October 9, 1878, Kyaka, Tanzania
Sally Beth rushed into the clinic very late. It had taken her longer than she thought it would to get the girls up, dressed, fed, and delivered to school. But nobody minded, for the clinic was quiet. Dr. Sams was sitting at her desk reading a medical journal when she arrived. He glanced up, smiling.
“Hi Sally Beth. Slow day today. Pastor Umbatu came by. You got two letters that were dropped off at his office by mistake.” He handed her the envelopes.
“Oh, it’s from my sister! And one from…” She stopped, surprised to see the return address. Elvis Chuck.
“Well, I’m going to go to the kitchen and get another cup of coffee. You know where to find me if any emergencies come in.”
She opened the envelope from Elvis Chuck as she sat down. While it might have been nice if John were there to read it to her so she wouldn’t have to puzzle through it all by herself, she really didn’t want John to be privy to what might be in it. Flattening the letter on her desk, she picked up two rulers and laid them below and above the first line of script. By hiding lines under the ruler, the words were easier to manage. Still, she read slowly.
September 24, 1978
My Dear Sally Beth,
I have been thinking about you nonstop ever since I got on that bus in Fort Worth.
She stopped, her face suddenly flaming and her heart thumping. Bending over the paper, she continued reading. His handwriting was more legible than Lilly’s and easier to read.
I hear you are in Africa! What a surprise to me, and a disappointment, especially since I have the opportunity to spend some time in Nashville next month. Looking at the map, I see that Nashville is not THAT far from Tucker, West Virginia, at least not as far as Las Vegas is. I was hoping that you could either pop down and meet me or I might take a side trip and come to see you. It seems that we might have some things in common that I was hoping to explore more.
But you will be in Africa until December, so I guess that possibility is out. Maybe another time?
Anyway, I hope you will write to me, and if you don’t mind, send a picture. I look forward to hearing from you.
Your admirer,
(Elvis)Chuck
She had calmed down by the time she had reached the end of the letter. Elvis Chuck had been nice, and it was sweet of him to offer to see her again, but somehow, that warm night on the road to Fort Worth seemed every bit the half a world away that it was. She knew she was going to have to write him back to tell him she was sorry if she had led him on. She sighed, dreading the task as she picked up Lilly’s letter.
Sept 22, 1978
Hey girl!
I am between classes, so I thought I’d write and give you all the news. Everything is going great at school. These little 18 year olds act like school is hard, but I think that’s because all they want to do is party. Phil and I are the only ones who don’t cut class. It isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
I am really loving my women’s studies class. We’re reading The Beauty Myth by Naomi Woolf, and it got me to thinking about what beauty is, and I realized that all women are beautiful in some way, but most of them don’t realize it and try to hide what they think are flaws. You know how Edna Mae covers herself up because she’s too beautiful, and some women do it because they think they are ugly, while some try to flaunt what they think looks good, and that kind of makes them look bad because they’re trying too hard, and then some don’t care what people think and just do what makes them happy, and that gives them a certain kind of beauty.
Sally Beth had to puzzle through that sentence two more times before she finally figured out what Lilly was trying to say.
Anyway, I have to write a term paper and am combining it with a photography project, calling it “Studies in Beauty.” You know those skinny Carver girls? I think I can take pictures of them and bring out how pretty they really are even though people call them sacks of bones. And Dawn Hatfield with the scar from the cleft palate? Well, she has a beautiful profile, and she’s pretty even with the scar—I think her crooked mouth is actually nice in an odd sort of way. Anyway, I think I’m going to have a lot of fun with it, the pictures illustrating what I mean when I talk about different standards of beauty in the paper.
So, that’s keeping me busy, along with the Flora/Fauna project I’m working on with Phil, who is becoming my best friend, and no, not a boyfriend! He actually has a girlfriend. She’s a little off-beat, but I like her. She seems real confident and interesting—one of those women who don’t care what anybody thinks, and I hope she will let me photograph her for the “Studies in Beauty” project!
Guess who was in town last weekend??? Howard Graves! You know, Geneva’s old boyfriend? His mother got real close to Geneva when she was living in DC when she was pregnant, and she wanted to see Blue, so they came down and stayed at Rachel’s house, and everybody was just as friendly as could be. Howard and Geneva came over and spent some time with him, although I can’t imagine what they talked about for a whole afternoon. Rachel had invited me over for dinner, and when I got there, they all three (Geneva and her two Howards!) were in the study with the door closed. It made me nervous wondering what they were whispering about. I got to wondering if Howard Knight was challenging him to a duel or something!
It was odd being there without you, but I had the funniest conversation with Howard (Graves). I got to thinking how bad I behaved the last time we had dinner over there—I was going through some weird stuff then, and I know I was acting pretty awful, and I just told him I was sorry I had been so terrible, and he was very nice about it! We got to talking about my photography projects, and he said they were real interesting, and then, he said the funniest thing. He said, “Lilly, I think you and I are growing up at about the same pace.” I thought that was sweet. He made me feel like a real person, not some backwards hillbilly who doesn’t know her a— from a hole in the ground. He says he might come back next month to see the Flora and Fauna exhibit when it goes up at the Student Union. Ours is going to be SOOO much better than everybody else’s! The professor is already getting excited about it. He says I have “a real eye for nuance and for photographic commentary within my images,” whatever that means!
The insurance money still hasn’t come in, but they say these things take a while. Don’t worry. I’ll pay that mortgage off just as soon as it comes. I had to quit my super-duper photography business for the most part, I’m just so busy, but I’m not spending much and I can make the house payments with the money left in Mama’s account for a few more months. I was spending a fortune on film—we have a darkroom so we develop ourselves, but somebody donated a THOUSAND rolls of film, and gallons of developing and fixing solutions to the class, and so now we don’t have to buy that either. The professor says we can take whatever we need. Phil and I are going through it like hot you-know-what through a possum! Last night we developed pictures until 3:00 A.M.
I was so tired I couldn’t even remember where I had parked my car, so Phil told me I could crash at his and Molly’s house (They are living in sin!), and this morning, they said I could stay with them until this project is done so I can spend every spare minute in the darkroom. It’s better to use it late at night because we have only three that the whole class uses, and we need it waaay more than our “official” time slot.
Love you. Gotta go. There is a squirrel sitting on the tree outside eating a nut. I’m going to go see if I can get a close-up.
Love and hugs,
Lilly
P. S. You should see the house Howard and Geneva are building up at the Jumpoff. It is going to be really big, and really beautiful! I think that oil well must be doing pretty good. That, or Geneva is making a lot of money renting out her apartment in DC. It might be nice having a rich cousin. Ha ha!
Edna Mae and Jimmy Lee are still getting along just fine, and Myrtle is still badmouthing Edna Mae, but Edna Mae doesn’t seem to mind. She just looks sad when anybody talks about Myrtle. She really is the sweetest thing.
Oct 4.
I was just about to mail this, but before I got to the mailbox, Edna Mae called. She wants to rent the house! She loves it—says this is just the kind of house she’s always wanted to live in, and she fell in love with Mama’s asters that are blooming like crazy now. Beginning next week she’s got a job as a receptionist for Bubba Henry right here in town. I guess she’s here for good, which means Jimmy Lee is happy. She thought maybe I could use a roommate, but now I’m thinking I can just rent a room from Phil and Molly until I finish my courses at the college, which will save me the hour’s drive to and from school every day. If I move to Mt. Jackson, Edna Mae can just take over the house until you get home, and when you get back, you’ll have a roommate if you want. I told her she can stay at least until you get home. I hope that’s ok with you. It will sure save us a lot of $$.
Sally Beth sat back after reading the letter. “Well, I’ll be,” she said aloud. “Lilly working past midnight and then just crashing at Phil’s house? Edna Mae wants to take over the house?” It was so unbelievable that she read the letter again to make sure she had read it right the first time, but before she could completely finish it, a young woman with a snakebite was rushed into the clinic, and the rest of the morning was gone before she could get back to it.
