The Jumpoff, Swallowtail Gap, West Virginia
Howard Graves gripped the phone tightly. When he spoke, he struggled to keep his voice calm. “Thank you, sir. You know where to reach me if you hear anything, anything at all. We appreciate what you are doing.” He hung up the receiver, his face grim. Geneva took one look at it and fell into her husband’s arms, sobbing. He tried to console her, but even he felt despair. “Don’t give up hope, sweetheart. They still could have gotten away.”
“How? The men you sent to find them can’t go farther north. I can tell even the people at the mission have given up hope.” She tried to stifle her sobs, but the thought of Sally Beth, Lilly, and John being in the hands of those murderers sent a spiral of anguish through her. “What did the State Department say?”
Howard Graves shook his head. “There’s not much they can do at this point. It’s a local war, even though the Ugandans have overrun the Kagera region, and we can’t get involved. Anyway, the army is pretty much out of control, even if they could talk some sense into Idi Amin. I think the best we can hope for is that they are in the hands of some mercenaries who will hold them for ransom. They have to know that America doesn’t like its citizens murdered.” He averted his eyes. People in the throes of this war would not be concerned about the plight of Americans. Even mercenaries may not have enough of their wits about them to think about profiting from the return of hostages.
“What did they say when you told them we’d pay a million dollars to get them back?” She did not care now who knew she and Chap were wealthy. All she cared about was finding her loved ones safe.
“Well, it got their attention, but…” He trailed off, feeling helpless. He had not told her what he had heard about the brutality of the Ugandan army. Uncontrolled, undisciplined soldiers had been responsible for the horrific deaths of thousands of civilians. Many hundreds more, including the pastor of the mission church where Sally Beth had been living, had been marched to camps where they were held for ransom or sold into slavery. They had stolen all the livestock and burned and looted every building and vehicle they could find well to the south of the Kagera River. If it had not been for the timely arrival of the former special services men they had hired to look for Sally Beth, Lilly, John, and Phil, every person at the mission would have been slaughtered or kidnapped. He was at least grateful for that small mercy.
Seeing how distracted Geneva was, Howard Graves longed to put his arms around her, if only to comfort her, but he kept still while Howard Knight pulled her close, murmuring into her hair. He had long ago lost that right, and although he regretted it with all his heart, he was glad that Geneva was well loved by her husband.
“Darling,” said Howard Knight. “We just have to pray now, and hope the guys we hired can track them into Uganda.”
She shook her head, sobbing, “Chap, I can’t stand this!”
He held still for a moment, bending his head toward hers. “How are you feeling, love?” he asked tenderly.
She looked at him, aghast. “What? Awful! They could all be dead.”
“No, I mean, how are you feeling? He moved his hand slowly down to her belly, cradling it for a brief moment.
“Oh. Fine, I guess.”
“Then, let’s go. We might as well be there, where we can get news a little quicker, and get to them quicker when they are found. Let’s go to Kenya, to John’s place, and wait there.
“Oh, Chap! You mean it? We can just go?”
He shrugged. “Why not?” He turned to Howard Graves. “You reckon you can get us seats on the next Concorde? We’ll go to Paris, then to Kenya from there.”
Howard Graves looked thoughtful. “We’ll need visas,” he said at last as he reached for the phone. “Guess it’s time to call on our friend Senator Byrd again. And let’s hope there are three seats available on the Concorde this week. Otherwise, it will be a long flight.
Geneva looked at him sharply. “You’re going to go, too?” She had been grateful for Howard’s Washington, DC connections and his guidance throughout this ordeal, but this was exceptionally generous.
Howard Graves smiled sadly. “Yeah, well, as pathetic as this sounds, outside of my mother, your family is the only one I have. And I guess you could say John is something of a brother. I don’t want to lose any of them.”
Somewhere in southern Uganda
Sally Beth tried to keep to the minor roads, veering eastward at every opportunity. Getting to the lake would most likely be their safest path, although she didn’t know how they would get far enough into the lake to cross the border into Tanzania without being caught.
Lord, send a miracle.
The road was just a wide dirt path, now no more than a rocky, eroded mess. The rain and clouds had cleared, but the mud was so deep in places she tried to keep to the grassy shoulders. When the field beside them flattened out into plain savannah, Sally Beth slowed to a crawl, easing the car up the bank to leave the road altogether. Driving through grass would be easier than slogging through the mud.
