"You're not listening, Winky. I don't have the mark. I got no right arm, see!" And he held up his stump.
"Yeah, true. I can see that," Amy said, sounding perplexed as she glanced down at the Bible. She blinked a few times and then she pleaded, "Well... promise me
you won't ever get it."
"Winky, how can I? I got no right arm."
Moses knew secretly that he had not promised her anything. The passage said something about a mark on the forehead. If it happened that there was a microchip for the forehead, he would be less worried about getting it than he would be about telling a lie to Winky. Because he technically hadn't promised, he still felt that he had left his options open.
It's all Josephat's fault, he thought to himself, secretly hating the man who had come between him and his best friend, Winky.
To everyone else, Moses was already a celebrity... not because of the posters and TV ads that would soon be shown around the world (People in the village had no idea about that yet.) but just because he had been overseas. He had been to America.
So why couldn't Amy show a little more respect too? Moses had only arrived back in Shinyalu the day before, and he hadn't yet returned to work. When he did, the following day, he was the center of attention; business had never been better. Most locals still didn't have the microchip, but those who did went straight to him as soon as they learned that he had a scanner. It was just as well that he had shared customers with the other boda-boda drivers previously, because he was clearly taking business from them now. And it continued that way for a long time after. Amy made a few attempts to broach the topic of the scanner, but Moses just smiled and assured her that he had heard what she was saying, and that he was thinking about it... which he wasn't really. Ray had asked the bank for the cell phone number, and then called Moses two days after he got back. The subject of the new cell phone came up, and Moses complained... but only a little... about Amy's attitude. Ray was sympathetic. He supported Moses in making his own decision, but coached him on being tactful about it too. Moses liked having a male to turn to and SMS's became a regular thing between the two of them after that.
Then, a few weeks later, Amy said she wanted to "talk" with him. He had stopped reportng to her, now that the loan was repaid, and he had his own bank account. But he had developed good habits, and he and Rosy were quickly saving up money to start construction on a real house... one with brick walls and an iron roof.
When Amy first mentioned a "talk", Moses tensed up, thinking that he was going to be in trouble for something. But that soon changed.
"I need your help," she began, and Moses looked surprised.
"You need my help?" he asked, pointing at himself with his good left hand.
"We got problems here with the children, son. Some of the people who give to help us have stopped giving. It happens with most missionaries over time; people move away, die, or just forget about what's happening way over here. So they have to go home from time to time... to get new supporters.
"But I got no one to mind the children if I leave. I'm not part of a proper church; it's just me and the kids."
Moses was wondering what all of this had to do with him. Was she asking him to give her the money he and Rosy had been saving? He could maybe give a little, but not enough to save the orphanage.
"I have a friend in Australia," she said. "A Quaker, like the people here, 'cept they're different in some ways. He heard of our work through a pastor in Kakamega who went to Australia for a big Quaker meeting five years ago.
"The man's name is Kyme. Kyme has been asking me to come and talk to Quakers in Australia, to see if they can help with the work here. He said he'd pay my way if I could come over and talk."
And then Amy paused, like she was waiting for Moses to guess what this had been leading to. He thought for a while but surely she was not going to ask him to run the orphanage! Even Benje wasn't old enough to do that! So he waited to see what she would say.
"You did so well on your trip to America," she said. And then it started to dawn on Moses what she was suggesting. "The bank thinks you'll do a good job making people want to give. Do you think you could do something like that for me? In Australia?"
Moses was glowing. He had moved from fearful thoughts about being in trouble, to being asked if he could "help" by taking another trip overseas, this time to Australia. What a great offer!
"You really want me to go to Australia? for you?" he asked incredulously. "That would be... momentous. When do you want me to go?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead," Amy admitted. "But we need something pretty quick. You have your passport, and Kyme said he can send a ticket whenever I like. We just need to go over some questions they may ask about the work here."
"Can you watch Rosy again?" Moses asked.
"Of course!" Amy exclaimed; but it encouraged her to see Moses thinking about his sister's welfare.
Table of contents
Chapter 10. Australia
It took a further two weeks to get things organised, but by early September, Moses was on a plane headed for yet another part of the world.
It was winter in Australia when he arrived, and although the weather in Sydney is mild by world standards, it was still the coldest weather Moses had ever endured, and he found it a painful experience. The thermometer had dipped below ten degrees Celcius the day before Moses arrived, and it stayed that way for most of the week that he was there. The young Kenyan described it as "full body pain" in a text-message to Amy after he arrived; but he assured her that it was not enough to stop him from accomplishing his goal for the trip: He was going to secure financial support for Amy and the kids. He was, of course, much more prepared for cultural differences this time, as a result of his previous jaunt to America.
Because Kyme lived a hundred miles north of Sydney (and because he was a bachelor, with no experience of children) he had arranged to have Moses stay with a Quaker family in a Sydney suburb while he himsel fstayed at the meeting house across town. Moses thought this sounded a hundred times better than a hotel room on his own. But in reality it was a little disappointing.
