Mary's Home

by Jerry S. Eicher

  The pickup truck wheezed down a crowded Nairobi street. Mary sat in front between Willard and Ashon, the mission’s handyman, who had picked them up at the airport. Ronald and Betsy were in the open back, simultaneously hanging on to each other and their luggage.

  “You watch these close, now. Many thieves in Kenya,” Ashon had said with a toothless smile. “They come right on the truck and snatch from before your eyes.”

  Mary could almost believe the words. As he weaved in and out of the tangled lanes of traffic, she flinched at a horn blast from an approaching automobile. All drivers used the horn at the slightest provocation, or apparently to vent their grievances at the world.

  “Terrible drivers in the city,” Ashon muttered, his elbow jabbing the center of the steering wheel. The hood of the vehicle seemed to vibrate from the sound. Did these people enhance the volume of their car horns? Mary could not remember such a racket from driving in Englisha vehicles in big cities at home.

  “Are you okay?” Willard asked.

  “It’s certainly not Paris,” she told him.

  The concern written on his face only grew.

  She tried to laugh. “I’m teasing.”

  The sound was more cackle than mirth. She needed a drink of water. Plus, the sleep deprivation she’d felt in Paris seemed unnoticeable compared to the exhaustion she felt at the moment.

  “The mission is coming up soon.” Willard took her hand in his. “You’ll have food, water, and rest there.”

  She smiled up at him. “That sounds goot.”

  The German word slipped out, a reminder of home in this strange land. What would Mamm think if she could see her daughter, dust strewn, kapp askew, stuck between two men on the front seat of a pickup truck? Betsy sat in the back in no better condition. At least she was enjoying each moment, pointing at the passing sights, and jabbering to Ronald while they hung on to the suitcases. Betsy was carefree and happy, while Mary was here to make a life-altering decision—or rather to confirm one. In reality, the choice had been made before she boarded the plane in upstate New York for the short connecting flight into New York City.

  “You been here before?” Ashon beamed above her.

  “No. It’s my first time,” Mary told him.

  “You like Nairobi, the big city?” he continued.

  “It’s okay.” She gave Willard a sideways look. “I like him.”

  Ashon’s smile nearly split his face. “He a good man, yes. A very good man.”

  “Have you known him long?”

  “Ah, I know him well, Mr. Willard!” Ashon’s face glowed. “He the Lord’s hand in this city.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Willard protested. “The mission helped Ashon’s son pay some hospital bills. He’s prejudiced.”

  “Willard, he pray, and my son get well!” Ashon proclaimed. “And get medicine.”

  “Willard is a wonderful man,” Mary agreed.

  “You his loved one?” Ashon continued. “I no hear that Mr. Willard get married.”

  “We’re not married,” Mary said with another glance at Willard. “But I think he likes me.”

  Ashon guffawed and laid on the horn at the same time. “Then that is cause for much celebration. Willard a lonely man. He need wife. Are you coming to live in the city?” He gestured at the passing streets. “After the wedding?”

  “That’s the plan,” Mary chirped.

  Ashon laid on the horn a few more times. “You will make a great woman for Willard,” he proclaimed.

  “Ignore him,” Willard said out of the side of his mouth.

  “Is that your marketplace?” Mary asked, changing the subject.

  Wooden shanties lined the street below the larger buildings, and garbage was strewn everywhere amidst merchandise for sale, boards of trinkets, and sodden garden produce.

  “Something like that.” Ashon grimaced. “I no buy there. Not anymore. There is a better place closer to the mission. And Mr. Willard taught us how to grow garden. Much better. Good to eat with no rot.” Ashon gestured at his stomach.

  Mary wrinkled her face. “I can believe that. So Willard raises a garden and taught you?”

  “In his classes, yes.” Ashon shrugged. “Same thing.”

  “It is the same thing,” Mary agreed. “He is a wonderful man.”

  “Stop talking that way!” Willard ordered, and they laughed together above the sounds of blasting horns.

