Читать книгу One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana - William Bond - Страница 9

Chapter 3

Before the Rankins departed from Tavani, Christine’s relationship with Sara improved. Sara came over on more than one occasion to give Christine books, games, and jigsaw puzzles that she didn’t want to take to her new home in Southern Rhodesia. These things were given in a kindly manner and were accepted with appreciation. Now that she was leaving, Christine saw no point in carrying a grudge against Sara for the unkind things that she had said and done. It seemed that the time had come to forgive and forget. By the time the Rankins were ready to leave Tavani in late January, old hurts had been forgotten, and the relationship between the two teenagers was nearly as good as it had been after the Rankins first arrived.

Shortly before the Rankins left Tavani, a farewell gathering was held for them at the church. Sara and Christine visited during this time, and they made plans to correspond with each other. It had occurred to Christine that she was again going to be the only young white person on the mission station. There had certainly been times when she had disliked Sara and had wanted to be rid of the problems which she had caused, but now, she suspected that she would actually miss her.

After the Rankins departed from Tavani, their house stood empty. The Rankins were no longer seen at church services or anywhere else on the mission station, and Christine did experience a strange sense of loss. During January, Christine read some of the books she had been given, and she and Mother worked on some of the jigsaw puzzles that had come from Sara. At times, Christine felt that the days were just dragging by, but on other occasions, she regretted that her summer vacation seemed to be passing by so quickly. In time, another family would undoubtedly occupy the Rankins’ home, and they might have young people in the family that might be companions for Christine when she was at Tavani, but another family would not arrive before she needed to return to school in Swaziland.

It often seemed like she had mixed feelings. Although she was frequently lonely and bored at Tavani, she did like being home with Mother. She wasn’t anxious to go back to school, yet she was eager to see Jim, and she was hopeful that a relationship with him might develop. With Sara gone, she was also hopeful that her relationship with other girls would improve. Only time, of course, would tell if the name-calling would end. Although she had resented Sara and had often wanted to avoid her, she now realized that she would not have a traveling companion when she made the long trip back to Swaziland. She hated the thought of making that trip alone, and it was with mixed feeling that she realized her summer break was nearly over.

On the day of her departure, Mother and Christine arose early so that they would arrive in Manjacaze before the train departed for Xai Xai. They had an early breakfast, and Christine found room in her suitcase for her new underwear, her new sweater, and the fruitcake which Mother had recently made for her.

The road between Tavani and Manjacaze resembled two paved sidewalks which ran parallel with each other. The road didn’t get a lot of use, and it provided a fairly smooth ride until one met a vehicle or needed to pass a Shangaan who was proceeding more slowly in a horse-drawn wagon. Departing from the paved surfaces could be done, but there was always a risk of getting stuck on the roadway’s sandy shoulders.

Although it was early in the day, the breeze that came through the car windows was too warm to be refreshing. The sky was cloudless, and it promised to be a hot day. The landscape was familiar to Christine, but she really felt no attachment to it. She had lived in Tavani and in Swaziland—and she felt no great attachment to either place. She had lived in Africa for nearly eighteen years, but she had always suspected that Africa would never be her permanent home. Even the missionaries that she knew had no plans to remain in Africa after they reached the age for retirement. Mother had chosen to remain in Africa, thus far, because this was where she intended to do her life’s work, and she was too young to retire, but Christine had never desired to become a missionary, and she instinctively knew that her home would not always be in Africa.

Some of her classmates’ parents were permanent residents of Swaziland or South Africa, but others of them had come from England or the United States. Some of her acquaintances intended to continue their education in England, but Christine suspected that she would eventually go to the United States, if for no other reason than there was the fact that she had relatives in Michigan. In their various conversations, they had talked of Christine continuing her education in Michigan, but no definite plans for that were yet in place.

About forty minutes later, they pulled into Manjacaze, and Mother was able to park near the depot. After getting her luggage, the two headed to the depot office to purchase a ticket for the next train to Xai Xai.

They hadn’t been waiting on the platform too long before a shrill whistle made them realize that the train was now slowly approaching the station. Moments later, they heard the screeching metallic sounds of wheels breaking on the rails, the hissing of steam, and a cacophony of other noises that a train can make as it prepares to come to a full stop.

Almost immediately, people began to board the train, so after a kiss and a warm embrace, Christine carried her suitcase to the place where she would board the train. Inside the coach, she quickly found the area where she could place her suitcase, and then, she headed for an available seat by an open window.

Tears had come to Clara’s eyes as she saw her daughter board the train. There was going to be another period of separation, and she instinctively knew that she was going to miss Christine immensely. They would have a few more times together, but there would come a time when she would see Christine off to America. Then, they would be separated by a vast ocean. The reality of that eventuality caused tears to stream down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away and mustered a smile before Christine took her seat by a nearby window in the coach.

Christine returned the smile, and they were able to speak, but at this point, there seemed to be little to say except to acknowledge that they loved each other and were going to miss each other. A few minutes passed, and then, the tranquility of the morning was again interrupted by a couple of blasts from the train’s shrill whistle. There was a strong hissing sound, and then, the coaches suddenly jerked into motion with all the sounds that accompany a steam-driven locomotive when it is commencing to pull a coal car and several coaches toward the next destination.

