Out of the Shadows (4 page)

When the woman had gone, Mama Joe turned to Leslie. “She told me the baby had been ill with diarrhea for a few days. She went to the local healer at first, and the baby was getting better. But this morning the baby was sick again. She wouldn’t eat at all and only cried a little. That was when the mother decided to bring her here.” Sorrow was evident in her tone, and she rubbed her eyes. “She had to walk about ten miles.... Obviously, she was too late.”

Leslie remained quiet, and Mama Joe helped her clean the exam table with a strong disinfectant. Noticing Leslie’s silence and shocked expression, she sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes there is nothing we can do to help. But, if she had brought the little one to us yesterday, we probably could have saved her.”

A tear ran down Leslie’s cheek. “It’s so sad...so unnecessary.”

Mama Joe gathered her into a comforting hug. “Yes it is. But we have to maintain perspective. We do everything we can to stop the sickness and death, and much of the time we can.” She blinked back her own tears and added, “Leslie, this is something we have to learn to cope with. We don’t accept it, but we do cope with it.” Mama Joe pulled away and headed toward the reception area. “I need to show you what to do in the event of a death.” Together they filled out the forms that were required by the Health Ministry and gave them to Elizabeth to post.

Leslie wiped away tears as she pondered the day’s lesson. In Kenya, death was common. Give the body to the family and fill out two forms, and that was the end of the process. She desperately wanted to sob, but she followed Mama Joe’s example and went back to care for her next patient, knowing there were many more who needed help.

* * *

L
ATER
THAT
AFTERNOON
,
a boy of nine or ten burst through the front door. He had obviously run to the clinic and was panting heavily. Elizabeth called to Mama Joe, and, after talking with the boy for a minute, the older nurse grabbed her bag and motioned for Leslie to follow. “Titus!” she yelled from the front porch. “We need to go to town.” In a very short time the Jeep was at the door, and the two nurses climbed aboard with the young boy.

“What’s happening?” Leslie asked as they bounced down the unpaved road.

Mama Joe’s answer was hushed. “The boy’s father has AIDS. He’s been sick for more than two years. The family is very poor and can’t afford for him to go to a hospital. Evidently, he is much sicker, and the boy’s mother sent for me.”

A short time later, the Jeep pulled in front of a small wood-and-mud dwelling at the edge of the village. Mama Joe entered the home without knocking, and Leslie followed closely behind her. The interior of the hut was dark and overly warm, illuminated and vented by two small windows. The odor was a nauseating mixture of cow dung, human excrement, body odor and decay. Leslie cupped her mouth and swallowed hard to keep from gagging.

Her eyes adjusted to the scanty light, and she saw an extremely frail man covered by a thin blanket lying on a cot in one corner. An equally frail woman sat on a short stool near the head of the bed. Her jaundiced eyes watched intently as the two women entered the hut.

Mama Joe whispered a greeting as she approached the cot. She reached out and touched the woman, then the man, on their heads. She asked a few questions, which were answered by the woman in a bare whisper. Mama Joe glanced toward Leslie and motioned for her to come near the cot, and Leslie knelt by the meager bed to assess the dying man. His eyes were closed and sunken, and a wet, rasping noise told them he struggled to breathe.

Mama Joe knelt beside Leslie. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, “This is Mr. Kanjana. His high fever is most likely caused by pneumonia.” They briefly discussed a treatment plan, and Mama Joe drew up medications for inflammation and pain into two syringes. Although Mr. Kanjana did not flinch at the prick of the needles, Leslie cringed as her colleague injected the medications into his skeletal thigh.

The nurses tried to get the patient to sip some water, but he did not have the energy to swallow. Mama Joe held his fragile hand for a while, and Leslie watched as she said a prayer in Swahili. A few minutes later, Mr. Kanjana’s breathing seemed to ease, and Mama Joe rose and drew the wife away from the cot. Safely out of the husband’s earshot, Mama Joe spoke to Mrs. Kanjana for a moment. With a tiny nod, the woman returned to sit beside her husband.

