Collision

  “So this is your room, huh?” I asked.

  She turned to me. “It is. Not much to it.”

  I looked around at the bed, dresser, and trunk. They were the only things in the room, other than a small mirror that hung above the dresser. I walked to the dresser and looked at a picture that was stuck to the mirror. It was a picture we’d taken during our campout.

  “I love that picture,” I said. “It’s the screensaver on my computer.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yep.”

  “Come on,” she instructed.

  We walked to the patio and took a seat in plastic chairs. Even this early in the morning, the air was warm and moist.

  “Rainy season has come to an end, and wintertime is just around the corner.”

  The sun had barely risen, but the small street that sat next to the mission house was already filled with children dressed in their bright blue, khaki, and white uniforms. They seemed anxious to start a new day of lessons at school, and they sang songs in their native language of Acholi as they walked along the road.

  “You’ve got a rather large smile perched on that face of yours,” Kei said.

  “Can’t help myself.”

  “Amosi, Kei. Amosi, Cabot,” a housemother I met the night before, said warmly as she walked onto the patio.

  “I’m very well, Jasmine. How are you?” Kei answered.

  “Well.”

  “Good morning,” I welcomed.

  She walked on to the patio and revealed her beautiful, joy-filled smile. Her white teeth shined brilliantly against her practically midnight-black skin.

  “Chiyo nade?”

  “I woke up wonderfully. How about you?” Kei asked.

  “Likewise.” She handed each of us a mug of tea and small biscuit before turning to leave.

  I took a sip of the hot liquid.

  “There she is, Cabot,” Kei whispered.

  “There’s who?”

  She pointed toward the wall across the yard. “Beatrice.”

  I set down my tea and biscuit and leaned forward in my chair. “I finally get to see Beatrice,” I whispered.

  The little girl climbed into the small, blue, plastic tub, and her mother started to bathe her. At almost two years old, she’d almost outgrown the shallow pan.

  “I’ve been watching her bathe every morning since her mother laid her in it the first time and poured the cold water over her tiny body. Beatrice wasn’t impressed and cried during the cleaning’s entirety. But now there she sits, playing with the water.”

  Her mother stood bent over at the waist and scrubbed Beatrice’s pudgy body with a rag. Strapped to her back with a piece of cloth was an infant.

  “They look just like the picture,” I said. “You captured it perfectly.” I shook my head and looked over at her. “I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m seeing this in person.”

  “That’s why I woke you. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

  “Thank you for realizing I’d want to see it.”

  “You’re welcome. I feel it’s the perfect introduction to my life. It’s the first thing I see every morning.”

  “It’s perfect, the perfect way to start a day.”

  My heart was happy, maybe the happiest it had ever been.

  “Greetings, brother!”

  We stood and peered over the railing in time to see a man greet Daniel as he walked through the front gate.

  Their home was a complete dichotomy—a two-story brick manor with a beautiful green yard but protected by a green metal gate that was attached to a cement wall. The top of the wall was lined with broken glass soda bottles that had been cemented into place to keep anyone from climbing into our little slice of innocence. It was a time of war, and her parents took every precaution necessary to protect their lives.

  “Good morning!” she called out.

  Both men looked up at us and smiled.

  “It is a beautiful morning!” the man replied. “God is good!”

  “He’s so good!” Daniel agreed.

  A small honk sounded from outside the property. Daniel ran over and opened the gate, allowing a white van to pull inside and in front of the house. I counted as fifteen men and women extracted themselves. They’d stuffed themselves like sardines into the eight-passenger vehicle. Once the first guest noticed us and gave us a warm greeting, each and every person did the same.

  “Kei?”

  I turned and spotted her father standing just inside the doorway. He seemed upset.

  Kei left me on the balcony and walked to her dad, just a few steps away. “He’d seen pictures of Beatrice. I only wanted him to have the opportunity to see her for himself.”

  “People will think—”

  “I’ll set the record straight,” she said. “I only wanted him to see in reality what he’d seen many pictures of. That’s all.”

  He kissed her on the nose and then smiled over at me. “I understand. You’re joining us for morning service?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He kissed her nose again and left the room.

  “Cabot? We have a prayer and praise service downstairs every morning with the team. Feel free to prattle about the house until we’re finished.”

  “Am I allowed to join?”

  “Do you want to join?”

  “I’m here to experience your life, Kei. If that’s what you do in the morning, then it’s what I want to do in the morning.”

  “You’re certain?”

  I nodded.

  “All right then. Let’s go on down. Prepare yourself. This probably isn’t going to be like any church service you’ve ever attended.”

  C H A P T E R

  20

  Kei’s warning was an understatement. The church service I witnessed in the mission house main room was so different from anything I’d ever seen that I couldn’t even believe it was real. It wasn’t a bad different, not scary or over the top. It was just…real. It was a large group of people in the most honest and raw worship I’d ever witnessed.

