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Mission of a Lifetime

By Priscilla J. Krahn

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CHAPTER ONE
“God uses men who are weak and feeble enough to lean on Him.” - Hudson Taylor

Pounding footsteps shattered the stillness of the jungle night. “Willie!” a voice called.
William Rodriguez groaned and rolled over.
“Willie!” the voice shouted again. It sounded like his native friend Alano.
Willie sat up and held his watch’s light button. “I just got in bed,” he mumbled.
Feeling for a flashlight he tried to make sense of the noises he was hearing.
“Willie?” the voice sounded closer this time.
“I’m here,” Willie said pulling back his mosquito net. He stepped out of his hammock and walked towards the mosquito net door of his hut. “Alano? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” Alano said.
“What’s wrong?” Willie asked fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “Are you trying to wake the whole village?”
“You need to come with me.” Alano’s voice was a pitch higher than normal.
Willie followed Alano down the familiar path toward the mission clinic. The jungle noises cleared his head and the dew felt good on his bare feet. The sky in the west still held a tinge of pink and Willie glanced at his watch again. He had only been asleep for a half-hour.
What’s going on? Willie thought. He wanted to demand that Alano tell him what was happening but he knew that Alano would talk when he was ready and not before.
When they got to the mission clinic Alano stepped aside and let Willie go first. “I’m sorry, Willie,” he whispered as Willie walked by.
Willie had never heard that tone of sympathy in Alano’s voice before and it sent chills up his spine.
Inside the clinic, next to the communication center, Uncle Jim sat with the communication iPad and headset.
Uncle Jim’s face was contorted in a look of agony. He looked up when Willie came in. “I’m sorry, Son.”
Willie’s breathing grew shallow and his chest tightened. The look on Uncle Jim’s face could only mean one thing. “They’re dead aren’t they?” he asked.
Uncle Jim handed him the iPad and headset. “We don’t know for sure. Mr. Kennedy will tell you about it.”
Willie grabbed the headset and put it on. “Mr. Kennedy? This is William Rodriguez. Where are my parents?”
The headset crackled with static. “. . . Didn’t show . . . can’t find . . . airplane’s down . . . missing . . . Carabayo territory . . .”
Willie wracked his brain to figure out what he had missed. He hated the poor reception between the missions.
“Can you repeat that?”
Mr. Kennedy repeated the message and Willie sank into a nearby chair. He shoved the iPad and headset back into Uncle Jim’s hands and propped his elbows on his knees. Resting his chin on his fists he tried to control his emotions.
Alano placed a hand on his shoulder but Willie shrugged it off. He got to his feet and paced the room. He had to think clearly. “If my parents didn’t die in the plane crash, then the Carabayo natives will finish them off. I have to go help them.”
Willie turned to leave the clinic but Uncle Jim’s commanding voice stopped him. “Willie, you can’t go. Your parents are in God’s hands. Besides, if something happens to you, what will happen to Carmen and E.N.? Your parents wanted you to become their guardian.”
Willie groaned. Why did he have to be twenty-one years old? If he were younger he wouldn’t have to worry about being guardian to his siblings. Or if Jerry were here . . . Stop it, Willie, he chided himself. You can’t think about Jerry now.
He glanced at Alano. “It’s your tribe, will you come with me?” Willie felt a glimmer of hope. Alano was always ready for an adventure, especially if it involved fighting.
Alano shook his head. “I think we need to wait.”
“Wait for what?” Willie asked. “Word to come that they’re dead?”
Alano shook his head again. “I’m sorry Willie, but if my tribe has your parents, you won’t see them again.”
Willie slammed one fist into the palm of his other hand. “We can’t sit here and do nothing!”
“We’ll just have to wait and pray,” Uncle Jim said. “Mr. Kennedy will contact us when he knows more. It is in Carabayo territory so the government will probably get involved as well.”
