Ambassador’s Daughter

I was only five, but I remember everything about that night. Natalie and I were jumping on the bed, giggling and hitting each other with pillows. All of a sudden, she put her finger to her lips and told me to hush. (Just because she was six minutes older, she thought she could boss me around.) When I stopped squealing, I heard quiet popping noises. They got louder and louder. Within minutes, someone was pounding on our front door. I had no idea what was going on.

Oh, we’d overheard stories. People said living in Africa was dangerous, that even though our dad was an ambassador and we lived on a compound, my parents should think about Natalie and me. Mom would always give me a hug and tell me not to worry. Daddy would tousle my hair, say Jesus was taking care of us, and send me off to play. I figured there was nothing to worry about.

With all the banging, I had a feeling that night would be different. My sister tiptoed over to our bedroom door and put her ear against it. Despite my objections, Natalie opened the door just far enough to squeeze through. Then she crept to the top of the steps. She whispered, “Daddy’s telling Mommy not to cry. He’s telling her everything will be OK.” Those are the last words I heard my sister say because she flew down the stairs. I, on the other hand, dove under the bed.

No matter how hard I pressed my hands to my ears, I couldn’t block out the yelling and the crying. I heard Daddy say he wouldn’t go to the U.N. if the soldiers left my mom and Natalie alone. I could hear Mom begging them to stop. I remember biting my lip so I wouldn’t call out. The voices got quieter. Suddenly, there were three loud bangs. For a moment, everything was perfectly still.
One of the soldiers started yelling at the others, telling them to find the computer files. There was a lot of banging and crashing.

“It’s not here!”

That’s when I heard one of the most terrifying sounds ever. Someone was stomping up the stairs. I curled up in a ball—and waited.

I heard the hinges creak as he pushed the door open. Then, before the soldier came into my room, one of the others called out, “I found it! Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot more to do before we head back to camp.”

When I finally went downstairs, it was awful. Daddy’s books and CDs were scattered all over the living room. Every drawer was open. Every cupboard. It was scary walking around the blood at the bottom of the stairs. I ran from room to room, but couldn’t find anyone…until I went into the kitchen.

 

* * * * * * *

 

I was only five, and for a long time I couldn’t remember what happened that night. But it all came back to me. Lisa and I were playing in our room, laughing and jumping on the bed. She loved that. It made her feel brave. Brave is not a word I would use to describe my sister. Sometimes I needed her to be brave, but she never was.

Silly girl, even when I told her what to do, she wouldn’t do it—except that night. I told her to stop hitting me with the pillow and be quiet. I don’t know why she chose right then to listen to me, but she did. We heard popping noises that got louder and louder. Soon, soldiers were banging on the door.

I told Lisa what Father said to Mother. “Don’t worry…” Boy! Was he wrong!

I always had to know what was going on. I couldn’t stand to be left out. And if I suspected someone was keeping a secret from me…Let’s just say I wouldn’t give up until I found out what it was.

That night was no different. Curiosity got the best of me. I snuck out into the hall. Then, without thinking, I ran down the stairs. There, stood the biggest, most frightening man! He wore camouflage gear and had black stripes on his face. He was holding the biggest gun I’d ever seen.

The soldiers kept yelling at my father. They wanted him to give them something. When Father said he didn’t know what they were talking about, the leader had a fit. He grabbed Mother by the hair. He threatened to do all sorts of horrible things to her—and to me, if my father didn’t cooperate.

Father begged them to leave us alone, finally promising not to go to the U.N. They didn’t listen.
 

 

*******

 

I rarely left the compound, but I didn’t know what else to do. Soon, I was outside the gates. I walked until it got dark. I was so tired, I didn’t even feel scared. Normally, I was terrified of the dark. Natalie loved to sneak out of the house after we’d been tucked in. Occasionally, she would talk me into exploring with her. I was glad our door squeaked. It was the perfect excuse for staying in our room.

Eventually, I couldn’t walk any farther. I saw a pile of garbage beside the road and hid behind it. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just wanted to rest for a few minutes, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Just before dawn, I woke up to the rumble of Jeeps passing by. I peeked out from behind my “fort” and saw truck after truck filled with soldiers. I clamped my hands over my mouth to keep from crying out.

I waited for a long time after the last truck disappeared. When I risked standing up, I saw a long line of people coming down the road. Most of them were women and children. I fell into step at the back of the line, hoping no one would notice. If my clothes hadn’t been so dirty and rumpled, they would have set me apart. At least I had the right coloured skin.

