POCKET CHANGE 2: A GAME OF CARDS
by Sharon R.
Chapter Four
"One more package doctors," Sean called into the building. "Come on, there's work to be done."
The last package of the evening was in front of Sean. Both doctors had to rub their eyes to get a better look at what was in front of them and decided that this endeavor wasn't going to be so bad after all! It wasn't a package wrapped in brown paper, but a boy. Mbuto. A big beautiful smile erupted on his face as he ran for the doctors and plowed them down onto their backs again, aching bodies and all. Luka lifted the boy above him getting a good look at the face of the child that had given them brief purpose and hope at their lowest moment. Mbuto's giggles were fresh and new giving both men reason to hoot and holler themselves.
"Where have you been, little man?" Carter asked, wrapping his arms around the boy as he sank into the larger man's lap.
"With me... and the children."
There next to Sean was Toomay - her three children behind her, obviously working hard to hold in their own giddy laughs as the grand surprise was revealed.
Luka rose to his feet and wasted no time getting to the group, putting his arms around his murdered friend's wife.
"I managed to get Toomay and all of the children over the border disguised as Alliance employees," Sean said. "An Irishman is born feeling guilty and makes a bad liar, so I made good on my fib and hired Toomay to oversee the meals for the workers. Until now they've been staying with a family in Pakwach Village."
"And now I have a brother," young Joseph proudly announced as he scooted out of Luka's embrace, and fell on the floor next to Carter and Mbuto, the two boys covering their mouths to hide the playful laughter.
"This is the surprise, right?" Carter asked Sean. "I mean, I can't think of a better one."
Paulette and Tolo held hands as they stood bashfully at their mother's side enjoying the sight of the two boys roughhousing with Luka and Carter. Neither one their father, but a substitution that was comforting nonetheless.
Luka, Carter and Sean each had small but private bedrooms in the hanger to sleep in, while Toomay, the children and Othiamba slept in staff quarters attached to the mess hall. Where Bob disappeared to was a mystery and, frankly, no one cared. By morning time Paulette had made a place for herself among the few nurses that had arrived and Tolo started a little school of her own for the children with the help of one of the missionary mothers.
Workers pounded away in the mess hall building tables and benches forcing Luka to sit outside on the steps to eat his breakfast rations. As Joseph saw his sisters excitedly run off to start their assignments, he suddenly felt left out.
"What will be my job?" he quizzed Luka with his big dark eyes and young accent.
"Joseph, you and Mbuto have a very important job, and that is to be kids." They were not impressed with their assignments and their faces fell. "We need you to help the children here learn how to be kids again. Teach them that they don't have to be scared here. That they need to play and have fun."
At just that moment, Carter appeared and brought out two brand new soccer balls from behind his back. "If you two go over to where the helicopters land, you'll see that Luka and I outlined a couple of fields for you." The boys' eyes widened at that announcement. "Go on. We'll be there later." With that, the boys were gone, running out of sight headed for what would be their sanctuary.
Through that first week Luka began seeing patients as they slowly appeared from the jungle. With just a couple of nurses, his hands were full, leaving Carter to entirely see to the completion of the construction and organization of the camp. Bob appeared sporadically and lingered in the distance, always watching, occasionally talking with locals. Finally Carter had had enough of being a spectator sport for the lurker and confronted Bob while he was stationary for a rare moment.
"Look, frankly, you give me the creeps. Either find something productive to do or leave." Carter turned to walk away but was stopped by Bob's voice.
"You want to really know why I'm here? You think this stint is going to spiff up my resume and earn me some ataboys back in Washington?"
"Don't care, Bob. Bag up your hot air and get out."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, Choir Boy. You see your little quip on your way out last time about your family's association with GWB wasn't all shtick, was it?"
With that revelation, Carter stopped in his tracks, hands on his hips, and gritted his teeth at the thought of his father going to the very top to look over his shoulder, half a world away. He stood there with his back to Bob tired of the word games he played with those outside of his own little SpyNation. Carter's hands were tied, he knew it and decided it wasn't worth pissing Bob off, but he also didn't want to let him have the last word. Without turning around to face Bob, he let him have it.
