3 - Worries

The call came in at 6am. With my cell phone on vibrate under my pillow; I grabbed it at the first buzz, slipping out of bed so not to wake Henry. I whispered to the caller to hold as I grabbed my jeans and t-shirt and snuck out of the bedroom, quietly closing the door. This was not the first call but one of several I had received over the past couple of months. Henry didn't know. I didn't want to worry him.

Sugar followed me outside for her morning pee and joined me inside the camper where the conversation continued as I got dressed. The familiar cramped quarters had become my little operations center. Computer. Notes. Maps.

New York. The Organization. They needed my help. Again.

Al-Shabaab had increased its active in East Africa. They had been a negative force for decades and recently, the terrorist group had been more vocal. For the past year, they had been carrying through on threats targeting everything from government offices to market places to schools. It didn't matter what it was as long as their point was made: Non-Muslims did not belong in Muslim territories. Old news. Old battles. New recruits for the cause. Sad and disturbing. Over the past few months, though, aggressions had intensified. It seemed that no one was safe. There had even been threats on two North American shopping malls. One in the United States and one in Canada. So far, thankfully, it had just been talk.

So, why was I involved?

I was first read in because of my history with both the UN and with AMISOM: The African Union Mission in Somalia. A UN approved peacekeeping coalition. And, having lived on the Kenyan/Somalian border for years, I knew many of the players. If not personally, certainly by reputation. I was a reliable outside voice with significant inside knowledge. I could provide a new, or at least, different perspective. In a nutshell, they sought my council.

Within a week of the start of our correspondence, however, the violence escalated and a colleague had been killed. The Somalia Ambassador to the UN Human Rights Office from Geneva had been one of twenty killed in a car bomb explosion at the Makka al-Mukarama Hotel in Mogadishu, Somalia. We had worked together a few times. Not a close friend, but he was a nice person working hard to stem the violence in a volatile country. That was the end of March.

The massacre at Garissa University College in April hit much closer to home and was the most vicious attack so far. The violence had crossed the border from Somalia to Kenya. This first time in over a year. One hundred and forty-seven young people dead. Countless wounded. There had been rumblings, but this attack had had no overt threat. It was devastating.

Then, not long after in northeast Somalia, another shocking blow. A bomb had been planted in a UN van in the city of Garowe killing seven UN workers and injuring four. More colleagues dead.

Now, the questions began to mount. How had Al-Shabaab managed to get so close to us without detection? The Organization began to doubt their contacts and associations, closing ranks and scrutinizing activities. The rule was usually pretty simple: trust no one, but when it came to humanitarian aid, it was our nature to trust.

This morning's call had to do with renewed skirmishes outside of El Wak on the Kenyan side of the border in the southeast. With help from a couple of trusted colleagues from two critical sources, people whose loyalties I would not question, I was able to identify two possible key players and their ties to a local ruling clan. These players had been silent for a long time but had recently resurfaced. I had strongly advised the Organization to withdraw from the area fearing another attack, this one aimed at refugees. That morning, a suicide bomber drove through the barrier into a humanitarian compound of migrants. The ensuing explosion had cratered the main office of the aid workers. But, casualties were at a minimum. A few wounded. Most had evacuated. Thank God.

I typed in the coordinates and a satellite image appeared on my screen.

Did I have an idea of the next target? Did I have any other suggestions?

No. I could only guess and advise.

Would I be willing to fly to New York? Be part of an advisory panel on this situation?

I would have to think about it.

Would I be willing to return to Kenya to deal directly with the situation?

My heart leapt to my throat and panic squeezed my stomach. Go back into a terrorist hot spot? I wanted to scream NO! But, it didn't come out.

The call was finally over, and I stared at the tactical map on the small wall by my computer, my vision clouding. I wanted to drop my head between my knees. Breathe! Sugar purposefully dug her nose into the side of my leg nudging me to move, and I stroked between her ears, taking a deep, cleansing breath, shaking off the ominous feeling of dread.

Standing, I closed my eyes and spread my hands to my sides, back stretched, palms up, head tilted to the ceiling, inhaling slow and deep just as Henry had taught me to relax. Then, I opened the camper door stepping out into the early morning sun.

There wasn't really a decision to make. Was there?

