When the sun rose directly overhead, they returned to the mission where Sally Beth went to her small room to wash the red dust off her hands and face before lunch. Walking back toward the dining hall, she heard the sound of an airplane engine above her, dipping lower, then circling back and dropping behind the church. She ran to it as it rolled around into her line of vision.
A small amphibious plane was taxiing toward her through the grassy meadow that lay behind the church. Sunshine glinted off the pristine, white body and wings and crisp, red letters on the side stood out as if they had been newly painted: MORE MOOJUICE. She laughed aloud, thinking that the owner of the plane would be surprised to know what that would mean to an American.
When he touched down on the grass inside the mission compound, John scanned the field ahead of him carefully, hoping to avoid potholes and bumps. He wouldn’t have been so careful in the old plane, but he didn’t want to bang up this new one. Glancing ahead, he saw a woman running toward him, and his heart skipped a beat before the sun coming in through the windshield blinded him temporarily. He blinked and looked harder. Was he going insane? Geneva, the woman he had loved and lost was standing in a watching pose, holding her hat on her head, the wind whipping a light pink dress tight against her legs. He rubbed his eyes. Surely, he thought, the sun was playing tricks on him, but still, his heart beat out a syncopation of hope cavorting with alarm. Pushing the brakes until the plane jolted to a stop, he leaped out, ready to race to the woman in the pink dress.
“John!” she shrieked, running to him, and his breath stopped, but then he recognized her and he felt a momentary surge of disappointment, followed by a surprising flush of relief. It was not Geneva, but her cousin, Sally Beth. Sally Beth, of all people.
He broke into a wide grin, whooped, and ran to meet her, his arms opened wide, laughing as he hugged her. She was so light, he almost felt he could toss her in the air like a child, but settled for spinning her around and squeezing her tightly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, amazed at the sight of him. He was bronzed and beautiful, and she was so happy to see a familiar face, she almost kissed him.
“What am I doing here? I live in Africa. For now, anyway. The question is what are you doing here?”
“Oh, it’s a long story. I thought you were in Kenya. Isn’t that a long way from here?”
“Not really, just over the lake. Nairobi is only a little over 350 miles from here, and I come here all the time to deliver supplies and mail. It takes about two and a half hours in this baby,” he said, gesturing toward the plane. “And as of last week, we’re going to set up a station at Kigemba Lake, only about ten miles from here.”
“Oh my goodness, I’m just beside myself! Imagine. You being just a couple of hours away. And coming here. And what a beautiful plane.”
John’s face shown with pleasure. “Yes, I just got it three days ago. I didn’t think our program was very well known outside of Nairobi, but apparently, someone who was at the conference where I delivered a paper last year got interested in my project and has made a big donation. He gave us two planes. Along with about $500,000 to set up another station here in the Kagera Region.
“It was the oddest thing,” John continued. “About two weeks ago, we got this call from a bank saying a group interested in world hunger—I had never heard of the group—but they wanted to wire money to our foundation, and it was to be used specifically to buy land in Kagera for another experimental station, and they gave us two planes. We’re supposed to get involved with local missions, too, but mostly we’re to expand this new milk enhancement program. No reason, no other stipulations, just that, so I’ve been over here looking at places. I found the perfect land for sale at Kigemba Lake just yesterday, and our offer has been accepted.” He closed his eyes in a long, slow blink, baffled by his new circumstances. “It’s unbelievable. First, we get all this money and these planes, we’re buying land, and now here you are. All these impossible things happening all at once.” He looked at her closely. “So what are you doing here, 8,000 miles from Tucker? The last time I saw you, you were on your way to Las Vegas. Did you take a wrong turn?”
