Chapter 19

            The roads varied from smooth highway driving to rough gravel to places where potholes were so big that to let a tire fall in one would have meant major damage to the vehicle.  They had driven for several hours and passed through the village of Nekuru, a place where about several hundred thousand people lived.  They now pressed on as the day grew older.  Here and there they would stop at a petrol station as gas stations are called in Kenya.  At such stops they purchased soda pop or bottled water, mindful that the natural water would likely make the Americans violently ill.

             “My wives inform me” Charles announced at one of the stops “that there is a church that is awaiting us in the Awendo district.  They wish to greet us on our first day here.  This church had expected us at 1:00 p.m. but the roads are worse than expected, and it is already past 1:00 p.m. and there are at least two hours more to drive.  There are few petrol stations between here and there.  So this may be our last stop until we get there.”

             “Why don’t we just call them and have their greeting wait until tomorrow?” asked Aaron, who felt tired and grubby and was in no mood to meet anyone.

             “They have no phone” Charles replied matter of factly.

             “Well it’s past three.  They’ve probably all gone home by now,” George offered.

             “Perhaps, but I doubt it,” Charles responded.  “Kenyan Christians have learned to be very patient.”

             Juanita realized she was not dressed for church.  She had worn jeans and tennis shoes and a T-shirt to travel in.  “Give me ten minutes to dig out a dress from the bags and put it on,” she begged.

             Meanwhile, as they continued on, back in the States a plot was hatching between the remaining wives.

             “Hello, Terry” Cheryl almost screamed into the phone.  It was almost nine hours earlier in their time zone so Terry was groggy as she answered.

             “Hello, uh . . wh . . what time is it . . .” she stammered.

             “It’s almost six o’clock.  I know it’s early, but we’ve got to meet,” Cheryl pleaded.

             “Oh, OK let’s meet at the Coffee shop in one hour” Terry offered.

             “I’ll be there,” Cheryl promised as she hung up the phone.

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             As they settled in a booth and a waitress brought them both coffee and pastries.  Cheryl, whose eyes were swollen and red from crying, began pouring out her heart to her friend Terry.

             “It didn’t work!”  she spat out tearfully.  “I told him we weren’t going and he said I couldn’t control him and he was going anyway.  He packed his bags and left.  For the past day or so I’ve been a miserable wreck!  O Terry I think I’m losing my marriage and I don’t know what to do.”

             “First, calm down,” Terry counseled.  “Then let’s look at your options,” she said as she rolled up her eyes toward the ceiling and then side to side, trying to think of as many as she could.  “You can’t let this go on,” she stated.  “You’ve got to take control.”

             “How?”  Cheryl asked.  “He’s in Africa!  For all I know,” Cheryl continued, “he may be picking out some young African Princess to bring back to be my ‘co-wife.’” she snarled her nose at the thought as she spat out the words.

             “Wait a minute, let me think” Terry commanded as she drew her cup up to her lips and took a long sip of coffee.  After a few moments of reflection, she placed her cup on the table and with a gleam in her eyes, she blurted out her answer.  “The elders governing board!”

             “What?”  Cheryl asked, confused.

             “We’ve got to get you to the elders governing board before he gets back,” Terry said almost gleefully.  “You do what I tell you and we’ll have them under complete control.  It will be like taking candy from a baby!”