Simon said, “So you’ve opted for a superficial and shallow faith?”
Chad nodded and said, “That suits me just fine. And what about you, Peter? It’s your turn. What do you mean, you just don’t see it?”
Peter laughed and then looked at his two friends, who seemed to be gazing at him with keen anticipation. He cleared his throat and said, “I grew up Southern Baptist, a denomination that reigns supreme in Oklahoma. Baptists tend to pride themselves in being Baptist more than being Christian. When I was about sixteen, I started to feel that the church just emphasized indoctrination – you had better believe the right thing, in the right way, or else. The God of the Baptist, I’ve always felt, is rather intrusive. You know? I mean, He is always there, looking over your shoulder, keeping an eye on you, reminding you that you’ll never be good enough. To be honest, when I began college, I decided this God was rather disagreeable … just too hard to please. But whatever God – He, She, or It is like, I reckon He forgot about me long ago and is too busy attending to much more important souls around the universe than the likes of me.” Peter stopped, stood up and walked to the attic’s oval window. Staring out at trees being pushed around by the Oklahoma wind, he said, “I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m a bit angry with God for allowing the world to become such a disillusioning place and for letting me get so frigging disillusioned.” He paused and turned around, “Why we talking about this, Simon? I think it’s a good night to go cow tipping.”
CHAPTER 4
The Ridiculous, Alluring Invitation
“Come to South Africa. You two could take a year off university and spend it getting a different kind of education.” Simon’s invitation came on a cold February evening as they enjoyed a cheap bottle of wine that The Professor had left for them in the attic hideaway.
Chad’s response was immediate. “That’s a ridiculous idea, but an intriguing proposition. Sign me up.”
Peter chuckled. He looked into Simon’s eyes. “You’re not serious … are you?”
“Just a thought,” Simon said. “But a serious one.”
“It’s a crazy thought,” Peter said, shaking his head with a dismissive smile.
Chad replied, “It’s cool. Why not? People take a year off college all the time. You know, broaden their horizons. Are you really serious?”
“Indeed,” Simon said without a hint of a grin.
Chad turned to Peter. “It’s a great idea. You can do it. Your sister went to Lebanon … Beirut. You always said you wanted to do something like that. So here’s your chance, Peter. Why not?”
Peter replied, “Why not? Why not? Because you just don’t do things like that. It changes your life. I don’t need that. But thanks for thinking about us.”
Leaning near Peter’s face, Chad said, “A change is exactly what you need. The truth is, you’re afraid to do anything with your life. This is what you need, Pete.”
Peter pulled away from Chad, rolled his eyes. “Speak for yourself. What would we do anyway? We can’t just go waltzing into a foreign country and loaf around for a whole year.”
Simon laughed. “There is plenty you fellows could do. Details can be worked out.”
Chad had The Professor bring up all the books on the subject that he had. He managed to find fourteen of them, all with maps, pictures, and endless information about South Africa. Simon found dozens of pictures: the Johannesburg skyline; stunning views of Table Mountain and Cape Town; rolling beaches near Durban; wildlife in Kruger National Park; Drakensburg's rugged and forbidding mountains; and the hills overlooking Pretoria. Simon painted an intriguing and titillating adventure – a journey no normal, sane American would think about, let alone undertake.
Chad closed the last book and declared, “I’m going. How about you, Pete?”
“Heck no. But what would we do for a year?” Peter inquired.
“This idea, this invitation, is not without thought, Peter. My dad’s church, it could use a few extra hands. You could do some work there. He would appreciate such help – assistance with the youth groups, planning youth camps, retreats. Enough to keep you busy. And while you’re there, you’d have plenty of time to see and do many things.”
“That would work.” Chad said. “I can do that. I don’t have to preach or anything, do I? Just play games with kids, right?”
“A little more than that, Chad.”
“Well, whatever. I can handle it.”
Simon turned to Peter. “Think it over. It would be an opportunity.”
