Terminal Justice (27 page)

The group, less Kristen and David, moved toward the large tent that housed some of the food supplies.

Kristen gazed in puzzlement at David for a moment. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I feel more than all right,” David said, beaming a large addictive smile. “Thanks to you.” He stepped toward her, kissed her on the forehead, and placed his arm around her shoulders. “Shall we join the others?” The speechless Kristen smiled and nodded. Five steps later she placed her arm around his waist.

Breakfast was Spartan by Western standards but munificent in the famine area. It consisted of
injera
flatbread, coffee, rice, and
powdered eggs. The twelve workers ate breakfast early so that they would be free to begin the morning food and medicine distribution. It was a time of needed human contact with those who understood the need and dignity of the work in which they were involved. Depression, anxiety, and homesickness were not uncommon among the remarkable workers, and any chance to receive encouragement from one another or from outsiders was welcome. It was also a time to conduct business, communicate problems, make plans, and designate the work for the day.

“What will we do next?” Kristen asked. “Are we off to Somalia?”

“No,” A.J. said, shaking his head. “That was part of the original plan, but I’m not certain that would be wise right now.”

“Has something happened?” Peter inquired.

“Things are a little unsettled, but nothing to get worried about. Unless something changes radically, we’ll stay in Ethiopia,” A.J. explained. “I plan to make arrangements for a helicopter to fly us into the more severely impacted areas.”

“What do we do today?” Peter asked.

“I’m sure they could use some help around here,” A.J. said. “You and I need to meet with Dr. Goodwin about his need for future workers. I’ll be trying to make some contacts back in the States about a few things. Fortunately our satellite link is working well. Any messages you want sent home?” No one did.

After the breakfast meeting David and Kristen walked from the tent to begin their work. “You sure seem … open today,” Kristen offered. “Did you have a revelatory dream last night?”

“Sort of,” David grinned. “Actually I just spent the night thinking about what you’ve been telling me. You are right, you know. As right as rain, as my mother used to say. I have been too consumed with myself and not with others. I often preached about living outside ourselves and about practicing the Christian faith as a way of life rather than as a set of beliefs. I decided that it was time to start
living the way I wanted to feel instead of the way I actually felt. I have known for years that emotions are blind and unreasoning and that I shouldn’t let them control my life. I’m grateful to you for helping open my eyes again.”

Kristen’s first response was to stop. David stopped too. She looked at him with wonder and joy in her eyes; she reached out and hugged him deeply. The embrace was short but meaningful and conveyed thoughts that could not be spoken. It struck David as odd that such a good and healthy affection as love should blossom in the surroundings of despair. But such is the mystery of life.

The growing darkness was appreciated by the weary Barringston travelers as they sat in front of their tent drinking water. The sun had dropped below the desert horizon, but the September heat in the lowlands of Ethiopia was still oppressive, and they longed for the cooler nights of the highlands they had left behind over a week before. Fewer trees provided shade, and only low-lying hills broke the monotony of the surrounding land.

They had left Dr. Goodwin’s camp by helicopter and were given a guided tour of the Ethiopian mountain country. The pilot had flown down the deep and wide chasm through which the rapidly flowing Blue Nile rushed. The locals called the river Abbai, and it fed directly into the mighty Nile as it flowed north into the Mediterranean Sea. The pilot, an Ethiopian from Addis Ababa who spoke clear English, gave a nonstop monologue on the sights. He flew over several Ethiopian churches, some carved into the sides of cliffs or out of the hillsides. Many were cross-shaped, a configuration that could be seen clearly from the air. David was surprised to learn that Ethiopia had a longer Christian history than any European country. He wanted to visit one of the churches to see the priests who maintained such ancient traditions, but he knew that would have to wait until a future trip. As they flew over one church, they saw a line of priests in colorful vestments and acolytes dressed in white.

The pilot then flew over several small villages that were comprised of round thatched-roof huts called
tukuls
surrounded by groves of eucalyptus. Many villages were deserted.

The pilot steered east and did his best to ease the bumps caused by the rising thermals from the desert floor. “I don’t know why you want to come here,” he said seriously. “It is cooler and the living is easier in the mountains. Here there is nothing but starvation.”

“That’s why we want to come here,” A.J. said. “That compound over there is one of mine. I want to see how they’re doing.” The pilot nodded and made his way to a spot one hundred meters from the last row of tents to keep the inevitable spray of dust and sand kicked up by the craft’s high-speed rotors away from the camp.

Eight days later the band of travelers had visited six camps and worked in four, starting first in the heart of the near desolate Ogaden and moving closer to the Somali border. Everyone was proud of the work they had done, but they were near physical and emotional exhaustion. The days had merged with the nights and the night had melded into days, yet they did their work stoically and without a whisper of complaint.

Kristen, when she wasn’t helping the camp staffs, maintained a photo diary that included video for possible public relations use later. Peter interviewed the paid staff to see what personal needs they had and what help could be provided to make their work easier. A.J. met with the head of each camp, planned strategy, made decisions, and ordered supplies through the satellite link. Sheila stayed close to A.J., offering only a few words of communication from time to time.

