“Do you want to drift on the water until somebody fishes us out? We’re heading south, and I’m hoping we can get to that swampy area just about ten miles above the border. They won’t be able to drive in there, and there are plenty of mangrove trees, if we can get to them.” Waving his head from side to side, searching intently, he said, “I’m looking for some island off the shoreline.” After another tense moment, he brightened. “There’s one!” he shouted, pushing the nose of the plane to within thirty feet of the water.
Suddenly, the engine began to sputter, and then died. They were a mere ten feet from the surface now; John fought to keep the nose up, but the small plane was dropping fast. Within seconds, one of the pontoons hit the water; the plane bounced up and hit it again, then plowed forward, water hitting the windshield like a tidal wave. The plane shuddered before coming to an abrupt stop. Both Sally Beth and John flew forward; hitting their heads on the windshield, they were knocked senseless. Priscilla slammed against the back of John’s seat. None of them was wearing a seat belt.
Sally Beth woke to the sound of Priscilla’s voice, quivering with suppressed hysteria, calling to her, shaking her, and when Sally Beth was able to open her eyes, she found herself looking into the face of a terrified child. Prissy threw her arms around her, sobbing.
“I thought you were dead!”
“No, Prissy! I’m okay. I’m okay, baby, just give me a minute.” She rubbed the knot on her forehead, turning to John. “John!” she called. He did not respond. She shook him, and he felt like a heavy bag of sand under her hands. She flung herself at him, shaking him harder. “John Smith! Wake up! You can’t leave us now. I didn’t give you my blood for nothing. Wake up. I need you! John!” She stopped, sobbing, her head buried in his shoulder. He did not move or make a sound.
John was somewhere he didn’t want to be, and he was in a panic. He saw Sally Beth falling from his plane, drifting slowly downward through clouds and mist. He knew that if he could only find the right combination of the right words, he could save her, but he didn’t know what the words were. He knew one of them was “love,” but none of the others made sense, coming to him in a meaningless jumble. He struggled to cry out, wanting to call her name, but he was mute, immobilized, helpless to form the words that swam in his head, “I will save you. Love. Love. Love.”
After a few moments, Sally Beth realized that once again it was up to her, and she had a child to protect. She drew a shaky breath as she looked around her. Somehow, the plane had stayed upright, sitting out in the water about forty feet from the shoreline. Her heart sank. How was she going to get help now? Could she drag John through the water?
“Any ideas what to do, Prissy?” she asked, defeated.
“Uh, no. Unless you have a paddle.”
“Not on me. Can you swim?”
Silence loomed up from the back seat, until finally, Priscilla answered softly, apologetically, “No.”
Sally Beth reached over to shake John one more time. There was no response, so she did the only thing she knew to do.
Lord, please help!
But when she opened her eyes, the only thing she could think of was that the Lord had made an awful mistake. Straight ahead, standing on the bank, stood about fifty men holding spears and rifles. They all were looking at her.
Sally Beth’s hand reached for the revolver that had slid up against the side of the door. She wanted to check how many bullets were left, but realized that even if the chamber was full, their situation was hopeless. She remembered a movie she had seen about a wagon train besieged by Comanches. The men had held a solemn conference, after which they had shot all the women and children to save them from the brutality they would face if they were captured.
Out of desperation, she searched her memory for Scripture to help her in this moment. The only thing that came to mind was the old standby, the 23rd Psalm:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me…
They had read that at her mother’s funeral, at her father’s funeral, at the funeral of Holy Miracle Jones. Looking up to see the men on the shoreline pushing a boat out into the water, she knew what the words meant: they were going to die. It made her infinitely sad, not for herself, but for Priscilla, who had not had a chance to really live yet, and for Alethia, who would be in agony. “Priscilla, baby, I’m so sorry! This is my fault. If I had left when I should have, you’d be with your mama right now.”
