are we going, Ramla?” he protested.
“Oz,” she said very quietly and both boys were struck dumb for a moment.
“Who said that?” Masozi asked. “That is not your voice, Daudi.”
“Ramla spoke, Masozi, she spoke,” Daudi said, staring at her in disbelief.
Masozi hugged her like the sister she had become. “Oh, Ramla. It is a start. We are your brothers. You can talk to us anytime.”
She looked at them with great intensity, said nothing more, but pointed east.