Willie’s vision blurred as he fled from the clinic. He had to think of some way to fix this. If the plane had gone down in Carabayo territory then it was at least a three day walk from Mr. Kennedy’s mission. Three days of walking through hostile territory with unreached tribes the whole way. Willie wanted to deny it, but he knew he couldn’t. If his parents had survived the wreck, they would be killed by the Carabayo warriors . . . just like Jerry.
Willie squeezed his eyes shut. You can’t think about Jerry now, he told himself. You have to keep your head clear. Stumbling over a fallen branch, Willie opened his eyes. God, why? He prayed silently, but there was no answer.
“Willie?” Carmen stood at the door of their hut with a flashlight. “What are you doing out there? Is something wrong?”
Willie stumbled towards his family’s hut. How was he supposed to tell Carmen that their parents were as good as dead? She was only seventeen, how would she take it?
“Willie? What’s wrong?”
Willie felt like his feet were made of lead. He followed Carmen into their hut and fell into the closest chair. He couldn’t make his hands stop trembling. This was going to hurt Carmen and E.N. and he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain.
Carmen sat down across from Willie. “Look at me,” she said.
Willie looked up.
“What happened?”
Willie lowered his gaze. “It’s Dad and Mom. Their plane went down.”
“Are they . . .” Carmen’s voice broke.
Willie shook his head. “I don’t know, Sis. They didn’t make it to Mr. Kennedy’s mission base so he sent a plane out to look for them. From the air, it looked like Dad’s plane went down by the river in Carabayo territory.”
A gasp escaped Carmen’s lips. “Then . . .”
Willie shook his head again. “They don’t have a chance.”
Carmen sobbed and Willie chewed on his bottom lip. Why do I always have to be the bearer of bad news? I would do anything to make this easier on Carmen and E.N. First Jerry and now . . . God? His thoughts turned to prayer. What can I do to make this easier for them? They’ve already been through so much.
A weight seemed to settle over Willie as he glanced across the room to where his brother was snoring peacefully. Is this what it’s like to be in charge of a family? He wondered.

* * *

Two months later…

The airplane engine sputtered and let out a cloud of smoke, then died. The smell of burning oil filled his nostrils and William Rodriguez tossed his wrench onto the shop counter. It was no use.
“Getting anywhere?” an older voice asked. “I heard some noise.”
Willie glanced up. Uncle Jim. Willie’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I just can’t keep my mind focused.”
Uncle Jim put a gentle hand on Willie’s shoulder. “I know.”
Willie lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s been two months.”
Uncle Jim nodded. “Keep praying.”
Willie strode across to the work bench and wiped his greasy hands on an old t-shirt. Willie could barely make out the writing on it anymore but he didn’t care. Why should he want to wear a shirt from a 1995 marathon? He had always been grateful for the clothes that people sent in the missionary barrels, but sometimes he wished they could get some that weren’t twenty years old.
He threw the rag down and leaned against the work bench. “If the government was going to find our parents wouldn’t they have done it by now? I mean what is taking them so long?” Willie slowly shook his head. “I just don’t know how much longer I can keep Carmen and E.N. hoping. Should I just tell them that Dad and Mom aren’t coming back?” Even as he said it Willie knew he could never tell his siblings that. He would never stop hoping.
“Willie, if your parents are still alive, don’t you think they would have come back?”
“They’ll come back,” Willie said. He just couldn’t believe that they were gone for good.
“Willie, this isn’t easy for me to admit, but if they survived the crash, they would have been killed by the Carabayo tribe.”
Willie fingered a screwdriver. “I’m not giving up. If we could just get some word from them . . .” Willie sighed. He knew it was useless to hope, but still . . . it didn’t seem right to give up.
“Willie!” a voice from outside called. “Willie!” Alano burst in out of breath. “Mr. Kennedy’s on the phone! The government men are back!”
Willie dropped the screwdriver and sprinted from the mechanic shop.
“Carmen! E.N.!” Willie called as he ran past their hut.
Willie rushed into the clinic with Alano at his elbow. Aunt Cathy sat at the communication center.
“He’s here now,” Aunt Cathy said. She took off the headset and handed it to Willie.
“Did they find anything?” Willie tried to catch his breath.