“I know,” Peter said slowly and then asked, “Wait, what about the kids we’d be helping with? Do they speak English or what?”
“Of course they do! It is an English church. Presbyterian.” Simon paused and pointed his finger gently toward Peter. “It would push you a bit, Peter, help you build some confidence.”
Peter blurted out every question he could think of. He stopped drinking, hoping to clear his brain so he could think more clearly about the ridiculous notion. The more they continued to talk, the more alluring the proposition grew. The invitation became magnetic. Just after two o’clock in the morning, Peter declared, “Let’s go! Why not?”
***
The evenings that followed went beyond the dreams; ideas developed into specific plans. We can evolved into we will.
One obstacle remained, however. Peter and Chad knew their parents would laugh at the idea. They would baulk, promptly declare “No way,” and then find a thousand reasons their sons’ foolish idea was the most ridiculous and impossible thing they’d ever heard.
Spring break came, the time of reckoning. As he traveled home, Chad felt like a suitor going to ask a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Though the overprotective and possessive patriarch would likely say no, Chad would still go through with it, because he was hopelessly, madly, insanely set on the idea; he knew it was meant to be.
Despite his forced and polite pretense, Chad had long ago disowned his father, Patrick. He couldn’t have cared less what the man thought or said. The only thing he needed and wanted was his mother’s blessing.
His mother, Lucinda, was a provincial girl, New Jersey born and bred. She had been schooled, married, and raised her only child within the confines of a thirty-mile radius. Her boy going off to Africa? He knew what her response would be: “What are you talking about? What are you trying to do to me? Are you out of your mind?”
He devised a well-thought-out plan. He would allow her to get used to the idea by dropping harmless and veiled hints, then later present her with his intention and his plan to spend a year in the southernmost tip of the Dark Continent.
His veiled hints were innocently thrown out over the first few days home: “I met a guy from Africa.” “It’d sure be wild to go to somewhere like South Africa.” “Maybe I need a year off school.” “Did I tell you about this friend I met from Africa? South Africa sounds like an amazing place.”
After breakfast on Tuesday, Chad braced himself for the worst: tears, panic attacks, or maybe even a nervous breakdown. He then confidently, firmly, and quickly stated, “Mom, I’m thinking of taking a year off college. Simon asked me to go to South Africa and stay with him, see the country. He says I can do some work at a church his dad runs. It’ll be a great educational experience, Mom – an opportunity that will never come again.” He smiled and looked confidently into his mother’s eyes.
Lucinda’s pupils enlarged, and her brow furrowed. In a soft, yet extremely firm manner, she said, “What? There is no way in hell you are about to quit school and do such a thing, such a … a crazy thing.”
Chad’s mom saved that four-letter word for major rows with dad. He held his confident expression and said, “It is a real opportunity for me, Mom. Just think about it.”
“And what do you think your father would say to such a venture?” she asked in a near whisper.
“I don’t care. I just want you to be open … to just think about it.” He said no more. He would allow the possibility to simmer in
her head for a day or two and then begin mentioning details about their plans, express his excitement, and declare his confidence that it was the right thing.
In the car on the way to the airport, she looked over to Chad and said calmly, “You know your dad won’t approve. You know he will not support this idea of yours in any way.”
Chad did not care about that. All that mattered was that mom had given her reluctant, begrudging acceptance of the inevitable, and she did it without a breakdown. That was more than he had hoped for.
Peter’s mission was less daunting. His two sisters had ventured forth in unorthodox adventures, so he was confident his parents would be open to the idea. One sister spent six months in the Yucatan Peninsula working in a small village with a group of missionaries who were translating the Bible into the native dialect. The other sister lived in Beirut, Lebanon, for a year, studying at the American University of Beirut, during a time when the country was in full-fledged civil war. Adventure seemed to run through their children’s blood.
Peter’s parents were surprised but not shocked, concerned but not vexed. Perhaps, Peter thought, they feel it is what I need to get my life and heart back on track. Peter related the details of their plans with as much confidence and conviction as he could command.