"I don't know what you get from this Bob, but we're here to give these people a chance at life. If you can't be a productive member of this corps of selfless people you need to find a hole to hide in. Spy on me all you want. Just don't become part of the problem." With that he walked away, his head held high.
One evening as a punchy Luka and Carter pondered their thoughts through exhaustion they found some discarded cardboard and made a sign for the mess hall, renaming it Midway Diner in honor of Chicago's older and more run down of its two airports. Going to "the Midway" became a regular part of spoken language at the camp, giving them a piece of home whether the worker was from Chicago or not.
Finally filled with long tables and benches, one in particular became silently reserved for the two doctors, Sean, Othiamba, Toomay and the four children. Bob was frequently in attendance, but rarely came in from the front steps, just around the corner from their table.
The food finally made its arrival within a week and when Carter sat down to lunch he was taken aback at the meal: unmistakably Toomay's mwamba stew and chickwange. "Toomay," he yelled out, "I love you, ya know that?"
Toomay raced out from the back of the mess hall with her own place setting. "You hush," she affectionately scolded Carter, "there will be no yelling in my kitchen." The children giggled at the play acting from the grown-ups.
"Yes m'am. I'm just going to concentrate on eating." Carter's eyes sparkled as he was taken back to his first introduction to Congolese cooking in Joseph's and Toomay's house. "Mmm, just like in Ikela," he quietly spoke to himself. "Hey, where's Luka? Last time I saw him he was storming out of the clinic, not too happy with the help. Who is it, anyway?"
"Aye, well," Sean spoke between bites, "with most of the refugees thus far being women and children, he needed help with OB/GYN, so I stole a doc from the nearby research project that had dwindled into its treatment phase."
Luka suddenly appeared and sat with the group. "Thanks Sean. That woman is a pain in my ass!" His head in his hands propped by the elbows, Luka sighed and rubbed his face in frustration.
"She's got spunk, doesn't she?" Sean touted in oblivious satisfaction.
That remark earned Sean only the most evil look Luka could muster. "I swear if the food doesn't kill me first…"
"Um, Luka…" Carter's attempts to alert Luka to the designated chef was ignored. "I don't think…"
"…. that woman will drive me to a swift suicide."
In her own proud way, Toomay quietly placed Luka's food in front of him. "Here's your lunch, Dr. Luka. Would you like me to check it for poison?"
Without looking up from his plate, perhaps in shame of his outburst or maybe fear of Toomay's rath, Luka tried to backtrack. "Would this be mwamba?"
Toomay stood silently by his side, hovering over his shoulder as she served up his portion of chickwange and coffee, almost painfully slow.
"And did you make it, Toomay?" Luka cringed as he became timid in his humility.
"It did not come from a tin," Toomay answered, her African accent punctuating the consonants.
Suddenly the table erupted in laughter as everyone enjoyed the scolding Toomay was giving Luka. They, too, cracked smiles as their eyes exchanged apologies.
"Hey, at least you have help," Carter threw in. "I feel like I'm getting pulled in ten different directions at once."
"Ah… and that, John, I can help you with." Sean stood to clear his own dishes, eager to get back to work himself. "Some more workers are arriving from Kampala today. One college student in particular, a Todd Casey, is a 'legacy'. His father worked for us years ago in India and now he wants his son to experience volunteering in the third world. So, I've paired him up with you for now."
"Me?" Carter was not quite comfortable in the responsibility, much less the burden. "I think Othiamba could use some help with the security detail."
Sean stood behind Carter and tapped him on the shoulder. "His father is also one of our top contributors."
"Oh… okay… I get it. Help is help." Carter looked up from his plate to give Luka a nice, big, shit eating grin. "Well, I, for one, am grateful to have the help and look forward to having a strong… young… college student to rely on."
The game of life is a game of boomerangs. Our thoughts, deeds and words return to us sooner or later with astounding accuracy. -Florence Scovel Shinn American Artist, Metaphysics Teacher, Author
Carter waited on the porch of the Midway for the transport to turn up with the new workers. It had not rained once since their own arrival over a week ago and the region itself was in the middle of a drought. The covered porch at the Midway was the only place in the camp that provided overhead protection other than inside the buildings themselves, but it didn't prevent the dirt from being driven into his face giving him and the other volunteers masks around their sunglasses. It made them look older than they were, and couldn't hide their hagard looks.