At lunch, Lyla joined Sally Beth for sandwiches. Afterwards, she pulled out a batch of cookies, which she called “biscuits,” and began brewing tea. “I know you like orange zest in your tea, Sally Beth, so I chopped up fresh whole oranges to put in here. I think we’re on to something.
“It’s going to rain soon,” she continued, “so let’s go outside for our tea to watch it come in. You can count on it coming every day until the season is over. You’ll get to see the color of rain, now, my friend.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the urgent clanging of church bells. Pastor Umbatu suddenly came running into the clinic. “I just got a call from the church at Mutukula. Idi Amin’s army has attacked the border! I don’t know if they are just coming after some who have fled after the assassination attempt or if he really is invading, but there are casualties in the south of the city.” He glanced around the room at the few people gathered in the waiting room as he moved to the door. “Come with me. Everyone is going to the church. I will tell you what I know there.”
The sanctuary was already half full when they arrived. Pastor Umbatu ran to the pulpit, beginning without preamble. “My friends, there is fighting at the border in Mutukula. Our brothers at the church there tell me that Ugandan forces have pushed their way across, and there is a battle going on right now. They have already had a few casualties. That is all I know.”
Soft murmurings rose up from the pews. “Do you think this is a real invasion or just one of Amin’s raids into Mutukula?”
“Maybe they have just come after those who attempted to kill Amin? Maybe they found them there?”
“Are we in danger here?”
“Should we go to Mutukula to help?”
The questions started flying faster. Pastor Umbatu raised his hands. “I know nothing more, but I will tell you as soon as I hear anything. The official word is that Idi Amin is just up to his old tricks and nothing will come of it. I think we are safe here for now, and even if they do move south, there is no reason for them to molest us here at the mission. It is, of course, against the rules of battle to harm anyone who is doing God’s work. And I don’t think any of you should go there. It would be foolish to walk into danger, and if they need us, they can bring patients to us. It is only twenty miles to the border, less to where they are fighting. As a matter of fact, I would not be surprised that if we listen carefully, we will be able to hear it from here.”
All fell quiet, then, as if one, they rose to make their way outside, past the courtyard and out to the meadow to the north. The wind was blowing from the southwest, and no matter how hard she strained, Sally Beth could hear only the breath of the wind and the chattering of birds and monkeys. Everyone began milling around, murmuring softly.
“I think we need to get prepared,” said Dr. Sams. “Casualties could be coming in at any time, and we need to do all we can to be ready for them. Does anybody know where John is? It would be nice if he could run down to Bukoba and bring some extra supplies.”
“He’s probably at his place at Kigemba,” said Sally Beth.
“Close enough to contact by radio,” Dr. Price said. “I’ll get over to the office and see if I can raise him. If not, I’ll drive to Bukoba myself. I can get there and back in four hours, if you radio ahead and ask them to get the supplies ready.”
“Right, but if John can go, you can be here if any casualties come in.”
The wind shifted, bringing a low rumbling sound, ominous and malevolent. Everyone froze for a moment as they realized what it meant: that, truly, war was at their door. They suddenly all broke into a run. Dr. Sams shouted orders. Lyla raced for the school, calling for children who had been playing on the playground to come back to the classroom. Sally Beth ran with the others. She didn’t know what she could do, but she was anxious to do what she could.
Shortly after that, the rain came, breaking the long dry spell and spreading a shimmering light over the land. The sun was still shining to the west, turning the silver drops into a thousand glistening rainbows. Awed at the sight, Sally Beth understood why Lyla had said the rain is full of beauty, and through her fear and grief, she felt a flutter of pleasure that Lyla had thought that she was the color of rain. She would have to thank her later.
October 10, 1978
No casualties had come in the day before, and after the brief noise of battle they had heard earlier, no sound but the pattering of raindrops hung upon the wind. Still, the tension in the clinic rose as the day wore on, and today, no one had a moment to forget about the death and misery foraging through the land to the north of them. Soldiers from the Tanzanian army were already on the road beside the mission, streaming northward in a steady line of tanks and jeeps bristling with guns and soldiers. Occasionally a truck bearing large-bore guns and bazookas, weapons capable of destroying entire villages and all the lives within them, came roaring by, slinging red mud into the greening grass and disturbing the peaceful rain. Each truck full of soldiers that slogged by deepened the atmosphere of foreboding.
Late in the day, Dr. Sams gathered everyone together in the waiting room. They stood or sat quietly, expectantly, their faces turned toward him. “From what I hear, the Tanzanian army has everything under control. It seems like hundreds have already gone north, if you’ve been watching the road. But you never know. I know we’ve had no casualties come here, but if fighting starts up again, we can expect to see some. They won’t be able to handle them at Mutukula. Dr. Price has talked to John. He says he can bring in all the supplies we need up to a point, unless of course, he has to fly through artillery fire. My guess is the Tanzanians will set up field hospitals if they need them, so that will keep the pressure off us, unless there are a lot of civilian casualties.
“I hate to ask you all to stay. I don’t know if things are going to be more or less dangerous as time goes by. John has offered to take any of you anywhere you want to go. Americans, if you want to go home, we’ve got clearance to leave any time you want. You’re more likely to get flights out of Nairobi.” Dr. Sams sounded tired but strong as he looked around the room, searching everyone’s faces.
“I’m not leaving,” said Francine. “I don’t believe we are in any danger at the moment, and it’s no good to turn tail and run just because we’re nervous.”
“She’s right,” spoke up Janie. “I feel pretty safe here in the compound. The Tanzanians are used to this, and they know how to handle Amin’s army. There’s no way the Ugandans can make it down here without going through the whole Tanzanian army. I’m staying. At least for now.”
Sally Beth wasn’t listening. She wasn’t thinking about leaving or staying, or the danger they might be in. She was just thinking that she should bring Alethia’s girls to the mission until they were assured there would be no war. The Ugandans weren’t so much of a problem, she thought, but the Tanzanian soldiers looked like they wouldn’t be overly cautious about making sure children were kept safe. Dr. Sams broke into her reverie.
“What about you, Sally Beth. What do you think?”
She blinked. “I need to get the girls here. Alethia and Mara and Sylvie are safe in Bukoba, but I worry about all these soldiers being on the road. And what about the other children in the village? Should we set up some place for them so they will feel safe? Are the rooms in the Bamboo building good enough to house them if we can get some men from the village to come help repair the roof? I’m worried about getting people to the hospitals with the roads so clogged with the soldiers coming up, and I’m wondering if maybe John could bring his partner here. They have another plane, and we could shuttle the really injured people to Bukoba or Ndolage.
There was a general soft laughter. Falla came over and put her arm around her. “My dear Sally Beth. In you we see the face of God.”
Sixteen
October 20, 1978
Battles had been going on intermittently just north of them for eleven days, with neither side seeming to gain control for more than a few minutes or a few hours at a time, and because the fighting was taking place in populated areas, civilian casualties were beyond what the Tanzanians’ field hospitals could handle. A river of wounded streamed to the mission, noisy with cries of pain and fear, swelling and surging as the days passed. Everyone was exhausted, not just from the constant work with victims arriving by the hour, but by the emotional strain of trying to remain calm and cheerful around all the children, including Alethia’s, who had been moved to the mission for the duration of the fighting.
Yet, life had not become the hell that war could be. The seriously wounded bypassed the mission clinic to go directly to the hospitals at Bukoba or Ndoledge. The injuries Sally Beth saw were relatively minor, but there were so many of them: a wall of bloody humanity that defined her days and towered over her dreams at night. Everyone, from Pastor Umbatu to the maintenance staff, was pressed into helping bandage wounds and begin plasma or saline IVs. They took their meals at their stations, usually just cold leftovers because the cooks did not take the time away from the clinic to prepare much. Sally Beth spent her time soothing crying infants and distraught women, fishing for bullets and shrapnel, and injecting antibiotics, and she even learned how to stitch up superficial gashes. It was not pleasant work, but it was not gut-wrenching either. Mostly it was just exhausting and depressing.
Late in the afternoon, she heard the drone of an airplane she had by now learned was the much-longed-for sound of John’s Skylane. Sally Beth shook off her fatigue as she washed the blood off her hands, looking forward to a smile from him, or, when she dared to hope, that he would hold her in his arms for a moment.