David continued to relish the work, although he, like the others, was taken aback by the extreme need of the people in the Ogaden area. Many of them were refugees from the famine in Somalia and had traveled a great distance across the dry, unforgiving land to one of the feeding centers on the Ethiopian side of the border. Their plight seemed infinitely worse than what David had seen in the highlands. The children displayed the swollen abdomen, the
vacant eyes, the mucous-streaked noses and lips of those who had been forced to take hunger as a travel companion. Half of all the children David saw had lost at least one parent to the famine. Some, especially the young, walked aimlessly around the camp with dirty fingers perpetually pressed into their mouths as if some minute bit of nourishment might be derived from their own skin. The lucky ones were cared for by an older sibling.

Camp life no longer seemed harsh to David. They had shelter, water, and an open latrine. Everything else was superfluous to the business of basic survival. David involved himself in every aspect of camp life. He served up dishes of cornmeal and rice-and-beans. At times he was called upon to spoon-feed those too weak to feed themselves, gently holding their heads up to drink water or chew soft food. He followed the doctor or nurse from tent to tent, area to area and aided in whatever way he could. Daily he helped remove the corpses of those who had fought valiantly but had been crushed by the overpowering weight of hunger.

David sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and stilled his mind to all thoughts, allowing the evening breeze to caress his perspiration-coated face. His muscles were sore from lifting bags of food and lifeless bodies; his face, neck, and arms were stung from a deep sunburn; his eyes felt gritty, his lips were cracked and dry; and sleep beckoned him to a few hours of oblivion. Despite his physical condition, he had never felt more alive or productive.

“Is it just me or are fewer people arriving in camp?” Kristen asked softly, not wanting to break the welcome hush of evening.

“I hadn’t noticed,” Peter said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s hard to tell.”

“I’ve noticed the same thing,” Amy Person said. Amy was the camp director, a registered nurse with an advanced degree in health and nutrition. She was a sturdy woman in her early fifties with wavy black hair heavily streaked with gray. “It’s puzzling. It’s not likely that we are running out of people.”

“Maybe it’s just a fluke,” A.J. said casually. He was crouched
down in a folding chair, staring up at the night sky pregnant with stars. “It will probably return to normal tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” Amy said, “but it’s odd. Not only that, a few people had to be coaxed into eating. They acted like the food was rotten or tainted.”

“What are you thinking about, A.J.?” Kristen changed the subject.

“A billion billion stars,” he replied dreamily. “So far away, every star so very far away, yet we can still see them. They give us their light at night and ask nothing in return. They hang like tiny drops of water suspended in space, or like strange little eyes watching all that we do.”

“You wax philosophical,” David offered. “You are a man not only of action, but of thoughts as deep as the ocean.”

“Now who’s waxing philosophical?” A.J. asked with a laugh. “How are you dealing with all of this? You still okay?”

“I’m sunburned, sore, and dead tired. I’ve never felt better.”

“He’s a worker,” Amy said. “Sure you don’t want to leave him here when you leave?”

“Not a chance,” A.J. said. “He’s got work to do back in San Diego. He’s going to make sure that people continue to give to the cause so that we can keep things flowing. That’s just as important. If he doesn’t do his job, you can’t do yours.”

“It was worth asking,” Amy replied. “Fresh workers are so hard to get—” Amy stopped short when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning she saw three men walking abreast, purposefully toward the small circle sitting around the gas lantern. Unable to identify the trio because of the lantern’s glare, A.J. sprung to his feet and tensed, an action that was quickly duplicated by Sheila.

“A.J.,” a familiar voice said. “It’s Roger.”

David watched as the alert tension quickly drained from A.J.’s and Sheila’s bodies. “Roger, I’m glad you could make it. Step into the light; let me get you some water.” As the three men crossed the threshold from darkness into light, David saw that he recognized
two of the men: as the two workers with Child Touch Ministries who had accompanied the Barringston group for the first half of their journey. The third man was a stranger to him.

“Let me make the introductions,” A.J. said jovially. “Amy, this is Leonard Wu and his coworker Gerald Raines, both of Child Touch Ministries. They traveled to Addis Ababa with us. And this is Roger Walczynske, my trusted and longtime friend. He does on-site research for us and has been spending these few last days in Somalia.” Amy shook hands with Wu and Raines as Roger did the same with the others.

“We haven’t seen you since the airport,” David said, a little confused. “How did you get way down here?”

Wu answered, “Our office changed our itinerary. We spent a few days in Addis Ababa and then flew to Mogadishu in Somalia. We have a few orphanages and a small medical center there. While we were there we bumped into Roger. When he told us that he was headed here, we asked if we could join him.”

“It’s no good traveling out here alone,” Raines added. “We need to stick together you know.”

“I need to speak to you when you can spare the time,” Roger said to A.J. Their eyes locked in silent communication.

“Sure,” A.J. said glibly. “I was thinking of strolling down to the latrine. It’s a lousy location, but we can talk on the way.”