Through the plastic covered window in the door of the hanger, Luka spied Carter sitting on the porch with his head buried in his hands, either getting a rest or trying to avoid the blowing debris. They were both tired, but it was a good tired as they worked to put their last trip behind them and give back to the people.
"Luka…" The woman's voice grated on him as she bellowed from the stock room at the far end. With no patients at the moment, he was left with her controlling need to reorganize the few supplies they had.
"…who put the sterile dressings under all the bottles of saline? Jesus Christ, one stray projectile and we lose them all." The corrugated tin walls only served to reverberate her gruff voice and amplify it deep through Luka's core making him almost need to spit out a bitter aftertaste.
Luka drew in a deep breath and drummed his head against the door in hopes of shaking free the marbles that had accumulated there since the woman's arrival.
One, two, three, four… that one hurt but at least it helped him to refocus his mounting frustration.
Five, six, seven…
"Oh for crying out loud… KOVAC!"
That was it. Luka pushed the swinging doors wide open and charged out of the hanger making his way to the Midway as fast as he could. He stood on the back side of a post, almost willing it to be wide enough to hide him from the clinic doorway should she come looking for him.
"You know, you should have that looked at." Carter held a concerned, yet comical look on his face.
"What?"
"That ass of yours. Still having pains back there?" The fun he was having at Luka's expense would have never been conceivable before their first Congo trip and all they had gone through together. Carter was certainly enjoying seeing Luka's patience tested to the very core.
"Very funny. I don't know how much longer I can bite my tongue."
"Why should you have to? It's your clinic. I mean, what's she going to do? Pull a gun on you?"
"Somehow I doubt she could handle a weapon. With her mouth, why would she even need one? I think she'd even give Jules a run for his ransom money."
"Now Luka," Carter gave with a sarcastic condescension, "you're a big boy… a professional. You should be able take charge. All you have to do is have a colleague-to-colleague talk with her."
If looks could kill, Carter would have evaporated at that very moment. Luka had obviously gone past the humorous side of the situation and didn't appreciate the jibes he was getting anymore. "Be my guest. At least run interference for a while."
"Alright, I promise I'll get over there sometime today to meet her." Carter tipped his head back resting it on the post, then covered his face with his hat. "You've given me so much to look forward to." Luka's groan couldn't be missed, and of course Carter needed to add to it. "Besides, I think she's sweet on you."
"Don't even go there," Luka pleaded with him as Carter's hat jiggled with laughter. "Can't you do something about her? Isn't there some research project on the other side of the continent waiting for her over bearing mouth?"
"Nope, sorry. That's Sean's department, my friend, and from what I understand docs aren't turned away." He uncrossed his arms and patted Luka on the shoulder who had taken a seat next to him, then let him settle into the huge sigh working its way out of his mouth. "You'll be okay. Come on, it can't be all that bad."
Just then, a matatous - the white Toyota mini-vans used for transit in Uganda - pulled up to the Midway. Several people exited from both sides of the van, all but one met by other volunteers. There in front of Carter was a short statured, pathetic looking creature certainly plopped in the middle of the most distant place his prep school body had ever been in.
"Todd? Todd Casey?" Carter hoped against hope that this wasn't his Todd. But the young man nodded. "I'm Dr. John Carter and this is Dr. Kovac." The men shook the new arrival's hand and duly noted the clammy consistency of Crisco that his palms exuded.
"He looks like a Todd," Luka quietly pitched into Carter's ear from behind.
The slender student was wearing a crisp navy blue golf shirt with an orange Syracuse University logo in the corner. Looking as though he had just been dressed by a high society stylist, the pressed shirt was neatly tucked into pleated khaki shorts cinched properly by a leather belt with a polished brass square buckle. His reddish blonde hair was cut almost to a brush cut allowing his few freckles to really stand out on his face. As Luka walked around the kid, he had to almost put his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing aloud - at Carter, not the kid. Motioning to Todd's lower legs, Luka finally turned around and once again leaned against the post, his shoulders quivering.
There between the boy's white knobby knees and brown Birkenstock sandals, were white socks pulled half way up his calves.