  “You have these marketplaces at home where you come from?” Ashon asked. As they drove, the streets began to widen.

  “Not really,” Mary told him. “Maybe in the big cities, but I don’t go there. We live in the country.”

  “You like this city better, yes, once you see the mission. You not go home straight thing in the morning?”

  Mary shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything to scare me away.”

  “You brave woman.” Ashon gave her a bright smile. “I like you.”

  “You’ll like her more the longer she is here,” Willard told him.

  “Stop talking about me,” Mary ordered this time, and they laughed again.

  They were tired, thirsty, sleepy, and hungry, but there was no panic. She could make this place home, even in the middle of a big city. The streets and houses had continued to improve the last few blocks, with tree-filled yards and clearly defined boundaries.

  “Here we are!” Ashon announced, turning the pickup into a paved driveway. A long row of well-kept buildings were set a distance from the street, with trees and landscaping arranged randomly in the yard. Peace and quiet settled in as they moved away from the racket behind them.

  “Do you like the place?” Willard asked nervously.

  “Yah, I do.” Mary surveyed the scene around her. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is very nice.”

  Willard smiled with relief. “It’s better quarters than we can afford, but there’s not much in-between, and this is where I landed. The Lord provides, I suppose.” He opened the creaking pickup door and offered his hand. “But we pinch pennies with our vehicles.”

  She lowered herself to the ground with her hand tight in his. “Thank you.”

  They stood for a moment in silence. Agape Outreach was written in large letters under a dark green tin roof. As she took in the grounds, the garbage-strewn street from the other side of town felt like a distant memory.

  A large local woman appeared in the front doors to wave at them with both hands. She hollered, “Welcome back, Mr. Willard! You have a good trip coming home?”

  The smile broadened on Mary’s face. That familiar word—home—had been applied to this strange place. She saw a light in Willard’s eyes as he approached the woman and gave her a hug. This was Willard’s home in the same deep way she felt about her community.

  “My wife, Tambala, she keep the mission running tip-top!” Ashon proclaimed with pride. “We live here a long time before Mr. Willard come, but he the best of them all.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Mary agreed.

  Betsy and Ronald had climbed out of the pickup and set out on their own tour of the grounds.

  “Lots better than the dumps we saw driving in,” Betsy called over her shoulder.

  “This is the most beautiful side of town,” Ashon agreed, with obvious great pride. “This is where the work of the Lord is done by Mr. Willard.”

  Ronald came back with his hand in Betsy’s. “I could almost make myself at home here,” he declared. “Shall we take the suitcases inside? We kept them from being spirited away.”

  “That good.” Ashon clapped him on the back. “Now I know you no thief.”

  Confusion played on Ronald’s face for a moment. “Oh, you are teasing?” He joined in Ashon’s laugher.

  Behind them the doors opened again, and a white couple appeared. Willard hurried forward to shake their hands. Then he brought them back to the small group gathered around the pickup.

  “Meet Ean and Daisy Messer, my dedicated coworkers. These are my friends Ronald, Betsy, and Mar
y.”

  Willard slipped his hand around Mary’s shoulder and pulled her close. The message was clear. She belonged here when it came to matters of the heart.

  “How was your journey?” Daisy inquired. “I heard you planned to lay over in Paris on the way here.”

  “Oh, we did!” Betsy gushed. “What a wunderbah time we had. Ronald and I are so happy that we had the chance to travel with Mary and Willard.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Daisy’s smile grew.

  “So this is where Willard spends his time ministering?” Betsy continued.

  “It is.” Daisy motioned around with her hand. “We’ve tried to hold down the fort while Willard was gone, but it’s not the same without him.”

  “I’m sure you did very well,” Mary assured her. “This looks like a place I can call home. Maybe you could show us around.”

  “Certainly! Follow me.” Daisy lowered her voice. “Looks like the men are taking the outside tour, so let me ask. Are you and Willard serious?”