“Willie,” he began. “This is hard for me . . . they found . . . pilot’s body . . .”
Willie pressed his hands over the headset to block out the mission noises as he strained to hear Mr. Kennedy.
Carmen’s light touch on his arm pulled him back to reality. “Did they find them?” she asked.
Willie glanced up, Carmen’s and E.N.’s faces were tense. “I don’t know yet,” he whispered.
“Mr. Kennedy, you’re breaking up,” Willie said.
Mr. Kennedy repeated his message and Willie fell back in his chair.
“What is it?” E.N. asked.
Willie took off the headset and handed it back to Aunt Cathy.
The tropical heat coaxed a sweat across his brow. But he knew the heat wasn’t why his stomach was unsettled.
“Where are Uncle Simon and Aunt Della?” Alano asked.
Uncle Jim came in and Willie glanced at him for support. Uncle Jim’s face was blank and Willie knew that if he didn’t talk soon he would never be able to work up the nerve. “They found the plane’s crash site with the helicopter and then went in on foot.”
“They’re dead aren’t they?” E.N. asked.
Willie sighed. “They found the pilot’s body . . . at least what was left of it. He was definitely killed by the Carabayo tribe.”
“Was there any sign of Simon or Della?” Uncle Jim asked.
Willie hung his head. “No, but they didn’t search for very long because of the danger in that territory.”
“What does this all mean?” E.N. asked.
Willie squeezed his eyes shut. “Mr. Kennedy said that it’s not possible for our parents to have travelled across over four-hundred kilometers of Carabayo territory without being killed.”
“But they didn’t find any bodies,” Carmen said. “When do they go back?”
Willie shook his head. “He said they’re not going back. He said it’s too dangerous.”
“But their bodies . . .” Carmen’s voice trailed off. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
Willie chewed on his bottom lip. How could he tell her what Mr. Kennedy had said about that? Willie lowered his voice and stared at his bare feet. “Mr. Kennedy said that even if their bodies weren’t eaten by jungle animals, things decay rapidly out there. Going back would be a waste of time. There’s nothing to go back for.”
Alano slipped from the clinic. Carmen sobbed. E.N. turned and ran from the clinic and Willie traced a line on the floor with his big toe. They can’t be dead. They just can’t be, he thought.
As Carmen’s sobs were subsiding, guilt washed over Willie. Why wasn’t he crying? Why couldn’t he let his emotions surface? Was it because he had been expecting this for two months or was it something more?
Willie tried to stand but his knees felt weak. Uncle Jim stood with his arm around Aunt Cathy and tears in his eyes. Willie bit his lip. Why his parents? They were good people.
Willie forced himself to his feet and put his arm around Carmen, resting his chin on the top of her head. He tried to think of his siblings. How could he comfort them? Carmen was only seventeen and had been best friends with Mom. How could he help her through this? And E.N. . . . at fifteen he was growing into a man and he needed a dad.
I’m not ready to lead a family, Willie thought swallowing hard.
Pushing Carmen away Willie spoke sternly. “Find E.N. and go home.”
Tears glistened on Carmen’s cheeks. “Don’t you care?”
“Of course I care,” Willie said gruffly.
Carmen covered her face with her hands and fled from the clinic.
Uncle Jim and Aunt Cathy stared at Willie and he felt his cheeks growing warm. Why couldn’t he show his emotions? Why couldn’t he show them how much he cared?
“William, we need to talk,” Uncle Jim said.
“Not now.” Willie kicked at a small clump of dirt. Uncle Jim had used his full name. That was never a good thing.
“Yes, now. It’s been almost two months and we can’t let you keep on like this.”
“Okay, let’s talk,” Willie said.
Uncle Jim and Aunt Cathy sat down.
“Have a seat, Son,” Uncle Jim said.
Willie crossed his arms. “I’d rather stand.”
Uncle Jim leaned back in his chair. “We’ve been friends a long time, Willie. I’m going to give you the bare facts and I expect you to take it like a man.”