"S-U, huh?" Carter pointed to his shirt, hoping to avert his eyes from the disaster below the knees and attempted to make conversation. "What's your major?"
"Um, ah…" the kid fumbled as he looked up the much taller men, "… ah… well in fact my undergraduate degrees are in Computer Science Informatics and Mollecular Biology…,"
"And not a computer in site," Luka mumbled.
"…but I'm working on my doctorate in the SB3 program."
Carter's mouth failed to close all the way as he fought to catch up to Todd's level of comprehension. "SB3?"
"Yes. Structural Biology, Biochemistry and Biophysics. It's a newer doctoral program designed to address the growing research into the Human Genome Project." Carter simply nodded as he exchanged looks with Luka who so wanted to mock Todd over his shoulder. "You see, hundreds of thousands of newly discovered biomolecules are just waiting to be defined for structure, function as well as their relationship to each other. It's all very cutting edge and… and… exciting."
Carter feigned interest as Luka, standing behind Todd, returned Carter's jibes and sarcasm with his humored looks alone. "Sssss…. so, you think Boeheim's team has a chance to repeat their win at the tournament?" The kid stared blankly through Carter. "I mean with Carmello Anthony off to the NBA this year it looks like last season was all him. The question is do those underclassmen have…"
"Who?"
"Carmello Anth…," Carter stopped himself short realizing that this kid was definitely outside the box. "Never mind."
"How about something cold to drink," Toomay announced as she pushed her way through the mess hall doors with an arm full of bottled water.
"Yeah… thanks Toomay. I do need a drink." Carter opened his bottle and drank down most of it in one slug. Taking a breath he glanced reluctantly at Todd who was busy picking a zit on his neck as Luka was enjoying the payback Carter was getting. Luka thought it was well deserved and amusing to boot. His day was made and going back to Atilla the Doc would be somewhat easier.
As the matatous pulled away, Carter and Luka noticed an out of place, balding man standing in the middle of the camp roadway. He wore a suit and bowtie, had a satchel over one shoulder and carried an obsolete, cheap, department store suitcase. As he wrinkled his nose under the horn rimmed glasses Carter instantly felt a lump in his stomach realizing his day was going from great to bad to worse.
"Who is that?" Toomay asked.
"What the hell is he doing here?" Hands on his head, Carter's mouth hung open as he pondered the man's presence.
"Who?" Luka asked again.
"Norman Tyson. He's a know-it-all bean counter from the Foundation." Carter scooted off the porch in the direction of the lost man tossing out instructions as he fled. "Toomay, can you show Todd to the student dorms and then have him meet me back here? Todd, long pants only. The bugs here will eat you for breakfast. And for God's sake, put a hat on that pink scalp of yours. And… and shoes, Todd… shoes."
Carter's feet kicked up plenty of dirt and stones as he rushed across the make-shift roadway to greet the Foundation representative. "Mr. Tyson, ah… welcome to our camp. But, what on earth did you come all the way here for?"
The man pulled out a crisp white linen handkerchief and dabbed at the hand Carter had just shook, then his moist forehead before answering. "The Board of Directors felt it necessary to have a financial officer on site to monitor the flow of funds."
"Is that right?" Carter hid his disgust of the lack of trust from his own foundation.
"As comptroller I felt it my duty to be the one to manage the situation. By the way, would it not be more frugal to travel workers by public transportation instead of those mini vans? Four hundred kilometers is a long way to transport a few people via special vehicle."
"Got the pampered first class treatment did you?" Carter sarcastically asked him. It was not a good day for Norman Tyson to descend on John Carter's hell. Looking to his left at the clinic doors, Luka was getting back to work, but not before giving Carter a friendly wave, nice wide grin and an overly enthusiastic, if not belligerent, thumbs up.
"Dr. Kovac," Carter yelled across the way as he hurried to get his new guest there, "I'd like you to meet Mr. Tyson." More handshakes prompted Tyson to retrieve his hanky once again, patting at his hand then his forehead before the man removed his eyeglasses and slowly, but methodically, wiped each lens in a clockwise motion - six times. "I think Mr. Tyson would find it most interesting to meet your colleague and have her discuss the inventory with him."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Carter, but we'll be seeing patients shortly…," Luka looked at Tyson for a reaction, then, "… female patients….," still no reaction, then with a smile he added, "…for gynecological exams."