Christine and her mother held a prolonged wave of farewell until they finally lost sight of each other. Before much time had passed, Manjacaze had receded into the distance, and the train was moving along at a good rate of speed. Christine couldn’t know, of course, that her mother headed up the lonely road to Tavani with tears streaming down her cheeks.

The little narrow-gauge train moved easily across the nearly level landscape, but when it came into a hilly region, its pace slowed significantly whenever the locomotive had to negotiate a long or challenging incline. Because it was a hot day, the windows on the coach were open, and a warm but welcome breeze could be felt. Now and then, however, smoke from the steam engine could swirl through the open windows of the coaches, and one’s clothing could get soiled with soot or even damaged because of tiny embers. Because of this, a passenger was wise not to wear one’s best clothing when riding on the train.

Christine had hardly noticed the elderly black woman sitting by her side or the other poorly clad natives that shared their coach. She had observed that she was the only white person in this coach, but that was not unusual, for whites were a minority in many parts of Africa. Though whites and Asians lived in various parts of the continent, a majority of folks were people of color. In this part of the world, one’s skin color was most likely to be dark tan, various shades of brown, or even coal black.

Her thoughts were on her mother and on all that she was now leaving behind. She always felt melancholy when she was returning to school, and she hated making the long trip alone. Sadly, it would be several months before she would see her mother again. If parting was hard this time, she thought how much more difficult it would be when she finally left Africa to pursue her education in a distant land. That would be a far more difficult farewell, for she might be gone for years. The length of her stay abroad couldn’t be known, at this time, but her days of living in Tavani were largely in the past. It seemed likely that she and Mother were apt to be separated for long periods of time as the years went by.

Although she gazed out the window, she gave little thought to the passing landscape.

Some of the land was suitable for agriculture, and some was not. Here and there, they passed small villages that looked much like the Shangaan settlement near Tavani. Some of the land was used for subsistence farming or grazing, but one could also see cultivated areas that were planted in sugarcane, sisal, peanuts, or pineapples. Interspersed with these agricultural areas were stretches of sandy wasteland that contained virtually nothing of interest.

After about two hours, the train pulled into the depot at Xai Xai. Fairly recently, Mozambican officials had decided to rename the place Vila de Joao Belo, but people had become so accustomed to the town’s original name that many had continued to call it Xai Xai.

There were no bridges across the Limpopo River at this location, so people intending to continue on to places like Xinivani and LM had to carry their luggage about three blocks and board an old ferry that had been in service ever since Christine could remember.

Fortunately, she managed to get to the ferry dock in a timely fashion, and the river crossing proved to be uneventful. After the ferry arrived on the opposite shore, she picked up her luggage and hastened to the nearby location where she hoped to catch the bus to Xinivani.

Christine knew that it was important to make it to the bus that went to Xinivani or she would miss getting the train from Xinivani to LM. It was a long trip to Mbabane, Swaziland, even if one made all the connections. If one failed to make all the connections, there were long delays, and the trip could become a nightmare. It seemed all the more concerning now that Sara was not traveling with her. It was frightening to consider all the things that could go wrong as one traveled alone. Finally, she was relieved to see that the bus had not yet departed.

After buying a ticket, she handed her luggage to a young man who was securing such things on top of the bus. She then boarded the bus and immediately noticed that it was nearly full. She was not excited to sit down next to a black man who was unshaven and seemingly unwashed, but at least she had made this connection and had found an available seat. Before long, the driver boarded the bus, started the engine, and their journey commenced.

It didn’t take long to realize that the man sitting beside her was wearing soiled clothes that reeked of urine, and she soon became aware of the fact that some people on the bus were carrying live poultry with them. The combination of odors seemed likely to become more offensive with every passing minute.

The unpaved road was taking them through a somewhat hilly region. Portions of the road were fairly smooth, but other sections were rough because of ruts or potholes. On long upward stretches of road, the bus moved so slowly that one feared it lacked sufficient power to make the grade, and on downhill stretches of the road, they often moved along at a rate Christine considered to be unsafe. When traveling at a rapid speed, the bus swayed a lot and dust often swirled in through open windows.

The swaying motion and the unpleasant odors caused Christine to fear that she was soon going to be sick. She tried to breathe the air that was coming in through the open windows, but the warm dusty air was hardly refreshing. The general noise and the unpleasant stench was making her increasingly uncomfortable, and she feared that she might soon lose her breakfast and embarrass herself. As they swayed around a bend in the road, she was afraid that she was going to be sick immediately!

Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, and the bus began to shudder. The driver soon brought the crowded vehicle to a halt. He stepped off the bus, examined the tires, and soon announced that they’d had a blowout and he would need to change a tire. Because this chore would take a while, several people, including Christine, decided to step off the bus in order to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Christine was glad for a chance to get off the bus, and as far as she was concerned, the unexpected stop had not come a moment too soon. She was grateful that she had not embarrassed herself by getting sick in the bus. She just hoped that this delay would not cause her to miss the train in Xinivani.