We walked all day. No one said a word. Even though there was nothing to eat or drink, I kept going. I didn’t want to be left alone. Besides, the soldiers might come back. I never wanted to see another soldier again.

The sun was going down when I saw a camp of some kind up ahead. It didn’t take long to get close enough to see what it was. More children. More women. There were even some old men. It was my new home.
 

*******

 

Someone grabbed me from behind. He clamped his huge hand over my mouth. I kicked and flung my arms wildly. I even tried to bite him, but it didn’t work. My father begged them to leave Mother alone, to let me go. One of the soldiers was holding a gun to my father’s head, but I still wanted him to do more than talk. Why didn’t he give them what they wanted? Why didn’t he fight back?

“Quit your squirming, you little brat!” the soldier who was holding me hissed in my ear. I didn’t stop. He must have gotten tired of it because he threw me over his shoulder, spun around and stomped out of the house. He tossed me in the back of the Jeep that was parked by our front door. I hit my head, and everything went dark.

It must have been hours before I woke up. The sun was rising. When I did come to, there was a dirty bandana stuffed in my mouth. My hands were tied behind my back. I would have tried to jump out of the truck, but I ached all over. Plus, there must have been a dozen soldiers crammed in there with me. I struggled to sit up. A few of them glanced at me, but they continued talking. The cigarette smoke was so thick, it made me gag.

I got up on my knees and looked over the tailgate. I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was my sister. I remember asking myself, “Where am I? What is Lisa doing behind a pile of garbage?” She didn’t see me. She was curled up in a ball, not even looking in my direction. It would have made me feel better if she’d at least seen me. I couldn’t help it; the tears started to run down my cheeks.

“Stop crying, kid. It won’t do you any good.”

I wanted to go over and kick him, but of course I didn’t. Someone would have stopped me. The truck was bouncing too badly, anyway. Just then, my stomach growled. You would have thought there was nothing funnier in the world. Every man in that truck burst out laughing. I flung myself at the nearest soldier, but he pushed me down and grabbed a piece of the same rough rope that was cutting into my wrists. He tied my ankles together.

After several hours, the trucks came to a stop. The soldier closest to the back of the Jeep dragged me out and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of dirty laundry. I looked around at the camp that would become my home.
 

*******

 

Before that moment, I didn’t really understand what it was like to be poor. It sounds crazy. After all, I lived in Africa. People around the world knew how things were, but not me. Now I realize how much our parents protected us. We lived behind the compound walls. It was like living in a fortress. Nothing bad could ever happen. At least that’s what I’d thought.

In the camp, I was surrounded by naked, dirty boys and girls. Many of the older children wore clothes that were tattered and stained. Shirts hung from bony shoulders but couldn’t cover their round, bloated bellies. I looked down at my silk pajamas and felt strange. I thought of all the pretty dresses and play clothes in my closet at home. I doubt if any of those children ever dreamed of having such nice things.

A filthy girl…She didn’t look any older than I was, but I learned later that she was 12. Anyway, she grabbed at my shirt. It frightened me. Where was Natalie? She would have protected me. I looked around. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. All of a sudden, Josh appeared. He was almost six feet tall. He looked like a grown up to me, but he was only 14.

Like I said, Josh was just there. He gave the girl a look and spoke her name. She pulled her hand back as if my pajamas were on fire. She hung her head and slunk away. I looked up at him. I didn’t know who I was more afraid of. At least the girl was my size. Then Josh looked down at me and smiled. That smile made me a little less frightened.

The days went by. I saw more than any little girl should see. I saw more than anyone should see. I thought about the time I’d stubbed my toe…Stubbed my toe? Crazy, huh? You would have thought the world was coming to an end. I hollered and carried on. Mom came running. She gathered me in her arms and rocked me until I felt better. In the camp, I watched moms with their babies. They would sit there, holding their children, and stare off into space. No tears. No emotion on their faces.

I remembered when my grandma and grandpa came to visit from the States. They brought all kinds of presents: books, toys, clothes. There were some old men and women at the camp. Some of them probably had grandchildren, but they had no gifts to give. They couldn’t even play with the children. Not that anyone felt like playing. With no moms or dads, no grandmas or grandpas who could take care of them, no wonder the children did awful things just to get some food or an old, torn blanket.
I’ll never forget the smell of the camp. Once, our cook forgot to put away all the groceries. She got busy doing something else, and a package of meat sat on the counter all day. When Natalie saw it, she said, “Let’s make supper.”