Sally Beth laughed. Oh my. It’s so good to see him! “Sort of. Rather, we had some car trouble—that is, Lilly’s car caught fire and burned up in Texas, and we just happened to run into Jimmy Lee who saved our hides, and when we got home, the doctor down at the nursing home—he comes here to do mission work, and he had this team all ready to come here, but somebody backed out at the last minute, so he asked me to come, and I had exactly five minutes to make up my mind, because we left about a week later. I had to drive over to DC to get my passport and visa and had to go to the Tanzanian consulate, and to Senator Byrd’s office to get it all done, and I’ve only been here since last Monday.” She took a breath. “I think that was the fourth. What is the date today, anyway?”
He laughed. “I know what you mean. The time passes differently here. It’s Saturday, September 16. Gosh, I can’t believe it’s you.” He hugged her again, knocking the hat off her head, and they both chased after it as it spiraled through the grass, laughing like schoolchildren running through the fields on a summer day.
John ended up staying the night at the mission, with plans to stay off and on indefinitely, for he would be in the region for several weeks while he finalized the purchase on the land, looked at cattle, and talked to contractors about building the barns to house them. That suited Sally Beth just fine. John’s familiar face and the cadence of his Appalachian accent, reminders of home in this beautiful but strange land, were a balm to her soul.
September 17, 1978
John joined the staff for Sunday service at the mission church, then for lunch at the dining hall. Sitting at the table with John and Sally Beth were Dr. Sams, Dr. Price, the other American doctor at the mission, the two nurses Janie and Francine, Pastor Umbatu and Lyla, and three people she had not met before: two quiet African men and a very young woman with watchful eyes.
Sally Beth turned to the minister. “Pastor Umbatu, I’d never been to a Lutheran service before I got here. It is very interesting.” This was true, at least for about half of the sermon, and then it had ceased to be interesting and instead had become very long. She wondered if all Lutherans went on like that. But the music had been good. They had sung a few traditional hymns, probably for the benefit of the American congregants, but for the most part, the music was very strange to her: loud, joyful, and colorful, with people clapping and dancing, lifting their hands high. Some people jumped about and flailed their hands and arms. It was far different from the quiet Quaker services she was used to.
“Thank you, Sally Beth,” he said in his deep, melodic voice. “But I am guessing that you found it too long, and perhaps too noisy? That is what I am told Americans tend to think when they first come to this country. We go on too much with our worship.”
Lyla interjected, “Pastor Umbatu! You must not tease our friends. Sally Beth will think you are being serious and she will feel compelled to insist that she liked the sermon very much, and you will force her into telling an untruth.” She turned to Sally Beth. “He is only teasing you, my friend,” she said. “Although I think maybe he will be fishing for compliments. You must not encourage his vanity.”
At that, Pastor Umbatu threw back his head and laughed a deep, long, booming laugh. “Ah, Lyla, you chastise me too much. Our friends will come to the wrong conclusion, that my sweetheart is a shrewish woman—and we know that she is not!”
The elegant, constrained flirtation between the pastor and his lady became more generalized to include everyone at the table. Before long, they all, except for the three newcomers, were teasing and laughing. Not wanting them to feel left out, Sally Beth turned to them.
“We haven’t met yet. I’m Sally Beth from West Virginia, in America.”
The men remained silent, but the young woman looked at her curiously, lifted her head, and smiled. “Good afternoon,” she said in a low, gentl
e voice. “We are happy to meet you, and hope that you will be our friend in Jesus. I am Alice Auma, and these are my companions, Francis and Joseph. We are soldiers for the Holy Spirits.”
Pastor Umbatu stepped into the conversation. “These are our friends visiting from Uganda, Sally Beth,” he said, laying a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “They are fleeing the persecutions of Mr. Amin, and we are sheltering them until they feel they must move again.” Alice’s head came up sharply. She shot him a disapproving look.
“Mr. Amin?” asked Sally Beth.
“Idi Amin,” explained the pastor. “The ruler of Uganda, just north of here. Some say he is the president, but some say he is the scourge of Uganda. He has not been known to treat his people well.”