She had just made the top of a rise when something glinting in the sunshine caught her eye. She slowed to stare at the object nearly hidden in the long grass about twenty yards away. Something told her to go see what it was. Turning the jeep, she made her way cautiously, bouncing and staggering across the grassland toward it.
It was John’s plane, sitting lightly in the savannah grass, fresh and white in the morning sun. Leaving the jeep idling in neutral, Sally Beth leaped out, sprinted to the plane, and jerked open the door.
If he were alive, the only proof of it lay in the recesses of her certain, sealed heart, the heart that forbade him to die. He lay back in the pilot’s seat, his face, flung sideways, the color of cold ashes. A dark, bloody bandage wrapped around his thigh was sticky with blood, and so much more blood was spilled over the seat and floor, she knew he had lost enough to kill a smaller man. The large bruise on his forehead spreading out toward his cheek served as a grim reminder of what had taken place the night before when the Ugandans had attacked the mission. Kneeling on the floor, her pulse buffeting her temples, she placed her fingertips at his neck, feeling for any life-rhythm there.
The pulse surged so faintly she wondered if she were imagining it, but his flesh was warm, and when she lifted his arm, it fell back limp; no sign of rigor mortis, no stench of death in the air. Just the strong, coppery smell of blood permeated the cabin of the plane.
“Is he...?” asked Priscilla, her voice strained with worry.
“He’s alive,” she murmured, overcome with relief, “but barely.” She looked at the bandage on his thigh. “He’s bled a lot.” Still watching, still pressing his artery for the comfort of his sustained pulse, she said, “Prissy, will you get that canteen?”
Priscilla turned back to the jeep while Sally Beth gathered John in her arms, holding him close, stroking his hair, and begging God to intervene.
Oh, God! Please don’t let him die. I’m sorry. I can’t give him up. You saved Prissy, you saved me, so now please save him. Let him live. I’ll leave him alone; I’ll let him love whoever he wants, but please, let him live!
She knew this was her fault. If she had not begged him to stay the night with her, he would have taken a few more people to safety, and he would have stayed overnight in Bukoba. Because of her selfishness, he might die, and several people who stayed at the mission might be dead because of her as well. She held him tightly, rocking him, stunned by the pain of her loss, of the realization that she must, after all, be sorry for the sweetness of the night before. She kissed him, then held his head to her chest and simply held on, as if her own life could stretch across the thin membranes of skin between them and bring him back to her.
Priscilla returned with the water. Sally Beth tried to dribble some between John’s white lips, but it trickled out the sides of his mouth, then he coughed without regaining consciousness. Sally Beth looked around frantically.
“We have to get him help.” She looked at the open emergency kit on the seat next to him, but there was little in there to do any good: some bandages, syringes, tubing, ointments, sutures, and other basic necessities. Several seconds of rummaging yielded nothing, until her eyes landed on the most obvious thing there: the cooler that Dr. Sams had placed underneath the back seat. Somehow, John had missed this when he unloaded the supplies they had sent to the hospital in Bukoba.
She yanked it out, opened it, moved aside the ice packets, and breathed a prayer of gratitude. Just underneath a layer of ice was a plastic bag mostly full of her own blood. Dr. Sams had not taken a full unit, just enough to make her believe she was contributing. But still, it was something, and it was O negative, the universal donor. She heard herself insisting. Go ahead. Somebody could really need this, and I’m as healthy as a mule.
Thank You, God. You told me to do this. You made this happen. Now I know You plan for him to live!
“Prissy, you have to help,” she said as she grabbed some tubing and a syringe from the first aid kit and took hold of John’s arm. “I can’t do it by myself.”
She connected one end of tubing to the needle from the syringe and the other to the packet of blood while Priscilla tied a tourniquet around John’s arm and slapped at it until a faint blue line appeared. Sally Beth carefully threaded the needle into the nearly invisible vein and held up the packet of blood. “I’m sorry this is cold, John, but maybe it will bring you around a little quicker.”
They waited in agony as the sun crept higher in the sky and the day grew warm and humid. Priscilla fanned John while Sally Beth slowly nursed the blood into his vein. As she watched, her heart cheered when the lifeblood began to pink his lips and cheeks. At last, his eyes fluttered open.
