Arnold and Nabulungi don't come for breakfast that morning. Gotswana chuckles and notes, "I would be surprised if they left for lunch!" Kevin wasn't expecting to see much of Arnold during his honeymoon week; he's going to take advantage of this to really shape up. He goes for a jog before his morning shower, running from the mission to the village and back.
Kevin and Mafala go to the village of Umar that day. It's as small as Kigali, and the people are much more accepting than those of Yunna. Mafala is far too hungover to do much good; Kevin is happy to be the star of the show (The way I'm supposed to be, Kevin thinks, before remembering to be humble). It's all very intro stuff. Kevin can do this in his sleep.
Blind Themba, being led by one of her grandsons, flags him down once he returns to Kigali. "Elder Price?"
"Yes?"
"Would you have some time to speak about the Book of Arnold before we leave?" Themba says. Kevin notes that one grandson is anxious, the other alert. "My grandsons try to read, but they do not know English very well."
Pretty hard to turn pages if you don't have fingers, Kevin notes, just managing not to glance at the young men's mangled hands.
What Kevin wants to do is wash some of the sweat off and put some calomine lotion on his bug-bites, but he nods and says, "Sure." He glances around, but Mafala is walking over to the café. Looks like it's just him.
"Mind if we sit down?" Kevin asks, nodding to the café.
After one of her grandsons explains Kevin's motion—Kevin winces; he'll have to remember she's blind—she says "Oh, we do not want to impose."
"How about we talk at the mission?" Kevin notices that the anxious grandson has only gotten more anxious, while the alert one is frowning at Kevin as if he's said something tasteless.
"No, thank you. If you want a place to sit, we have a small place outside of town..."
Their place is a lean-to of a dingy, moth-eaten blanket supported by four sticks. Kevin gapes at it.
"I'm going to talk with my friend Elder Hatimbi. We'll set you up someplace better than this."
"This is fine for us," Themba says peaceably. "Now," her voice sharpens, "Elder Price, I must say I do not remember any of these stories in Sunday school."
"That's because they're from the Book of Arnold, revealed to our prophet, Elder Cunningham, after the Bible was written," Kevin answers quickly, his pulse thudding in excitement. Talking to Christians is different than talking to agnostics or people who hate God.
Themba sits on her cushion of newspapers and stretches out. "Hmm. Well, 'many false prophets are gone out into the world.'"
John 4:1. Good one. Kevin grins.
He definitely doesn't get any conversions that day. For all that Themba is attentive (dangerously attentive—she quickly rips apart the "our church is inspired by the Bible" line with a few choice verses) her grandsons are anything but. Gradually, the conversation shifts to more personal topics. Kevin gets the sense that these young men aren't her real grandsons; it's just a term of affection she uses for them.
"How'd you wind up here?" Kevin asks.
"Lepers were being burnt."
Kevin thought he'd heard it all. His stomach tightens. "Burnt?"
Themba shrugs. "It happens every few years. Crops fail or drought hits, so it is probably the lepers' fault. It is not so terrible. God's love gets me through. And no leper is ever raped! Only way a woman can travel alone in these sad times."
Thinking about his grandmothers back home, a lump rises in Kevin's throat. He glances at his watch, realizing he's spent a whole hour with them.
"Oh, heck, I've got dinner prep soon. Why don't you come on back to the mission with me? We can set you up there until Mafala can find a place for you—"
"There is no place for lepers," snaps Zareb, the grandson who seems constantly angry with Kevin.
"We are fine here, Elder Price," Themba says.
After his meeting with Themba, Kevin does what he hasn't done in months: write in his journal. He's due to send another email home; it'd be good to catalogue some of his better experiences.
Sorry for my lack of entries. I suppose everything was going so well for a while that I didn't want to examine it too closely. Like it was a dream and if I realized it was a dream, I'd wake up. That stops now.
Dear Mom and Dad,
To grow this church, we need to stick to the rural villages. Mafala mentioned that a few Yunna-ites follow sci-fi and called him on his references. M played off those Star Wars (Trek?) movies as interpretations of the Book of Arnold. Doesn't think he succeeded. Not a problem where people don't have TVs.