Alice spoke up. “We do not fear Mr. Amin. He has no power over us,” she said, her eyes steely, and her voice grew stronger. “We move on the orders of Lakwena, the emissary of the Holy Father, and he has sent us here merely for a respite. We will be returning to Uganda soon to continue the battle against evil, and when we win it, we will have a new Uganda, purged of sin and injustice.”
The table fell silent for a small moment, and then Dr. Davis spoke. “We are happy to offer you shelter, and we hope you win your battle against evil. None of us is fond of Mr. Amin, either.” He brightened as he turned to John. “So, John, that’s a beautiful plane. When did you get it?”
“Just three days ago. An American organization. Nice, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I’ll say. And when do I get to take a ride in it? This afternoon?”
“Hold on! I can understand why you want to ride in it, but I think I need to take the ladies up first.” He turned to the nurses and to Sally Beth and Lyla. “Any takers, ladies?”
Janie, a tall, sleek African-American spoke up. “Silly question. We all do! Is it a four-seater? I guess we’ll have to fight it out, since there are five of us.”
John laughed at the teasing. “We’ll draw straws to see who goes first. I’ll take you up two or three at a time.”
Alice shook her head, “Lakwena forbids me and my soldiers to move up into the sky. We have not purchased that right.”
Again, there was a puzzled silence until John spoke again, “Well, okay, then let’s see who’s going first,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a book of matches. Sally Beth was dying to go, but she knew the others were, too, so she said, “That’s okay. I have a few things to do. You can all go first. I don’t mind waiting.”
Lyla looked at her compassionately. “You are a kind girl, Sally Beth. I will wait with you, and we can go up together on the second trip.”
Lord God, what a beautiful, beautiful, wonderful day! Just wonderful. What a creation You have made. I have never seen anything like the plains and the forests and the lakes like I saw them today in John’s plane, skimming right above them, and the monkeys running everywhere, and when I saw the giraffes—oh! It was just the most wonderful thing ever. They float. They just stretch their necks out and float across the plains as if they are flying.
And Lord, I just love Lyla. She is so kind and funny. I think she will be my best friend here. And thank You for John being here. He looks so much happier now. If it weren’t for Howard being so perfect for Geneva, I almost wish she had married John so she could be here, too, and I bet they would have been happy. But Lord, I know I shouldn’t make such speculations. I’m just excited and wish everybody could be this glad. I love You, Lord! Thank You. Hi to Mama and Daddy, and to Holy Miracle, and don’t forget Edna Mae and Jimmy Lee and Lilly, and poor Lawrence, too—make things work out for good for them. Oh, and please take care of those people I met today who are taking shelter here, and all the good people at the nursing home, and… Sally Beth fell asleep listing all the people she cared about.
Twelve
The days, and the work, became routine and comfortable. Although John spent most nights at the mission, he was seldom seen, for he usually left before sunrise every morning to oversee construction of the new facility at Kigemba Lake, and he returned quite late. Every day as he looked over the day’s accomplishments, he felt his heart swell and flutter. Each of the new calves born into the program meant that another child might survive the awful drought that had crippled Kenya, Ethiopia, and Somalia for years. He would breed cattle here in the lush grasslands around Kigemba to give them a good start before moving them to the drier and harsher climate near Nairobi. It was a good plan, he thought, as he murmured a silent thanks to the anonymous donor who had suggested it and made it possible.
The only part of Sally Beth’s work that she didn’t like was the paperwork, but after Falla stepped in to help with that, she found working in the clinic quite enjoyable, especially since she had learned how to do minor medical procedures. Giving immunizations, taking temperatures, bandaging wounds, and offering comfort to the suffering was satisfying, even fun. Every day new wonders opened up to her.
Friendships grew. She became close to the nurses and to Falla, but she became especially close to Lyla, who taught Bible classes to the children from the village. They managed to take their lunch and tea together almost every day, except on those days Sally Beth was too busy to take a break.
“You must come to visit me at my home this Saturday,” Lyla announced one day as she peeled a banana. “My mother and my father, they say I talk so much about you that they are tired of not knowing what your face looks like. It is hard to explain that you are as beautiful and as pale as the rain, so they must see for themselves.”