“John, what’s your blood type?”
He heard Sally Beth’s voice, but he did not recognize the terrible-looking person gazing down at him. It was a woman, he thought, with wisps of Sally Beth’s long, silvery hair, but the face, blue, red, swollen, and misshapen, was like no one he had ever seen before. The left eye was a mere slit in a puffy blue and red socket.
“What happened to your face?”
“What is your blood type? You’ve lost a lot of blood. We need to replace it.”
“AB negative.”
The hideous face disappeared, and in its place came the shining black face of Priscilla.
“Prissy,” he said. “Are you alive?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Are you?”
“I guess. I hurt enough. I’m cold.”
The blackened, swollen face with the silvery hair was back. Prissy rubbed his arms to warm him.
“Okay, I’m going to give you another unit of blood,” said Sally Beth, ripping out the tubing from the empty packet and inserting it into another one. He smiled. He had missed Sally Beth’s voice. His arm grew cold again, and he winced, but within minutes, his vision began to clear, and he realized that the hideous face he had seen swimming above him belonged to Sally Beth’s voice. He gasped and tried to sit up.
“Careful! Stay still.”
“Sally Beth.”
“Yes, John. It’s me.”
“What happened to your face?”
“Ugandans. Same thing as happened to yours.” She placed her hand over the left side of her face and smiled, and he thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful.
After the second unit of blood, John was still weak, but able to sit up, then get out of the plane to stretch out on the grass. “I could give you another unit,” said Sally Beth. “Or we can just get out of here. How do you feel?”
“I feel—” John was cut off by Prissy’s urgent voice.
“They’re coming!”
Sally Beth stood up. From the road came the distinct sound of motorcars. Looking out to the curve back to the north, she saw a line of army vehicles coming into view. “Oh, Lord, have mercy! Quick, get him back in the plane.” She jerked open the door and hustled him in. Priscilla jumped into the back while Sally Beth hurried around to the pilot’s seat. Without going through the checklist, she attempted to start the engine, but it failed to fire up.
“Pump the throttle a couple of times,” advised John. “Forget the primer.” She gave the throttle three good pumps, then tried again and shouted for joy when the engine caught.
The entire line of army vehicles halted in the road as Sally Beth spun the plane eastward, then several jeeps broke away, lurching across the road, coming toward them fast. She leaned into the throttle as hard as she could, and slowly, agonizingly, the plane began to widen the distance between them and the convoy of trucks and jeeps. Behind them, guns sang their dreaded songs. They heard their chortle and laughter, the ringing of lead on aluminum and steel.
Looking ahead, Sally Beth saw the glimmer of Lake Victoria not one hundred feet ahead and rushing at her fast. Instinctively she slowed, but John slapped her hand away and forced the throttle forward, then, as they rolled forward, their speed increasing, he lifted the yoke, and they sailed out over the blue waters, not more than a few feet above the surface of the lake. The plane dipped slightly before John lifted the yoke higher. They slowly gained altitude as bullets ricocheted off and into the plane.
“Ahhh!” moaned John. “I’ve been hit, again.” He grabbed at his right arm just above the elbow.
Sally Beth looked back to see the jeeps bristling with guns firing at them, but by now, they were out of range, high up and over the lake. She grabbed the controls away from John. Prissy sat mute in the back, hunkered in the floorboard between the seats, her arms over her head.
“Are you okay, Prissy?” shouted Sally Beth.
Her head came up. “Yes, but there are holes all over back here. I can see daylight through the plane.”
“John, how bad are you hurt?”
“Not bad. I think this is where I get to say, ‘It’s only a flesh wound’.” He almost laughed. “How many units of the AB negative do we have on board?”
Sally Beth was not in the mood to joke. “None, John, so you can darn well quit bleeding!” She grimaced and tightened her hold on the yoke.
“And did you bring any fuel?” His voice had lost its lightness.
“What?”
He pointed to the fuel gage. It showed a near-empty tank, and the indicator was moving rapidly. “We’re losing fuel. They must have hit the tank. We have to set her down. Now!” He wrenched the controls back away from her and lowered the nose, banking back toward the lakeshore.
“Don’t go back!” shouted Sally Beth.
“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.
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.”