I didn’t want to. Our parents always told us how dangerous it was in the kitchen. The sharp knives. The hot stove. But Natalie didn’t care. Once she got it in her head that she wanted to do something, she almost always did it—or at least tried.

When she opened the meat, we both coughed and gagged. I had never smelled anything so awful. That smell, however, was nothing compared to the smell in the camp. Many people were sick, and some of them smelled even worse than the rotten meat. Life in the camp was like being trapped in a nightmare that didn’t end.

But Josh was always there. When I didn’t think my stomach had ever hurt so badly, he’d bring me food. I never knew where he’d gotten it. Maybe from the Red Cross truck that came by sometimes. Maybe from someone who tried to hide it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I’d seen boys—and girls—beaten up for a scrap of bread. When I was thirsty, Josh found water. Sure it was warm and dirty most of the time, but it was all there was. He even scrounged some paper and the stub of a pencil from somewhere. I loved to draw.

It didn’t take long to forget my soft bed and all my pretty things. It scared me, but I even began to stop thinking about my sister. Josh became my protector. I never saw him hurt anyone. He took care of lots of us, but it seemed all the mean kids stayed away from him. Maybe it was because he was so big. Maybe it was something else.

A few weeks after I went to live in the camp, I got the courage to ask him why he was so kind to me.

“My parents were missionaries. They taught me it was important to care about others. My mom taught children to read and write. My dad helped people in remote areas dig wells and build huts for their families. Plus, I know how you feel. I had folks who loved me—and a little brother—before the soldiers came.”

He didn’t need to say anymore. I knew how he felt about the soldiers. Now, Josh was my family and the camp, my home.
 

*******

 

Home? Yeah, right!

The man carrying me tossed me into the nearest tent. I didn’t want to, but I cried out when I hit the hard dirt. I hurt all over, but I didn’t want to admit it. I also didn’t want to admit that I was scared. I always saw myself as the brave one. My captor snickered, turned and left me alone.

I lay there for a few minutes, fighting off tears. Then I sat up and brushed off my pajamas. I tried to at least. The more I brushed, the dirtier they got. My hands were covered in dirt and oil. What did it matter?

My stomach growled, and I realized I had to find something to eat. I crept to the front of the tent and carefully pushed back the flap.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A man with a gun at his hip and a knife strapped to his leg was right outside the tent.
I stood up tall, took a deep breath and did my best not to let my voice waver. “I…I’m hungry. I would like something to eat.” Before I could stop myself I added, “Please.” (Mother always insisted we use our manners.)

The soldier smiled and shook his head. He gestured to another who was standing nearby. “Her majesty would like her dinner now.”

The other man laughed, but headed off to find me something to eat.

The days dragged on. Fear was soon replaced by boredom. Once sometimes twice a day, I got something to eat. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t all that bad either. Plus, there was always clean water to drink.

Each day there was a different guard outside my tent. Most of them ignored me, but there was one who was nice to me. If no one was around, Chibote would come into the tent and talk. He even played games with me, games he said he used to play with his daughter.

One day I asked him where she was.

He looked away for a moment then turned back. I would have been frightened by the look in his eyes, but there were tears there as well as anger.

“They took her away from me. They came into my house one night when I was away. My wife and my baby daughter…” Then he stood up, wiped his eyes with the back of his hands, and left me alone to wonder what had happened to his family.
 

*******

 

I remember asking, “But can’t we find homes for all the boys and girls?”

“I’m so sorry, Lisa, but we can’t do that.”

It was six months after I’d gone to live in the camp. One morning, Josh woke me up and pointed in the direction of the strangers. Then he just walked away.

The woman’s clothes reminded me of my mom’s. The man’s suit made me think of my dad when he went off to meetings at the U.N. I looked down at my clothes and tried to remember what they’d once looked like.

The woman spotted me. When she started walking toward me, I almost ran away, but instead, I stood perfectly still.
“Lisa, honey, is that you?”

I nodded my head. “I’m Lisa.”

 

“Over here,” she called to the man in the suit. “I’ve found her.”

When she got close, I looked down at my feet and asked, “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“Sweetheart, your daddy’s friends sent us to look for you. We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Hello, Lisa,” the man said. “We’ve come to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home anymore,” I whispered.

The woman took a deep breath. When she spoke, it sounded like she was going to cry. “We know. But there’s a very nice couple who wants you to come and stay with them.”