“It’s John,” she said to Falla. “I’ve finished with this. It wasn’t too deep, but it was long, so I stitched it up. One of the docs should check to make sure I did it okay. I’ll run out and help him unload.” She took off her smock, put on her hat, stepped out into the shimmering rain, and ran toward the meadow beyond the church.
John was tired, so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, and the bad news he had just received had deflated him, but the sight of Sally Beth standing in the rain, her pink princess cowboy hat sitting atop her pale beauty brought a smile to his face. She was simultaneously ridiculous and beautiful, with that ersatz rhinestone crown glinting almost as brilliantly as her genuine radiance. He nearly laughed aloud, and for a moment, he forgot his tiredness.
“Hey, John!” She waved, running to him. “It sure is good to see you! Did you bring penicillin? And some plasma? We’ve plumb run out.” She stopped when she saw his face, gray with fatigue, and her heart lurched with sympathy. “Oh, John! You look so tired! How long has it been since you got any sleep? Do you have time to stop and take a nap? Or at least some coffee?”
He dragged himself out of the cockpit. She took his hand to help him, holding it for a moment longer than was necessary, but he did not mind. Her warmth made him feel steadier. “Coffee sounds great, Sally Beth. I need to get back to Kigemba right now. There’s been a raid on the ranch and although my crew was able to keep most of the cattle safe, I need to get there as quick as I can to help round them up and get them secure. I just got the call about a minute ago. And then I need to get back to Bukoba to get the rest of the supplies for here. They didn’t have everything you need at Izimbya and I didn’t want to take the time to divert because I was afraid you would need the plasma now.”
By now, they were joined by Red and Pastor Umbatu, who had already begun to unload supplies from the plane.
“Thanks, John!” Red said, holding out a thermos of coffee to him. “We’ve got a patient who needs to get to a hospital. He’s got a fractured leg and Dr. Price says he’s going to need surgery. Do you think you could ferry him down to Izimbya?”
John looked defeated. “I just got back from there, but I have to go to Bukoba to pick up some more things. And I have to get back to my station at some point. Can I take him to Bukoba? It would be quicker for me all around.”
“Sure,” said Red. “I’ll let them know you are coming. Can you eat something before you go?”
John hesitated. He was starving, but he didn’t want to take the time to eat. Too many urgent needs demanded he get aloft again quickly.
Sally Beth spoke up. “How about I go with you? You can eat on the way, and then you can drop me off at the hospital in Bukoba with the patient. Red, if you call ahead and have someone at the airport to pick us up, I’ll get him checked in and take care of the supplies, and John can go back to the ranch. You can come back to pick me up tonight. And I’ll be able to see Alethia for a minute. Let her know her girls are safe.”
John felt a tiny lessening of pressure. It would be nice to have Sally Beth along for the company. She had a way of brightening his outlook, and it would be good to sit back and eat and let her fly. He nodded. “That would be fine.”
Thirty minutes later, they began the checklist for takeoff. “You need to learn to take off, Sally Beth,” he said to her. “You never know when you’re going to be called on to fly, so we might as well get a quick lesson in. Now pay attention. I’ll show you what to do, and you can try it yourself from a real runway when we leave Bukoba.” He took a few extra minutes to walk through the takeoff procedure, then, when they were aloft, he handed the controls to her with the comment, “I’m starving. Take over for me while I enjoy this sandwich. What is it?”
“PB and J. Nobody’s cooked in a week.”
“Ah, a little taste of home.” He peeked at the sandwich. “Blueberry?”
“Blackberry. The church from home sent it over in a care package.”
The radio crackled and a voice calling for John broke in. He responded, “Skylane 235 niner Juliet here.”
“Some passengers requesting transport from Bukoba to Kyaka. When will you be in the vicinity?”
“Roger that. Will be in Bukoba in twenty, but will be roundabout getting back to Kyaka. Okay to delay delivery? By the way, there’s a war on. Passengers know that?”
“Passengers en route to Bukoba now, due to arrive at sixteen hundred. Roger on the war. They are journalists to cover it. Can you accommodate?”
“If they’re traveling light. I’ll be leaving Bukoba with supplies sometime this evening. Not much room for luggage.”
“I’ll let them know. Over and out.”
Sally Beth shook her head. “What kind of idiots would come to Kyaka with the Ugandans right at the doorstep? It’s all I can do to keep from running away!”
John shrugged as he bit into his sandwich. “Journalists are a bunch of daredevils, I reckon. And somebody needs to report what’s going on. I, for one, would like to know.”
He dropped Sally Beth off at the airport where an ancient van serving as an ambulance of sorts sat waiting. The driver jumped out as soon as they taxied to a stop. John kept the engine running while the driver and Sally Beth unloaded the patient and moved him to the van. They waved to each other as they departed in separate directions.
Oh Lord! Keep him safe!
“Alethia!” she shouted across the parking lot.
“Sally Beth!” They ran to each other and embraced on the wet sidewalk outside the emergency room. “I just got here. One of the nurses called me to tell me you were coming. How are my girls? Are they safe? Are they scared?”
“They’re safe and doing fine. There’s not been any fighting anywhere near the mission. The Ugandans didn’t get past Mutukula, and the Tanzanians are pretty much whooping their tails. I’ve even heard that the Tanzanians are plowing up into Uganda, although they say they haven’t invaded. One radio says one thing, one says another. But it’s clear the Tanzanians are winning, so nobody’s really worried. We’ve been keeping the girls at the mission, though, and they’re doing their lessons with the children there so I don’t have to drive them up to their school. I just don’t have the time; things are so hectic at the clinic. How’s Mara?”
“Oh, thank God! I’ve been hearing the same sort of thing. She’s doing better, but it took a long time to get the infection under control. Sylvie and I have been taking turns sitting with her. I have some friends here in town we’ve been staying with. They don’t have much room, or I would ask you to bring them here. Thank you so much for taking care of my babies, Sally Beth.”
The calm oasis of the afternoon where she lounged in Alethia’s warm, comfortable friendship was much too small. It seemed as if only a few moments had passed before it was time to walk through the driving rain back to the dilapidated van that stood waiting, loaded with supplies. Parting was painful. Neither of them doubted that they both would remain safe, but in the back of their minds, they both knew that life could be capricious.
“God be with you, Sally Beth.”
“And you as well, Alethia,” she replied, blinking back tears.
The airport was not busy, but she decided to wait for John out on the tarmac in order to see him as soon as he came in. Leaning against the van, shivering, hunkered under an umbrella as the rain pelted down, she still thought it was better than sitting in the steaming van, breathing the scent of damp cardboard boxes. The air was fresh and full of the greening smells of rain-soaked earth.
After about fifteen minutes, the rain suddenly eased off, then stopped. The sun drifted softly into the misty lake until it sank and drowned, plunging the land into sudden darkness. It was peaceful, and even though death roamed just north of her, the quiet pinpricks of light shone into her soul, comforting it. For a moment, she pretended that she was home again, gazing at the gloaming and the twinkling lights of fireflies at the top of Jacob’s Mountain, and she allowed herself the small luxury of pretending she was there with John. Darkness would enfold them, just as his arms enfolded her, and the two of them would become an indistinguishable, single entity underneath the stars.
The breeze that sprang up held the scent of lilies, which made her think of her own pale, beautiful sister, and unspilled tears stung her eyes as she wished she were home and safe, singing and playing with Lilly. The tune of an old ballad found its way into her throat, floating out into the cold night as she leaned back to look deep into the spangled sky and pray for the safety of her loved ones back home. She suddenly understood how acutely painful homesickness could be.
Not much time had passed before a man and a woman loaded with bags and backpacks exited the terminal building, made their way down the steps, and slowly begin walking toward her. She squinted through the darkness, blinked, squinted harder, then, when they were ten feet away, the clouds parted below the gibbous moon and she let out a cry as she sprinted toward them. The woman dropped her bag, running to meet her.
“Sally Beth!”
“Lilly!”