The driver had soon climbed onto the roof of the bus, located a spare tire, and used a rope to lower it to the ground. Moments later, he located the jacks he would need, and he set about the business of changing a tire. While he was busy, some men from the bus took time to have a cigarette, while a couple of others moved a short distance away from the bus to relieve themselves. Christine and some of the women stood in the shade that the bus provided and patiently waited for the tire to be changed and for the flat tire to be hoisted by rope up to some available space on the roof of the bus. Probably forty-five minutes had passed before everyone again boarded the bus and they were again on their way.

Things went well for several miles, and before long, they were again in a hilly region. As they were heading up a long grade, she continued to wonder if the delay due to a flat tire would cause her to miss the train in Xinivani. She was cautiously optimistic that she would make that connection when, suddenly, another problem developed.

As they reached the summit of a hill, the driver pulled off the road and stated, in Portuguese, that the engine was overheating and there would be a delay of at least a quarter of an hour. The announcement caused Christine’s heart to sink, for the chances of missing the train to LM had just improved. Many passengers decided to get off the bus, and once again, Christine stood near the bus to take advantage of the shade that it provided. Some men loitered with the driver near the front of the bus, and others sat on the bank that edged the road. Although people were not staring at her, Christine realized that she was the only white person who was traveling on the bus. Sara was not present, so she didn’t visit with anyone while they waited. In time, the driver took some water that he carried on the bus for just such an occasion, and he added it to the radiator. When he felt that they could proceed, he gave the word, and everyone returned to be seated on the bus.

She knew that the delays were no one’s fault, but she feared that she had now missed the train to LM. When they finally reached the train station in Xinivani, a number of people, including Christine, checked to see if they had missed the train to LM, and sadly they had! “What shall I do now?” Christine asked herself.

She had never missed this connection before, and she was concerned. What would she do? With so many people standing around the depot, she assumed that there must be other trains leaving the station, but she realized the only useful train was one that would take her to LM. As she stood on the covered platform, she felt very conspicuous. It seemed that she was the only white person in the area, and she wondered if all eyes were on her. If people were thinking about her, what might they be thinking? She saw an available seat on a distant bench, so she picked up her suitcase and moved toward it.

Sitting here and there along the platform, she saw a few beggars with outstretched hands. They were often seen at depots or other places where a number of people might see them and pity them enough to spare them a few coins. Their outstretched hands and pleading eyes made Christine feel uncomfortable, and for a time, she almost wished that she could be invisible. She continued toward the bench trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but she could not help noticing a pitiful old man who was sitting on the pavement not far from that bench. The opaque look in his eyes suggested that he was probably blind. For him, she may have been invisible, yet he seemingly sensed a presence and stretched out his hand toward her pleadingly. She felt real pity for the unfortunate man who had to beg for a living. She would like to have helped him—and others who were in need, too, but she was a schoolgirl living on limited means. Mother had advised her that, in certain places, it was unwise to hand out any money. It was hard to give to some and not to others, and a person who seemed to be doling out money was apt to be mobbed.

At last, she reached the bench and sat down. A few moments passed, and when she felt no one was watching, she stealthily took a few coins from her pocket and put them in the blind man’s cup. Although he had not seen Christine, he spoke words of appreciation. She knew that Jesus had acknowledged that the poor would always be with us, and her small bit of charity was pretty insignificant, yet she also recalled a Bible verse where Jesus had indicated that “wherever you have done something for the least of my brothers, you have done it for me.” In this instance, a small act of charity seemed to be the right thing to do.

About fifteen minutes after she had taken her seat, a train pulled up and stopped at the depot. A number of people boarded the train, but she knew that this train was not heading where she wanted to go. After the train had departed, there were very few people left on the platform. Even some of the beggars had departed from the premises. Christine had never spent a night in Xinivani, for it wasn’t much of a town and the hotel that she could see looked pretty dubious.

It was now midafternoon, and Christine was becoming very concerned. She didn’t like the looks of the hotel, and it seemed dangerous if not unthinkable to spend the night at the depot. Unfortunately, she saw no one to whom she could turn to for help. She was in a dilemma, and she silently lifted her concerns. “What shall I do, Lord?” she said to herself. “What shall I do?”

Several minutes later, it occurred to her that she ought to make further inquiries at the ticket window, but when she came to the window, she saw that there was no attendant on duty and the office appeared to be closed for the day. Would she have to spend the night at that dubious-looking hotel? Was that the provision that the Lord had for her?

She was about to return to the bench when she noticed a man and a young boy standing in the vicinity. The man was tall, well-dressed, and appeared to have European ancestry. The dark-haired boy with dark eyes at his side appeared to be about eight years old. She appraised the two and was thinking that she might initiate a conversation when the man spoke to her.

“Have you missed your train?” he asked in Portuguese.

“Yes, my bus was late, and I have missed the train to Lourenço Marques,” she replied in Portuguese. “I had thought I might get some help here, but I see the ticket office is now closed. I had wondered if that hotel over there is recommended. I’ve heard there are no more trains going to LM today.”