That’s when I asked the question about the other children. As I walked to the big black car, I looked over my shoulder.
“What about Josh? He’s my best friend. Can he come with us?”

The man opened the car door for me. “We can’t take anyone but you, Lisa.”

The lady walked to the other side of the car and got in. I looked around one last time. I wanted a family. To sleep in a bed. To have enough to eat and drink. To change my clothes. But I wanted to take my friends with me, especially Josh. Then I caught a glimpse of the bottle of water and the cupcake the lady was offering me. I shrugged my shoulders and cocked my head.
“It’s your sixth birthday, Lisa.”

Slowly, I climbed into the car. I ate the cupcake and drank every drop of water. Then I fell asleep. The car was so comfortable, and for the first time in months, I felt safe. When I woke up, I was leaning against my rescuer’s arm. I was embarrassed and quickly sat up, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just pointed out the window at a big house and said, “We’re here.”

I had never seen such a beautiful home. It was even bigger than ours. A very pretty white woman came running down the front steps. Even from inside the car, I could see the tears running down her cheeks.

She pulled open the door. I scooted away from her and bumped into the woman sitting beside me. “Oh, precious, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She took a few steps back from the car. “I’m Mrs. James. Do you remember me? My husband and I came to your house for supper a couple of times.”

I looked at her for a few minutes, and then nodded my head. She held out her hand, and I inched out of the car. When we got inside, I could hardly believe my eyes. Everything was perfect. There were pictures on the walls. Pictures of smiling, happy children. “They’re our children, Lisa. But they’re all grown up now. They live in the United States.”

She pointed to other pictures. “And these are our grandchildren. We miss them very much.”

“I miss my mommy and my daddy. I miss my sister, too.”

It looked like she was going to cry again, but instead, she swallowed hard and said, “Let’s get you cleaned up. My husband will be home soon, and we can have a special supper. It will be your birthday celebration. OK?”

I smiled shyly and nodded my head. That day I had a bath. I put on clean clothes. And I ate supper at a table with real silverware. I could only eat a little before my stomach began to ache.

The woman who had found me gave me a quick hug. She and the man left, and I was alone in that big house with my new family. How could it be real? It must be a dream.

And speaking of dreams…That night I woke up screaming. Soldiers. My mom. My dad. Natalie. Hiding. The camp. Josh reaching out to me.

Mrs. James came running. She gathered me in her arms and rocked me. She rubbed my back and sang a song—a song my mom used to sing when I got scared.

Maybe I would be OK, after all.
 

*******

 

Chibote watched out for me. When I was hungry, he brought extra food. When I was thirsty, he made sure I had water. When I didn’t think I could be any more bored, he brought me a stack of paper and a handful of pencils. Lisa was the one who liked to draw, but at least it was something to do. I kept track of the days, making a mark on one of the sheets every morning when I woke up.

Two days after I mentioned I felt silly wearing pajamas all the time, there were two shirts and a couple of pairs of pants at the end of my cot. I often wondered where clothes my size had come from, but I never asked.

There was no guard outside my door eight days after I was brought to the camp. Chibote came to tell me I could wander around if I wanted. He pointed at a large tent and said I must never go anywhere near it. He also warned me not to leave the camp. Then he was called away, and I just stood there.

Normally, I would have been excited. I loved to explore, but something held me back. I knew I didn’t belong there. For the first five nights, I’d cried myself to sleep. After that, the tears just seemed to dry up. I dreamt of my family, but none of my dreams made any sense to me. I screamed once, but I was told never to do that again. When a large man with a gun flung over his shoulder, wearing military khakis tells you to shut up, you shut up.

I began to wander around the camp. I was timid at first, but when all the men ignored me, I became bolder. The weeks went by, and I learned about every corner of that camp, on my side of the tent at least. When I would get too close to the perimeter, someone would scowl at me and point in the opposite direction. As adventurous—or foolhardy—as I became, I never went near the tent in the center of camp. Chibote’s warning ensured that.

The months passed. Life in the camp became my reality. Chibote wasn’t the only one who paid attention to me. One morning, just after dawn, Banda burst into my tent.

“Happy birthday, Recruit.”

Recruit? I didn’t get it.

“Get dressed. It’s time for your training to begin.”

I had no idea what he had in mind, but I scrambled out of bed and put on my clothes. When I poked my head out of the tent, he shoved the handle of a pistol in my face.

“Take this.”

I shook my head.

“When your superior officer gives you an order, you do as you’re told. Get it?”

“Um, OK.” The gun was heavier than I expected. I just stared at it in my hand.