“It’s okay, Sally Beth. I wish I hadn’t left my sister when the army got hold of her. But she was dead. Lilly was still alive. You couldn’t leave her.”
Sally Beth closed her eyes. Lord, I know You are with us, and I am sorry I have let You down. I have been worthless to You, but, please… Make them kill us outright. Take Prissy first so she doesn’t have to see it.
Voices came closer. She heard men shouting just outside the cabin, and, grasping the gun, she drew a shaking breath and opened her eyes to see kind, smiling faces. Her gaze roved upward, beyond the men in the boat. Standing on the bank, bending over as if recovering from a long run, stood Lilly, and beside her stood Phil and Alice Auma.
November 2, 1978, Lake Victoria, Uganda
The small, feisty woman looked at John’s seeping thigh wound and declared emphatically. “This won’t stop bleeding. The gele is helping, but I need something more potent to staunch it.” She rubbed her chin, musing. “Rhatany might work, but I’m not sure it grows here. Or ramie, but I haven’t seen any of that around here, either. Bur marigold grows in swampy places, so maybe somebody in this godforsaken place has it, or can find it for me.”
“Thank you, Fajimi,” said Sally Beth. “What can I do?
“Just keep sitting right there and talk to him while I go look for something to stop that bleeding, but for pity’s sake, keep your right side to him. You don’t need him to see your face from the left!” She gave Sally Beth a curt once-over. “And where did you get those clothes, girl?”
Sally Beth looked at the khaki pants and shirt Lilly had loaned her. “My sister?”
“A girl should wear dresses. You have no business dressing like a man. I’ll find you something decent.” Fajimi stalked out of the tent opening with one last disgusted look, adding, “Are you the one he keeps wanting to rescue? Maybe you should tell him he’s done it. Then maybe he’ll get some rest.” She disappeared through the canvas flap.
Priscilla giggled behind her hand. “Bossy.”
“Yes, but I’m glad she’s here. Nobody else really seems to know what to do.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Do I look that bad, Prissy?”
The child tilted her chin upwards and gazed at Sally Beth’s swollen and bruised face. “It will get better. Put some more gele on it, and drink some. Fajimi said it would help.”
Fajimi returned two hours later, carrying a small canvas bag bulging with plants in one hand and a simple blue housedress in the other. As she swept into the tent, she gave Sally Beth an appraising glance and she tossed the dress to her, saying, “You will look better when you dress like a girl.” Then she poured water into a bowl and proceeded to empty her bag on the table. Pale yellow flowers, golden daisies, and succulents spilled out. She sorted through them, washing them and placing them into various bowls. Sally Beth drew closer.
“Aloe vera,” explained Fajimi. “There wasn’t one speck of it in the whole camp. I had to walk up that mountain to find it.” She slit the juicy stem down the side and placed it in a bowl before taking up a pestle and crushing it, then added a few bright yellow flowers, which Sally Beth recognized as St John’s wort. After a moment’s work, she dipped her fingers into the bowl and smeared it on Sally Beth’s face. “Put this on your bruises. Should help.” She stood
back, nodding her head briefly before turning back to her work. “Go change your clothes. He’ll never get better as long as you look like that,” Fajimi said as she poked around in her bag, pulling out more golden flowers. “Bur marigold. Found it just where I thought I would, in the swamp.” Tossing the flowers into a bowl, she attacked them with her pestle as Sally Beth slipped out of the tent.
November 6, 1978
The bleeding had stopped, but now John burned with fever. Sally Beth and Priscilla sat by him all day every day and for a good deal of the nights, holding his hand, doing their best to keep him cool while Fajimi went out to scour the island for medicinal herbs that might help him. She forced him to drink teas made from gele and other strange plants that she ground up and steeped in water. “I wish they would let me have wine,” she muttered. “This no alcohol rule is bad medicine. But thank God his wounds have not festered.”
“Why won’t Alice let us leave?” asked Sally Beth for the tenth time. Fajimi sighed as she slathered more aloe vera and St. John’s wort on her face.