Gordon was surprised to hear this. How did Mr. Ross know about Sally Beth, Lilly, and Phil? “Thank you, Mr. Ross. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to track down the whereabouts of my partner and the others. All we know is that they are likely somewhere in Uganda, and it’s impossible to get any news from there.”
“Of course. That’s why I’m calling. My client wants to help and has asked me to let you know that if you need anything at all, please call me with your request. He feels partly responsible for your troubles because he insisted on your establishing a station in Kagera.”
“Thank you. I can’t think of anything at the moment, except perhaps, if your client is so inclined, there might be something he could do for the employees who were helping John. Three have been displaced because of the war, and four have died. They have families.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, as I am aware that there are several refugees from the mission where Mr. Smith often stayed when he was in Kagera. My client has instructed me to let you know that we have arranged for accommodations for anyone associated with Mr. Smith—his employees at Kigemba, people from the mission, anyone connected with him who has been affected by the war. He wishes you to bring them to Nairobi to stay until they have recovered from any injuries and have found living accommodations. Mr. Smith also may have some relatives or friends who might be coming to Africa to help search for him or offer support. They all will need to be housed during their visit.”
Gordon wondered if he was supposed to round up all those people as Mr. Ross continued, “I have engaged the Victoria Inn for the next month, which I believe will provide the most suitable lodging for a large group. Of course, if it is necessary, I will extend the rental until it is no longer needed.”
“The Victoria Inn?” Gordon was taken aback. “How many rooms?” The Victoria Inn was the most luxurious hotel in all of Nairobi, a colonial palace that had hosted every British monarch from Queen Victoria to George VI. Even after the end of the occupation, it continued to set the standard for luxury, becoming the most sought-after place for dignitaries and personalities who came to Nairobi. It was outrageously expensive. For someone to reserve rooms for a month was unthinkable.
There was a chuckle at the other end of the line. “Well, not the whole Inn.” But we did manage to reserve a block of fifteen rooms. If more rooms are needed, we will try to find another hotel as close as can be arranged.” Mr. Ross paused. “By the way, it might make sense for you to stay there as well, to be the host, so to speak, or at least take some time to help ease the adjustment of some of the refugees. No doubt, some will be feeling vulnerable and frightened, and will need a kind friend nearby. I know it may be difficult for you to run the ranch and entertain a diverse group of visitors, but my client would be most appreciative if you can. He encourages you to hire help, at his expense, of course. We chose the Victoria Inn because it is so close to your ranch. I hope you will be able to assist us.”
“Of course,” stammered Gordon. It would, in fact, be quite difficult for him to keep up his responsibilities at the ranch and play nursemaid to twenty or thirty frightened refugees, but who was he to refuse the generous benefactor who had just given them half a million dollars? He reckoned he would be able to survive the ordeal, especially given the fact that the Inn boasted some of the best chefs in Kenya. He hung up the phone mystified, terrified, and excited.
Lake Victoria
John had shown no signs of improvement. Sally Beth watched in anguish as he grew thinner and paler. Four days ago, Alice had promised her that John would begin to heal in three days. But then, she had also assured her soldiers of victory in battle. She wondered if something was amiss, if the fever would defeat John just as Alice and her men had been overrun. She had prayed incessantly by his bedside, but the coldness of her spirit seemed to extinguish every flame that rose up as she cried out to God, turning it into a curling puff of smoke before it even left her heart. Restless and desperate, she sought for something different.
“Lilly,” she said to her sister, “I need to get away from here, to go someplace quiet where I can be alone with God. I just need to get out of this murky air, someplace I can breathe. I see that big hill over there. Do you know how to get to the top? Would you go with me?”
Lilly eyed her with sympathy. “I’ve been there. It’s pretty, and it would be a good place for you to pray, but Sally Beth, it’s a lot higher than it looks, and it’s terrifying to climb. We went there for the purification ritual before I went to battle with the troops, and it was all I could do to make it to the top and back down again. I can’t even think about going back there without panicking.” She looked at Sally Beth regretfully. “I’ll ask Alice to send someone with you, okay?” she said softly.
“Lilly! You flew from Bukoba to the mission in a creaky little old plane—with me flying, and I had never even taken off before. You weren’t the least afraid then. How can you still be afraid of high places?”