“Come with me.” He began to walk away, and I had no choice but to follow. “And from now on, when I tell you to do something, the only thing I want to hear is ‘Yes, Sir!’ Understand?”

I nodded.

Banda stopped and took me by the shoulders. “What are you supposed to say?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“I didn’t hear you.”

I stood up straight and looked him in the eye. I blinked back the tears. I wouldn’t let him get the best of me. “Yes, Sir!”
“That’s better.”

Before he turned away, I thought I saw the hint of a smile.

Every day, I learned something new. I began to become a soldier. At first, it scared me, but then it was like a game. I learned to shoot. I learned to read maps. I learned to carry a backpack that seemed almost as heavy as I was.
The soldiers became my family, and the camp became my home.
 

*******

 

It didn’t take long to get used to my new home. I felt safe again—most of the time. The nightmares continued to haunt me. But during the day, I kept myself busy. Mama James (I started calling her Mama about a year after I moved in) often asked me if I wanted to talk about my family and life at the camp. I always shook my head and said no. I didn’t want to think about my mom and dad—and Natalie. And I definitely didn’t want to remember what it had been like living in the camp.

A month or so after I arrived, my studies began. A private tutor came to the house five days each week. If I worked especially hard, Mrs. Susan let me draw. Nat was the brave one, but even she admitted I drew better than she did.

Mama James would have friends over for tea. They were always saying how beautiful I was. At first it made me uncomfortable, but then I began to smile timidly and say thank you. Some days, I found myself in front of the mirror trying to see what they were talking about. Was I really pretty?

I was six or seven when one of Mama James’ friends suggested I enter a beauty pageant. The next few months flew by. I studied hard, drew as much as I could, and prepared for that first pageant. I don’t remember much about it except the feeling that I was going to be sick when I looked out at the audience and realized they would all be watching me. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t want to disappoint my new family. I looked down at my beautiful dress, stood up straight and walked out on stage. It was actually kind of fun. I didn’t win, but I did come in third.

Over the years, I entered more and more pageants. I made lots of friends and learned to enjoy being the center of attention. Mama James was very proud of me. I remember the feeling the first time I came in first place. I felt like a real princess. I was given lots of gifts and dozens of people wanted to take my picture and ask me questions.

I was 17 when I first made it to the national pageant. I had to study living conditions beyond the walls of the compound, but it was only so I would have the “right” answers during the pageant. I never let myself think about it as real. After all, my reality was a warm home, a caring family, and more attention than anyone that age should get. There was a lot of pressure, but by then I was used to it. When I made the top 10, I thought I was dreaming. And winning the crown made me feel like I’d died and gone to heaven. Could life get any better?

When I first saw Rick, I was convinced it could.
 

*******

 

I don’t know how I got used to my new home, but I did. Anyone who has never been in that situation would be horrified at the thought.

I always saw myself as brave and adventurous, but now I realize what a coward I was. “You were just a child,” you might argue. That isn’t much of a reason to block out what these men, the ones I came to consider family, had done to my parents and my sister. I hate to admit it, but I began to call Chuma, their leader, Father. You might think I’d see Chibote that way, but I knew he was some other little girl’s father. Besides, one day he left with the others and didn’t come back. I tried to ask about it, but no one would say anything.

As I grew, I got better and better with a gun. I even learned how to handle grenades and wire a bomb. When I was about 13, Chuma asked Sunga, his right hand man, to teach me hand-to-hand fighting techniques. I was determined not to disappoint anyone. I was especially determined to show myself that I could survive, that I could become as good a soldier as any of the men in the camp. I became an excellent marksman and an above average fighter.

My determination intensified further when our hand-to-hand sessions took a turn for the worse. Growing up around soldiers didn’t prepare me for the way they began to look at me. There were times when I was learning to fight that I became very uncomfortable. And I don’t mean the aches and pains of being repeatedly tossed to the ground. One night, Sunga came to my tent. That was the first of many nights. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Those feelings—and the threats—kept me from saying anything. I don’t know what he said to the others, but at least no one else paid me late night visits. Thankful for that, at least, I decided I’d deal with Sunga in my own way—when I was ready.

As well as being taught combat skills, I was given a stack of books to study. (Chibote had taught me to read.) There came a time they trusted me enough to send me away to school. I kept to myself. My classmates learned very quickly not to aggravate me. One of the male students slipped his arm around my waist that first week. He ended up on the ground at my feet. After calling me a few choice names, he got up, brushed himself off, and slunk away.