Willie looked at his feet. I’m not the man that everyone thinks I am. He tried to shake the feeling, but it wouldn’t go away.
“We discussed it with the mission board yesterday, and we think you need to go back to the States.”
Willie put his hands on his hips. “If you think . . .”
“Hear me out,” Uncle Jim interrupted. “If you go back to America and get a few years of Bible College, then you can come back as a full time missionary with the mission board.”
Willie snorted. “Full time missionary? What do you think I’ve been doing? I have fixed every broken engine you can find. I’ve taught Bible classes. I’ve done everything that the rest of you do.” Willie paused. “If Jerry were here you would let him stay.”
“Jerry translated the entire New Testament into Moragoi before he was twenty,” Aunt Cathy reminded him. “And he wasn’t afraid of working in the clinic.”
Willie swallowed hard. “I might not be able to translate my own name into Carabayo but I’ll learn. I might not be able to be around needles without passing out, but I have more medical training than any of the natives. I love these people! I love this land!”
“Being able to remember the blood type of every patient we’ve ever had doesn’t make you a good missionary,” Uncle Jim said firmly. “We know you want to be a translator like Jerry but we don’t think that’s what God wants you to do. Willie, you’re good with mechanics, really good. God has given you a talent! Besides, you have family in the States that will want to see you.”
“Family?” a sob caught in the back of Willie’s throat. “You guys aren’t my blood relations, no, but you’ve been the only family that I’ve known. I’m American by birth. By blood, I’m three fourths Swedish and a quarter Mexican but as far as I’m concerned, I belong to the Moragoi tribe. They practically raised me. They’re my family.”
“I’m sorry Willie,” Uncle Jim said. “But let’s face it. Your record hasn’t been spotless and the mission wants you to take time to deeply consider what God wants you to be doing with your life. He may not want you to be a translator.”
Willie felt like the room was closing in on him. Not be a translator? He just couldn’t bear the thought of that. If only Jerry were still alive. Then his record would be clear and he could stay because Jerry could stay. And if Jerry were still there, then he wouldn’t have to be a translator.
“What if my parents come back?” Willie asked. “Would things be different then?” He had to convince them to let him stay he just had to. If he could only learn to translate a little then they would accept him like they had Jerry.
“If your parents were alive we would leave it to them,” Uncle Jim said. “Willie, there’s no doubt that you connect with the people. More than anyone else, you can think like them. But you’re twenty-one years old and you still don’t know the first thing about translating. And as for the clinic work, what would you do if you were the only one here and someone came running in with an arrow wound? What would you do?”
Willie hung his head. He knew he would pass out. He knew he would fail.
Uncle Jim sighed. “Willie, I don’t want to discourage you. If you wanted to be a missionary mechanic, we would let you stay, but if you’re going to be a translator, you need better training.”
A slight noise behind him made Willie look over his shoulder. Alano stood in the doorway with the sun at his back and his arms crossed.
“Willie’s the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had,” Alano said. “I’m not letting him run off to America.”
“I’m sorry, Alano,” Uncle Jim said shaking his head. “But it’s not up to you.”
“We’ll find Uncle Simon and Aunt Della,” Alano said simply. “It’s only right. I’m practically Willie’s brother and I’m not going to lose him by sending him to college.”
Willie glanced at Uncle Jim. Could they possibly convince Uncle Jim to let them go?
“You guys are right,” Willie said. “I’m not man enough to be a missionary. I know all the facts, but like you said, being able to remember all the blood types of every patient we’ve ever had doesn’t make me a good missionary.”
Uncle Jim frowned. “We didn’t say you weren’t man enough. We’re just saying we think you should do some serious soul searching and figure out if this is where God really wants you.”
Willie nodded. “I get the picture.”
Willie paused and met Alano’s gaze. Turning back to Uncle Jim and Aunt Cathy, Willie took a deep breath. “I’ll go back to the States if that’s what you want. All I ask is a chance to prove myself first.”
Uncle Jim shook his head. “We can’t risk anyone’s life because you want to prove something to yourself. We already gave you that opportunity and look what happened to Jerry.”