“There are no more passenger trains,” acknowledged the man, “but there is a freight train that leaves for LM at 6:30 p.m.” He said that people could ride on the train if they could find a place to sit. He went on to explain that the boy’s mother was quite sick, and he was planning to send him to Manhica to stay for a while with his grandparents. He stated that the boy, too, had missed the train to LM, but he had called the grandparents and said that the boy would be coming on the evening freight train. Then, he posed a question.

“If you decided to take the freight train this evening, would you mind keeping an eye on my son?” he asked, continuing in Portuguese. “I would be happy to pay you something.”

Christine quickly considered the situation and decided that taking the train was probably a better option than spending the night in Xinivani, for that would cause her to miss her connections on the next day.

“I’d be happy to keep an eye on your son,” she said in Portuguese, “but you needn’t pay me anything.”

“Well, at least allow me buy you a meal. It is still a couple of hours until the freight train leaves town.”

Christine saw no problem in accepting his invitation, and although he was carrying his son’s luggage, he insisted on carrying her luggage, as well. Within two blocks, they found a small restaurant that seemed acceptable, so they entered the place and had soon seated themselves at an available table. In time, they all decided on a rice and chicken concoction that is familiar fare throughout Mozambique. During the meal, they visited, and Christine acknowledged that she was a student who was on her way to her boarding school in Mbabane, Swaziland. She also mentioned that her mother was a Christian missionary who lived at a small settlement called Tavani which is located in the vicinity of Manjacaze. Later, she disclosed that although her father was deceased, he had also been involved in church work.

The man explained that his wife had become quite ill and could not presently care for their son, Antonio. And because of his job, he could not care for him either, so it had been arranged that Antonio would live with his mother’s parents in Manhica until the situation improved at home. Although, Antonio did not involve himself in the conversation, his dark eyes beheld Christine with approval, and it seemed obvious that he was glad he’d be having a traveling companion so that he wouldn’t have to make the trip to Manhica by himself. When they had finished eating, Christine expressed her thanks for the meal, and after the man had paid for their meals, he carried Antonio and Christine’s luggage as they returned to the depot.

It was around 6:30 p.m. when a steam locomotive could be heard approaching. While one wouldn’t necessarily expect that a freight train would stop at a depot, the man explained that they did, occasionally, especially if the engineer knew that there was a reason to stop.

Perhaps, he had been informed that several people had missed getting the passenger train earlier that day because of a delayed bus.

The engine, the coal car, and a couple of freight cars had slowly passed by the depot before the train at last clanked and clattered to a halt. One freight car had an open door on the side, and a couple of men who had been standing nearby approached the open door and climbed up into the car with the assistance of other men who were riding in that car. Christine saw that the cars were old and dirty, and suddenly the idea of sharing space in an apparently empty freight car did not seem like a very good idea. She was inclined to want to cancel the commitment that she had made to the man and his son, but how could she back out now? She had accepted a meal from the man, and now she felt that she needed to keep her end of the deal. It seemed that the Lord was providing her with the transportation that she needed, but would he also be providing safety for Antonio and herself? The man had wanted her to watch over his son, but perhaps it was the company of a small boy that would make the trip safer for her! Mother had occasionally said, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” Was she about to foolishly enter a freight car where her own safety could be in jeopardy, or should she keep a commitment and simply trust that the Lord would grant them both protection?

They were moving toward the place where the men had boarded the freight car when a brakeman approached them from the back of the train.

In Portuguese, he asked what they were wanting to do, and the man replied that the young lady had missed the passenger train to Lourenço Marques and she had agreed to accompany his son to Manhica where he was expecting to be met by his grandfather.

The brakeman understood the situation, but he did not want the fair-skinned young lady and the small boy to ride in a freight car with several dark-skinned natives.

“It will be better for them to ride in the caboose with me,” said the brakeman in Portuguese.

Christine had understood the conversation, but wasn’t it still a caution to ride in the caboose with the brakeman? What was she to do? It seemed that she would have transportation to LM, but should she accept the conditions of the trip? Will the Lord also protect us? she wondered. Despite her reservations, she accompanied Antonio and his father, and they followed the brakeman to the last car of the train.

There, the man embraced his son, indicated that he would talk to him soon, and allowed the brakeman to help him aboard the caboose. He then thanked Christine for taking the responsibility of watching over his son until he disembarked from the train in Manhica. He also pressed some currency into her hand.

Christine didn’t want to accept any money, but the man was insistent, so she did not refuse his kindness. However, she did accept the brakeman’s help as he assisted her and then accepted her luggage and the boy’s luggage onto the rear platform of the caboose.

A few minutes later, the brakeman used his lantern to signal to the engineer that they could depart. He then boarded the caboose, and moments later, a jerking movement was felt and the train commenced, moving slowly along the tracks. For a time, Antonio and Christine stood together at the back of the caboose and waved to the boy’s father, but soon, both he and Xinivani had disappeared from their sight.

For a while, they remained on the rear platform of the caboose. Christine had not asked about the boy’s mother, for she suspected that mention of her might upset him. It seemed likely that he was sad to be leaving his parents—even if it might only be for a short time. The setting sun was nearing the western horizon, and long shadows were stretching across the landscape. The silver tracks which stretched behind them into the distance perhaps now seemed to be the only thing which still linked Antonio with his home.