With no friends and very little interest in anything except my studies, I did well. My professors called me “focused” and “dedicated”. I let them think that, even though I knew better. I earned my degree in engineering and graduated at the top of my class.
As often happens, the so-called rebels—otherwise known as my family—took power. They earned a certain amount of respect. Stories of how the former government had abused their families and driven them from their homes gained sympathy. While some of the stories may have been true, I knew what outsiders could not. You see, I had begun to remember what they had done to my real home and to my real family. It all began the first night Sunga came to my tent. The longer I was at school, the clearer the memories became.

You might wonder why I didn’t go to the authorities. You have to understand; they had become the authorities. There was no one to turn to. I had gotten used to taking care of myself, and I intended to make them all pay—in my own way.

No longer was Chuma hidden away in a mystical tent I would never dare enter. He was more than eager to show off his new office. He enjoyed the respect and attention he felt he’d earned. He was also proud to introduce me as his daughter, the engineering graduate.

One day he left me alone in his office. I sat behind his desk and began leafing through the papers in the top drawer. I couldn’t believe what I found. Even now, it makes my blood run cold. He had kept my mother’s necklace, the one he tore from her neck the night he destroyed my life. Inside, was a picture of me and my sister. It took every ounce of restraint not to scream. There was a disc lying under the necklace. As much as I wanted to take the cameo, I resisted. Curiosity again got the better of me, and I slipped the disc into my jacket pocket.

Just then, the door opened, and Chuma came in. Behind him was an American soldier.

“Natalie, this is Captain Walker.”

“Call me Rick.”
 

*******

Rick and I never put ourselves in compromising situations. We refused to get into the same car. We always met in public places—usually with a couple of our friends. I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my title. And Rick didn’t need some scandal linking him to a pageant queen. I was convinced we both wanted more from our relationship. It was a long and difficult year.

The week before I was to relinquish my title, Rick asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to enter any more pageants. I assured him I was ready to pursue other interests, and that night I told him there were more important things in life.

The day after I turned over the crown, Rick and I went on our first real date. He had made reservations at the most expensive restaurant in the city. There were a dozen roses on the table when we arrived. I had gotten used to being spoiled, but this was different. The meal was wonderful, but when dessert came, I was in for the biggest surprise of my life. I caught sight of something sparkling in the whipped cream. Right there in the restaurant, Rick got down on one knee and proposed.
I sat there with my mouth open, looking from the ring to Rick and back again.

“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

I could only nod.

The people at the nearby tables clapped and cheered. I don’t think I was ever that embarrassed—or that happy.

Mama James was thrilled. She liked and respected Rick. She told me he was a real gentleman and insisted on giving us a big wedding. I told her a small, private ceremony would be fine, but she wouldn’t hear of it. After our fairytale wedding, Rick took a five-day leave for our honeymoon.

For the first few months, I walked around with a big grin. I had no doubt I’d made the right decision. No pageant had ever made me that happy. I was able to ignore the reality going on all around me. Memories of my first five years cowered in the shadows—like I had cowered under my bed. I refused to listen to the radio or watch television. Rick would be gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time, but I kept myself busy.

Four months after we got married, I found out I was pregnant. I wasn’t sure I was ready for motherhood, but I was excited about having Rick’s baby. After a particularly difficult mission, he sat me down and laid it on the line.

“Lisa, my love, as much as I don’t want to, I have to send you away.”

I was too shocked to reply, but my look said everything I couldn’t.

He held both my hands in his. “It’s not that I want to, but, I…I just can’t have you raising our child here. Things are so uncertain. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you or the baby.”

“Where will I go?” My voice was just above a whisper, and I didn’t even try to hold back the tears.

Rick wiped them away and said, “My family back in the States has agreed to have you come and stay with them.”

I was shocked. “I thought you meant you wanted me to stay with Mama. The States? Are you serious?” I felt hurt and rejected. How could he send me away?

He pulled me to my feet and wrapped his arms around me. “I don’t want you to go, Lisa, but there’s no other way. I’ll be finished my tour of duty soon, and we can start a life in the U.S.—you, me and our baby.”

I nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I am, Baby. I am.”
 

*******

Captain Walker was very tall and very handsome. The men in my life had proven untrustworthy and unable to take care of me.

From a young age, I vowed to look after myself. But there was something about this American soldier, a kindness in his eyes. I had heard about silly women who did stupid things when it came to men. I never imagined I would become one of them.