“The medications will allow him to breathe a little easier, but, judging by the breathing pattern, he probably won’t live but a few more hours.” She spoke quietly to Leslie, who glanced at the pitifully thin woman seated by the cot. “I told her I would stay with her. Why don’t you go back to the clinic? Titus can take you home and then come back for me.”

Leslie desperately wanted to go back to the clinic. She desperately wanted to leave the stinking confines of the tiny house filled with death. Instead, she looked into Mama Joe’s calm brown eyes and whispered, “No. I’ll stay.” Tears threatened to fall, but she managed to blink them back. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Tell me what to do.”

* * *

A
S
M
AMA
J
OE
predicted, it was over in less than two hours. The nurses helped Mrs. Kanjana clean the body and cover it with a new cloth. There was nothing left for them to do but fill out the requisite forms when they returned to the clinic.

The frail woman stopped them as they were leaving. Her yellowed eyes were filled with gratitude, and she whispered something in Swahili. Mama Joe simply nodded, and Leslie did the same. As she waited, she tried to avoid thinking about the loneliness the widow would now have to endure, and she struggled once more to blink back tears.

Dusk had fallen and, once outside, Leslie gulped in the warm, clean air. She was surprised to see that a number of men and women had surrounded the dwelling, waiting patiently for them to emerge. Those nearest to Mama Joe nodded with apparent respect but gazed at Leslie with curiosity. The young boy who had fetched them stood with two other children near the door. Their expressions were stark.

On the drive home, Mama Joe explained that the Kanjana family had already lost two children to the scourge of AIDS. “Mrs. Kanjana doesn’t have long. She’s taking antiretrovirals, but they’ve only slowed the disease a little.” She sighed audibly. Her lined face showed fatigue, and she closed her eyes.

As soon as they arrived at the clinic, Leslie excused herself and rushed to the bathroom where she was violently ill. Afterward, she scrubbed her hands and face and rinsed her mouth, all the while trying to regain her composure. When she finally returned to the kitchen, she found Mama Joe seated at the table drinking a cup of hot tea. A second cup had been prepared for her, and she sat down and sipped it gratefully.

Leslie interrupted the silence a few minutes later. “How do you do it?”

Mama Joe smiled sadly. “Just when I think I can’t take it a moment longer, when I can’t bear to see one more child die, or treat one more case of some dreadful, preventable illness, or when I think I can’t face walking into the clinic one more time—something happens. Sometimes it’s something big and impressive, like saving a life or delivering a baby. But it’s usually something little, like a smile from a child or a grateful look from a parent.”

Laying her roughened hand gently over Leslie’s, she said, “I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but it doesn’t. You just do what you can and leave the rest to God.” She reflected for a moment before adding, “After all of these years, I still find myself asking
why?
But we can’t expect answers. I’ve learned to try to help whenever I can and to fight death any way I can. We don’t always win, but we can always help ease pain and suffering.”

Mama Joe gave a tired smile. “Leslie, Dennis Williams told me your story—about your husband and daughter...” She wiped away a tear and continued, “I believe that you were sent here for a purpose, and I’m glad you’re here. You can understand what others experience... You’ve been prepared in a very hard way to do what needs to be done. And you
can
do it.”

“I want to be strong, and I really do want to help.” Leslie sniffed. Her smile was faint. “You’re a very good inspiration...”

At that, Mama Joe placed both hands on the table and pushed back her chair. “Agnes made supper for us and left it in the oven. I’m kind of hungry.”

Thirty minutes ago, Leslie doubted she’d be able to eat for a long while. But words of encouragement from a brave woman had helped. She wiped the tears away and blew her nose. The corners of her lips turned up slightly. “I don’t know if I can eat much, but I’d love another cup of tea.”

CHAPTER FOUR

S
UNDAY
BROUGHT
A
badly needed respite from Leslie’s first hectic week at the clinic. Her confidence and knowledge of the practice had improved significantly. Her Swahili, in contrast, was developing much more slowly. Mama Joe and Naomi were encouraging, however, and Elizabeth and Agnes were patient. Overall, she was pleased with her progress. The days were busy and enormously rewarding. Time off from seeing patients, though, was welcomed.

