"And ten divided by two is..."
"Five!" seven-year-old Kasa says, writing it down. Arnold squashes the urge to pat her shoulder. The two-hour orientation the Church of Arnold had when they arrived was very clear about not initiating touching. It's something he'll have to work on.
Most of the other Elders are outside playing soccer or basketball with the kids; it's only him and a few others inside the classroom, with its threadbare carpeted play area and toy chest on one side and its rusty metal desks and mismatched chairs throughout. Kasa's left leg, missing from the knee down, keeps her from playing sports. Arnold was told not to ask about any injuries he sees; another struggle for him.
"Wow, good job! Okay, looks like we're done our math for the day." The next booklet on his list is the English language.
She grabs the book eagerly from his hands.
"Woah, you like English, huh?"
"Yeah. For my work when I grow big."
"Oh? What do you want to do when you grow up?"
"Hooker," she says as she opens the book, flipping to a page without her writing.
"Um. Didn't catch that?"
"Hooooooookeeeeeer," she says slowly. Glancing up, she giggles at the expression on his face. "Make money!"
Kasa giggles again. Arnold gulps and smiles. She's just joking. Heavenly Father, please let her just be joking.
But just in case she isn't..."You know, you can be whatever you want to be when you grow up. Sometimes, what you end up being will surprise you! Like with Luke Skywalker, on a faraway planet called Tatoo—"
"Mr. Cunningham?" says Amikaa, who's supervising the volunteers. "Why don't you help Kasa with her booklet?"
"Er, right. Sorry." Another rule: not even a hint of proselytizing in their volunteer efforts, which, unfortunately for Arnold, means no talking about sci-fi.
When Amikaa moves on to the next group, Kasa mutters, "What's a planet? And why does it have a tattoo?"
Very quietly, Arnold explains.
The Church is done by 5:30. The organizers of the orphanage seem generally pleased with the church: there's much hand-shaking and a, "We look forward to next Monday," from Amikaa.
"So do we," says Mafala, Kevin grinning at his side, the church's unofficial PR guys. As they walk to the bus-stop, everybody has something to say.
"They're so...normal," Arnold catches Elder Davis saying.
"Much nicer than the orphanage I grew up in," says Sister Damisi.
Elder Church says, "Some of those kids were child soldiers. Can you imagine?"
"Did you see that boy in the corner of our reading group? He would not talk, not a sound, poor child!"
"My supervisor had bite marks on her arms..."
"I dunno, they seemed pretty happy to me."
"These kids are so lucky," Nabulungi says. Arnold turns to her, blinking. "I had to learn to read from pop bottles and food labels. They actually get taught by real English speakers!"
"No picking up roadkill for their dinners," Mafala says approvingly. "They run a good outfit here."
Arnold and Kevin share a We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto look, which they still share now and then.
"Katie—my little sister—has a Barbie for every kid here," Kevin says, shaking his head. "I don't think she even plays with them anymore. I'll see if she can donate a few." He frowns. "And why are the dolls they have white? I mean, there've gotta be some black Barbies, right?" He looks at Arnold, who can only shrug.
"Maybe," Arnold says, "we need a verse about Harry Potter in the Book of Arnold. How you can always be protected by your parents' love, even if you don't have your parents."
Nabulungi kisses his cheek. "I love that." He grins. He'll think up something later tonight. "I feel it about my mother very often."
"As long as this verse doesn't lead to kids practicing witchcraft," Kevin says.
Arnold laughs. At the annoyed look on Kevin's face, Arnold realizes he was serious. "Um. Don't worry, pal. It won't."
Kevin makes a non-commital noise. Arnold makes a mental note to not just work on the latest Harry Potter verse, but also work on his apology to Kevin for talking about him behind his back.
"You were very good with the children, Elder Price," Nabulungi says.
"Thanks," is Kevin's curt reply. After a moment, he adds, "So were you, Sister Hatimbi."
"Well," she pauses, glances at her father, then says, "I have had some experience." Mafala inhales suddenly and looks at her in surprise.
"Really?" Arnold asks.
"Yes." She grabs his hand, squeezing it gently as she looks off into the blue and gold horizon. "I had two younger brothers. One died when he was just a baby, the other died in a firefight in our village."
Arnold catches Mafala glancing at General Butt-Fucking Naked. A terrible suspicion smoulders in his mind. "It wasn't—I mean, the General didn't—"
Nabulungi watches her father with concern as Mafala shrugs. When he says nothing, she explains, "There have been many men with guns in our village. We never learned who it was that night. Either way, the General is our brother in Christ. That is all that is important now."
"Oh," Arnold says, feeling humbled and honoured. "Thank you for sharing this," he tells Nabulungi.