Rick came to Chuma’s office often. Though I would never have admitted it, I hoped it was because he wanted to see me. It became clear that was one of the reasons. About a month after our first meeting, he asked me out to dinner. I consented, but was very confused when he said I should wear casual clothes and be ready by 2:00 in the afternoon. After an hour-long drive, we ended up in a remote area that Rick said American soldiers had used for weapons training.

“Your father tells me you can handle yourself pretty well.”

I cringed when he called Chuma “my father”, but I nodded in response to his question.

Rick handed me his pistol and pointed out a target that was barely visible. He seemed impressed when I hit it dead center. We spent several hours trying to outdo one another. By 5:00, Rick was ready to admit I might, just might, be the better shot.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” he said as we climbed into the Jeep.

When he announced we were still going out to dinner, I understood why he’d told me to bring a change of clothes. The evening went well. When he took me back to my place, I very much wanted to invite him inside, but I didn’t—not that night, at least.

We dated off and on for about a year. However, there were times when I wouldn’t see Rick for weeks at a time. I wouldn’t even hear from him. He was a soldier, after all. He had things to do, and so did I.

I’d made a copy of the disc I found in Chuma’s desk and returned the original the day after I met Rick. I wasn’t ready to go into hiding, which is exactly what I would have been forced to do if Chuma discovered the disc missing.

The disc documented atrocities the former government had been involved in. It even mentioned the murder of Chibote’s wife and children. (No wonder he had been involved in the plot to overthrow them.) It also contained evidence of links between organized crime in the U.S. and top ranking officials. I couldn’t figure out why my family had been murdered by Chuma’s men. The evidence was far more damning for the deposed authorities.

My questions didn’t last very long. By the time I’d finished going through everything, I learned both Sunga and Chuma were also under investigation. At that moment, I very much wanted to avenge the murder of my mother and father and sister—a desire I fought every day. However, I knew it was best to allow the U.N. to deal with it. I would give them the disc when the time was right, when I knew I would be safe.

For about six or seven months, I didn’t hear from Rick at all. Then, one night, he showed up on my doorstep with a bottle of my favorite wine. I just stood there for a moment—confused.

“Well, are you going to invite me in?” he asked.

“Sure, I just haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. I’ve just been very busy…” Rick cleared his throat, and he looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t continue.

Over the next few months, we saw a lot of each other. We even talked about moving in together, but that wouldn’t work. His commanding officer would never allow it—and neither would my so-called father. Plus, I wasn’t sure about it myself. Rick was moodier than he’d ever been. I’d ask him why, but he’d just shrug his shoulders and say nothing was wrong.

We were both very upset when he had to relocate, but we made plans to meet at the Hilton when Rick was in the city.
That certainly didn’t go as planned.
 

*******

Of course, I wished Rick was with me, but his family was great. They’d prepared a nursery for the baby. The walls were painted pale yellow. The wallpaper, bedding and curtains all had pictures of baby animals on them. My mother-in-law said she wanted her grandchild’s world to be bright and happy.

I thought I knew what it meant to be spoiled, but I was mistaken. I only had to make a passing reference to a food I found appealing, and it was available at the next meal. A fan for my room. An extra blanket. Paper and colored pencils for drawing. I didn’t mean to be demanding, but everything I asked for was provided.

I went to prenatal classes with Rick’s sister Sharon. Sharon was expecting her third child. She and I grew very close. Although we were from different worlds, we had much in common. After all, we were family.

I also made several friends in class, including Marcy. We would often meet for lunch. She talked to me about growing up on a farm then moving to the city when she was in her teens. She wanted to know everything about my childhood. She’d never been more than 100 miles from the town where she was born and couldn’t imagine life in another country.

When Marcy started pressing for details, the nightmares returned. I’d blocked them out for so long. I had almost convinced myself that the memories were nothing but a bad dream, but somewhere deep inside I knew the horrifying images that would invade my sleep were more than that. I never mentioned the dreams to anyone. I would act as though everything was wonderful.
The months passed quickly, and soon I was holding a beautiful baby girl in my arms. Then things really were wonderful. Rick and I talked the day she was born. He told me how much he missed me and how he couldn’t wait to meet our little princess. He said there were some things he had to wrap up before he could come back to the States. We spoke every week, and each time Rick insisted he’d be home soon.

I decided I couldn’t wait for him to come to me. When Leisha was only two months old, I booked a ticket back to Africa. Although I would miss her terribly, I didn’t want to take the baby with me. I knew her grandparents, aunts and uncles would take good care of her while I was gone. And Mama James had already planned a trip to meet her newest grandchild. I only planned to stay in Africa for a week or two.