Though the boy seemed reluctant to leave their place on the rear platform, it had been growing darker, and there was no longer much that could be seen. At last, Christine suggested going inside, and somewhat hesitantly, Antonio accompanied her into the caboose. There, two lit lanterns helped to illuminate the interior. The closest one was near the brakeman who was sitting near the door, and the other lantern was toward the other end of the caboose. The brakemen nodded a greeting as they entered, and he indicated where he had placed their luggage. He also pointed toward a bench where they could sit.

As soon as they had seated themselves, Christine realized the bench was not one that offered any comfort. As she glanced around the interior, she was not surprised that the area was so unkempt. There were clearly no amenities in this place, and she was primarily aware of a subtle swaying motion and a rhythmic and rather monotonous sound that was made as the caboose passed over the endlessly connected rails.

Christine initiated more conversation, and Antonio indicated that he liked school, but he disclosed that he might have to attend a different school if he needed to remain with his grandparents for any length of time. Christine also talked about some of her own experiences in school, and the boy seemed especially fascinated by the idea of a boarding school and by the long journey which she had to make when she was going from home to school or vice versa.

For a while, they talked about various things that Antonio liked to do, but his yawning had suggested that he was growing sleepy. When she asked if he would like to rest a bit, he positioned himself so that he could place his head on her lap, and within a short time she sensed that her young companion was fast asleep.

It was the first time anyone had placed their head in her lap, and she realized that she enjoyed running her fingers gently through the boy’s dark hair. If she enjoyed this kind of contact with a child, she wondered how much more enjoyable it would be with someone like Jim Pearson. Before long, she was entertaining other ideas about Jim. Was it wrong to engage in such fantasies? Who knew? Thoughts of intimacy with Jim seemed to come out of nowhere, but in truth, she did not try to suppress such daydreams.

After some time had passed, the brakeman announced to her that the next stop would be Manhica. When Christine felt that the train would soon be at the depot, she awakened Antonio. After the train had come to a complete stop, she and the brakeman helped to get the boy and his luggage off the caboose. She also got off the train and stayed close to the boy. For a few long moments, she wondered what would happen if no one came to meet him.

Would he just be left to fend for himself in a dark and lonely depot, or was she expected to remain with him even if the train continued on its way? She checked her pocket and saw that Antonio’s father had given her a generous amount of currency. It was probably enough to pay for one night at a hotel. Was she expected to do that? Had she made a mistake in taking responsibility for the young lad?

Suddenly, from the distance she could hear someone calling out, “Tonio. Tonio.” Antonio recognized the voice, and he acknowledged that it was his grandfather. “Here I am,” he cried out in Portuguese.

Christine, the boy, and the brakeman headed toward the depot where the grandfather stood in a well-lit area. Had it not been for the brakeman’s lantern, the walk to the depot might have been hazardous. When the grandfather saw them coming, he advanced toward them.

He soon embraced his grandson and expressed great gratitude to the ones who had brought him safely to his destination. Christine exchanged handshakes with the grandfather, and after she had hugged her young friend farewell, she and the brakeman walked back to the end of the train where she again accepted the brakeman’s assistance as she boarded the caboose.

Several minutes after she had returned to her seat, the brakeman boarded the caboose, and the train commenced to move. They soon passed the depot, but the boy and his grandfather were not to be seen. In a short time, the lights in Manhica receded into the distance, and the train resumed a measure of speed as it was taking them through the darkness toward a still-distant destination. As Christine stared through a window into the darkness, there was scarcely a light to be seen. She did not like traveling alone like this.

She felt like she could be the victim of something terrible on this long journey. The wrong kind of man could take advantage of her right here in this dark and lonely caboose. She was depending on the Lord to keep her safe, and she also just had to trust that the nearby brakeman was a decent and honorable man.

This was the part of the trip that Christine had dreaded. She was alone in the caboose with a man she scarcely knew. He had been helpful and courteous, so far, but could he really be trusted? If he were to make unwanted advances, what could she do? There was no one else on the caboose, and she couldn’t simply step off a moving train if things grew threatening. She didn’t want to be the victim of any kind of abuse, and she raised another silent prayer asking that the Lord keep her safe from any harm. She looked out the window, but there was nothing to see other than a dim reflection of the caboose’s drab interior. She knew that it would not be smart to fall asleep, but the gentle swaying of the caboose was making her sleepy.

Suddenly, she was aware that she was not alone. On the other side of the caboose she saw a man—and it was Jim! When had he gotten on the train? She hadn’t even known that he lived in Mozambique! When he glanced her way, he seemed equally surprised to see her. He gave her a big smile, and with no hesitation, he came over and sat down beside her. Christine acknowledged how glad she was to see him, and she did not fail to mention that she had thought of him many times during their summer vacation. They acknowledged that it was certainly a long trip, and later, when Jim acknowledged that he was getting sleepy, Christine indicated that he could rest his head on her lap.