Opportunities for growth and connection can be found at any time, not just during proselytizing hours. Good reminder of this today. Themba really put me through my paces! Very clever.
We should get a Swahili version of the BoA started.
Kevin is in the kitchen when whistling and applause rings out from the dining hall. He pops his head out to see Arnold and Nabulungi walking to the ex-Mormons' table, holding hands.
"You assholes better let us sleep through the night this time!" shouts Mutumbo.
"We thought hyenas were attacking the village!" says Effu. Arnold's face has gone quite pink, but he's grinning.
"Shut up!" Nabulungi shouts back, giggling."You're all just jealous that you're not getting fucked like I am!"
"Jealous?" says Mutumbo. "Your husband can't even remember your name!"
"Noctowl—give it to me, baby!" imitates Effu, who then doubles over, cackling.
"Oh, yes, Nyarlathotep, oh, oh, ohhh!"
Mafala says, "Shut the fuck up, all of you!" For the most part, the villagers obey.
Nabulungi kisses her father on the cheek and brightly says, "How was proselytizing today, Baba?"
Mafala glowers at Arnold, who glances away and clears his throat—then, amazingly, looks back at Mafala and gives a small So? shrug. Mafala looks Arnold over and snorts, but the irritation fades from his expression. It's not replaced by any positive emotion, but it seems like Arnold is going to take what he can get.
Dinner starts. Themba and her grandsons aren't here. Kevin frowns. Where are they eating? What are they eating?
"Eat up, you two!" Sister Damisi calls out to Arnold and Nabulungi. "You need your strength!"
There are some snickers and giggles from the villagers—and the ex-Mormons, too.
The General teases, "Strange, how our prophet could not find what God calls such a holy sacred thing."
Arnold frowns, blushing, as some of his friends chuckle at him. Nabulungi smirks and opens her mouth, but Gotswana speaks louder than she does.
"At least she has a clit! She's one of the few girls in the village lucky enough to have one!" He might be thinking about his own daughter, who he was going to circumcise before Arnold showed him another way. "You," he points at the General, "do not get to fucking joke about that."
Dinner is much more awkward after that.
Arnold catches Kevin in the hallway to their bedroom. Kevin feels like beaming. Is it normal for a best friend to feel this relieved that a friend is talking to him?
"Hey, buddy," says Arnold. "How're you doing after last night?"
"Good. The food must've helped, so thanks for that. How was the rest of the party after I left?"
"It was cool," Arnold says dismissively. Kevin thinks that's odd until Arnold's eyes gleam and he says, "After the party was great, too! I was pretty ner—"
Kevin's back muscles go taut; he holds up a hand and, mercifully, Arnold stops talking about that.
"Oh—boundaries, right." A bit hurt, Arnold adds, "I wasn't gonna give you a play-by-play or anything..."
Kevin would love to believe his best friend, but he once sat through Arnold's twenty-minute 'overview' of Lord of the Rings. "As far as I'm concerned, you two are...playing chess. Okay, pal?"
Even as Arnold nods in agreement, he blurts out, "AWESOME CHESS!" Kevin feels well within his rights to glare. Arnold winces. "Sorry! Sorry! That was the last thing, I swear..."
The next day is the orphanage for everyone except Kevin, as it's his day to help out at the hospital, which inevitably means hours of boredom. At least he has some things to keep him occupied: there are a few patients in the hospital, and Gotswana sometimes needs volunteers; and Themba, Zareb and Daktari are still here with more questions about the Book of Arnold. To Kevin's dismay, they refuse all offers to bring them further into the village than the hospital; when he mentions their poor housing to Mafala, he gets a sigh and a curt, "Who has space enough for three more people in this village?" which Kevin has to admit is a fair point.
That night, he writes:
Dear Mom and Dad,
Not every incredible thing changes the world, or even a life. But even the smallest flame makes the darkness that much less.
I'm going to build them a house.
That's easier written than done, particularly after a long day of proselytizing and follow-up sessions. But Kevin is going to follow through; he grabs two buckets, loads them with water, and walks to Themba and her family. When he arrives, Themba is sleeping; Zareb and Daktari eye him curiously.