I was exhausted when I arrived in the city and decided to spend the night at a hotel before locating Rick. Little did I know, he was staying in the same hotel—but he wasn’t alone.
 

*******

I swore never to depend on a man for anything—and then Rick came along. He was attentive and allowed me to be myself. (Who else would take me to a weapons range on our first date?) He treated me like a woman—and a warrior. He seemed intrigued by my engineering job—something I knew bored most people, except other engineers. Not to mention the fact that Rick was extremely attractive. These were all contributing factors that made me agree to meet him at the hotel…even though I wasn’t sure where our relationship was headed.

Those doubts were confirmed that night. Quiet music. Champagne. Soft lighting. We were sitting on the sofa. Rick leaned over to kiss me, and she walked in. They obviously gave her the wrong key.

“Excuse me?” Rick said as he looked toward to door.

I’ll never forget her expression. She looked devastated. She burst into tears and ran from the room. I began to ask what it was all about, but Rick was up and out of the room before I could say anything. I figured, being the gentleman he was, he wanted to find out what was wrong. When I found out she was his wife, I felt like the stupidest person on the planet. Of course he was going to let me down. He was a man, after all.

The next time I saw either of them was in the courtroom. Rick was being sued for divorce. When the judge entered the room, he had the strangest look on his face. Then he asked to talk to Rick’s wife and me in his chambers. I was confused, and from the look on her face, so was she.

“Natalie Martin?”

I nodded.

“Mrs. Walker, was your maiden name Martin as well?”

I looked over at her, confused. She was nodding her head slightly.

“This is most definitely the strangest case that has ever come into my courtroom,” the judge said.

“Nat?” Lisa squeaked.

“Lisa?”

We turned to the judge. “But how did you know?” I asked.

“I knew your father, girls. Lisa, you look very much like your mother. And, Natalie, you are unmistakably your father’s daughter.”
Lisa burst into tears. Later she told me that, in that moment, all the memories she had tried to bury came flooding back.

Tears and Lisa—typical. But not so typical was my response. I felt the tears welling up in my own eyes. All of a sudden, the reason we were there didn’t matter. Rick was all but forgotten.

The judge asked Lisa, “Shall we go ahead with today’s proceedings?”

She shook her head. “Not right now. I have to get caught up with…with my sister.”

Lisa threw her arms around me. At first I wanted to push her away. Then all my protective instincts kicked in, and I hugged her back.

The look on Rick’s face when we emerged from the judge’s chambers still makes me laugh. We didn’t bother to explain. We just walked out of the courtroom arm in arm.
 

*******

I was angry and hurt. I thought my world was falling apart. But then the judge called Nat and I into his chambers. That day turned out very differently than I’d expected.

My sister and I are getting to know one another again. I’m going to church and slowly realizing God can heal my hurts. I decided to give Rick another chance. Our little girl deserves a father. It hasn’t been easy to forgive him, but he is trying to make our marriage work. Plus, he fell in love with our little girl the first time he saw her.

Nat came back to the States with us. She hasn’t said much, but I know she’s keeping an eye on Rick. I guess, in one way or another, she’ll always be my protector.  
 

*******

That was some day! Though Rick had found an opening, I was determined to reinforce the wall I’d build around my emotions. Then the judge reintroduced me to my sister, and I realized that wasn’t going to happen.

Lisa convinced me to move back to the States with them. It was a difficult decision, but it did give me the opportunity I needed to drop off my father’s disc at the U.N. My plans for revenge had been derailed, but it the end, it was best to let the authorities deal with Chuma, Sunga, and my would-be family. In a way, I guess it was my sister who rescued me.

I’d always considered myself the brave one, but in time, Lisa forgave Rick. She said she had to try to make it work for their little girl. Apparently, Rick’s family had been taking her to church and she’d discovered that God can heal even the deepest hurts. At first, I thought it was just another sign of weakness. But as I watched her, I realized maybe she was brave after all.

I’ve been watching Rick, too. He seems to be changing. Something about seeing his little girl for the first time probably made him realize just how much he had to lose.

I’m settling into my new home. Lisa and I get together every week. Sometimes, I even go to church with her. I guess my baby sister doesn’t need a protector anymore. Maybe, I’ll just work on being her friend.

 

Story by Thomson Ng'ambi, 2010.

 

– END –