He proceeded to make himself comfortable, and soon, she found herself running her fingers through his hair. This seemed strangely pleasant, and although Jim had said that he was tired, he had not closed his eyes. Instead, he was looking up at her as if he couldn’t believe how lovely she was. Could she be dreaming? She looked down at the one who was looking up at her, and there was no mistake. It was Jim! Although the area was only dimly lit, she looked at his face admiringly. She loved his hair, his eyelashes, and his incredible eyes. She allowed her hand to caress his face, and this simple gesture seemed to be something that was mutually satisfying. With his hand, he reached up and caressed Christine’s cheek. He could see that she was filled with desire, and he was aware that he, too, was aroused. He had loved her from a distance, and now, they were finally alone with each other! He sensed that Christine wanted to be kissed, and as he raised himself up, he gently drew her head downward toward his. A kiss was ever so close.

Christine knew that she wanted her lips to touch his, but might that kiss lead to a desire for further intimacy? If they repositioned themselves, something wonderful might happen. Was she ready for that? What would Mother think? Christine had been thinking about Jim for weeks, and suddenly, he was with her on the train to LM! She knew that she loved him, and it seemed that he loved her, as well. This was like a dream that was too good to be true. This would be their first kiss, and she instinctively knew that it would be wonderful. Then, she felt him tapping her on the shoulder. What was that all about? The tapping seemed out of place—and unwelcome. When it continued, Christine was startled to see that the brakeman was standing at her side.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said in Portuguese, “but we are almost to the station in Lourenço Marques.”

Christine thanked him for waking her, but she was disappointed to realize that Jim was not there. Had he gone to another bench to sleep, or had her pleasant time with Jim just been a dream? Sadly, it didn’t take long to answer that question. They were slowly pulling into the rail yard near the depot in LM, and with the exception of the brakeman, Christine had quickly realized that she was still quite alone.

When the train had finally jerked to a halt, the brakeman took her luggage off the caboose, and then with his lantern in hand, he assisted Christine as she stepped off the train. Knowing that she would be unfamiliar with the rail yard, he took her suitcase in one hand and led her through the dark rail yard until he had brought her safely to the well-lit depot. Having seen her to the depot, he wished her good luck, and after thanking him for his help, the brakeman headed back toward the train and was soon out of sight.

Christine glanced into a lit waiting room, but the doors were locked, and it seemed that no one was inside. She looked around the vacated area and wondered what she should do. It seemed that she was all alone. But was she? She didn’t see the men who had been in the boxcar when they had left from Xinivani. Had they gotten off the train in Manhica or some other town—or were they somewhere in the vicinity? She knew that she dared not spend the rest of the night at the station, so she picked up her suitcase and headed off toward a boulevard that led into the city.

As she walked toward the boulevard, she sensed that she heard footsteps behind her, yet whenever she glanced backward, she saw no one. Once again, she saw that she was in a dangerous situation. What was a young girl doing in a place like this in the middle of the night? She hated to think of the things that could happen if a man, or a group of men, should happen to meet her here in this dimly lit and lonely place. Her luggage seemed to have gotten heavier, but she had no time to dawdle. Despite her heavy luggage and her growing anxiety, she trudged on, hopeful that she could hail a taxi when she reached the lit thoroughfare.

She sensed that someone was following her, but she was afraid to know for sure. Was it the sound of footsteps that she heard? Or was she hearing the pounding of her own heart?

And was it pounding because of exertion—or was it because of fear? The shadows along the street seemed more ominous, and she wondered if those men from the boxcar were behind her or perhaps lurking nearby in the shadows? That was a chilling thought. The weight of her luggage had become burdensome, and she wanted to set it down. She felt that she dared not take a rest though, so she hastened ahead toward a series of lights that punctuated the darkness at regular intervals. Despite her aching arm, she continued on with a singleness of purpose.

At last, she reached the sidewalk that edged the lit boulevard. She hastened to a lamppost and set down her luggage to catch her breath. A few cars passed by in one direction, and some passed by going the other. She hoped to get the attention of a taxi driver—if one ever came by. She saw no other pedestrians on the sidewalk that edged the boulevard, but she still felt uneasy about the dark street that she had taken from the depot. Some men might be just a few paces behind her, so she again took up her luggage and headed for the next lamppost along the boulevard. In the distance, she could see the city lights. The hills that rise up from the harbor area were covered with millions of lights, but she was not in a position to admire the view.

She knew where some hotels were located, but it was still a long walk to the nearest one.

Could she walk all the way to a hotel, or would a taxi come along? Didn’t God see that she needed a taxi? She had passed four lights and had come to a fifth one when she was compelled to take another rest. As she looked back along the route she had been taking, she saw two men in the distance, and they were heading her way!

Then, as if in answer to prayer, she saw a taxi and raised her hand to get the driver’s attention. She felt great relief that he had seen her and was going to be stopping just a few feet away.

In Portuguese, the driver asked through his window where she would like to go, and she named the Club Hotel, for it was a reasonably priced place where her mother and she had stayed on various occasions.

He explained that the Club Hotel had been closed because of a recent fire. Christine knew that she could not afford the lovely Hotel Vasco Da Gama or the Imperial Hotel, so she asked about the Sintra Hotel. The driver nodded that he could take her there, so he got out of the taxi, and as he placed her luggage in the trunk, she got into the back seat of the taxi.