They collided, laughing, crying, holding on to each other, jumping up and down, and screaming into each other’s ear until the man, struggling with all the baggage, caught up to them.
“What happened to your hair?”
Lilly’s hair was as short as a boy’s.
“I cut it. When I’m out in the field, it gets in the way, and it’s impossible to keep it looking decent.” She ran her fingers lightly through her shorn locks.
“Well, it looks awful! Why didn’t you wait and let me cut it?”
“You’ll get your chance.” Lilly laughed and reached out to brush a stray lock from Sally Beth’s forehead. Lilly looked tired and wan, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, the blonde brows and lashes disappearing in the glimmering moonlight. Not even any lipstick. Sally Beth had the sudden uneasy thought that the person standing before seemed insubstantial, like the mere ghost of her sister. Nevertheless, she was beautiful to her.
They were loading supplies onto John’s Skylane before Sally Beth finally got the complete story. The man was Phil, Lilly’s photography partner, and Sally Beth agreed that he definitely was not Lilly’s type. He was big and hairy, with a low forehead and big nose that made him look like a caveman, but intelligence glimmered in his sharp, brown eyes. Lilly introduced him proudly. “Meet my best buddy. The minute he heard the news about the invasion, he talked me into coming.
“He told me this could be the launch of a great career for both of us, that if we covered this story well enough, we would have all kinds of opportunities just falling at our feet. And you’re stationed so close to the action, we couldn’t be in a better situation. And of course, I was wild to know what was happening to you, so it didn’t take long for him to talk me into it. The only thing that kept us from getting here sooner was it took some time to get my passport and visa. I had to do exactly what you did, go to DC and sit on Senator Byrd’s doorstep.”
“What about your classes? You can’t just up and leave school in the middle of the semester!”
Lilly shrugged. “We’ve already aced our photography class; Dr. Jacobs told us he wasn’t going to stand in the way of our fame, and he gave us two hundred rolls of film to bring with us. We’re going to send it back to him to develop, and he’s going to submit the best pictures to the wire, and he says we’ll probably win an award. Phil’s going to write about what we see, and who knows—we may get something published.”
“What about your other classes?”
“I turned in my English paper yesterday, or I guess the day before yesterday, depending on what day this is. I’ll miss the final, but my teacher says she’ll accept whatever I write about the war as a substitute, and my women’s studies teacher will do the same as long as I write something about how the war is affecting women. I’ll just take an incomplete in my math course, and I can finish it when I get back. All the teachers are so excited for me; they are doing everything they can to help.” She gave a little laugh. “And I thought teachers were mean! Of course, that was back when I was more interested in boys than in class. I think they like you better when you get serious.”
“But how much did it cost for you to get here? There can’t be much money left in the account.”
“Oh, I sold my car,” Lilly answered breezily. “I made $500 profit on it, and I paid Jimmy Lee back.” She grinned. “Well, mostly. Partly. He wouldn’t take more than $200. Edna Mae told him we both had lost some jewelry in the fire, and I think she may have lied about how much it was worth.”
“You sold your car? Lilly!”
“Yeah, well, it was a gas hog, and besides, I need something that will take back roads better. I’ll get a jeep when I get back. We’ll be rich after we sell this war story to the wire service.”
Phil laughed. “Rich enough to go chase after another story, anyway.”
John shoved the last box into the fuselage. “Right. That’s all she’ll hold,” he said, slamming the door shut. “You’re going to have to put your luggage under your feet and on your laps.” He turned to Sally Beth. “I’m holding you to that promise. You’re taking off this time, and flying the whole way. I can’t keep my eyes open another minute. And don’t you dare offer me a cup of coffee. I just want to sleep.”
Lilly dropped her jaw and she stared at Sally Beth. “You’re…” she began, then closed her mouth and shrugged. “If you can fly as good as you can drive, I reckon we’ll survive. Take us to the war!”
Sally Beth was nervous, terrified, really, but she remembered almost everything John had told her, and with just a little coaching, she made it off the ground without embarrassing herself or scaring anyone other than herself. Lilly and John were both asleep by the time they had reached optimum altitude, and Phil seemed unconcerned, probably because he didn’t know this was only her third time flying and her first takeoff. She wiped her sweating palms on her jeans, said a prayer of thanksgiving, and turned the nose of the plane to 281 degrees northwest.
Fifteen minutes later, she buzzed the meadow by the church when her nerve failed at her first landing attempt. Neither Lilly nor John woke up until her second try, when she landed roughly, bouncing four times before the wheels finally made steady contact with the ground. Phil said nothing, Lilly startled once, then said, “Huh?” John roused himself enough to mutter, “Good job.”
October 21, 1978
The next morning, Lilly was still sleeping in Sally Beth’s cot as Sally Beth crept around the room, getting dressed in the early morning dark. She was at her post later, irrigating a wound in a young man’s arm while Falla worked with a woman with an ugly burn on her back and Jenna, the cook, rolled bandages, when Lilly strolled into the clinic.
“Hey, Sally Beth.” Lilly still looked tired and pale without any makeup. Her closely-cropped hair had not been combed, and she was wearing the strangest outfit Sally Beth had ever seen: khaki pants and a vest festooned with at least a dozen pockets in which Lilly had stuffed all manner of items, from film to camera lenses to candy bars. Lawrence’s camera was slung around her neck and hung down the front. Another one hung across her body and dangled at her side.
Sally Beth turned back to the young man. “Does that hurt?” she asked him, touching the ragged edges of flesh lightly as she squirted water into it. “There’s some porridge on that hot plate there,” she said over her shoulder. “And coffee, or tea if you want it, and a pot of yams. And there’s plenty of fruit. Help yourself.” She turned her attention back to her patient. “I’m just going to put some salve on this and bandage it up. I don’t think you need stitches, but you need to keep this clean. Okay?”
The young man nodded. His eyes looked frightened, but he sat up straight as she wrapped the bandage around his thin arm. Finally, he stood, nodded his thanks, and walked out the door.
Lilly ladled out a bowl of porridge, sliced off some bread, and stood against the wall as she ate. “I’m starving,” she said, spooning the porridge into her mouth. “Let me eat this, then I’ll help. You seen Phil?”
“Yes, he’s over by the wall, helping to shore up a few places in case any of the fighting moves down here. We’re not too worried, but—” Sally Beth was interrupted by someone shouting, and suddenly more people filed into the small room. One of them was the young woman, Alice, whom she had met over lunch a few Sundays ago. She staggered in with the support of the young man, Francis, who had been by her side on the day they had met. The back of her blouse hung in bloody shreds, and under that, her back was lacerated with stripes. Sally Beth gasped when she realized she had been brutally whipped with a lash.
“Alice!” she exclaimed. “What happened to you?”
Alice moaned, sinking to her knees. Francis knelt beside her. He looked at Sally Beth with great sorrow.
“The Lakwena demanded it. She ordered the men to battle before they were purified.”
“The Lakwena? Who is that?” She gingerly cut off the back of Alice’s blouse. Lilly had exchanged her bowl of porridge for a camera. From against the wall, she stepped sideways, keeping her distance, and discreetly began snapping. Sally Beth stopped to frown at her, but Lilly shook her head slightly. “I have to do this,” she said quietly.
Francis answered her. “He is the spirit who guides us. Alice saw an opportunity, and she ordered our men to battle before they were purified.” He looked at his friend with compassion, taking her hand and speaking softly. “You braved it with great courage. The Lakwena will be proud of you.”
Alice suddenly looked up, then before Sally Beth could begin sponging off her back, she staggered to her feet, and eyes staring vacantly out the window, spoke in a strangely hard, low, guttural monotone, “God forgives Alice. She has borne her punishment and He knows her regret. Tell the woman to wash her stripes with water and honey, but do not put anything else except the kitungulu on them. God will heal His servant Alice in three days.”
Sally Beth stepped back, startled. The voice had definitely come from Alice: she had seen her breathe and speak, but it did not sound as if it came from her. It seemed to echo off the walls and come at her from behind, and it definitely was not the voice of the young woman she had met a month before.