"Just thought about making a small mud hut," Kevin says. "You know, for visitors."
"Need shit, white boy," Daktari explains. "Shit and..." he pauses to think of the English words, "dry palm leaf and thick river mud."
Zareb glowers at his brother. "Shut up!"
Kevin glances between the two young men, confused. "What's wrong?"
"Make a house, sure, but we not live in house. We leave soon. We always leave."
"You don't have to leave. The Church of Arnold is different. You're welcome here!"
Zareb snorts. "Then why you make house? Why not rest of village, like always?"
Kevin curses mentally—why didn't he think about what this looked like? He wrestles with his pride and finally says, "I, uh, didn't ask anybody else. I just figured I could build it on my own."
Zareb's jaw drops, then he bursts into laughter, his brother joining in. "Crazy white boy!"
I totally could! But he's already incredibly hot and thirsty from just carrying the buckets of water. He got this water from the stream, not the mission's pump; it definitely isn't drinkable. "Maybe we should talk about this in the café," Kevin suggests.
The two of them demur, despite his entreaties to join. He makes one request too many—Zareb snaps, "No one has lepers where they eat, Elder Price! Even in your Church of Arnold."
Kevin opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. You can lead a horse to water... Maybe once they see all the villagers helping with a new home, they'll accept that we're going to treat them normally.
"Well," Kevin says, "I could use a drink. Can I pick you up anything?" They could always use more water.
Arnold and Nabulungi are in the café. Arnold is writing furiously; Nabulungi sits in his lap, reading what he writes; sometimes she whispers into his ear, which makes him erase a line and start over. Arnold notices him, but only gives a quick, distracted nod. Soreness spreads through Kevin's chest. This is just the start.
He picks up three bottled waters and some peanuts along with a mocha frappaccino. As he waits, he hears, "Hey, buddy! What's up?" The words are mana from heaven.
He grins—a bit too broadly, he realizes when Nabulungi focuses her attention fully on him.
"What are you working on?" Kevin asks.
"Oh, some of the guys from the Star Wars fic comm donated to the church, and I promised 'em some drabbles."
"They're..." Nabulungi fumbles, "what did you say, Arnold? Han/Luke slash?"
Arnold's head snaps up. He eyes Kevin nervously for a moment, then says, "You have no idea what any of this means, right?"
"Star Wars is the 'Luke, I am your father' one, right?"
Arnold whoops with laughter. "That's it exactly!"
He doesn't seem to want to continue explaining, so Kevin has to ask, "What's a drabble?"
Arnold explains drabbles, fanfic, and slash—"Slash means stories that focus on character friendships; in this case, the friendship between Han and Luke."
"I'd love to read it sometime."
"No!" Kevin blinks in surprise at Arnold's reaction. "It's just...it's not ready yet."
Of course, Nabulungi gets to read it before it's—Kevin cuts that thought off with an image of his father turning away from him. This is a good thing: Arnold is learning that not everybody needs to hear every nerdy thing he's doing.
Effu tells him that his frappaccino is ready. When Kevin turns back, frappaccino in hand, he sees Arnold and Nabulungi having a quiet argument. It's not particularly heated, not with Nabulungi stroking Arnold's hand and him kissing her cheek every so often, but it's enough to make Kevin perk up. Nabulungi excuses herself to go to the washroom, and once she's gone Kevin asks, "Everything okay?"
Arnold looks surprised, then awkwardly says, "Um, boundaries, buddy."
Kevin's cheeks grow warm. "Just thought I could...help," he mutters. No, I didn't. It takes him far longer than it should for him to remember, "I should get this stuff back to Themba and the gang."
Another good thing: Arnold's learning that he doesn't have to share personal details with everyone. If he repeats that often enough, he'll think it's true. He notices Mason Neeley in the distance, on medicine-distribution duty today, pacing behind the table and looking just as frustrated as Kevin feels. Kevin should probably see what's up, but he can't. He doesn't even want to talk to Themba's family. He's an exposed, twitching nerve; he can't do any good like this.