Just before they drove off, she noticed that the two men had almost reached the place where she had just been standing. What might have happened if the taxi hadn’t come along? Might they have walked on by minding their own business—or might they have offered to carry her luggage? Or maybe they would have tried to abduct her and do something dreadful to her.

She would never know, of course. It seemed clear to her that a taxi had come along just when she needed it, as if the Lord was continuing to watch over her and provide for her needs.

Before long, they arrived at the Sintra Hotel. Christine entered the lobby and inquired at the reception desk if they had an available room, preferably a single. After she learned that a single was available, she returned to the taxi and let him know that she would be taking a room in the hotel. He got her luggage and carried it to the entrance of the hotel where Christine paid her fare and thanked him for his help. As he returned to his taxi, a bellboy appeared at the door to carry her luggage into the lobby, and after she had been given a key for her room, the bellboy took up her luggage and led her to the elevator and then to the room where she was going to be spending the night.

After tipping him, she closed the door and immediately used the facilities that she had been wanting to use for hours! Within a few moments, she had changed into her nightgown, gotten into bed, and turned out the lamp beside her bed. She sighed as she thought about how amazing her day had been. There had been some difficulties in her day, but it seemed clear that the Lord had been with her throughout her trip. She had missed her connections, yet she had been able to help look after Antonio and she had made it safely to the hotel—despite her worries. She had given a few coins to a beggar and helped look after a young boy, but the boy’s father had treated her to a meal and given her enough money to pay for a night in the Sintra Hotel. She had given a little, but she had received much. As she drifted off to sleep, she recalled that Mother had said, “You can’t outgive the Lord,” and on this day, that had seemed to be true.

After Christine arose in the morning, she had breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, and then, she returned to pack everything so that she would be ready for the afternoon train to Swaziland. With a few hours to spare, she decided to go for a walk and visit some of her favorite places in LM. Because of the nearness to the waterfront, she decided that she would first walk down to the harbor area. There, she saw several freighters and two large passenger ships, the well-known Rhodesia Castle and the sleek South African Sun.

It was always interesting to note the home port of the various ships. On this occasion, she saw that some were from African cities like Cape Town, Durban, and Mombasa, but on other occasions, they had been from distant places like Bombay, Liverpool, New Orleans, and Singapore. Seeing ships from faraway places rekindled old feelings of wanderlust, and once again, she found herself hoping that, someday, she would be able to travel to exotic destinations.

The sky was cloudless, and the temperature was mild because of a pleasant breeze from the ocean. She liked the smell of the sea, and she had always enjoyed watching the seagulls in the harbor area. She had never tired of coming to the harbor area or to the beach. She was enchanted by such things, and she hoped that she would eventually be able to live near the sea.

As fascinating as the waterfront was, she knew that she needed to continue on her way. She did not have time, on this occasion, to go to the beach or visit the zoo, but she planned to do a little window-shopping and perhaps stroll through a park and a bazaar that she never tired of visiting.

LM is a cosmopolitan city that Christine found interesting because it offers so much variety and the population is so diverse. Mozambique had been a Portuguese colony, so there are people whose ancestors had come from Portugal or other parts of Europe. There are also many immigrants or those whose ancestors had come from India and from various other Asian countries. The majority of city’s population, however, are indigenous black folks or those who are racially mixed. One could see a variety of clothing styles because people tended to dress according to their ethnic background. There were many ethnic restaurants, as well, and the shops and bazaars offered a wide assortment of produce and merchandise. In addition to the human dimension, she also found the physical aspects of the city to be appealing. The harbor was interesting, the nearby beaches were beautiful, and the hills, the steep streets, and the lovely palm-lined boulevards—all combined to make LM a place that Christine truly loved.

As Christine walked toward the park, she could see that the volume of traffic had increased, and she had noticed that the sidewalks had become more congested. Many restaurants and shops were now open for business, and the sidewalk markets had also begun to bustle with activity. Christine had always enjoyed browsing in the markets and bazaars because they were filled with a variety of things that were often exotic, colorful, or aromatic. She also liked to browse in the shops that sold expensive things like jewelry, beautiful clothing, fine furnishings, and lovely Oriental carpets. She had no plans to buy anything on this outing, but she planned to walk through her favorite bazaar on her way back to the hotel.

She continued on until she came to a lovely park that could have been called a botanical garden because it had so many kinds of trees and shrubs. It also had several manicured flower gardens that were filled with some of the most beautiful and exotic flowers that she had ever seen. Dark-skinned gardeners were already at work weeding, pruning, clipping, and mowing in order to make the grounds look impeccable.

She followed one of the shaded walks until she came to the lagoon where ducks and swans could be seen. She then continued along a curved walkway until she came to the ornate fountain that was the park’s chief attraction. An extravagant amount of water soared up into the air and then fell back into a pool that allowed the overflow to spill into other lower pools. Around the pools and fountains, one could see a number of graceful statues and ornamental sculptures. The sound of the splashing water was pleasant, and a few small children in the company of some adults appeared to be testing the temperature of the water.