Norman Tyson's dust covered face turned three shades of red as the meticulous, slow-on-the-uptake, anal retentive accountant fumbled his glasses and handkerchief. "Oh…. OH… well, I… ah… actually Dr. Carter, I really need to just talk to you, mostly today at least."
"Well," Luka said with a smile and relief, "why don't I take Mr. Tyson's things and store them in the office for now. That way you two can get right to work."
"Thank you, Dr. Kovac," Carter spoke through his gritted teeth, "I wouldn't want to keep you from your lovely assistant any longer, would I?"
With Norman tagging behind taking notes, Carter and Todd got to work hauling very heavy rolled up canvas tents to their designated spots in one of the open fields. Back and forth from the huge pile to the carefully laid out grid where refugees would eventually set up their shelters, Carter positioned his end up on his shoulder leading the way, Todd barely making it as he anchored the team at the rear. As Norman thought of a question he would scurry alongside Carter picking his brain and jotting down absolutely everything Carter said.
Todd began to crumble under the late afternoon sun, stopping several times to straighten his back. "I have a delicate frame," he whined as he sat on the ground looking up at a sweat drenched Carter. "My mother said I should pace myself."
"You do that, Todd. Wouldn't want you to stress that weak backbone of yours."
There to Carter's right hand side, Norman Tyson looked up at the open sky seemingly evaluating the angle of the sun. Reaching inside his satchel he pulled out a compact umbrella and opened it to shade his balding head from the sun.
"This is not happening to me," Carter mumbled to himself.
Just then, a savior appeared - Toomay, out rounding up her children. "Toomay, you are just the person I need. Please help me out," Carter implored. "Find some place for Mr. Tyson to get to work."
"I would be happy to. Come, Mr. Tyson, I think you belong with me." Toomay gently encouraged Norman along and looked back at Carter over her shoulder as they walked away noting his exasperated look.
"Let's go, Todd."
Carter's end of the rolled Canvas tarps became heavier as Todd did less and less to haul his end. On one of the treks he noticed a sudden lifting of the canvas - an evening out of weight distribution - and he hoped that Todd had finally joined the program. Dropping it at its spot he turned to give the kid some deserved praise but instead saw that he was still back at the pile, liberally applying a white goo of zinc ointment to his red nose. His anchor was, surprisingly, Bob.
"That kid's sharp as a bowling ball, isn't he?" Bob mused.
"What. Get tired of snaking around, Bob?"
"We'll just keep this to ourselves, won't we," Bob, hands on hips, gave Carter. "Who's Mr. Peepers you shuttled out of here earlier," he asked.
"An unwelcome suit from Chicago here to babysit the pennies."
"Imagine that. Somebody from the states… out of their element… here to muck up your mission. Hmm."
Carter and Bob finished up with the tarps and headed back to the center of camp with Todd at their heels. Carter wanted to see Sean to talk about a piece of equipment he was hoping he could get when he remembered his promise to Luka to stop in at the clinic and meet the new doctor. Like fly paper, Todd was right there at the hanger as Carter opened the door.
"Todd, take a break. Another break. Someone will get you for dinner."
"I have some food allergies you should know about," Todd added.
"I'm sure you do," Carter replied with a forced smile. "Don't worry, if you stop breathing we have medicine for that - I hope."
Stealing away just a moment of solitude, Carter stopped inside the clinic to take a deep breath and close his eyes. He had never had so much help make so much more work for him before.
"Come on, it can't be all that bad." Luka startled him as he came from behind a curtained off exam area, smiling ear to ear.
"You have no idea."
"Oh, but I do." Luka winked with a half smile as he pointed to the curtain.
"Let's get this over with," Carter whispered as he and Luka started around the corner.
Sean's voice stopped them momentarily. "Hey John, what's Mr. Tyson doing in Toomay's kitchen?"
"I asked her to find a place for him to get to work."
"With an apron on? Cleaning vegetables?"
"What?" Carter was puzzled then slapped his forehead with his hand. "Oh shit. I told her he was a bean counter."
As Carter ran from the building the new doctor stepped away from her patient and looked out the door at the fleeing man.
"Is that John Carter I just heard? From Chicago?"