Kevin makes himself approach Zareb and Daktari. He unscrews the tops of the bottles; as he hands them to the young men, he has a sudden vision of his own fingers eaten away by leprosy, and flinches. Daktari notices and drops his hands, but Kevin, blushing, keeps holding the bottles out and eventually they take them. He then half-heartedly listens to the steps involved in building a mud hut. As he leaves the young men and starts his walk back to the mission, he hears something that wipes what little he learned from his mind.
"Elder Price," says Mafala gravely. "The old man died." He's referring to the old beggar with the sores that Gotswana initially refused to treat.
"Died?"
Mafala nods, looking at something to the left. Following his gaze, Kevin sees Gotswana carrying a shovel and getting into a jeep.
"We have no way to preserve a body here," Mafala explains, apallingly matter-of-fact. "Whenever he can, Elder Hareffi digs the graves of those he loses."
It always rains in the movies whenever someone dies. "How?"
Mafala shrugs. "The man was old, starving, and dying of AIDS. Can you get your team ready for a funeral in two hours?"
Kevin nods. He doesn't move. The world is painfully blue sky above and beige dust below, with everything civilized hidden by wavering heat lines like a mirage in the desert. Above circles a hawk—or a vulture. Kevin has a sudden flashback to the friendly singing vultures in the Jungle Book.
I can remember this, but I can't even remember what the old man looked like. He shakes himself and starts walking.
A thought occurs to him just as he reaches the mission: Mafala said 'my' team. Aren't we all on the same team?
Mason is sitting on one of the couches, his eyes red; Eric Thomas is by his side, trying to hand him a bottle of water that he ignores. Brian Church paces behind his companion, his lips pursed.
"You couldn't have known," Eric says. There's an intense edge to his voice that startles Kevin until he remembers that Eric missed his sister's death from cancer.
"I could've done so much more," Mason says dully. "He talked to me in Swahili, and I—I— just ran away." He blinks. "No. I gave him a Book of Arnold, then I ran away."
"There you go," says Eric. "That might've helped!"
Mason chuckles mirthlessly. "I gave an English book to a man who spoke Swahili." When Eric doesn't say anything, Mason runs his hands through his hair, muttering, "He started coughing up so much blood...I should've—nobody should die alone—I—"
Eric drops the bottle of water, grabbing Mason's shoulders. "Don't. Please, Mason—don't do this to yourself. I..." Eric glances at everyone listening in, but speaks anyway, "I'm not saying don't regret. But don't let it consume. It's like the Book of Arnold says—" He's interrupted by Brian's loud scoff.
Mason stares through Eric. "Nobody should die alone," he repeats.
"Mason, you care a lot more than any of them," Brian snaps, jerking his chin to the door.
"Elder Church," says Rob in gentle warning.
Brian ignores him. "You didn't see them when we found the guy had died! They don't care. How did we ever think we could change anything here? We're praying to...comic-book characters, for God's sake!"
"We still pray to the same God, no matter what words we use." Rob's voice is too calm, too rational. Not everyone can turn off their feelings as well as he can. Eric nods, but elders Michaels and Davis don't, and Brian full out sneers at him.
"Elder Hareffi is out digging a grave," says Kevin, "like he always does whenever he loses a patient. The villagers have seen more death than we have. They have a different attitude about it, but that doesn't mean they don't care." Now elders Michaels and Davis nod. Elder Davis's shoulders relax.
"Really?" says Brian. "Who told you that, Kevin—your best friend? He's so great at being truthful, after all."
"Elder Hatimbi did. He asked if we could get ready for a funeral in a few hours, in fact. So, you see," he says to Mason, "we can give him a proper send-off." Mason's frown lessens—not by much, but it's something.
"Where's this coming from, Elder Church?" Kevin asks.
He can see the switch flick off behind Brian's eyes. "Nothing," he mutters.
"Something's bothering you. Come on, brother, let's have it out. We're family, here; if you've got something to say, you should say it." At Brian's mirthless smirk, Kevin realizes that using the ideal of family to someone urging his mother to leave his father was a misstep. Too late now.
"You do know we're failing, right?" says Brian, looking around at everybody. "I mean, we lie so much day-to-day, why should we lie to ourselves? Where are our baptisms? We've been stuck at twenty-five members for months now!"