Some of the park benches were occupied with couples or with elderly people. Others had a solitary occupant who may have sought a serene place to relax or read the daily paper. Many other benches were unoccupied, and Christine would have loved to have lingered in the park, but there was no time for that on this occasion. As she made her way toward the Avenida Lisboa, she could hear many birds chattering excitedly in the branches overhead. Were they commenting on the lovely day, she wondered, or were they simply pleased to see her?

As she neared the street, she came to a monument. People often sat on the steps at its base to rest or have a cigarette. As she approached it, she could see that there was a dozen or so people seated on the steps. She would not have paid any attention to this except that she noticed one man seemed to be following her with his eyes. As she came closer, his eyes remained fixed on her, and she noticed that he did not look away. She did not want to make direct eye contact with him, but she had observed that he was dressed in white and she judged that he was an Indian, for he wore a turban and had a well-groomed beard. She sensed that he was staring at her, and his gaze made her uncomfortable. At her first opportunity, Christine crossed the Avenida Lisboa and sought to escape from the man’s sight by quickly losing herself among the many pedestrians. She walked along the crowded sidewalk for a block or so and then paused to look in various store windows.

Christine had loved beautiful things, and fine jewelry was something that had always appealed to her. She saw things that were fashioned out of gold and silver, and some elegant pieces were adorned with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other gemstones. She especially liked a lovely necklace that was comprised of several strands of lustrous pearls. Her mother had never shown any interest in such things, but Christine thought that fine jewelry was exquisite. She couldn’t imagine ever owning any elegant jewelry, but she didn’t think that it did any harm to dream about it.

She continued along the sidewalk and paused to admire a variety of Oriental rugs that were on display near a window. She loved the intricate designs and the colors that could be seen in such rugs. It was clear that she appreciated expensive things! How did one afford such things? One undoubtedly needed a good job or perhaps the good fortune to marry someone with money! Perhaps, one day, she would be able to afford luxurious things, but that day was not in the foreseeable future.

She then moved on until she came to a store where fine furnishings were on display. She had no need for any furniture, of course, but it was fun to see what things she liked—or didn’t like. She didn’t know the price of anything, but she suspected that the things she liked would probably be expensive.

She was looking at an upholstered sofa when the reflection of something white across the street caught her attention. Without turning around, she realized that it was the turbaned Indian whom she’d seen by the monument at the edge of the park. He had stopped and was looking her way. He appeared to be studying her through a haze of smoke that came from his cigarette.

As she moved along the sidewalk, she watched the reflections in the windows, and she could see that his pace seemed to match hers. She walked along for about half a block and she saw that he had done the same thing. The reflection in a nearby window confirmed that he was still right across the street. She saw him take a final drag on his cigarette before he cast it to the sidewalk and extinguished it with his foot. She couldn’t imagine why this stranger was stalking her, but the thought of it sent a chill up her spine.

Why was he following her? Was he attracted to her? Did he want to know where she lived? Was he making some sinister plans? In the past, she had walked the streets of Lourenço Marques and felt perfectly safe. Now, she was older, and she was more mindful that there are dangers that had not previously concerned her. She was a young girl, alone, and surprisingly vulnerable. She had heard stories at school about the terrible things that could happen to young women. Some were forced to do things with men that they didn’t want to do, and some had been abducted into something that was called the white slave trade. Sometimes, they had escaped and reportedly told about the terrible things which they had endured, but perhaps there were many kidnapped victims who were never seen again. Such thoughts were terrifying to contemplate.

On the previous evening as she had walked from the depot to the lit boulevard, she had seen some men not far behind her. They may have been completely harmless, but who could say for sure? Nothing had happened, but bad things do happen to good people, and not all people are as good as they seem. Certainly, not everyone can be trusted. Mother had cautioned her that one always needed to be careful.

Certain situations seemed more ominous when it was dark, and she was glad that it was a sunny day. It was unlikely that anything bad would happen in downtown LM in broad daylight. But even now, she knew that she needed to be careful. She did not want him to know where she was going, so she decided that she would go through the crowded bazaar and hasten back to the hotel where she was staying.

When the traffic was such that he could not cross the street, she turned and walked quickly along a side street that would bring her to the bazaar. In that usually crowded area, she hoped that she could lose the one who seemed to be following her. The bazaar was familiar to her, of course, as that was where she had done her recent Christmas shopping.

Although she had hoped to do some browsing there, the situation at hand now caused her to believe that she ought to hurry straight back to the hotel.

At a moment when she glanced back to see if the turbaned man was following her, she had accidentally collided with a vendor’s pushcart, causing several bolts of fabric to fall from the cart and unroll across the ground. The vendor was understandably upset that she hadn’t been watching where she was going. Under different circumstances, Christine would have stopped to apologize, and she would probably have helped to clean up the mess, but she could only blurt out, “Sorry!” as she hurried through the bazaar toward her hotel.

After reaching the hotel, she went to her room, got her luggage, and then stopped at the reception desk to pay her bill and order a taxi. As she was waiting for the taxi, she saw the turbaned man standing right across the street! Just why had he been stalking her? It was likely that she would never know the answer to that question. She saw that the man had dropped his cigarette and seemingly extinguished it with disgust as the taxi was pulling away from the hotel. Clearly, this day in LM was not one that she would ever forget.