Francis looked at her sternly. “You heard the Lakwena. Wash her stripes with water and honey. I will find the kitungulu for her healing.”
“Kitungulu? What is that?”
He paused, struggling to translate. “It is the young wild allium, like an onion. It is one of the cures that has been purchased, and we have been given permission to take it. The salves you use are forbidden.”
Alice suddenly slumped again, moaning, her head on her hands, resting on the floor. Lilly inched closer, her camera clicking and whirring as she focused on the young woman’s face, her back, her bowed-over posture. No one seemed to notice her as she took frame after frame, moving through the light like a pale shadow, crouching, circling Alice as she focused and clicked, focused and clicked.
Sally Beth glanced at Falla and Jenna. Falla was with another patient, but had stopped to gaze at Alice. The wounded and sick sitting against the wall or standing in the doorway stared silently while Alice moaned, and Lilly danced through the light, all her energies zeroed in on the woman with the hollow face and voice. Sally Beth felt her knees begin to quiver. She wanted to tell Lilly to stop taking pictures, she wanted Alice to look at her, and for all the others to look away, but she felt helpless, rooted in a circle of absurdity as she watched Alice’s vacant face and bloody back. Time froze, but after a few breathless seconds, she forced herself to stand straight as she said quietly to no one in particular. “Can someone get me some honey?”
Jenna jumped up. “I’ll go,” she said, dropping her roll of bandages and passing quickly out of the door. Sally Beth retrieved a small basin, filling it with warm water, while all eyes except Lilly’s watched her. A few minutes later, Jenna returned with a small jar of honey.
Sally Beth turned to Alice. “Do I mix the honey in the water?” she asked her, but the young woman looked blank, as if she had vacated her body and there was no one inside to respond. She tried again, turning to Francis. “Do I mix the honey in the water? Or wash her first, and then apply honey?”
He looked at Alice. “Alice? Lakwena?” He asked her gently. “Does she mix the water in the honey?” Alice did not respond, but gazed steadily at the wall in front of her while Lilly eased closer, taking close-up photographs of her empty face. Francis turned to Sally Beth and shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever you think.”
She realized that Alice was in shock, and she suddenly felt a piercing terror for this young woman who knelt before her. She was carrying a burden that Sally Beth could not understand, a burden that was far greater than her slight shoulders should be holding, and there was nothing Sally Beth could do to give her ease. She had the nagging feeling that Alice would never be free of it, and that this beating was not the last she would take for the sake of her Holy Spirits.
Sally Beth gave up trying to understand and instead did what she could to alleviate her physical suffering. She simply washed the bloody welts and lacerations with water with a soft sponge, then gently slathered honey on them before applying bandages.
Afterward, she spoke to Francis. “I’ll leave it to you to find the onions, but I think she’d better stay here for a while. Seems to me she’s in shock. There are some cots out in the courtyard under the trees. Can you take her out there and let her rest? Keep her warm, and I’ll get one of the doctors to check on her.” She didn’t know what else to say. Alice was still staring vacantly at the window. Suddenly the light flickered behind her eyes and she turned to Sally Beth, smiling, her face alight with pleasure and recognition.
“Sally Beth, my friend from America. How nice to see you again. Thank you for helping us. You have been very kind, and we hope to return the favor someday soon.” She stood, holding her shredded blouse up to cover her breasts, and slowly, but elegantly, made her way out the door, followed by Francis. Lilly slipped out the door behind her, but she whispered to Sally Beth as she left,
“Sally Beth, please go and get Phil, and ask him to find us.”
She could not leave, but she turned to Jenna. “Jenna, there’s a big, hairy white man out by the west wall. Would you please go ask him to go out to the courtyard and help Lilly and Alice?” Jenna nodded, leaving quickly, as Sally Beth sighed, washed her hands, and turned to the next person waiting in line. She felt like she was a hundred years old.
Sally Beth did not see her sister again until late in the afternoon. She was trying to drink a cup of tea between tending to two young boys who had been in their house when a grenade landed on it, causing part of the roof to collapse. One boy was fine; the other had been hit in the head with the sharp edge of a tin roof and needed to see a doctor. She set him on a cot on the corner by the first examining room before looking up to see Lilly and Phil standing in the doorway.
“I gotta go, Sally Beth. Alice is going back to her soldiers, and Phil and I are going with them. It’s amazing, what they are doing. I don’t have time to tell you everything, but Alice is a medium for a spirit, who is leading a whole army; they call themselves the Army of the Holy Spirits, and it’s a story you won’t believe. We’ve just got to cover it.”
Sally Beth cried out, “No! Lilly, you can’t go. There is a real war out there. The people coming in here aren’t even in the fighting; they’ve just been hurt because they’re close. You can’t.”
Lilly made an impatient gesture. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll stay well away from any battles. Alice has a whole flock of people with their army—women, children. They are a traveling town, they have church services and school, like a whole community. And they’re perfectly safe. They don’t get near the fighting, and they can move fast if they need to. We’ll try to be back in a couple of days, but don’t worry about us. We can’t pass this up.” Her eyes flashed with excitement, and Sally Beth knew it was useless to try to stop her. She had seen that look before.
Phil spoke up, “I’ll make sure she’s safe, Sally Beth. But she’s right. We can’t pass this up. This could be the story of the war, and it looks like nobody is covering it.” Sally Beth felt her heart grow heavy, felt it sink like an anchor. She had lost her father and her mother. She had lost Holy Miracle, and now she would lose her sister, for no matter how hard she fought, Lilly would turn and walk out that door and across the threshold into hell.
Lilly hugged Sally Beth tightly. “I love you, Sis. We’ll be fine.”
Sally Beth clung to her even as she pulled away, giving Sally Beth a bright smile as she skipped out the door. Sally Beth started to follow, but a child sitting nearby let out a wail, pulling her thoughts back toward her duties. When she looked back, Lilly and Phil were nowhere in sight.
Seventeen
October 25, 1978
Sally Beth had seen her mother die, and she had seen her best friend Holy Miracle Jones release his last breath into a vision of an Almighty God, and she had seen an elderly patient at the nursing home slip away into the darkness and the light of death, but she had never seen anyone die in agony. She had never seen anyone who was young, vital, and strong succumb to that seductive pull, the promise of liberation from pain. She had never seen anyone face death in terror, screaming about the claws of Satan, or anyone who whimpered and begged for his mother as the Great Shadow roved hungrily into his being.
Until now, she had been an innocent, believing that death was a great adventure, the threshold across which one must pass as one steps into the Light, like going through a dim cave to get to the brilliant pool of sunshine on the other side. Now she saw the dark, angry, ugly side of death, where people did not simply shrug off their ailing flesh to leap into the arms of God, but where death came and clawed away at them until their bodies and their souls were shredded and bleeding, their humanity ripped away from them. She stopped breathing when the first one gripped her hand and, eyes wide with fear and pain, begged her for a drink of water as blood fountained from his severed legs. She held onto him, despite the blackness swimming before her own eyes, then felt her chest convulse in a burst of self-preservation when it finally realized she was not the one meant to die today.
After that, she forced herself to breathe slowly and regularly through the mask of cool professionalism she put on to shield herself. It was nearly ripped away dozens of times, at first, when she saw the mangled and dismembered, and then again as war presented her with a whole new brand of horrors: raped, tortured, mutilated children.
A little girl, not more than eight or nine was first, followed by so many she could not count them. Many were already dead when they arrived; most were dying, some died in her arms. By the end of the day, she had seen more of hell than she ever could imagine seeing in an eternity.
It had started early in the morning. Ugandan forces, reinforced by thousands of troops from Muammar Gaddafi’s Libyan army and Palestinian fighters, had suddenly surged to take the whole Kagera region. They flooded across the border, murdering, burning, plundering, and raping their way southward in a wide swath along the Ugandan Road. Tanzanian forces, overwhelmed, were pushed back well south of the river, but as they withdrew, they laid land mines and booby traps to try to deflect their enemies.
Civilians, fleeing in terror from the monsters who pursued them, ran into these mines, and the bloody, unfathomable aftermath was laid at the doorstep of the mission. What had been a place of grace for people to rest or be treated for minor injuries and illnesses suddenly was overrun by the hell of war.