The "children" were two brothers in their early twenties, who didn't have much time for him or for their mother either. The mother, Deb, was divorced and worked as a psychologist at the local welfare department.
"Young people need freedom to live their own lives," Deb explained when her sons did not turn up for the first meal with her, Kyme, and Moses. Kyme had met Moses at the airport earlier in the day, and brought him back to the house. He had hung around all day while Moses rested up from the trip. After dinner Kyme would be off to the meeting house, returning in the morning to take Moses to his appointment with Quaker Service Australia.
"The boys often stay out all night, but perhaps you can meet them tomorrow," Deb suggested.
Earlier that day, on the trip back from the airport, Kyme had briefed Moses on the meeting with Quaker Service. "Don't expect too much," he had warned. "Quakers have plenty of money, but there are a lot of rules that keep them from giving practical help. I'm just hoping that your presence will soften their hearts a little."
"You think I got enough charismatics for them? "Moses asked cheerfully.
"I hear you won the banks over," said the chubby old man with a twinkle in his eyes. "Just stay positive and don't let them rattle you."
Kyme explained that he personally thought faith of any sort involved sacrifice. "But don't say the word sacrifice around them tomorrow," he warned. "It's not the way most Quakers think these days. If they decide to help, it won't take much sacrifice anyway. Amy says she only needs $500 a month to cover all her expenses. That's nothing for Australians. One Quaker would make more than that in a day or two."
Kyme listed two concepts that Moses should try to include in his spiel: Indigenous, and sustainable.
"You're indigenous," said Kyme. "And that's good. But Amy isn't, at least not in Kenya. If they ask abo
ut her, tell them that she's trying to find her roots in Kenya. Do you know about that?"
"Yeah, she told me," Moses replied. "She talks fluid Luhya, you know. So we take her as one of us."
"Just don't say that she's a missionary," Kyme warned. "Quakers think missionaries are just preachers. It would be too hard to convince them otherwise."
Moses screwed up his face to express puzzlement, but he said nothing.
"What does sustainable mean?" he asked.
Kyme cleared his throat and began. "It means that it can keep on going without hurting the environment or using up resources."
Moses cocked his head to one side and listened intently for more.
"Like if your village is using more trees than they can re-grow, it can't go on forever, can it? So we would say that it's not sustainable."
"Can't we just import stuff?" Moses asked.
"Not the way Friends see it," Kyme replied as they pulled into Deb's driveway.
They walked up the path to the front door while Kyme continued: "Sustainability is going to be the hardest part about asking for help. Amy has to show that sooner or later she can support herself... become sustainable."
"Oh, I see," said Moses. "So we won't have to import more money! Don't worry. She put something like that in her informations... some business propositions."
The conversation ended when they were inside, as Moses became distracted by the many furnishings, wall hangings, and bookshelves around the house.
Later, after Deb had arrived home, and while they were eating dinner together, Moses shared some of what he had been thinking about during the afternoon.
"Are Quakers indigenous?" he asked them both.
"What on earth do you mean by that?" Deb replied. Kyme just smiled, as he sensed where Moses might be heading with this.
"Quakers like indigenous things, isn't that right?" Moses asked. "So are Quakers indigenous?"
"We have a few Aboriginal members," said Deb, with a puzzled glance at Kyme. "But you don't have to be indigenous to be a Quaker. Who told you that?"
"No one told me," Moses answered, sensing that he could be causing embarrassment for Kyme. "I'm just trying to understand this word indigenous."
"Indigenous is like natural... stuff that was there from the earliest times. Indigenous plants, indigenous languages, indigenous people. Quakers think we should keep things the way they were." Deb relaxed as Moses appeared to be agreeing with what she was saying.
"So it's more than just people?" Moses asked rhetorically. "it must be hard to keep everything how it was."
"We can't undo what's been done," Deb explained. "But we can try to preserve what still remains. Friends are very active in doing this."
"Can you tell me about global warming?" Moses asked, after a short pause. When he saw the surprised look on their faces, he added, "I read about it in a magazine on the coffee table... this afternoon."
"Global warming comes mostly from burning things," Deb explained. She liked being able to teach someone whose mind was so open. "Burning makes carbon dioxide, and if we get too much carbon dioxide, the whole world gets warmer. It could cause flooding and a lot of other environmental problems."
"We burn wood to cook in Kenya. People don't burn wood in Australia, do they?" Moses asked.
"We might be better off if we did," said Kyme. "See, we burn fuel mostly... in our vehicles, but also to make electricity."
"You mean cars make this carbon-oxide stuff too?" Moses asked.
"Yes, lots of it," Kyme confessed.
"Do Quakers try to change that too?" Moses asked.
"Yes, we're all trying to use less fuel," Deb put in. "It's very important that we do."
Moses continued to probe. "How do you do that?"
"We take trains and buses when we can. We buy vehicles with smaller engines. We join car pools..."
"But you have three cars," Moses exclaimed. "In Kenya we mostly use bikes. I have a bike."
"Two of the cars belong to my sons," Deb explained. "But we have bikes too."