His father listened, asked several questions, and then said, “I’m just afraid you won’t finish your degree if you take a year off, son.”
“Oh, I’ll finish it, Dad. You don’t have to worry about that. That’ll not be a problem at all.”
***
Chad and Peter returned from spring break with the realization that the wheels, already spinning, would not be stopped. Plans turned to action: Passports were obtained, visas were applied for, an itinerary was developed, and inoculations were taken. The idea, the dream, was becoming reality.
When summer arrived, Simon returned to South Africa, while Chad and Peter retreated to their respective homes and summer jobs. It was the epitome of the endless summer.
On June 24, Peter called Chad. Have you been listening to the news? What the hell is going on in South Africa? Sounds like the whole country’s burning, engulfed in riots, on the brink of war. We better cancel. Can we get our money back? Refund our tickets?
“Oh, c’mon, Peter. You’re not backing out now, are you?”
Peter muttered into the phone, “I might. You really wanna go to place like that?”
“Well, sure! All the more exciting. Anyway, if you’re so worried about it, call Simon and find out what’s going on. I’m not going to worry about it.”
On June 25, Peter called Simon and pummeled him with questions. “Is it safe, Simon? It sounds bad. What’s going on? Should we really be coming?”
Simon’s response declared confidence. “Oh, certainly you should. I assure you, life goes on as usual here. There is no problem whatsoever. Indeed, things are safe, Peter. You need not be concerned. Hurry and get yourselves over here. There is a lot to do.”
Peter relayed the firsthand report to Chad that all was well in Simon’s homeland.
“See? I told you so. Man, September can’t get here soon enough.”
***
Summer ended, and as the gods of academia predestined, students returned and classes began – without Peter and Chad.
Peter flew to Newark and stayed the weekend in Englewood with Chad and his parents. On Monday, September 6, with passports, visas, and tickets in hand, they boarded their flight at JFK Airport and flew to London, arriving on September 7 at six fifteen a.m. GMT. Their layover allowed enough time to walk the streets of London, witness the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, and catch a nap in Hyde Park.
That evening, the two caught a flight to Rome and slept in the airport lounge. Wednesday morning, they strolled around the ancient ruins of Rome, explored the coliseum, and crashed on a bench in front of the Sistine Chapel. At seven fifteen p.m., they boarded a South African Airways 747, on their way to Johannesburg, South Africa.
***
Africa held the promise of changed hearts, minds, and souls. This Africa would offer renewed hope and the possibility of love. It would define their destinies. Yet, at any moment, this Africa could just as surely rob them of hope, love, and destiny. Chad and Peter were to be tested and refined in ways they dare not imagine. Both would be broken – in ways that would render mending nearly impossible.
However, as the plane landed on African soil that September morning, anticipation and excitement ruled their hearts and filled their souls.
PART II
SEPTEMBER 1976 - JANUARY 1977
CHAPTER 5
Africa, September 9, 1976
After fifty-four hours and two lengthy layovers, they landed at Jan Smuts Airport in Johannesburg on September 9, 1976. It was ten fifty a.m. in South African time but an early three fifty a.m. back in The Sooner State.
Simon and his friend Steve greeted the weary but adrenaline-fueled travelers with enthusiasm. With luggage jammed into the boot (which Chad and Peter knew as the trunk) of Simon’s Ford Cortina, they continued their journey: a forty-mile trip to Vanderbijlpark, their home for the next year.
Simon introduced Steve Cherry, one of the leaders in the church’s youth group. He indicated he would be helping them settle into their roles at the church. Though Steve was a young adult at eighteen, he could have easily passed for fourteen. His slight frame would have led some to believe he had been grossly underfed and never exercised a day in his life.