She could hear the guns and grenades just outside the mission compound; she could smell the smoke from burning houses, and when the wind was right, the smell of blood and the first reek of flesh beginning to rot in the African sun. They had not had time to run; they had only seen the Tanzanian army fleeing, and then the sea of bleeding, dying, savaged civilians who came screaming or mute, alive and dead, terror-stricken, to the gates.
There was nothing to do but rush out amid the ravaging death to try to help one or two at a time, to staunch a river of blood spurting from a woman’s armpit, to drag a dead mother off a baby suffocating underneath her, to hold a screaming, terrorized two-year-old who had been raped, then shot in the face. Sally Beth forced her own breath in and out, and with each exhale, she begged God for the life of her sister, for Phil’s life, for John’s life, for the life of the whimpering child she held in her arms. She had not seen Lilly or Phil for four days; she had not seen John since the night before that, but she knew he might be somewhere nearby, flying through bullets to ferry the seriously wounded to hospitals that might have enough room for them.
Oh, God! Where are You? Surely, You can see this. And surely, it offends You so much You want to make it stop. Please, make it stop. Lilly! John! Oh, God! Where are they? Protect them, Lord. Save this child. Save us all.
They had brought those they thought they could help back into the mission and had laid them on cots or blankets, or even on the grassy lawn. Still holding the child, she made her way back to the clinic, hoping against all reason to find a way to save her. The sun was setting. She had not eaten anything since early this morning, and she felt that she would sink to the floor, into the blood that rose up the soles of her shoes and be swallowed up in its rank redness. She brushed the hair from her face and looked up to see Falla smiling at her and holding out a glass of water. In Falla’s face, she saw grace and beauty for the first time that day, but there was no pleasure in it, for it was laid against a backdrop of horror.
“Drink, Sally Beth. And give some to the babe.” Falla leaned over to wash the little girl’s face with a tattered rag. The child calmed for a moment, but clung to Sally Beth. A bullet had left a hole in her cheekbone: the huge, bloody-black cavity glared at her like a malevolent eye. Sally Beth gave her a sip of water and tried to look at the other side of her face, still flawlessly plump, a baby’s face, but she could not manage a smile. All she could do was hold her tighter, close her eyes and cry out in silence.
The little girl died late in the afternoon, still cradled in Sally Beth’s aching arms. Sally Beth could not even think clearly enough to lay her down; she merely stood mute and helpless while Dr. Sams gently lifted the cooling corpse from her. As night fell and the small bodies piled up outside the door, she finally crumbled, weeping and begging God to come into their midst, to lift the evil embedded in men’s hearts, to rip it out, even if it meant ripping out so much of their hearts they could not survive. But God did not come. He did not speak. He had fled this place. Even He could not face this much evil.
Oh, Lord God. How can You stand us? Why have You not wiped humanity off the earth and started over?
October 29, 1978
The fighting had moved south, and for a few precious moments at a time, there was no one to care for, no dying hand to grasp, no ravaged and tortured woman or child to hold. The air still stank of burning houses, blood, and rotting flesh, but somehow, the mission had not been touched. The enemy soldiers had parted, like a school of sharks swimming around an island as they continued their way toward the heart of Tanzania.
She could not remember when she had last eaten or bathed. She had seen Alethia’s girls only once since the carnage began, and then Lyla had taken them and several other children of the village to her home in the mountains west of Kyaka for safety. She had not had the chance to inform Alethia about this, for telephone lines had been down for four days, although they had managed intermittent radio contact. She hoped that Lyla had gotten through to her in Bukoba.
Sally Beth was sick with heartbreak and fatigue; she had managed to snatch only moments of sleep at a time amid the terror and the violence. Now, even though quiet settled in, she could not bring herself to close her eyes; every time she did, she saw horror and death lunging, and she found herself cowering against the evil gnashing its teeth just outside the boundaries of her sight.
While bandaging a boy’s mangled foot, she saw a movement across the room, and her eyes fell on a woman who suddenly smiled at her, then lifted herself from her chair and knelt onto the floor, singing. Her voice rose, rich and joyful, above the stench of the blood on the floor, the pile of bloody bandages on the table, above the basin of bloody water, and other voices joined hers. Sally Beth did not understand the words; they were sung in one of the dialects of the region. Falla leaned toward her and whispered the words to her in English:
Oh my Almighty God!
You are the Father who loves us, the Father who gave us life, who gives us every breath.
You are the Almighty One who conquers death, even as Death revels in triumph
But Death is only a shadow that flees before the Light
You are the Father, the Father who is the Light, who is Love, who is Breath
Sally Beth knelt as well, sitting on her shins as the sounds and her own tears washed over her like a warm balm. For days, she had searched for God without glimpsing Him, without the whisper of His voice to comfort her, but now she felt the strength of the faith of those around her seeping into her soul, even as her own faith faltered. When she rose again, she felt a kind of power in the air, surging like a windless storm, and she grasped at it.
Lord, we have nothing, only You, but surely You, even in the midst of all this, should be enough. Let me see the Enough, Lord. Let me see it through Your eyes. I am too blind to see it through my own.
Late in the day, when Sally Beth felt that she could not stand under the weight of one more blow, she looked up to see Alethia’s girls rushing toward her, and then she looked past them to see Lyla, ragged, dirty, and ashen, staring at her out of the face of a ghoul. When she saw Sally Beth, she cried out, running to her, arms outstretched, and buried her face in her hair, weeping as if she had no hope for life.
“What is it, Lyla? Why are you here?”
Lyla lifted her head, and through her tears, managed to stammer out, “They destroyed my home. My mother, my father—they are dead. And the workers who stayed to help. They held them off with rifles until I could escape into the forest with the children, but then the soldiers shelled the house and set it on fire. And then they set the orchard afire. There is nothing there but ruins, and I have been hiding and walking with the children for three days.”
She stopped, gave a brief sob, but then, amazingly, smiled at Sally Beth. “But praise be to God. We have made it here, and you are safe! This place is standing.” She gave Sally Beth a tight hug. “Is there food? And water? We are so thirsty. We have been living on fruit we found along the way, but there hasn’t been much. The army has ravaged the countryside.”
Sally Beth was too numb to be astonished, but as the girls gathered around her, hugging her, weeping, but praising God, she began to feel their warmth and their joy. Their clothes were filthy and in tatters; they were scratched and some were bleeding from small wounds, but to Sally Beth, they were beautiful. Lyla was beautiful. She pulled them into her arms, but only for a moment before she ran to find them water.
Later, after she had fed the children and put them to bed, after she had seen Lyla cradled in the arms of Pastor Umbatu, she heard the miraculous sound of John’s Cessna engine coming from the east. She was outside and standing at the edge of the meadow when he landed, and he did not have a moment to think about it before she was in his arms, shaking and weeping, covering him with kisses. He kissed her back without thinking about it, for thought had vanished the moment he felt her arms around him. She was filthy, smeared with blood, her hair hung in pale, limp strands around her ghostly face, and her eyes were hollow and red, but still, there was an aliveness about her in her quivering flesh and in the gasps that accompanied her sobs, and the reality of her pressing herself into him felt perfectly right.
“I thought you were dead. I haven’t seen Lilly for days. How did you get here? The Ugandans are everywhere!”
“They aren’t around here right now. This is the first time I have been able to get through, and I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve come to get you out of here. Has anybody tried to get out?”
“No. The roads are mined, and soldiers are everywhere south of here. Oh, John, it’s been awful! So many people killed; so much horror. I’m so scared!”
“I know, darling,” he soothed. “Now, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you to Bukoba, and get out as many of the others as I can, then I’ll take you to Kenya.”
She shook her head. “Not me. Take the children. Lyla took Alethia’s girls home with her, but it’s been destroyed, and her parents are dead. They walked three days to get here. You have to take them.”
John rested his chin on her head and breathed in the scent of her. Of course Sally Beth would not flee to safety as long as children were in danger. He wondered how many times he would have to fly through treacherous skies full of flying lead before he would be able to take her away from all this.