Unless she was called away, Mama Joe was adamant that Sunday mornings were to be spent at the local church where the service was led by a missionary family named Merdian. “Paul and Judy and their adorable children have been here for almost three years,” Mama Joe explained during breakfast. “They’re working on translating the Bible into one of the tribal languages—like Ben’s parents used to do.” She smiled proudly. “Paul is highly respected by the local people, and most everyone calls him ‘Preacher’—even those who don’t come to church. His wife, Judy, is wonderful, too—she’s a terrific cook.” She sipped her coffee and added, “Oh, that reminds me. They’ve invited us to lunch.”

The service was unlike anything Leslie had ever experienced. The church consisted of a large, tentlike structure with a concrete floor and permanent metal roof. The sides were composed of fiberglass panels that could be removed to allow for ventilation and replaced during the rainy season. Folding chairs were arranged in long rows, and Leslie estimated that the structure could easily hold two hundred.

The nurses arrived early, but the church was already half-full. Mama Joe spied the preacher on a wooden stage, where he was trying to get a stubborn microphone to cooperate. “There’s Paul!” She waved in his direction.

The preacher motioned them forward. As he jumped off the stage to greet them, Leslie determined that Paul Merdian was probably in his middle thirties, even though he was mostly bald. He was of medium height and sported a full brown beard, a few shades darker than the remaining close-cropped hair that encircled his head. He grasped Leslie’s hand enthusiastically when Mama Joe introduced them. “Judy and I have been looking forward to meeting you. We’ve heard very good things about how you’re adjusting.”

Leslie blushed. “Oh, that’s nice to know. I still feel like I have a lot to learn, and Mama Joe’s only going to be here a little more than a week.”

Paul smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. Titus and Naomi can help you out of just about any problem. And Judy and I are always here.” His gray eyes were warm and friendly, with deep laugh lines at the corners. Leslie got the impression that he smiled a lot.

While they were speaking, a petite woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a cheerful disposition joined them. Mama Joe hugged the newcomer, who introduced herself. “Hi, Leslie. I’m Judy. I can’t wait to hear about what all is happening back in the States.” Judy’s complexion was slightly pinkish and her features were fairly nondescript. Nonetheless, her lively blue eyes and a smile that rivaled her husband’s made her particularly attractive.

Judy’s warm reception reassured Leslie and she instinctively knew they’d be friends. “Thanks for inviting us to lunch.” She smiled and added, “I’ll be glad to trade you all I know about what’s going on at home, if you’ll coach me on adapting to life in rural Kenya.”

Judy laughed. “You’ve got a deal!”

Leslie gestured toward the children playing tag outside the tent. “I think I can guess which are your children.” A boy and girl, deeply tanned but still obviously white, raced around the area, standing out among the twenty or so African children. A much smaller boy with pale brown hair toddled with them, trying to keep up.

Judy grinned proudly. “Our older son is Johnny. He’s eight. Beth will be seven in a couple of months, and Stephen just turned two.”

Leslie smiled and continued to watch the children, swallowing hard at Stephen’s toddler stride—for a moment, an image of her little girl sprang to mind. But the memory was not as painful as it had once been. “They look...ah...energetic. I’m guessing you stay pretty busy.”

Paul wiped his forehead in mock weariness and sighed audibly. “Busy doesn’t begin to describe what I have to do. All the cooking and cleaning and teaching...just kidding. Judy’s remarkable. She does most of the kid-rearing, including teaching them at home.” His pride and affection were evident. “Better excuse us. We need to get started. We’ll catch up with you after the service and head to the house.”

Leslie and Mama Joe found seats near the front of the tent. They were surrounded by colorfully dressed villagers. Glancing around the gathering, Leslie was pleased that she recognized a few faces. Mama Joe greeted a number of the people in the congregation.