"Baba, you and I and Elder Cunningham should go see Mother and the boys. We have not for a long time."
Even before she finishes speaking, Mafala is shaking his head. "Because it is bad luck to visit graves. It disturbs the ghosts."
Nabulungi squeezes Arnold's hand again, as if gathering strength. Though her, "The Book of Arnold does not say so," is said breezily, her gaze never leaves Mafala.
Arnold makes a mental note to make sure, in fact, that the Book says that visiting graves is perfectly healthy.
Mafala snorts with bitter amusement. "Next time I read it, visiting the dead will be the eleventh commandment. Right, Elder Cunningham?"
"Uh..." Maybe letting Mafala in on the book's creative process wasn't a good thing. "God doesn't really work on a schedule like that...Maybe you and I should just go alone, Nabulungi?"
"I suppose," she mutters, disappointed. Then she gives a small smile. "We could go next p-day. I could make us some lunch—"
Mafala laughs. "That is one way to get him to visit a grave!" He seems back to his genial self.
"Baba!" Nabulungi grumbles good-naturedly. "He does not like my cooking."
"Nobody does! She is terrible. I despair of ever finding a husband who will take her!"
This is it: the perfect set up. He shares a look with Nabulungi, who obviously feels the same way. The joy swelling in his chest makes it hard to speak.
"Oh, no need to worry about that, Mr. Hatimbi."
Nabulungi giggles, kissing his cheek.
"Wait," says Kevin, "did you just say...?"
It takes Mafala a moment to react. He stops walking, then turns to look at Arnold and his daughter, obviously stunned. He's still stunned a moment later when Nabulungi explains, "We have not set the date yet, but we know it will be soon. Arnold has lived here for three months, so he can legally marry me."
Arnold nods to the rest of the church passing them. "Everyone's invited to the ceremony." He beams at Kevin. "And you'll be my best man, obviously!"
Kevin doesn't seem aware of how big an honour this is. "Of course," he mutters. No smile yet.
Mafala is shaking his head as if to clear it. Nabulungi, with a beautiful laugh, wraps her arms around her father's waist. "Someone else will have to put up with charred goat meat, Baba!" she teases.
Mafala doesn't hug her back. He frowns at his daughter, then at Arnold. "No."
Arnold replays that word a few times, searching it for some hidden meaning, because it can't mean what it sounds like—it just can't.
"Baba?" Nabulungi asks, confused.
"No. I forbid it."
That seems pretty clear. But it makes no sense. Mafala likes Arnold, doesn't he? "S—sir?"
"Baba?" Nabulungi's arms fall to her sides.
"Daughter," Mafala puts a hand on her shoulder, his tone concerned, "you are too young for this."
"I am eighteen." Nabulungi is speaking slowly, overenunciating her words, as if concerned that he's not hearing them. "Two of my friends were married at fourteen."
"Ew, really?" Arnold blurts out.
She ignores him. "Baba," she smiles tremulously, "please... I love Elder Cunningham. He loves me. We want to pledge to live our lives together. It is what God wills."
Mafala chuckles. "Oh, of course! Yes, I am sure God has a great interest in seeing you in that white boy's bed."
That white boy...? Did he just call me that?
"Baba..." Nabulungi says reproachfully.
"I LOVE NETANYAHU, ELDER HATIMBI!" Many of the church glance over their shoulders at Arnold; a few stop and stare. "I mean, Nanu Nanu—um, Niffler—Nintendo Wii—" Mafala looks at him like he just started squealing like a pig. Arnold knows then that he must have fallen asleep, because he's trapped in a nightmare and he'd really, really like to wake up now.
Kevin. Arnold casts him a pleading glance. Kevins nods to him and steps in close, putting his hand on Arnold's shoulder. His touch loosens the vice crushing Arnold's chest: Arnold gasps for air.
"He loves your daughter very much, Elder," Kevin says quietly. Arnold waits for him to make a speech like the one that made the other Elders agree to stay in Uganda even though the Mormon Church had shut them down.
Kevin says nothing. He and Mafala share an intense stare for a moment. Then Mafala looks between his daughter and Arnold, his expression thoughtful. Obviously, Kev isn't saying anything because he doesn't need to. Now Mafala gets it.
Mafala sighs. "Believe it or not, it does hurt me to say these things. But I cannot let you get married."
Their bus is coming down the road. Mafala turns and heads toward the stop.
"Baba," Nabulungi whispers, her voice trembling. Arnold tries to take her hand, but she hurries after her father.
Arnold starts to follow; Kevin's hand on his chest stops him. "Some father-daughter time might help him see the light."
"Yeah," Arnold says, but he isn't sure he believes Kevin. He isn't sure what to believe anymore.