“Okay, Sally Beth. You go get the girls. I’ll fuel up and maybe get some coffee. Is there anything to eat? I couldn’t bring any supplies—they’re desperate for whole blood at every hospital I’ve been to, and everything else is running out. If casualties have stopped up here, they’ve asked if we will send whatever blood and plasma we have where it will do some good. I’ll radio ahead and see if I can get Alethia to meet me at the airport to pick up her girls.”
Sally Beth ran back inside the mission to wake Lyla and Alethia’s girls. “Hurry,” she urged. “John is here. He’s going to take you to your mama.” They woke immediately and trailed after Sally Beth as she made her way back to the landing field. Red and Pastor Umbatu walked out with them.
“You’ll have to sit on each other’s laps. Prissy, you get in the front and hold Lizzy. Charlotte and Charlene, you sit in the back and hold Jayella and Becky. That’s it, scoot over, and maybe Becky can squeeze in between you.” She opened the front passenger door. Prissy, in here, sweetheart.” But Priscilla stepped back, shaking her head.
“I’m not leaving you, Miss Sally Beth. Or Miss Lyla. You need someone here who loves you, to take care of you. I’ll go when you do.”
“Prissy! You have to go. I’ll be fine here, I promise. And your mama is worried about you. Now, get in here.”
But Priscilla refused to budge. “I have seen war, and I am not afraid of it. I can see you are afraid. I will stay here with you.” She took another step back. Sally Beth and John looked at each other.
“I can be back in an hour,” ventured John.
“Yes, it’s crowded anyway,” said Lyla. “We’ll take care of Priscilla until you get back.” She placed her hand on Priscilla’s head. “My love, will you go on the next trip?”
“Yes, if you and Miss Sally Beth come, too.”
John jumped in the front seat and leaned out toward Sally Beth. He wanted to say goodbye, but he suddenly felt awkward. He had kissed her as if he meant it half an hour earlier, and now he both regretted it and wanted to kiss her again. Geneva still nestled heavily in his heart. Even now, he could see her image, the memory of her laughing in the sunshine, and he knew he was not ready to give his love to anyone else. Yet, Sally Beth looked at him so hopefully, her eyes wide with unfulfilled promise, blood-smeared and filthy, and still beautiful, still innocent after all the horrors she had seen. He hesitated, then reached out and brushed away a lock of hair that had blown across her cheek. She lowered her lids and nodded. She knew what he was thinking, and she did not want him to see the disappointment in her eyes.
He delivered the girls to Alethia without mishap. She met him on the tarmac, clawing at the doors of the plane until she held her children in her arms, weeping with gratitude and thanking John in incoherent gasps. Then she flung her arms around him and kissed him without reservation. When she stepped back to look at him with shining eyes, he couldn’t help but think, War. It hands out kisses as well as bullets.
“I’ll be back with Priscilla as soon as I can,” he said, as he grasped her shoulder. Then he got back into the plane and turned the nose northwest.
He was not able to go directly back to the mission. Enroute, he received a call from his station at Kigemba, telling him that soldiers had descended on the ranch and had stolen nearly all the cattle and set the place on fire. All the buildings were burning, half his staff was dead, and the cattle were gone. He groaned as he turned toward the ranch, for even as he lowered altitude to settle on the lake, he could see smoke billowing from the barns. Four men dead. He shut his eyes against the smoke as he landed.
October 30, 1978
John had not returned. Sally Beth, Priscilla, and Lyla sat at her desk in the empty room, waiting for something they could not name. They hoped for peace, but dared not expect it. They could not anticipate what the day held, but their hearts held fear and trepidation.
The Ugandan army was gone, spread out southward across the region in pursuit of the fleeing Tanzanians. The civilians also were gone, fled to the mountains or the cities in fear for their lives. Still, dread echoed throughout the mission.
Dr. Sams and Dr. Price came out of the examining rooms. The nurses Francine and Janie joined them soon afterward.
“Looks like business is slow today,” said Dr. Price with a wry smile. “Guess the customers didn’t like our service.”
No one laughed. Lyla got up to make more tea. “I have oranges. The tree in the courtyard is loaded with them. Sally Beth and I like to chop them up and put the rinds and all in the tea.”
“I’ll take some,” said Janie wearily. “I think we ran out of sugar yesterday.”
“Me, too,” said the others. Dr. Sams picked up a scalpel and carefully sliced open an orange.
“I guess we’d better think about how we’re going to get out of here,” he said. “The Embassy knows we are here, and they have made it clear to the Ugandans that the U.S. won’t tolerate any harm to us, but I don’t think they are willing to send anybody here to get us, at the moment, anyway. If they send in a plane, it could be an excuse to accuse America of interfering in a local conflict. The Ugandans obviously are reluctant to attack this place because they know we are here, but I don’t think it’s safe to travel on the road. There are enough renegades out there who might try to kidnap us for ransom, and besides, I’m sure there are still mines out there. We’re just as good as under siege.
Dr. Price spoke up. “But they seem to be okay with John coming and going. They must know he’s American because nobody has shot at him yet. If he makes it back, we can get out with him.”
“Yes, but it’s going to take some time to clear this place out, and if we’re going to abandon it, we need to pack as much as we can in the way of supplies for him to take to the hospitals where they can do some good. We’ve got a little plasma and IV supplies. But I hear they really need whole blood. Who hasn’t given blood this month?”
“I haven’t,” said Sally Beth. In fact, she had not given blood at all since she had been here. Dr. Sams had insisted she was too small to donate.
“Nor I,” said Janie. “Well, I’m just a few days away from it being a month. I feel strong, though, so it’ll be okay for me to give some more now.”
“I’m good to go,” spoke up Dr. Price. “I’m AB positive.”
“Sally Beth, you can’t. You never were big enough, and you’ve lost weight this week. Janie, you’re A negative, right?” Dr. Sam’s voice was abrupt.
Sally Beth suddenly felt slighted, dismissed as worthless. “Look,” she said, bristling. “I weigh a hundred and twenty. You’ve just been too cautious.” This might not have been true. When she had arrived nearly two months ago, she had weighed a hundred twenty-one pounds. It was likely she had lost more than a few pounds during the past couple of weeks, but she felt an overwhelming need to give blood. “Maybe only a pound or two under. Go ahead. Somebody could really need this, and I’m as healthy as a mule. I’m O negative. If anybody needs blood, mine will be the most useful.” There was a silence as everyone regarded her. To everyone there, she looked pale and thin, but a fierceness in her eyes made Dr. Sams relent.
“Okay, we’ll get a unit from each of you, and no doubt it will be needed.” He moved to one of the examining rooms to collect the equipment, returning a moment later. Sally Beth jumped up.
“I’ll be first,” she said, her head up and chin out. Dr. Sams sighed as he wrapped the rubber strap around her arm.
Sally Beth grasped Priscilla’s hand, chatting to her as she felt the blood drain out of her body. She downed a cup of tea and held out her cup for another. “Prissy, what is the first thing you are going to say to your mother when you see her again?”
Prissy laughed. “I’ll tell her how beautiful she is.” Sally Beth forced laughter, drank more tea, and kept her head up. The blood draining from her arm seemed to be taking with it all the strength she had, but she steeled herself against the rising darkness. At last, Dr. Sams smiled at her.
“I’m proud of you, Sally Beth. I knew you were strong, but you’ve got some real iron in there, haven’t you?”
Dr. Price revived the earlier conversation. “How many children are there on campus right now?”
“There are eight young ones, and another three teenagers,” replied Sally Beth. “That means John will have to make at least five or six more trips, if adults can carry children on their laps. He can carry only three adults at a time, and it wouldn’t be fair to hold you all up. You nurses and one of you docs go as soon as you can. I can’t leave until I know Lilly is safe, and I have to get Lyla and Priscilla out with me.”
Lyla shook her head. “I’m not leaving without Pastor Umbatu, and I’m sure he’ll be the last to leave, so don’t worry about me.”