  “We are,” Mary said. “I know I’ve already made up my mind, but Willard wants me to see everything first before he agrees—which is reasonable, I suppose.”

  “Willard is a wise man.” Daisy held open the front door for them. “If I am any fair judge, he cares a lot for you. I could tell from the way he looked at you when we were introduced, and he has told us so much in his emails.”

  “I am happy to hear that you agree with me!” Betsy said. “I have never seen anyone better matched than those two.”

  “From what I understand, you come from a different culture?” Daisy’s glance took in Mary’s Amish dress.

  Mary colored. “I guess I should begin the change. But I want Willard’s concerns satisfied first. Otherwise he might feel pressured.”

  Daisy appeared pleased. “I see you share Willard’s wisdom.”

  “They are perfect together,” Betsy pressed.

  Daisy showed them the kitchen, where Tambala waved and called out, “Here are bottles of water. When will you be needing food?”

  Mary took a long drink before she answered. “I am starved, so whenever you have the meal ready, we can eat. But please don’t bother yourself too much for us.”

  “Nothing is big bother for you,” Tambala assured them. “But I will get you something right now. Mr. Willard has brought great blessing to our lives, and we can never fully repay him.”

  “I agree. Willard is a wonderful man,” Mary told her.

  Tambala beamed at them as she brought over a platter with strips of meat on it. “Here is something until I can make a proper meal for starving people.”

  Mary took a piece and chewed slowly, and Betsy did the same.

  “Delicious!” Betsy declared. “I didn’t know how hungry I was.”

  “Another piece or two,” Tambala ordered. “Then you must wait, but soon the meal is ready.”

  Daisy led them down the hall as they finished their snack. “That’s your first taste of Tambala. She is our combination cook, nurse, and housemother for the boys we have in our care,” Daisy told them. “I try to help where I can, but they bond better with someone from their own culture.”

  “I can see that,” Mary agreed. “But I’m sure you do more than you know. I’ll look forward to the wisdom you have to impart. Just tell us where we need to help, and your word is our command.”

  Daisy laughed. “I think today should be a day of rest from your travels, but let me quickly show you the housing and schoolrooms on the back side.” She walked them past a long line of bedrooms to their right. “You and Betsy will have a room nearest to the kitchen, Mary, with Ronald next door. Ean and my room is next, and the boys’ bedrooms start after that. Willard is at the end. His and hers bathrooms are across the hall. Most of our housing is humble compared to stateside standards, but this complex is a luxury to the boys. That’s part of the lure we use to keep them here. No one is kept against their will, and the door to the street is always unlocked. They can go when they wish, and some do. A few come back, but not everyone.” Daisy’s face saddened and then she said softly, “We do what we can, but the glue and the gangs are a deadly game on the streets. Some of the boys have the fever in their blood, and nothing seems to break the disease.”

  “You do such worthwhile work here,” Mary said as they headed deeper into the house.

  A courtyard opened in front of them, where a dozen boys sat on chairs in front of a crude lectern. They held open notebooks in their laps and twiddled pencils between their fingers. A few looked up and smiled at the approaching group. Others showed little interest, and a few expressed outright hostility.

  “Boys, we have visitors from the United States,” Daisy announced. She lowered her voice to say to Mary and Betsy, “Ean was in the middle of teaching the English and writing class when you came. They have nothing else to do, so they are waiting until he comes back.”

  “Why don’t I help?” Mary suggested.

  Daisy raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have to.”

  “Can I try?”

  “Certainly, if you wish. The class is not organized in any particular fashion.” Daisy handed her a textbook. “This is what Ean’s been using for English 101.”

  Mary took her place at the lectern. Her heart beat wildly, but this was what she wanted to do.

  “Greetings from the States,” Mary began. “What are your names?”

  A few raised their hands, and Mary moved closer to them as they spoke. The ones who wouldn’t speak, she laid her hand on their shoulders until they looked up into her face.