  She, her parents, and I were the only light-skinned people in a room of almost thirty. For once in my life, I was in the minority.

  Her father started the service with a prayer shortly followed by Gregory leading a song. There was no music and, I assumed, no planning or preparation. He simply seemed to sing from his heart, and everyone in the room, including Kei, joined in. When that song was finished, someone else prayed, and then another person started another song. After that, more prayers: prayers for the country; prayers for their enemies; prayers for forgiveness; prayers for restoration; and then, much to my shock, prayers for me.

  Kei prayed out loud, in a room full of people, for me. She prayed that I would be blessed during my visit, that God would speak to me, that he would touch my life and open my heart and eyes to the world and its needs. Then a man I didn’t even know and hadn’t met prayed that my name would be made known throughout the world as a man who served the one true God and that I would bring attention to the plight of the people of Northern Uganda and those around the world in need.

  Every few minutes, a low voice would sing the words, “Oh, King of Glory.”

  It was amazing, and the entire service lasted more than two hours.

  Once we were finished, people disbursed to their work of the day, but not without first shaking my hand or hugging me. I’d never been greeted with so much love in my life. I’d had people be excited to see me, even to the point of hysterics. But this was different. This was pure, and it was obvious.

  Kei handed me a slip of paper as I sat down next to her in a small circle with her parents, Gregory, and several other staff members I’d met when I arrived.

  Her father spoke first. “Kei, I put you and Cabot on the red team with Daniel and Benjamin. Will that work?”

  “Perfect.”

  “More time with the children that way. And Cabot will also get to experience the hospital and prison ministries.”

  I gul
ped. Both sounded scary.

  “You’ll do hospitals today, men’s prison tomorrow. Then we’re all heading to Opit on Friday and will stay there through Sunday. Your group will do the children’s service on Sunday afternoon after church services that morning. The church you’ll visit is on the paper.”

  She nodded, all business and not a bit of fear. “Which vehicle will we take this week? Or are we taking bodas?”

  Bodas? Dear God, please no bodas.

  “Daniel will drive you in the jeep.”

  Thank you, Lord. My first official prayer since arriving had been answered.

  “Cabot?” He caught me off guard by speaking directly to me.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Do you feel comfortable praying with others?”

  “I’ve never done it before, but I’ll do it.”

  “Just watch Kei and the team. If you want to join in, feel free. Don’t feel pressure, but don’t be surprised if you’re asked to speak. People love to hear from guests and will put you on the spot.”

  “What do they want to hear?”

  “Whatever you want to say.”

  Kei touched my arm. “I’ll be right there to help. Don’t worry.”

  I got nervous. I’d done interviews and press conferences and spoken to huge groups of fans. But that? That had me scared out of my mind.

  Kei must have sensed my fear, because as soon as everyone stood to prepare their supplies for the day, she gripped my hand in hers and smiled up at me. “You’re going to be great, a natural. I’m certain. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  •••••

  The hospital trip was the most emotionally draining experience of my entire life. And it was a wake-up call to how completely lucky I am, how I want for nothing, how if I needed it, I could afford the best care the world could provide, and how I shouldn’t take any day for granted.

  The hospital was nothing at all like the hospitals back home. The only care the patients received were from their families. Family members of those in the hospital actually set up camp outside the hospital and stayed there until their loved one either died or was well enough to go home. They stayed there with them because nobody within the walls would care for them otherwise. There were no nurses, nobody to give them their medication, help them to the bathroom, clean their room or bedding. Nothing. All of that was the responsibility of the family. Those who didn’t have family to care for them were pretty much left to die.

  The team went from patient to patient, asking if they wanted someone to pray with them. If they said yes, one or two of them stopped and prayed. The others continued to move along the patients until they found someone needing help. I stayed with Kei.

  We came upon a man and his family. He was obviously close to dying. His body was frail and incredibly thin to the point that his eyes seemed to sink into his skull.

  Kei talked to the family for several minutes and then turned to me. “He has AIDS,” she said bluntly. “But he’s dying from TB.”

  “TB? You mean tuberculosis?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t that contagious?”

  “Yes. If you want to leave the room, you can. Just stand out in the hallway. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

  She smiled and then turned back, sat down next to him on the bed, took his hand in hers, and prayed with him out loud. While she prayed, his family members wailed.

  I was so overwhelmed by the grief and suffering in the room that I could barely stand. I was also consumed with the thought and the fear that this was the type of hospital that Kei was in when she had malaria. And then I was concerned that just a month before, the doctors were afraid her immune system was too low, and now here she was praying over a man with a contagious and deadly disease. That’s what was going on in my mind. It was chaotic. One thought flowing into it after another, one new revelation after another, so much new information, so much to digest, and I was completely unprepared for all of it to come at once. It hadn’t even been a full day yet, and I was already worried that I wouldn’t be able to take any more.

  We spent the first half of the day at the hospital and then finally loaded back into the jeep and left.

