Terri Reed - A Sheltering Heart

Derek had spent his whole life competing against the clinic for his dad’s attention. Maturity had taught him he would never win that race. Now, as CEO of Hands of Healing International, Derek hoped to share a common bond with his dad.

An overhead speaker announced that their flight would soon be boarding. They rejoined their group, boarded the plane and soon were taxiing down the runway. Derek settled back in his first-class seat, mentally preparing himself for the long journey ahead and for dealing with Gwen’s distracting presence.

The plane touched down without a hitch on the tarmac of Entebbe airport in Uganda. The darkness of night kept Derek from seeing much outside the windows of the plane as he stood, his muscles waking up from the long period of inactivity, and moved toward the staircase.

This would be his first time on the continent of Africa. He’d traveled most of Europe, the Caribbean, North and South America, and parts of Asia. He looked forward to this experience.

The minute he stepped out on the landing a chill swept through him. He remembered someone saying the nights were cold and the days hot. At the moment he’d have welcomed the sun.

Walking down the portable stairs he tried to adjust to the strange scent of Africa: diesel, dirt and something unfamiliar. The heaviness in the air put pressure on his lungs. Drawing in a complete breath proved difficult. He could only hope that once away from the city the air would be fresh, less constricting.

He stepped onto the tarmac and moved aside to wait for the others. They trickled off the plane, looking tired and moving slowly.

Only Gwen seemed to have any energy. “We all here?”

Wondering where she stored such perkiness, Derek nodded. “What now?”

“This way.”

She glided across the tarmac, the others trailing along behind her, toward the building Derek assumed was the terminal. He ruefully shook his head. Looked as if Gwen was taking charge now. Just as long as she didn’t try to take charge of him.

The end of the building that faced the tarmac had a huge roll-up door that stood open to reveal the stark tile-and-concrete interior. Before entering the building they had to stop at the tall tables manned by uniformed airport personnel.

After presenting their paperwork and having their passports stamped, they were permitted to enter. Derek noticed several armed military men patrolling the perimeter of the building. He wasn’t sure if he felt secure or threatened by the show of force.

Up ahead, Gwen conversed with an African man roughly her own height, dressed in a bright yellow shirt and tan slacks. His smooth skin betrayed no hint of age. However, the concern on his face mirrored the expressions on Joyce’s, Ned’s and Craig’s faces.

“I’m not worried about that,” Gwen said, though her brow furrowed slightly.

“I want to make sure you are aware of the situation,” the African responded, his accented voice flowing evenly.

“Guys?” Gwen’s question included them all.

“What did I miss?” Derek asked.

Gwen turned to him. “This is Moses, our contact with Family in Crisis. Moses, this is Derek Harper.”

Derek held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Moses’s grip was strong. “Welcome. We are sad to hear that your father hurt himself.”

“He was explaining that the Kony Rebels have moved into the province of Moswani. They want to liberate it from the Ugandan government,” Gwen explained.

That didn’t sound good. “Which means…?”

“It means we have to be careful and stick close to the clinic. War is a part of life in Africa. So, I say we go on with our mission and trust that God will protect us.”

“I don’t plan on getting on another plane for two weeks,” Joyce commented with a bit of defiance in her tone.

“We stay. We’re needed,” came Ned’s reply.

Craig shrugged. “I’m game.”

Derek didn’t know how this new development would affect his agenda, but if the others were staying… “I’m in.”

Gwen gave a short nod. “All right, then.”

“Come, we gather your bags.” Moses led the way to the baggage claim area where they met up with another African.

“Hey, Ethan.” Ned shook the newcomer’s hand.

“Glad to see you back in my country.” Ethan’s deep baritone voice reverberated through the group.

Derek was introduced and immediately liked Ethan. There was something soothing about the man’s demeanor. Though not as tall as Moses, Ethan had a commanding presence.

His dark hands were crisscrossed with small scars and one jagged scar slashed over his neck and disappeared into the collar of his shirt. Derek couldn’t begin to imagine how different these men’s lives were from his own.

They all helped to load the bags of supplies they’d shipped into the back of a dusty white minivan before piling inside. It was a tight fit and not everyone had a seat belt.

Derek squeezed by the window in the back with Craig and Ned beside him. Gwen sat directly in front of him. Her long braid hung over the back of her seat.

She pointed toward a building they were passing that he could barely make out. “That’s the original airport. The site of the raid on Entebbe in ’76.”

All he could think to say was “Ah.”

He’d been a kid when the hijacking occurred. He remembered being thankful his father had been home and not off trying to save the world that fall. The coverage on TV had seemed overwhelming at the time.

The minivan soon left the airport behind. Driving on what seemed to be the wrong side of the road, they drove through Kampala, the capital of Uganda. There was a noticeable lack of streetlights on the still-active streets. Tall buildings rose to obscure the skyline.

Once out of the city, the darkness closed in. The headlights showed little of the countryside. They bumped along on uneven pavement, stopped at the checkpoints where armed guards inspected Moses’s papers and flashed bright lights into the van. They were waved on.

Eventually the pavement turned into a dirt road that they traveled down for several hours before stopping in front of a dark squat structure, unlit and forbidding.

They climbed out. Dust rose, choking in swirling gusts as the group moved about unloading the van. Derek looked around. Not much to see at night. The outline of trees and in the distance other dark structures.

The air was still heavy but the smell of diesel had lessened, accentuating the strange smell he’d noticed earlier. Joyce hadn’t been kidding when she’d said the hostel was a palace compared to here.

“What is that smell?” Derek whispered to Craig.

“Probably charcoal.”

“Charcoal?”

“It’s the fuel they use to cook with,” Craig replied.

Derek took in the sight of the destination. There were no streetlights or even a porch light offering welcome.

He followed the others inside, which was no better than the outside. A few bare bulbs dimly lit the interior. The front door opened to a big room. The concrete floor and walls made him feel boxed in.

“This way.” Ned nudged him forward as he passed by carrying a heavy-duty flashlight.

Derek followed down a narrow, unlit hallway. They turned right into an enormous room with several bunk beds. Ned deposited his pack on the mattress of the nearest bottom bunk.

“Take your pick,” he said with a tired grin.

Derek put his stuff on a nearby bottom mattress and realized with dread that the mattress was really just a chunk of foam. Good thing he liked to camp.

“Restroom?” he asked Ned just as Craig walked in.

The other two men exchanged a glance and then chuckled softly.

Craig threw his pack on the top bunk over Ned. “Come on. I’ll show you out back. The outhouse is not as deluxe as the typical portable restroom.”