"We've only been the Church of Arnold for a little more than two months," Rob reminds him quietly. "We waited just as long for elders Price and Cunningham to join us. Growing anything takes time, Brian."
"Or maybe the Ugandans can sense that our church is a house built on a foundation of sand. I'm not saying we're not doing good work!" he adds quickly. "God knows, those orphans need help and these people need medicine. But...missionaries also shouldn't date or get married. That's secular—worldly. What's next? Are we going to be okay with divorce? Abortion?" He shakes his head. "If we're going to be secular, be secular, but preaching God in a way no one can truly believe in—" Kevin should interrupt but the accusation about not believing in God has him stymied. Brian sighs and continues, "—it's probably driving more people away than we realize."
Before the words can sink in, take root and bloom into doubts, Kevin finds his voice. "I believe. I feel God's presence with us every day." He has to pause to swallow; surely, Heavenly Father will strike him dead for such lies. "And, more importantly, the Ugandans believe. Sure, I roll my eyes a bit when we say 'Live long and prosper,' but I focus on the meaning behind the words. Faith is living, breathing—not solemn and stodgy! If Star Wars can serve as inspiration, why not the good parts of the secular world?"
"What, the world with porn and polygamists and people marrying their pets? Where's Arnold drawing that line? Because of course it's all about him. Everyone on the leadership team," he nods at Rob, Eric and Kevin, "lets him do whatever he wants. We're—you're—held hostage by a Latter-Day Saint who got married on his mission." He stares at the group, as if they're crazy for not having realized this sooner. "If he wasn't the prophet, he'd be just another member of the organization, with no more power than the rest of you.
"But because he lets you," he nods at Eric, "chase tail without your TBM parents breathing down your neck, and he lets you," a nod to Rob, "stop hating yourself, and you're," a glance at Kevin "his 'best friend,'" he makes finger quotes, "he's the prophet and whatever he says goes."
'Dear Mom and Dad,' Kevin composes in his thoughts, 'making leadership team councils members-only was a mistake. If they were open, everyone could see that Arnold's ideas are vetted and contained. Can't open them to everyone—have to keep some secrets—maybe separate leadership-team meetings and BoA verse-planning sessions?'
He opens his mouth to say something like that. What comes out (along with Eric's "HEY!") is a bewildered-edging-to-angry, "What the hell was that finger-quote about?"
Brian gets out a few syllables, but Mason's mumbled, "Guys," silences him. "C'mon. A human being died today. Can we not argue now?"
Brian reluctantly pulls back. "Sure thing, Mace."
Mason buries his head in his hands. "I think this is a sign." He raises his head up. "I should go back home." He's silent during the surge of "What?" and "No, you can't," and the "Elder Neeley, we need you." Staring into the middle distance, he continues. "I wasn't going to say anything for a while, but...well, it's just my mom and my brothers back home. Without LDS funds, I can't stay the full two years. My coming home would help out so much. And God's obviously saying I'm not cut out for the kind of life I need to live here.
"I...I won't be leaving the church, though. I don't have much, but I'll send whatever I can." Mason tears up, and Brian glowers from his place nearby, daring anybody to say anything about his companion's tears.
Rob, as if by magic, is by Mason's side. "Let's go to my office," he says softly, and leads Mason out of the common room.
When they hear the office door close, Eric hisses, "Yeah, I'm soooo proselytizing every day to pick up chicks."
"We have a funeral to get ready for," Kevin says before Brian can reply.
The Church of Arnold comes together at 10:00 PM at the cemetery. Arnold and Nabulungi, completely oblivious to the controversy swirling around them, stand with the ex-Mormons. There's no wood available for a coffin; the body has been wrapped in hospital gowns, a sight that makes Kevin a little nauseous and angry. Couldn't they at least try to be respectful?
Kevin selected the hymns: they sing Each Life that Touches Ours for Good, Abide With Me and How Great Thou Art. When the time comes for someone to speak, everyone is silent. After a while, Gotswana steps forward.
