Der

I'm walking back from the hospital. I've just finished late Sunday morning rounds and plan on doing some emails or computer work. I see André standing by the gate. I waltz up and ask him what's going on. He's dressed in a light blue and white full jogging suit like he's about to head out
to warm up for some match.

"We're going to Der to visit Daniel. We haven't seen him in awhile and we heard he was deathly sick. Pierre, David and I are going as soon as David gets here."

Daniel is one of the teachers at our school. I instantly am impressed I should go. The words of my late brother, David, come to mind: "do what's important, not what's urgent." I decide this is important.

I put on my swimming suit and a t-shirt and grab the keys for the truck.

Pierre, André, Doumpa and David pile in and we head across Béré till we find a narrow, sandy track out of town heading more or less west. We go until we hit water.

"It only gets worse," remarks David, "We'll be up to our knees at least. Everything is flooded this year." There's no room to turn around but I try anyway and immediately get stuck in the thick mud of the adjacent rice field. The guys easily push me out but I decide I'll just have to back out when we get back. Little did I know how hard that would prove to be. We tumble out and I lock up.

The day is beautiful. The sky is blue like a Pacific atoll on a calm day. Billowy white clouds add character making the sky seem infinite, yet so close. The sun brings out the warm greens of the vast fields of tall, orderly rice waving in the gentle breeze in neat, but not perfect rows. The
water is warm under my feet and the sandy bottom almost makes me believe I could be near the ocean and that I should hear the crash of waves at any time.

Small fish and tad poles swim in schools around our legs and through the rice fields. Tiny, delicate dragonflies with fluorescent green heads and fluorescent blue tails flit across the surface of the water covered trail as larger, uglier dragonflies ply the air between the heads of rice. Dark, bug-like animals scoot with coordinated flaps of their legs across the sandy bottom...dragonfly larvae according to David.

Sparrow-sized, pudgy, bright red or yellow "millet eaters" chirp and dart from patches of scrub bushes on slightly elevated "islands" in between the flooded fields. The sand gives way to a black silt. The clay makes turns our march into a slick situation. I almost fall several times. We head out into the rice fields where at least walking on the grasses makes it less likely we'll slip.

The water gets deeper. I'm wading up to my thighs. The path/river takes a bend around an "island" and I finally see the village poking their thatch roofed heads above the tall heads of millet and between the mango trees. Smoke rises from several cooking fires. I reach a dry path and put my shoes back on.

David, Doumpa and I wait up for Andre and Pierre and then we march through the village till we find Daniel's house at the other side. It has been blown down in the last rain. When it rains it pours! We finally catch up with him at this mother-in-law's.

Apparently, he became dizzy and weak while out working in the fields. Then he couldn't move his legs and arms because they just cramped up. He thought he was going to die. All his family and friends came by but refused to pray for him because he's been going to the Adventist Church. "Pronounce the name of the Evangelical Church of Chad or we won't pray for you," they said. So he did. He was very confused though, wondering why Christians wouldn't pray for other
Christians just because they were from a different denomination. I wondered the same thing out loud to him.

After all, at the Adventist Hospital we pray for all our patients whether Adventist, Evangelical, Muslim, Animist, Atheist, Pagan, whatever. His two daughters are sick now, too. So we convince him to come back with us. I put the four year old on my shoulders and wade back through the water until it gets shallower and shallower and arrives back at the truck. We've gone two
kilometers each way through the flooding.

After waiting again for Andre and Pierre we start backing up. There is no problem until we almost get to the dry sand when suddenly the engine revs and the car slows down as the
right front sinks.

I get out to look and see that apparently the hard sand is only about a foot thick under which is a liquid soup of muddy sand. We work for an hour or so without even the slightest movement of the truck. I call Rich Hoyt again to see if he can pull me out. I can't get a hold of him. I try Sarah, nothing. Andre finally calls Enock, the guy who's building our staff housing who agrees to go search for Rich. David heads off on foot since it's getting dark and he needs to start the generator at the hospital and start his shift as night watchman. We are about to head off on foot
ourselves when we see and hear a motorcycle followed by a Land Cruiser. They've come!

Rich comes to check things out on foot and then returns to the Land Cruiser to turn it around and back up to pull us out. He ignores the rule he'd taught me last time he pulled me out and backs into a field to turn around. Now he's stuck too!

Enock heads off to the Evangelical Church of Chad of Béré #7 to round up manpower. We wait around getting eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of small vultures. It's night and the beauty of the day has fast faded. I’m starting to get frustrated. Then, I remember that I felt impressed to come, that this was important and that I have a choice as to my reaction to a situation. Instead of getting mad, Rich and I go apart and talk. Apparently, he's had a horrible weekend and this just tops it off. But, he's amazingly upbeat. I am able to unburden some of my hard times from the past week and I realize that this bad situation has given us both a chance to debrief that we
wouldn't of had otherwise. We pray together and then the crowd arrives.

With the arms, legs and backs of 21 people, the Land Cruiser is fairly easily pushed back onto the road. Rich doesn't want to risk getting closer to us to pull us out so he goes to where the road is solid. Then, with a lot more effort but no less enthusiasm, the 21 lift the back of the truck out of the holes onto more solid ground and then push the truck out of it's front tire pits as I gun the engine for all it's worth in low four-wheel drive reverse! I get about 100 feet when the left side of the truck sinks again into the mush. This time the 21 man force just pushes the truck to the right out of the hole and I wind the engine out until I’m on solid ground! What a great feeling! (although, I don't think I want to drive again for awhile...at least until the rainy season is over!)

James