The service lasted nearly three hours, and Leslie loved every minute. Singing dominated the first hour. Some songs were in English, but most were in Swahili or one of the regional dialects. Judy accompanied many of the hymns, playing an aged, upright piano with obvious skill. But most of the African songs were sung a cappella, and Leslie was captivated by the villagers’ complex harmonies. At times it seemed like there were three or four different songs being sung simultaneously, but the melodies blended into a joyous whole. Scripture readings were interspersed with testimonies from those in the congregation before Paul gave a message. The service closed with more singing.

While Paul finished his duties at the church, Mama Joe and Leslie went home with Judy and the children. The Merdians lived only a short distance away, and, like the clinic, their home consisted of a group of buildings surrounded by a high cinder-block wall. The wood-frame house was one story and painted white. A wide porch fronted it, complete with comfortable-looking rockers. Leslie stared appreciatively at the carefully cultivated yard of thick green grass. Colorful beds of flowers surrounded the porch, a testament to the diligence of Paul, Judy or both. She saw red and yellow gerbera daisies and white and pink impatiens interspersed with snapdragons and hibiscus. Off to one side was a commendable rose garden with at least two dozen bushes sprouting blossoms of various colors. The sweet smell of the garden reminded Leslie of home.

Mama Joe agreed to help Judy in the kitchen while the children gave Leslie a tour of the house. “This is where I sleep,” Johnny said as they entered a small room at the back. He proudly pointed to the handmade desk and bookcases, which were crowded with children’s books, readers and workbooks. A computer was pushed to one side. “These are my books. Mom teaches us school stuff every morning and makes us work really hard.”

“Yep,” added Beth. “I’m in the second grade on some things with Johnny, but mostly I do first-grade lessons.”

Johnny continued, “Stephen doesn’t read yet ’cause he’s still a baby. But sometimes we read to him and show him pictures. He likes that.”

Leslie was charmed. Her heart tugged again when she saw one of the books she had read to Emma. She managed to blink back tears and refocused her attention on the children. “Maybe we can read a story after lunch.”

Leslie picked up the toddler, who had been pulling at her dress, and he grinned at her shyly. Not wanting to be left out, Beth grabbed Leslie’s free hand. “Miss Leslie, do you like puppies? Our dog, Lady, had puppies last week.”

“They don’t walk yet, and their eyes aren’t completely open,” Johnny said, “but they’re really cute. Want to go see ’em?”

“I would love to see the puppies. We can go after lunch, but right now I had better go see if your mom needs any help.” Smiling, Leslie set Stephen back on his feet and left the children to play in their room.

As Leslie passed through the combination living and dining room, heading toward the kitchen, the front door opened. Expecting Paul, she waited with a smile of greeting. Instead, she was surprised as a tall, lean man entered the house, and she found herself face-to-face with Ben Murphy.

Ben was dressed exactly as he had been at their previous meeting, in khaki slacks and white shirt. As before, his hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. That, coupled with his swarthy tan, light green eyes and expressive mouth, gave him the appearance of a pirate. She sighed inwardly, dismayed to concede he was extremely good-looking.

Ben managed to hide his surprise at meeting Leslie in the Merdians’ living room. His gaze swept over her quickly, and he felt an odd catch in his chest. Today her hair was down, falling around her shoulders in shiny, mink-colored waves. Her simple red dress had short sleeves and skimmed her ankles. Though it was modest, it was appealing. He watched with annoyance as her smile disappeared. Twin bright spots on her cheeks rivaled the red of her dress.

After what seemed like an eternity to both, Ben broke the silence. “Paul invited me for lunch.” His voice was flat and his face void of expression.

“Oh. I see. Well, hello then.” Leslie searched for something to say, but her brain appeared to have ceased functioning, and she just looked at him and grew more flushed.

Ben did a little better. “So, how are you settling in?”

She acknowledged the question but could not quite manage a smile. “Pretty well. There have been some...ah...challenging times. But so far things have gone all right. Mama Joe is a terrific teacher.” Her expression brightened a little when she mentioned her mentor.

Ben knew it was his turn again, and he was pondering what to say when someone bounded up the front steps. Both gratefully turned as the screen door opened and Paul entered. Grinning broadly, he shook hands with Ben. “Really glad you could come. You haven’t been around much lately.”