  “You okay?” Kei asked from beside me.

  “That’s pretty heavy stuff.”

  “I know. Look on the bright side; it’s pretty much the worst thing you’re going to see while you’re here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. It can’t get worse than seeing people dying and not being able to help them.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  Kei sat forward and tapped on Daniel’s shoulder. “Will you take us to the Joy House? I think Cabot needs to be cheered up.”

  “Joy House?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.”

  Several minutes later, Daniel pulled the jeep up to the gate at Joy House and honked the horn.

  “Get ready,” Kei told me. “You’re about to be mobbed.”

  “Mobbed?”

  The gate opened, revealing dozens of children playing outside in the large yard. As soon as they saw the jeep, they squealed and ran to it. I was suddenly energized. In reality, it was the kids that I’d wanted to see the most.

  They were excited enough without knowing there was a guest in the jeep, but when they saw me, they could hardly contain their excitement. They banged on my door and ran beside the jeep until Daniel pulled it to a stop and I opened the door and climbed out.

  As soon as they could get their hands on me, the kids were smothering me in affection, and in less than a minute, I was lying on the ground and covered with kids who were obsessed with the new mzungu who had just entered their world. I was officially in heaven.

  Kei left me outside and went straight into the house. Several minutes later, when I looked back, she had a baby bouncing on her knee.

  The kids took turns riding on my back across the grass. Every so often, I would look for Kei, find her kissing on a baby, and then I’d go back to playing.

  An hour later, a housemother called all the children in for their lesson. They moaned and groaned about having to go inside, but I promised I would play with them as soon as possible. Seemingly convinced, they went back inside without another complaint. Exhausted, I laid on the grass for a few minutes before finally gathering myself together and standing back up.

  “Oh, King of Glory!” I sang loudly, imitating Samuel, who had sung it over and over again that morning. When Samuel did it, it added to the worship. When I did it, it made Kei laugh. It made me laugh too.

  “I want to take them all home,” I announced from across the yard.

  “I know.” She laughed.

  “This is why you love it here. I totally get it.”

  “Wait until you hold a little one, Cabot. You’ll never want to leave.”

  I rubbed my hands on my pants to clean off the dirt and walked her direction. As soon as I made it to the porch, I held out my arms and anxiously waited for her to hand the little one over.

  “Go get your own,” she teased.

  “Where?”

  “Inside and to the left.”

  I walked inside the home, took a left and walked into the nursery. Small beds lined the walls, each covered in a mosquito net. Only one baby was awake and sitting up. She took one look at me and threw her arms in the air, her hands opening and closing, like she was trying to grab me. I rushed over, lifted the mosquito netting, and took her into my arms. Less than a minute later, we were back out on the porch and in a chair next to Kei.

  She shook her head and pursed her lips at me. “I knew you’d choose a girl.”

  “This is the most gorgeous baby I’ve ever seen.”

  “Her name is Innocent, and she’s about nine months old.”

  “My Lord, I wish my mom were here. She’d go crazy.”

  “I’m sure she would.”

  “And who is that?” I asked, motioning to the baby she was holding.


  “Peter.”

  He chewed on his hand, causing drool to run down his arm and drip onto her leg.

  “They’re all orphans?”

  “Yes.”

  I looked back down at Innocent and kissed her on the nose before putting her against my shoulder and patting her on the back.

  “You’re a natural,” Kei said.

  “I’m an uncle. I’ve held a few babies.”

  Innocent nuzzled into my neck, rubbed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  I looked over at Kei and smiled. “I don’t ever want to leave. Can we just sit here forever and do nothing but rock babies?”

  “Sounds splendid to me.”

  “I’m serious. I could do this. With you right here. Just rock our lives away.”

  “You can never say I didn’t warn you. These children enter your heart, and you can never get them out. You’ll never be able to get enough of it. I promise you that.”

  “So what about my offer?” I asked.

  She looked confused. “What offer?”

  “To sit here together forever and rock babies.”

  “Sounds brilliant,” she said, followed by a giggle. “I’m in.”

  The older children filed past us and onto the yard in a single-file line. Most of the boys waved at me as they passed. The girls all giggled.

  “I’m pretty certain they want to run their fingers through your hair as much as I did the first time I saw you.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I’ll get the same response I get out of it when you do it, but they’re free to go right on ahead.”

  “We’ll save that activity for later. Too much excitement in one day and they’re too difficult to put down for the night.”

  “I guess I don’t have to explain how crazy this day has been for me,” I said as I looked out at the children while they formed a large circle in the grass.

  “No. I suspected as much. I can see it written all over your face.”

  “I mean, to go from absolute despair to absolute joy within a matter of an hour. It’s amazing that you can ever get used to it.”

  “I don’t know that you ever get used to it. It just becomes easier. That’s all.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I suppose you learn to understand that none of this is under your control. All you can do is love people just where they’re at. Show them love in their time of need and learn from them.”