“It’s funny. Planes are fine. I can look down through the clouds and not feel a thing; I can even enjoy it. But when my feet are on the ground and I look down and imagine it falling away, I get this crazy feeling that I’m going to jump, and that scares me to death. I get that same feeling in tall buildings. I know it’s weird.”
Sally Beth put her arm around her. She could feel Lilly’s distress. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I remember how hard it was for you at the Grand Canyon, how hard it’s always been on mountaintops. Never mind. I’ll ask Alice.”
“Ask me what?” came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Alice leaning against a mangrove root.
“Alice, I’m glad you are here.” Lilly put her arm around Sally Beth and pushed her forward an inch. “Sally Beth wants to go to Memmee Hill to pray, and I know it is forbidden for a woman to walk through the forest alone. Would you find someone who knows the way to go with her?”
Alice regarded her coolly for a long moment before she replied, “Perhaps I could go with you, Sally Beth.” Pushing away from the tree, she added, “I, too, wish to go to a high place to pray. The Spirit must be speaking the same thing to both of us today.” She took Sally Beth’s hand. “Natiko’s dress is becoming to you. I hope it lifted the spirits of our friend John. Is he improving today?”
“No, Alice. He has not improved at all. He is still fevered and talking out of his head a good bit of the time. That’s why I want to go pray. I need a quiet place where I can be alone.”
“I see,” said Alice slowly. “He did not make a turn for the better after three days as the Lakwena promised?”
“No, if anything, he might be worse. Fajimi’s herbs seem to be keeping his wounds clear, but she doesn’t know why he has fever.” She fought back tears. “Will you go with me?”
Looking at Sally Beth with narrowed eyes, Alice mused, “There is something you urgently need to speak to God about? The Lakwena is unable to discern the light of the truth when there is a darkness in a man’s or a woman’s heart.” She took a few steps forward. “Come. I will take you to Memmee, and you can unburden your spirit.”
Alice was quiet as they made their way up to higher ground. After they had crossed through the deep shade of the forest, they found themselves suddenly facing a cliff more than a hundred feet high rising up before them like a wall of stone. Sally Beth looked up along a precipitous path that had been scratched into the face of the cliff and found herself wondering how Lilly had ever made her way up the side of this mountain. A year ago, such a climb would have been impossible for Lilly, and Sally Beth felt a small surge of pride for her sister’s strength and determination. Following Alice, she grabbed hold of the rock and pulled herself up onto a narrow ledge.
“When you get to the next ledge, be sure you begin the climb with your left foot, Sally Beth,” came Alice’s voice from above her. When you get near the top, you will need to reach out with your right foot, and you won’t be able to shift your feet at that point. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” Sally Beth concentrated on balancing on the balls of her feet as she reached upward, feeling for a place to grab onto the rock above her. This was far more precipitous than she had imagined it would be.
After nearly ten minutes of climbing the sheer face of rock, they reached a wide ledge, and from there the path grew easier. It was still very steep, but she was able to walk nearly upright, using her hands only to steady herself against the cliff side. Then, before many more minutes had passed, she found herself at the top, where she turned to face out over the vast, shimmering waters of Lake Victoria. The breeze coming up from the water below lifted her hair from the back of her neck, cooling her and bringing the fragrance of the monkey-tree blossoms below. Long, silky grass at her feet rifled in the wind, and the sun beamed its soft, generous rays. The lake spread out in three directions, and as she looked out, she knew this would be a good place to pray. She had not felt such peace since before the war had begun.
Alice stood beside her, looking down to the water. “I will leave you here,” she said quietly. “I wish I could tell you to take your time, but we should go back within an hour. My troops need my presence among them.” She nodded briefly before making her way over the gentle terrain toward a grove of trees a few hundred feet away. Sally Beth sat on a rock and faced the water, lifting her face into the tender wind.
She took a breath. Never had she found it this hard to pray. “Lord,” she began, speaking aloud in case God could hear her voice when He could not hear the cries of her soul. After the first few words of invocation, she faltered as her thoughts turned toward John and his silent suffering. Disquiet seeped into her spirit like a dark, oily smoke stealing through every fissure in her fragile armor. She was barely on speaking terms with God; her prayers still felt heavy and flightless, like a bumblebee with stunted wings. She took a breath and began again.