Relieved to have a diversion, Ben responded to the preacher with genuine affection. “Hey, are you kidding? Do you think I’d pass up an opportunity to eat Judy’s cooking?”

Paul beamed at Leslie but continued to address Ben. “Judy and I thought it would be good for you to meet our newest missionary.” Paul crossed the room to shake Leslie’s hand in much the same manner, and she was glad he didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness of the scene he had entered.

“Ben and I have already met. He flew me from Nairobi,” Leslie explained, then deftly changed the subject. “I’m really looking forward to getting to know you and Judy better. I’ve already made friends with Johnny, Beth and Stephen. After lunch they’re going to show me the puppies.”

As if on cue, all three children entered the living room and saw Ben. The elder pair ran to hug him. Grinning mischievously at them, he scooped Johnny up and proceeded to hang the boy upside down by his ankles, eliciting giggles of delight from all three.

“Me, too! Me, too!” Beth cried.

From his inverted position, Johnny scoffed, “Heck, no. Uncle Ben can’t do this to you. You’re wearing a dress.”

Ben set the boy on the ground, scooped up the little girl, and said, “Well, maybe you can’t be turned upside down, but I can give you a big hug, can’t I?” Beth grinned and threw her arms around Ben’s neck; then Stephen held up his arms and was hauled into the mix.

Ben’s ease with the Merdians surprised Leslie. He was obviously very fond of Paul and his family, and the feelings were reciprocated. She couldn’t imagine they had much in common—well, other than living deep in the African savanna.

* * *

L
UNCH
WAS
VERY
informal and, as predicted, delicious. Roasted chicken was served over curried rice mixed with bits of mango and pineapple. Conversation was easy, and Leslie learned a great deal about her hosts. Paul and Judy had been high school sweethearts from Indianapolis and married right out of college. “We shared an interest in church ministry and African culture,” Paul told her. “Even early in college, we were focused on going to Kenya.”

“It took several years before we realized our dream,” Judy confided. “Paul had to complete seminary, and by then we had Johnny and Beth. Stephen was born in Kenya.” Judy smiled fondly at Mama Joe. “He was delivered right here in this house.”

Over lunch, the two men shared tales of a recent hunting expedition in which they had shot several eland. Leslie looked at them quizzically. “I didn’t know you could hunt in the game parks.”

“Oh, definitely not the endangered animals like elephant and rhino, and not the big cats,” Paul explained. “But they have hunting seasons for antelope, much as they do at home for deer. If herds aren’t thinned, they can quickly overgraze the parklands. And eland meat is really quite good. We’ll have some next time you come over.”

Leslie grimaced. “That’s what I was told about buffalo and ostrich. I’m still not a believer. But this chicken is delicious.” She glanced askance at her hosts and added, “It is chicken?” Everyone laughed.

As the others were finishing lunch, Judy got up to put Stephen down for his nap. With pleading looks at their mother, Johnny and Beth asked if they could be excused. “Yes, you may. Stay within the wall, though!” With a rush and the slamming of the screen door, the two disappeared.

At Judy’s insistence, the group settled in the living room with cups of coffee. Conversation drifted to discussions about the customs of the region and their experiences while living in Kenya. Leslie was fascinated. Ben was surprisingly pleasant, although he rarely addressed her directly. His comments were informative and enlightening, and he answered questions with honesty and wry, self-deprecating humor.

Ben appeared to grow a little more at ease with Leslie as the conversation progressed, and during a lull, he tried to draw her in with a question. “So, Leslie, do you have a fiancé or boyfriend crying in his coffee at home while you spend six months here?”

Leslie recognized Ben’s attempt to put a crack in the wall that had been evident from their first meeting. Nonetheless, the question caught her off guard, and she answered awkwardly, “Uh, no. Only my parents and sisters and a few close friends.”

Ben flashed his most engaging smile. “Oh, come on. With those big blue eyes, I can’t believe you don’t have some man pining away, waiting anxiously for you to come back.” Because Ben’s attention was focused on Leslie, he missed Mama Joe’s warning frown.