"Do you go to work in the car?" Moses asked. He had seen her return home in it. Now Deb was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"I work almost ten kilometres from here," Deb said. "And I advertised for riders to share, but no one was interested."
"Ten kilometres?" Moses asked rhetorically as he rubbed his chin. "That's how far it is from Shinyalu to Kakamega. Most people walk, but some take the bodabodas. I carry them." And he grinned at Deb.
Deb looked at Kyme, who was smiling too, and then she decided to change the subject. "Let's move into the lounge room," she said. "I'll clear the dishes later."
But Moses was not going to stop. When they were seated, he refused an offer to watch TV.
"When do you use your bikes?" he asked, instead.
"On weekends, mostly, when we go to the mountains. We have some nice bike trails up in the ranges."
"Are the mountains closer than where you work?"
"No, they're farther. We take the bikes on the back of the Toyota. It has a bike rack on it."
"You Quakers have funny ways to stop burning things," Moses said with a nervous giggle that sounded a little like Rosy. Then he picked up the magazine he had been reading earlier, about global warming, and leaned back in the chair to continue reading it.
Table of contents
Chapter 11. Quaker Service
The next day, Moses had breakfast at 8am, before Deb left for work. Kyme was to come for him at nine, and they would go together to the meeting at ten.
Deb was uncomfortable about Moses watching her from the front window as she backed the big station wagon out of the garage, but there was nothing she could do about it.
For his part, Moses just waved and smiled.
When Kyme arrived he shared candidly with Moses:
"You had Deb and me both embarrassed last night," he confessed. "You may not know it, but Deb goes to meeting by train, and I walk to meeting in Newcastle; but I agree, we could be doing more... much more."
"I wasn't trying to humble-ate you," Moses said. "I was really just interested about global warming. I never heard of it in Kenya."
"I see," Kyme said. "I can get you some more articles on the subject, if you like. You can take them back to Kenya with you."
It wasn't clear whether Kyme had changed his plans as a result of what Moses said, because he arrived by car but then parked it at the station and they caught a train to the meeting house in the city.
It seemed that everyone else had arrived early, because the fourteen-year-old and his older companion arrived on time, and still the committee members were all waiting for them. Introductions were made and then they got down to business.
"I asked for this meeting," Kyme explained, "so that young Moses here could tell you something about a project that I have been supporting in Kenya, where there are tens of thousands of orphans as a result of the AIDS epidemic. The woman who I have been sponsoring is not supported by any church or charity, and she has no other source of income. She personally takes care of nine orphans, whom she has raised as if they were her own family. She would have come herself, but she can't leave the children on their own. So she sent Moses here to tell us about what she's doing."
"Are you one of the children from the orphanage?" asked a plump man with grey hair and spectacles.
"It's not really an orphanage," Moses replied. "Just Amy and her kids. Me and my sister, we take care of ourselves. But Amy helps us sometimes."
"If you and your sister are orphans, why isn't she taking care of you?" asked another overweight member of the committee, this one a woman with short black hair and heavy make-up. Just then, Moses looked them over, and noted that all of them were plump, or by Kenyan terms, just plain fat.
"She doesn't need to take care of me." he said indignantly. "I have a job, and I take care of myself. But she's having too many complexities just with the kids she has. That's why I'm
here... to ask you to help her."
"And what is it that you want us to do for her?" another woman asked, leaning toward him with the widest smile Moses had ever seen.
"Well, she needs some money, mostly for food right now, but if she had a little extra, she wants to build a whole bunch of cages in her yard and grow rabbits. With about a hundred cages, the kids can have meat, and she can sell some to buy clothes and stuff. Then she won't need to ask you for anything more."
Several members of the committee looked knowingly at each other, and then the woman with the short hair volunteered to speak on their behalf.
"Moses, rabbits are not indigenous to Kenya, are they?" she asked.
"No, not in the early days, but we got lots of them now," he said.
"People brought rabbits to Australia many years ago," the woman continued, "and today they're a plague to the farmers. They eat up everything. It only takes a couple of rabbits to escape, and they can upset the whole balance of nature."
"But in Kenya, if rabbits get out, wild animals eat them. They're not a problem, I promise," Moses pleaded.
The committee just looked at him sadly while the reality sunk in. But they were not prepared for his plucky spirit.
"What do Australian Quakers eat?" he asked. And when they did not answer he went on. "Do you eat potatoes? Do you eat carrots? Do you eat chickens?" He was going through the items that he had consumed for tea the night before.
"Are these things indigenous?"
There was an awkward silence, and Kyme struggled to keep from laughing. Then the man who had spoken first, leaned forward across the table as he tried very hard to reach Moses emotionally.
"It's true, we do eat these things, Moses," he said kindly. "But you see, son, we have been doing it too long now to change. It's different with you. You're asking us to start up something... to support something with Quaker money, that is likely to become a threat to the environment. We just can't do it."
Moses paused only for a few seconds, because he had a different approach that he wanted to try... one that he was sure would pass their indigenous concerns.