Shielding my eyes against the morning glare, Sugar and I strode across the soggy gravel driveway, stone crunching beneath our feet. Torrential rain and wind over the past week had made life messy but it had finally passed, and the prairie was coming into bloom. It was as if Maheo had taken a deep breath and blown the cold and dreariness of winter away preparing the earth for what was to come… and oh boy, did it come. I tipped my head back, a weary smile tugged at my lips as a flock of small birds darted overhead. As if overnight, the leafless trees and brown grasses of a mucky cold spring, burst forth like a shade suddenly being lifted, instantly changing winter to summer. The grass had turned a brilliant green, and sprays of purple Blazing Star, bright red Indian Paintbrush, and orange Cowboy's Delight could be seen opening to the light on the flat horizon.

Sugar and I walked, absorbing the cool sunshine, our feet getting wet as we crossed into the damp grass. Sugar dutifully stayed by my side, keeping pace… that is… until she saw the massive, white-tailed jackrabbit sitting upright near a tuft of grass. She paused, looked up at me as if asking for permission, then bolted, chasing the bounding creature across a hundred foot expanse until it dropped its ten pound body into a hidden hole. My aging friend sniffed the ground searching, tail and ears up, alert, before proudly trotting back to resume her spot at my side as if she never left. I had to laugh, and the weight of the morning's conversation lifted from my heart. Can dogs have human expression? I could swear she was grinning.

The walk took about half an hour. Out past where the short grass turned to sand and stone to the narrow, rocky ridge that overlooked a low, desolate valley. We sat, a gusty breeze stirring minute whirlwinds in the dust below. There was so much to think about yet nothing seemed to form to coherent thought. It was like waves of overwhelming information that I didn't want to deal with. At least, not all at once. Everything was important. I wanted to be part of all of it. But, I knew I couldn't.

I lay back on the rough ledge, arms above my head, toes pointed toward the valley. Sugar stretched out beside me, curled into the curve of my waist, the familiar warmth, the steady rise and fall of her breathing giving me unquestionable support. Light cumulous clouds spotted the pale blue sky like whiffs of thin, white smoke. So similar. So familiar. All that was missing were the animals. Giraffes. Lions. Elephants. Zebras. Rhinos. Kenya had such diverse animal population and Nairobi had one of the best animal orphanages I'd ever seen.

I inhaled deeply pulling myself onto my elbows, gravel digging into the thin skin of my lower arms. This prairie was devoid of large mammals. There were prairie dogs, jackrabbits, snakes, and a variety of small rodents. The occasional buffalo or pronghorn wandered through but nothing really. All this land. Where had all the animals gone? The forest was different. It had everything from bears to mountain lions to raccoons and skunks, and more. But, the prairie? I sighed shifting to sit resting my scraped elbows onto my knees. Such a shame.

I snorted to myself. The one thing it did have that I truly appreciated was the absence of anyone trying to kill you. There was no fear to walk out into the expanse. No fear of stepping on a land mine or being accosted by insurgents or being blown to bits in a tribal or cultural war. I shuddered at the thought. Had I really lived like that for so long?

Standing, I dusted myself off and watched as Sugar rolled onto her side gazing up at me with an Awww, I don't want to go expression.

"Time to head back, Sweetheart." I turned to the grassland, my sweet shadow groaning but obediently trailing behind.

Henry leaned against the painted post on the front porch; right hip hitched, thumb hooked a pocket, steaming coffee in his left hand. He had not given much thought to his clothes when he rose, pulling on the same pair of brown denims and cream chambray shirt he had worn the night before. He left the brown leather vest strewn across the back of the high back wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom with the rest of the laundry.

He had sensed the phone vibrate, had felt her shift and rise, sneaking out of the room. It had not been the first time but he never questioned her on it. Tom had said to be patient. He had said that she never could sit still, always had to have a project going. It drove him crazy and he thought Henry was a better man for putting up with it. Patience. He was trying but it was getting increasingly difficult. He was giving her space, respecting her privacy but when she moved her computer equipment into the camper, he knew she was keeping secrets. It worried him.

He took a sip of the scalding liquid biting back the burn on his tongue when they came into focus on the horizon. Two peas in a pod. Her and the dog. Wounded warriors, Tom had called them. Not military, but they had both seen enough violence to compare to any soldier. They would never get the same attention, though. That was not fair. They had given so much, nearly giving their lives.

He pushed off from the post as they approached, silently stepping down to the drive. She had a drawn look, one that showed as much worry as he felt. Sugar trotted forward first, tail wagging, and he stooped to give her a pat. Julia smiled a weak tired smile and without slowing her pace, walked right into his arms, wrapping herself around his body and snuggling into his chest, heaving a heavy sigh. He instinctively returned the gesture, pulling her close, silently lowering his head into her hair, breathing in the fresh scent of the prairie wind.

Without letting go, she loosened her grip, and spoke into his shoulder.

"We have to talk."