“We’ll worry about that when and if John comes back,” said Dr. Price, “but I agree that Janie and Francine need to get out of here as soon as they can. Francine especially. Being black, you may not be recognized as American. The rest of us have the advantage of being the only whites in the area. They have to know who we are.”
They all sank into silence. In the distance, they could hear the distinct Rat-tat-tat-tat! of guns and the Boom! of rockets reducing yet another village to rubble. Priscilla moved closer to Sally Beth and wrapped her arms around her. They were trapped in a quiet solitude within an outer shell of violence, the sad and desperate eye of a hurricane. None of them knew what to do. They held hands and prayed, but even as she tried to lift her heart toward God, Sally Beth felt it collapsing, folding inward and sinking back down, past her chest, past her feet even. Her prayers were useless, for God had either turned His back or had simply left altogether. She suddenly wondered why she bothered. Why pray to someone who did not care? She closed her eyes against the silence hammering her broken spirit.
John wanted to make it back to the mission before dark. If he tried to fly in at night, the Ugandans might not recognize his plane and could shoot him down. His ranch had pretty much been reduced to cinders and the cattle were gone, so all he could do was bury the dead and tell his workers to go home, or someplace safe, until he got in touch with them. He seriously doubted that he would attempt to rebuild the Kigemba station for a long time, and he wondered how to get in touch with the anonymous donor to let him know about the disaster that had befallen. But all that could wait. Now he needed to get to the mission to try to get Sally Beth and the others to safety.
He landed late in the afternoon. There would be time for perhaps two more trips to Bukoba, if he hurried. The medical crew and several others met him at the landing strip.
There was little time for conversation. They loaded what medical supplies could fit into the fuselage while Francine and Janie boarded the plane with children squirming on their laps.
“Here, I’m putting this under the backseat,” said Dr. Price, shoving the cooler of whole blood they had just collected under the leather bench. “It’s not much, but I’m sure it will be helpful,” he added as he picked up a small child and put him on the lap of one of the older children.
After squeezing children onto laps and on top of one another, John finally hoisted himself up into the pilot’s seat and looked out one last time before he started his pre-flight check.
Sally Beth put her arm around Priscilla as they watched the Skylane lift into the clouds and wing its way eastward, away from the late afternoon sun. They were silent, listening only to their hearts crying out after it.
An hour later, John landed again. His eyes were burning from the soot he had rubbed into them. He had not taken the time to even wash his face when he had left the smoldering ranch. He was sick. Sick of heart, sick of the smell of death, sick of the violence, of the evil that had descended on this peaceful place, but he pushed on, ignoring his fatigue and his nausea.
Dr. Price and Dr. Sams tried to persuade Sally Beth to get on the plane, but she shook her head. “Lilly is somewhere around here. I can’t leave without her. Don’t worry. Just go. Maybe she will come back tonight.”
With all of her heart, she hoped that was true, that her sister would return to her and that together they would fly to safety with John, but no matter how much she listened for the Voice to tell her that Lilly would return to her unharmed, it remained silent. She did not know why God had abandoned her, only that He had. She shuddered and clung to Prissy’s hand.
Priscilla would not go, either, and Dr. Sams declared he would be on the last trip out, but insisted that Dr. Price go. “You have three little children,” he said. “If anything were to happen to you, I don’t want to have to face them, or Jenny. Now get on the plane. You can put these two on your lap.”
Dr. Price turned to embrace Sally Beth. “I’m so sorry we brought you here,” he said as he held her tightly against him. “Stay right here until John comes back, and I will see you soon. I’ll wait in Bukoba until I know you—all of you—are safe. God bless you, my dear.” Then he squeezed himself into the front seat, a child on each knee.
When John lifted off again, Sally Beth turned to Lyla and Priscilla, and with the last ounce of her energy, smiled at them brightly. “Any more of that tea left, Lyla? I think there is a little flour still in the pantry, and I bet there’s some honey, too. We might as well make some cookies.” Her voice was light, but inside her heart there was only darkness.
Since she did not expect John to return that evening, she faced the approaching night feeling alone and hopeless, despite the small crowd of people who had gathered around the kitchen.
When the sound of his approaching engine drifted in with the gloaming, her suffocated heart awoke with a start and a flutter to the realization that he was here for her. It roused in her a deep yearning that rode red and warm in her blood. Brushing away a thin, frail voice from her past that whispered some nonsense about virtue, she turned her face toward the only thing that gave her hope. Amid all this horror, despite the loss of God’s presence, there was a shard of glory in her love for John Smith: piercing, painful, but irrefutable, and it would not be denied.
John saw her as the lights bounced into the grass, and he saw the shift in her stance, the purposefulness of her stride as she made her way toward him. A coldness overtook him as he realized that somehow his fate had been sealed against his wishes. He loved Sally Beth, but he was not in love with her, for there was room for only one woman in his heart, and that woman was Geneva. Yet, here Sally Beth stood, waiting for him so resolutely, standing so still, willing him to come to her. He did not know how he could disappoint her.
She did not run to him, but waited until he stopped the plane, then walked purposefully toward him. They embraced silently, but when she lifted her face, she felt his reluctance. It meant nothing to her. She had nothing but him now, and she would not accept his refusal. Her parents were dead, her best friend Holy Miracle Jones was dead, her sister had disappeared into the bloody maw of war. God had abandoned her. She might never see her home again, but if she had any control over her life at this moment, she was resolved that John would be hers, at least for a little while. She knew it for a fact; she felt it in the marrow of her soul.
Taking his hand, she led him to the courtyard by the church where they sat on the bench under the orange tree.
“You know what I want,” she said at last.
He did not pretend to not know what she meant. When he saw her face, it was full of naked love, of desire. She had lost the ability to conceal the rawness of her feelings.
“Are you sure?”
“Don’t patronize. This is no time for philosophy.”
“I mean, you are worn out, things are out of control. How will you feel later?”
“Is there a later?”
“Of course there is. It may not be what we want, but it will come. Have you asked God about this?”
She gave a short laugh. “Oh, I know what God would say, but He isn’t speaking to me right now.” She was left to find her own comfort.
“I have to listen to my own heart. God doesn’t know what it is like to be a child who has never seen anything but peace and the love of everyone around her, and then, overnight, to be thrown into a world of absolute evil. To be a woman who has spent her life believing that sex is a sacred pleasure between a man and a woman, a husband and wife, and then to see firsthand what men who are full of hate will do. He doesn’t know what it feels like to be a virgin and see what men have done to innocent girls, to wonder if she will ever be loved by a man who will be gentle with her, to make her feel beautiful and cherished. You may not love me, but I was hoping you could pretend.” She did not cry, but the sadness in her voice ripped at his heart.
“I cannot pretend, Sally Beth. It wouldn’t be right. Not to you, not to me.”
“But you can at least be gentle.”
He let the words sink in. Sitting in the dark, holding her hand, he smelled the oranges in the tree above them and the smoke and grime on his own skin, the fear and traces of blood on hers. He could not refuse her, so open, so trusting, so hopeful that they could create something good amid this horror, but this was not the time. He was too tired. He did not want this—to see the rawness of her pain or her feeling for him, to try to pretend to love her when he knew he could only hurt her and ultimately increase her despair. If he were to make love to her, the least he could do would be to make it as beautiful for her as possible, and right now, so little of him was available, so little was possible.
“I would do you no good tonight,” he said, his voice heavy with regret and fatigue. “Can we wait until tomorrow?”
She thought about it. She did not want to let go of the heat of his hand. She had held too many cold and dying hands in the past few days. She needed his wholesome blood to put some warmth into her own veins. “Will you sit with me awhile here tonight?”
“I will stay with you all night. Wait here. I’ll go get blankets.”
She was leaning against the trunk of the tree when he returned with blankets and even a pillow, and she helped him to spread them out on the ground, pushing aside the fallen oranges to make their bed smooth. Then they both lay down, he put his arms around her, and she laid her head on his chest, her arm holding him tightly.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He hugged her closer. Peace settled over them, and before she remembered that God had forsaken her, she prayed for the safety of her sister. In the empty stillness afterward, she thought she might have heard His voice whispering gently, I know, my beloved. I know.