  “I’m Mary,” she told them, her face bearing her brightest smile. Everyone gave their names except a skinny boy with glazed eyes and a distorted frame.

  “I can see why Willard loves her,” Mary heard Daisy whisper to Betsy.

  Tears threatened to flow as she took her place at the lectern again. “Let’s speak English, boys, and see how many words you know. Then we will write them on my piece of paper, which I will hold up for you. Okay?” Mary caught her breath. “Let’s begin with, ‘The Lord God is good.’”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The long dining room table was filled with boys on one side and the Americans on the other. Porridge bowls and cups for tea were set at regular intervals along the full length. Mary stood beside Betsy and waited for the men.

  “Goot morning,” she called to Willard when he walked in with Ronald.

  “And a good morning to you. Up bright and early, I see.”

  “I had to help Tambala in the kitchen,” Mary chirped. “This place invigorates me.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure the food is extra special this morning if you had a hand in it.”

  She made a face at him. “I was raised on a farm, so yes, I can cook. But I don’t know anything about thin porridge, chai tea, flatbread, and yams. I only helped, and from the samples I tasted, everything turned out delicious. You have a devoted staff, Willard, which doesn’t surprise me. You are a kind man.” Mary gave him a sweet smile. “You are doing an awesome job running this mission.”

  “You’ve only been here one day.” He took his seat and motioned for her to sit. “That’s too early for you to know for sure.”

  Mary settled in beside him. She had made up her mind before the plane landed, and everything she had seen so far only confirmed that decision.

  “Do you think the time we have planned is long enough? I mean…” Willard fumbled for words. “We took that extra day in Paris, and I’m glad we did, but I can change the plane tickets if you need more time here in Nairobi to decide.”

  “I’m okay, Willard,” she assured him. “No need to spend money on plane ticket changes.”

  “Money is no concern when it comes to you.”

  “I’m okay,” she repeated. “If I had any doubts, I would tell you. A community of people is waiting back home to take me in with open arms. I promise you I will not condemn myself to a life I don’t want.”

  He appeared satisfied and turned his attention to
the breakfast table. Then he called to Tambala in the kitchen. “Are we ready?”

  She bustled out with her apron flapping. “Yes, Willard. Ready when you are. I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the excellent woman who helped me in the kitchen this morning.”

  Willard grinned. “I think Mary and I can eat and talk at the same time.”

  “Then we should start. The boys are hungry.”

  Willard stood, and everyone bowed their heads while Willard led a prayer. “Dear Father in heaven, gracious and merciful Lord. We give You thanks this morning…”

  “Amen,” Mary echoed when Willard finished. The cheerful clinking of bowls began around the table as the boys dished out the porridge. Ean and Daisy had everything running in an orderly fashion. Even the quiet boy from yesterday behaved himself and waited for his turn at the porridge bowl.

  “So you like the strange food you helped make this morning?” Willard asked.

  “Yes, I do. Kenyan food is not difficult to enjoy.” Mary motioned toward Betsy and Ronald. “Listen to them talking. They like it too!”

  His grin was broad. “Both you and Betsy have settled in well, and in a day’s time. I’m impressed.”

  “It’s easy with you around,” Mary whispered under her breath.

  Willard had to have heard. His hint of a smile betrayed him.

  “I regret I didn’t hear the English lecture yesterday,” he said. “Daisy said you were a natural. You didn’t tell me you had a degree from the Amish Barn Institute.”

  Mary laughed. “I guess the simple life lends itself to teaching. There’s the farm, the chores, and the need to explain things to younger siblings. None of our parochial schoolteachers had degrees, just on-the-job training.”

  Willard grunted his agreement. “That may be the best kind of education. With the schooling American children receive, I’m not sure students learn that much.”

  “You turned out okay.” Mary patted his arm.

  He smiled down at her. “Thanks. I appreciate your trying to acclimate. More than I can say. You touch my heart deeply.”

  “I am glad I can help out.” Mary straightened in her chair and then looked away.