“Pale as the rain? Lyla, the rain is not blonde. It’s gray. Or it is colorless! You don’t think I am colorless, do you?”
Lyla looked at her closely. “You have not seen the rain come during the day here yet, have you, Sally Beth? When it rains while the sun is shining, it is not colorless at all, but both transparent and all colors. You have pink in your face, and your eyes are very blue. And your spirit sparkles like a prism. Yes, it has no color, and yet it is full of color. I say you are the color of rain, or maybe of gentle music. Will you come for lunch on Saturday?”
September 23, 1978
Lyla met Sally Beth in the foyer of the church and led her out to a large, black car, dusted in just barely enough red dirt to cover the glint of a flawless paint job. Beside the car stood a liveried chauffer who crisply opened the door for them. Lyla obviously was farther up the social ladder than anyone she had ever met before, and Sally Beth felt a fleeting apprehension as she remembered how much she had teased her, elbowing her in the ribs over silly jokes and making fun of her formal style of speech. She should have minded her p’s and q’s a little better, she thought, as she leaned into the leather seat and felt the cool air conditioning blowing on her skin.
But once they were on the road, her surprise at the car and the chauffer soon turned to alarm as they drove the twenty miles to Lyla’s home. She had never seen such awful drivers or such horrible road conditions. It seemed there were no rules here: people herded goats, geese, and cows down the middle of the road amid a cacophony of cars that rushed up behind them, blaring their horns, then swerved around, running up the sides of hills, bumping over debris piled up on the sides of the road. Cars passed donkey carts and each other, even though there were double yellow lines, curves and hills, with cars and trucks coming, with monkeys, cows and herders, and donkeys meandering along the road. They passed on one-lane roads with three or four cars abreast, blaring their horns and jockeying for position as they sped over the potholes.
Dala-Dalas, buses about the size of mini vans meant to carry six or seven people, were crammed with twenty or more. The seats had been removed, and the people all stood packed inside or clung to the sides and back, or swayed on the roof as the driver careened along, seemingly oblivious to the mayhem around or the fact that people almost went flying off every time he hit a bump. The only car that was not badly dented or damaged was the one they were in. Sally Beth had seen some crazy drivers in the mountains at home, but this was far beyond th
e worst she had ever seen.
If she was feeling dazed by the time they arrived at Lyla’s home, she was downright dazzled by where her friend lived. They turned off the main road, through an ornate gate flanked by guards, and drove down a long, shaded drive that ended at formal gardens surrounding a mansion. As far as her eye could see stood hundreds of acres of a banana plantation. When she stepped out of the car, she was immediately greeted by a large, uniformed household staff, just like in one of those English movies.
“This is where you live? Oh, Lyla!”
Her friend laughed. “Do not be overly impressed, Sally Beth. We are simple people. My father just has had good fortune and a head for business.”
Sally Beth fell silent. There was nothing in her experience to prepare her for this, and she spent the rest of the afternoon feeling like a country bumpkin dining with the Queen.
Oh my Lord! Another stunning day. I was so surprised by Lyla’s family; they are rich—but they were so nice. And good-looking, and elegant. It’s hard to describe them, except to say they were classy. But that sounds cheap, when I don’t mean it to be. They are really, really nice people. But I’m kind of sorry I went. It was nice to think that Lyla is a girl like me. Now I really don’t know how to act around her. I nearly passed out when she showed me her wedding dress. It has a six foot train and is covered in pearls. I’ve never seen anything so fine. I’m sorry we will be leaving here before the wedding in December. She’s going to be a beautiful bride.
Anyway, I’m having such a good time here, and it’s so full of surprises. One minute I’m ducking because a Dala-Dala is about to run over us to keep from hitting a goat in the road, and the next, I’m having this elegant lunch with real china and silver, and talking to the richest, but nicest, people I have ever met.
The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set Page 61