“You know the Lakwena forbids it. Besides, the Ugandans are patrolling the lake. If you attempt to go now, we will be discovered. And if our hiding place is discovered, there will be no hope for you, or your sister, or for John. He will turn around soon. Go and comb your hair.”
Instead, she went to Alice. “Alice, I know you said the Lakwena forbids us to leave, but please, John is worse today. Isn’t there some way I can get him to the hospital?”
Alice looked tired. She had grown thinner over the last few days. But she smiled at Sally Beth with sympathy before replying, “We go to battle today. Under no circumstances are you to leave, or even venture to the edge of the camp. Sit with us while we prepare, and pray for victory. John will not die; the Lakwena has assured me that Fajimi’s medicines will cure his fever in another three days, if you pray, if we all remain pure in the eyes of God.”
Sally Beth sat in a chair just outside John’s tent as the preparations for battle began. Prissy sat on the ground beside her, leaning against her knee, grasping her hand as they watched people filing into the clearing. Men, women, and children silently poured out of tents and out of the forest, walking softly, as if not to disturb the cool morning air.
They watched uneasily as the commanders and technicians brought out pots of Shea butter and ocher, laying them on the ground under the yellow fever trees for the hundred men chosen for battle. They took off their shirts and smeared the concoction over their faces and bodies, then sat in ten rows of ten men each to listen to the technician in command read out the safety precautions. He walked among them, sprinkling water from a small vessel on each of their heads, then stood before them, holding a book high, speaking soberly and so softly Sally Beth had to strain to hear.
“Thou shall not have any kind of charms or remains of small sticks in your pockets, including the small piece used as a toothbrush. Thou shalt not smoke cigarettes. Thou shalt not drink alcohol. Thou shalt not commit adultery or fornication. Thou shalt not quarrel or fight with anybody. Thou shalt not steal.”
Phil moved gingerly around the perimeter of the troops, snapping pictures. Lilly crouched with her camera before Alice, who sat still and rigid, seemingly in a trance.
“Thou shalt not have envy or jealousy. Thou shalt not kill.”
This sent a chill through Sally Beth. How could soldiers going to battle be commanded not to kill?
“You will execute the orders and only the orders of the Lakwena. Thou shalt not take cover on the ground, in the grass, behind trees, ant hills, or any other obstacle there found.”
Not take cover! Do not kill and do not take cover. How had they won every battle they had engaged in over the past weeks? Sally Beth wondered if perhaps God was helping them, if Alice were indeed being led by the Holy Spirit.
“Thou shalt not pick from the battlefield any article not recommended by the Lakwena. Thou shalt not kill prisoners of war. Thou shalt follow the right words of command and never argue with the commander. Thou shalt love one another as you love yourselves. Thou shalt not kill snakes of any kind. Thou shalt not eat food with anybody who has not been sworn in by the Holy Spirit. Thou shalt not branch off to any home or shake hands with anybody while on route to the battlefield.
“Thou shalt not eat pork or mutton or oil of the same. Thou shalt have two testicles, neither more nor less. If any of you have not adhered to the safety precautions or fear that you cannot follow them, stand now and leave this place. The Lakwena will protect us only if all are found worthy.”
There was a long silence while each soldier turned inward, examining his heart. Sally Beth clutched at Priscilla’s hand, and from time to time, glanced back into the tent at John. He lay pale and still as a statue underneath the cool shade of the tent.
At last, a tremulous breath passed through the ranks, then three men rose and walked away. As soon as they stood, three men from the crowd began making their way forward. They took off their shirts and dipped their hands into the ochre and Shea butter pots, anointing themselves, then took the places vacated by their fellow soldiers.
“You have nine bullets and four magic stones each today,” said the technician. “Remember, you are not to point your weapons at anyone. You are not to kill. Only shoot into the air over the enemy’s head. The Spirits will guide the bullets to their mark as They deem.” He stepped back, gesturing toward the ammunition tent, where rifles and clips were laid out beside a large pile of rocks.