"This man gave his name as either Baraka or Barasa, I could not hear him well at the time. He told me he would fuck a million frogs if that would save his life." To Kevin's horror, some of the villagers chuckle. "One of my other patients recognized him from Yunna, where he begged in the market. I gave him medicine and told him it would save his life—a lie. He was too far gone for any help.
"He suffered the effects of malnutrition: atrophied muscles, skin rash, anemia, scurvy. This means he had little muscle, little blood, few teeth, and his skin was split and cracked. If that had been all he suffered from, he might have lived.
"But he had advanced HIV/AIDS: the advanced stage of Karposi's sarcoma lesions, tuberculosis, diarrhea. Infection devoured his flesh every second of the day. He was shitting blood when he arrived; by the end, it was pouring out every hole he had.
"All this, and he came from Yunna. Only a three-hour drive, but I asked those who first saw him, and they said he arrived on foot. In his condition, this would be a day and a half at least—in good weather and if no animals threatened. But, if I remember correctly, it had rained the day before he arrived, for two hours straight. And we have at least two hyena packs nearby, a pride of lions to the west of Yunna, and who knows how many leopards."
"Lions and hyenas and leopards—oh my!" says Mutumbo, to the snickers of the older villagers. It's such an unexpected break in tension that some of the ex-Mormons snicker, too.
Grinning, Gotswana continues. "All this, and he walked from Yunna. All this, because of hope." As tenderly as possible, Gotswana picks up the body and lays it in the grave. "This man, Baraka or Barasa or whatever his name was, was clearly fucking crazy! May the Force be with him, that he may live long and prosper."
As Kevin murmurs the prayer, the hospital gown wrappings take on a new meaning. They're made of actual cloth, and he knows from his hospital experiences how hard cloth is to get out here. Kevin glances at the villagers—Mafala, Effu, Gotswana, Mutumbo, the General, Sister Damisi, Elder Ghali, Sister Ameya—struck with the sudden realization that they'll most likely die of the horrible symptoms Gotswana described. Will he be here to give them a eulogy? Or will it be years from now when he's safe and comfortable in the US, far from cemeteries three times bigger than the village that uses them?
It's a very quiet ride back.
Before breakfast the next day, Kevin checks in on 'his' team, and finds Mason still adamant that he'll leave with Brian. For once, Rob isn't helping with breakfast. Kevin finds him in his office, slumped in his chair with his eyes closed, listening to Gotswana's boom-box play a song Kevin vaguely recognizes from the wedding. Physically, he doesn't look any worse, but that's likely only because he can't look more tired than he already does.
Rob's eye opens a crack. "Hey." His eye shuts.
Kevin sits in the chair opposite him. "You tried." He remembers ignoring Mason's agony yesterday after his run-in with Arnold and Nabulungi, and winces. "It shouldn't have been just you, and I'm—"
Rob waves a hand, shushing him. On the CD, the music and the woman singing crescendo. "I never thought I'd come to this!" The music and her voice are softer when she sings, "What's it all about?"
Rob murmurs, "Best part of the song, IMHO. Yet," he sings along with the soundtrack, not quite under his breath, "if he said he loves me—Kevin, you can't be everywhere at once. You're helping others, and that's great. You're everything I hoped you'd be now that you're learning to turn it off. I'd turn my head / I'd back away / I wouldn't want to know..." His eye opens to a thin slit. "How's that going, by the way?" His tone is faux-solicitude covering something that will bite if Kevin makes a wrong move.
"Fine." When Rob opens his mouth, Kevin talks faster. "I thought we could make a mud hut. For visitors, officially—unofficially, I'm hoping Themba and her grandsons will stay with us. Apparently, it's not a one-man job. Guess who found that out the hard way! Could be a team-building exercise between the missionaries and the villagers—I've been hearing a bit too much 'us' versus 'them' lately. What do you think?"
Rob, both eyes closed again, titters. He selects another track by feel alone. "Oh, Kevin! You're so..." His hand makes motions as if it's trying to tug the right word out of thin air. It flaps dismissively after a few moments.
"Draw up a proposal and bring it to me later, will you?"
Kevin nods and leaves to both Rob and a man from the soundtrack singing "Jesus I am overjoyed to meet you face to face / you've been getting quite a name all around the place..."