Willie bit his lip. Why did everyone have to keep bringing Jerry into everything? He had re-lived the day of Jerry’s death a thousand times. Why couldn’t everyone else just forget it?
“He was my brother and I realize more than anyone what we lost.” Willie swallowed hard. “But if you really think my parents are dead, then you’re not risking anyone’s lives by letting me go look for them. If I find them, then they’ll decide what should happen. If I don’t, then I’ll go to America with Carmen and E.N.”
Uncle Jim shook his head. “We can’t let you go after your parents. If anything happened to you we would feel guilty the rest of our lives.”
Willie snorted. “Guilty? Don’t you think you’d be doing everyone a favor by getting rid of me?”
Willie’s words hung in the air.
“You know that’s not true,” Aunt Cathy said. “No one blames you for what happened. We want you to be our missionary mechanic; we just think you need to do some soul searching first.”
Uncle Jim nodded in agreement.
“It’s not like he would be alone,” Alano said. “I’m going with him, and since I’m not a part of any mission board, you can’t stop me.”
Uncle Jim’s eyes narrowed. “Alano . . . it’s nice of you to offer but I don’t think it would be very safe.”
Alano raised his chin slightly. “Not safe? I know better than any of you how dangerous it is.”
Uncle Jim nodded. “Exactly the problem, you haven’t been back there in years. Your tribe isn’t going to be happy with you for running away.”
Alano glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “When I showed up here six years ago, you treated my yellow fever and saved my life. You accepted me like family, but I never told you who I really was.”
Willie leaned forward slightly. Alano had never talked about his past. Willie assumed that Alano was around his age, or slightly older, but even that was a mystery. Either Alano knew nothing about himself or he had never wanted to talk about it.
“I’ve been living with you guys for six years now and . . .” Alano’s voice trailed off. “You can’t hold my background against me.”
Willie tried to look his friend in the eye. “I’m not holding anything against you. Now what aren’t you telling us?”
Alano shrugged. “I was trained by them to be a Carabayo warrior and I can survive in their territory. I would rather not tell you exactly who I am, but I guarantee I can find out what happened to Uncle Simon and Aunt Della.”
Willie searched Alano’s face. He had always known that Alano had ties with the Carabayo tribe but the fact that he had been trained as one of their warriors was news. Alano? A member of the tribe that had killed his brother and many others? It didn’t make sense.
Uncle Jim leaned forward. “If you were a Carabayo warrior, then why didn’t you return to your village after you recovered from the Yellow Fever?”
Alano grinned. “I never returned, because the whole reason I ran away was to get an education like my sister. Then I got saved and the Rodriguez family took me in and I didn’t want to go back. I enjoy a good fight, but killing is wrong.”
Willie frowned. Things just didn’t add up. “We’ve never educated anyone from the Carabayo tribe. Who was your sister?”
Alano glanced at the floor. “I would rather not say. Our mother was Mexican and wanted us to be educated so Father agreed to let my sister come. You probably just thought of her as another Mestizo .”
“How did a Mexican manage to get into the Carabayo tribe without being killed?” Willie crossed his arms. “From what I hear, no one from outside of the Carabayo tribe ever leaves the territory alive.”

“That’s what they want people to think but it’s not the way things always happen. There was a group of Mexicans that were hiding out here in Columbia to evade arrest by the Mexican police. They came across our village and were allowed to join. My mother was one of them.” Alano glanced back at Uncle Jim and Aunt Cathy. “The point is that I’ve been educated now, and I’m willing to go back. I know the area like the back of my hand and I’m going with Willie. If Uncle Simon and Aunt Della are still alive, we’ll find them.”
Uncle Jim and Aunt Cathy spoke to each other in whispers for a few minutes. Finally, Uncle Jim stood up. “It would take weeks for you to cut your way through the jungle and then get word back to us. Besides, the government already did that. So here’s the deal. If you can get an airplane within a week, you can go. If not, I’m afraid the board’s decision stands. Willie will have to leave.”

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