“Sing continually as you move forward until I command you to stop. When you are in sight of the enemy, the first rank shall hurl the magic stones forward as far as you are able, but do not shoot until my command. When you in the first rank have thrown all your stones, the second rank shall move forward with their stones. If your heart is full of love, enemy bullets will not be allowed to move past the stones. In this way, we are assured victory. The Lakwena has declared it.”
No one moved as Alice suddenly stood and made her way to the front of the rows of warriors. She stood calmly, facing the eastern sun, with her hands raised high above her head.
“We are the soldiers of the Holy Spirits, purified in the faith. With Lakwena as our guide, protecting us, shielding us, going before us, we will be victorious. Go forth!” She began singing,
Encamped along the hills of light,
Ye Christian soldiers, rise,
And press the battle ere the night
Shall veil the glowing skies.
Against the foe in vales below,
Let all our strength be hurled;
Faith is the victory, we know,
That overcomes the world.
The soldiers picked up the refrain, lifting their hands, singing, and then, as if they had seen an invisible signal, they stood as one, stamping their feet and holding their hands high. Their voices swelled in triumph as the crowd behind them joined in,
Faith is the victory!
Faith is the victory!
Oh, glorious victory,
That overcomes the world.
His banner over us is love,
Our sword the Word of God;
We tread the road the saints above
With shouts of triumph trod.
Still singing, they began to march. As they passed single file by the tent, each man picked up four stones, a rifle and a clip, slid the clip into the rifle, then continued on northward where boats waited. As they disappeared into the forest, she heard the music shift into another hymn. For some time she could hear the powerful voices floating through the forest,
Onward, Christian Soldiers, marching as to war
With the cross of Jesus going on before
Christ the royal Master, leads against the foe!
Forward into battle, see his banners go!
Sally Beth was chilled by the sight of soldiers marching off, defenseless save for nine bullets and four stones each, their faith and the supposed “armor” of holy water, Shea butter, and ochre. She closed her eyes.
&nbs
p; Lord, protect them. And John.
The soldiers began returning sometime before nightfall, straggling in, few in numbers, wounded, beaten, heartbroken.
Lilly gasped as she saw the first ragged, bleeding soldiers stagger into the camp. “This is the first time I have seen them defeated,” she said, her voice heavy with foreboding. “I don’t know what this means, but we’d better think about getting out of here as soon as we can.” Sally Beth felt fear building in her chest as she took John’s limp hand. Her soul pressed against the wall that had grown up between herself and God, but it could not move it, and she did not know how to tear it down.
“We’ll be all right,” she said, smiling at Prissy as brightly as she could, but no one, including herself, believed it.
November 10, 1978, Nairobi, Kenya
Gordon Blair rushed in from the barn to answer the ringing telephone. Even with the new man he had hired, it was hard running the place without John, and he was worn out with trying to pick up the pieces of what had been left of the Kagera station at Kigemba Lake. He picked up the receiver, hoping it wasn’t more bad news.
“Center for Drought Resistance Sustainability,” he said into the mouthpiece.
“Good afternoon,” came the voice at the other end. “Is this Mr. Blair?”
“Yes. May I help you?”
“This is Franklin Ross, with Nairobi First Bank. I spoke to your partner, John Smith, the last time I called, regarding a donation made to your organization a few months ago?”
“Yes, of course.” Gordon hoped that Mr. Ross was not going to be asking for an accounting of the money spent on the station at Kigemba Lake. He dreaded having to explain that a good deal of it had literally gone up in smoke or had been carried or driven across the Ugandan border.
“Permit me to express my condolences for your misfortune and for the disappearance of Mr. Smith. I trust everything possible is being done to find him and the young woman with him? And I understand there are others who have disappeared as well.”
The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set Page 75