Steve talked incessantly and quickly, as one determined and anxious to give his words life. He spewed out questions, giving no time for the two Americans to respond. “How was your trip? How long was the flight? I’m going to the States someday. It’s great to have some Americans here. We have plenty of Europeans, English, and Aussies, but very few of you Americans. What’s America like? I really want to go there. What are you reading at uni? I plan to do nursing, perhaps pre-med. How long did you say your trip was again?”
Steve’s South African accent brought a startling and strange realization to both Chad and Peter: They were now on the other side of the globe ... in Africa.
The drive to Vanderbijlpark took them south, around the outskirts of Johannesburg, and into the countryside of the Transvaal. Flat, arid, and brown terrain surrounded them.
“This could be western Oklahoma in late fall,” Peter mused out loud.
Simon laughed and nodded.
Peter leaned toward the open window and took a slow, deliberate breath. The air was fresh, somehow unfamiliar, foreign. It had a distinct scent, even a unique feel that evoked a new, indefinable sensation. There sure is a different texture to this world, he thought. With the wind beating his hair and filling his lungs, he felt a new, exciting world was welcoming him home. It was a sensation reached the core of his being.
Steve exclaimed, “There!” Peter pulled his head back into the car as Steve continued, “There on your right!” He pointed to a complex of countless identical tiny houses that, at a glance, looked like nothing but tin boxes imprisoned behind an endless fence. Steve declared with an odd sense of pride, “That’s Soweto!”
“Yes. That’s it, gentlemen,” Simon added, “South Africa’s largest and now most infamous township, Soweto.”
Steve said with excitement, “They’re probably having riots today. Shall we stop and take a look, Simon? Have a drive through the ole township? See what the restless natives are up to?”
“Looks pretty normal from here,” Peter said.
Steve said, “Oh yes. It is Thursday, isn’t it? No riots on Thursdays.”
Simon laughed. “Yes that’s right. Thursday is their day off.” Simon then said, “They actually had riots this morning in Johannesburg, the downtown area. But that’s of no concern to us. That’s a long way from where we’re heading.”
“So they are still having the riots?” Peter asked. He wanted to ask, Is this country really safe?
Simon replied with c
onfidence, “Occasionally there are riots, but they are always very isolated, mainly in a few of the townships. It’s nothing we need to worry about, Peter.”
Steve gave a serious look and asked with deep concern, “You brought your guns with you, right? Surely, you have. You will need your guns locked and loaded whenever you leave the house.” Steve looked at the two, waiting for a response.
They shook their heads, and Chad said, “Guns? You’re kidding, right?”
Steve arched his eyebrow in disbelief. “Aye, then you are in trouble for sure. Don’t worry though. I shall loan the two of my best rifles.” He paused and looked at the panic-stricken stare on Peter’s face before he let out a belly laugh.
Simon chuckled, and the two foreigners grinned. Chad slightly blushed.
Peter shook his head. “The reports in the States make it sound like there are riots all over the place.”
Chad added, “Yeah. You shoulda heard my mom go on and on about it. She was in tears when I left. I told her you’d keep us safe, Simon. She only cried more.”
Simon laughed, and then spoke with an upbeat lilt. “Indeed, I will take good care of you, and I assure you the rioting has died down. These protests will not last much longer, and any problems are confined to a few of the townships, as I said. Life is as normal as life can be.”
“What is a ‘township’ anyway?” Peter asked, making quote marks in the air as he spoke the term.
“Townships are lands set aside for the Bantus – the Africans, the natives, the Blacks. That’s what we are supposed to call them now, Blacks,” Steve explained. “Townships are places the Bantus live, but they’re scattered all over the country. Soweto is the biggest township. A lot of the Bantus from Soweto go into Jo’berg to work, and lots go to towns like Vanderbijlpark. Most go home at night.”
Chad asked, “How many Blacks and Whites are there in South Africa?”
“Hmm... about sixteen million Bantus, a million or so Colored and Indians, and about four million Whites,” Steve declared.
Chad said, “If the natives get restless enough, sounds like they could overwhelm you Whites and drive you all straight into the Indian Ocean.”