“Lord, I don’t know how to pray. I feel tired, dead inside. I feel like I’ve been fighting so hard and for so long that I don’t know how to just let go and let my thoughts fly up to You. And I feel as if You and I are not friends any more. Have You given up on me?” Her mind wandered into the horrors of the past weeks; she saw the suffering children, the anguished eyes of women, the bloody, broken people who looked at her with hope while she knew there was no hope. She saw the child with the hole in her face, the piles of rotting bodies along the roadside. She saw John, bleeding and white, fevered, thin, and then she saw his face looking at her, his eyes soft and full of wonder. She saw herself look into those eyes, wanting to lose herself in them, to make him lose himself inside her. The only good thing she had known in the weeks of terror and pain was John. John holding her, whispering promises of safety and warmth, John’s hand on hers, and she whimpered, “Lord, why won’t you heal him? Is it because I sinned?”
And then something fell into place, and she recognized the truth of what she had been hoping she could ignore. She had sinned against God, against His holy ordinances. Not because of her desire for John, but because she had lost faith in what God could and would do. She had shut her eyes against the God she had known since her youth and had turned instead to find her hope and salvation in a mere man. It broke her heart to admit it. But shouldn’t she be allowed to love a man? Shouldn’t a woman be allowed to want a man to protect her? What did God want from her, after all? Was she not to know what it was like to know the joy of human love? It didn’t seem fair.
Sally Beth knew she had to really look at herself and her spirit and be honest about what she had done. At last, she sighed and gave into the judgment. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she spoke aloud.
“I know, I’ve been resisting this confession. I wanted him, Lord, I wanted him so bad I was willing to exchange You for him, at least for a little while. I know I didn’t give him a choice, but did all I could to seduce him, knowing it was wrong, not just because You told me it was wrong but because I made demands on him that he couldn’t fill. He couldn’t love me, but I wanted to make him love me. I know, I confess that sin. And now he is sick, and I’m afraid You will take him from me forever, and all this is my fault. But Lord, please, I am willing to give him up if that’s what You demand. I don’t want to, but if I have to, I at least ask You to make me want to, because more than anything, I want You to be my Lord again. And I want You to heal John, and if it takes giving him up, I will do it.”
Tears ran down her face as she struggled to say the words she had so long fought against saying. She didn’t want to regret her hours with him, she didn’t want to regret the sweet, overpowering pleasure, the feeling of safety and promise in his arms, but if that’s what it took to give him life, she would do it.
“There is a sin in you that you had not confessed?” The voice beside her was hard.
Sally Beth jumped and turned to see Alice standing behind her. “You are burdened with sin? And it’s been unconfessed since you have come here? Sally Beth! You have put us all in danger.” Alice’s eyes flashed with anger as she advanced upon Sally Beth. “We went into battle when one among us was lying in the luxury of her fornication! The Lakwena cannot see through the darkness you brought, and now you have brought disaster upon us all.”
Sally Beth blinked through her astonishment. “No, I did not!” She stopped, then started again, “I mean, I am not guilty of what you say. I just…” She felt the blush rise to her face. “I wanted to, but I did not.” She tried to explain away her guilt, but at last merely dropped her head, weeping. “I’m sorry,” she said at last.
Alice did not answer. She turned, quickly making her way back down the path. Sally Beth followed her silently, feeling the misery of the burdens that had been placed upon her, the burdens that kept growing heavier as she groped for handholds in the face of the cliff. She was moving too slowly. Alice was nearly at the bottom of the cliff, and Sally Beth knew that she would not be able to find her way back to the camp if she let her out of her sight. She quickened her pace, despite the heaviness in her limbs and in her heart.
She managed to keep Alice in sight until they had both made it back to camp. Alice disappeared into her tent without speaking or even turning to look at Sally Beth. Confused and miserable, Sally Beth made her way to the infirmary tent, but before she arrived, Priscilla and Lilly met her. “Sally Beth!” Prissy cried. “I’ve been looking for you. John is awake, and his fever is gone. Oh, Praise God for His glorious healing!’
Sally Beth looked at Lilly, who was beaming. “It’s true,” she confirmed. “He’s been asking for you in between sips of water. I don’t know what you prayed for up on that mountain, or what you promised God, but it must have worked. He’s going to be fine.”