Hope Lives

© 2012 by Trudie-Pearl Sturgess. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/20/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8759-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8758-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-8760-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012906891

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue

Hope Lives is dedicated to all citizens of the Republic of Liberia who lost their lives and their families during the civil war, and also to all the refugees who have not yet found their way back home.

To Chrissel and Torian Sturgess who are the answers to my hope.

I love you with all my heart and soul, my darlings.

Thank you, Dr. Sally Braun-Jackson,

as always, for your good editing work.

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Dr Matt Parker begins his morning run from his Ottawa apartment building, through Lees Avenue all the way to Parliament Hill. He will normally end his run at 99 Bank Street, the downtown YMCA where he will use the gym for another two hours of serious workout. Later, Matt will take the OC Transpo bus 95 back to his apartment. Twenty years ago, Matt’s mother discovered that running and exercise helped alleviate his anxiety, so it has become a daily ritual for Matt.

He says hello to the security guard at the gate and runs into the lobby of his apartment building. As he walks down the hall toward his unit, Matt can smell the scrambled eggs, bacon and turkey sausages before he opens the door. Samantha is dressed in a conservative black business suit, hair up in a pony tail with pearl stud earrings adorning her ears. She flashes Matt a smile as she pours some coffee into a mug. Matt wishes he could rip those clothes off her and have his way with her right now, but there is no time. She has to get to her office and Matt needs to get to the hospital in time for rounds.

I’ll be right back, honey, Matt yells from the hallway. He gets under the shower and in no time he is dressed and ready for his breakfast. At one hundred and seventy pounds, Matt Parker stands six feet-two inches tall. He looks dashing in his Oxford blue shirt, which complements the colour of his eyes. A blob of gell slicks back his chronically unruly hair. He looks presentable for the day.

Good morning, Dr Parker. How are you this morning?

I’m good, honey.

He leans over and kisses Samantha on the cheek.

Are you nervous? asks Sam.

No. I don’t think so. I’ve wanted to go to Africa since I finished my internship. This might be a good opportunity, replies Matt.

Doctors Without Borders gives many young doctors the opportunity to travel worldwide and to work with the less fortunate and the needy. By 1995, the civil war in Liberia has torn the country into a million pieces. Every corner of the world holds Liberian refugees. The United States of America and Canada have taken most of the refugees, but a large number of them still languish in UN camps in neighbouring countries of West Africa. Rebel soldiers continue to rape and to kill women, young and old. To the individual soldiers, it matters little whom they assault since many of them are on drugs and have no idea what they are doing. Some of these soldiers are as young as nine years old. Liberia has been on the Canadian news programs all right, but the real truth about the West African civil war never appears.

Samantha O’kelly works for the Royal Bank of Canada. She and Matt have been dating almost three years. To her surprise, Matt finally popped the Big Question on Canada Day in front of family and friends while they attended a family barbeque. He was so humorous, hiding the ring in his hot dog bun, that Samantha couldn’t resist his proposal. She is having second thoughts now. Aware that she cannot talk Matt out of going to the war-torn African country, Samantha does her best to support Matt’s decision to go and help the needy. She is relieved to know that ten other young Canadian doctors will be going to Liberia, too. One of them happens to be Sam’s older brother, Josh, a former OHL player. Recruited straight out of high school, Josh played three games for the Ottawa 69s when they released him without explanation. Josh went to Hamilton’s McMaster University where he studied medicine. After graduation, Josh returned to Ottawa where he landed a job at Montfort Hospital. Rumour has it that the six foot tall, one hundred and ninety pound former hockey player has slept with half of the nurses and health-care aids in the hospital and that he is very proud of that statistic. Josh is excited about going on this adventure in Africa. All of the doctors originating from various parts of Canada and the US have met in London’s Heathrow airport to prepare to board the flight to Freetown, Sierra Leone. They arrive in Freetown at 5 o’clock in the evening, disembarking to hot and humid conditions. Everyone sweats as if a bucket of water has been thrown on each of them. They are met by their Liaison Officer, Dr George Wentworth, who has come from the UK and spent the last seven years in Africa, working with the aid agencies and the medical professionals who come to help. The newcomers pack their gear into the Jeep and go with Dr Wentworth to a nearby hotel where he orders beer, Fanta and Coca-Cola for everyone.

I hope you all like rice. If not, maize is the next best thing, unless you want to try plantains, cassava or yams. That’s just about the only food in this region, Dr Wentworth informs them. In the spirit of the occasion, Dr Wentworth also buys a gallon of the traditional African palm wine and tells them to drink up.

We leave first thing in the morning, he says. Oh, yes. Guard your travel documents with your life. In these parts, European and American passports are worth their weight in gold! He passes out kits to the bemused doctors, instructing them to manage their kit well since the Red Cross brings in supplies only once every six weeks.

You’ll find that the airports in Liberia have been closed for public use, except for army personnel, foreign aid and diplomatic missions. If, at any time, any of you decide that you cannot take it, there is a flight going to England from Freetown every six weeks. Just let me know and I’ll get you on it. We have access to a telecommunication link in the capital, Monrovia, which we can use to call home every fortnight. It’s just five minutes per person, so I suggest you write letters and save the important things for your five-minute phone calls. Our contract forbids us to take photos. It’s also against humanitarian law. You can be charged, so let’s not forget why we are here. We’re here to help, not to cause problems. Just so you know . . . though I’m sure you’re all aware of this situation . . . AIDS, HIV, and Hepatitis are very common in these parts. I suggest you all be very careful.

Jesus! He doesn’t waste any time, does he? What a killjoy! Dr O’kelly remarks.

Even though Matt is engaged to Josh’s sister, they are not really close friends. Matt just shrugs his shoulders, refraining from commenting on Josh’s observation.

Another doctor from the UK, an African, named Thomas Appiah, has been working with the Red Cross for five years. He is a lot less serious than Dr Wentworth. He tells the new doctors to enjoy themselves.

Drink, dance, get a good fuck tonight if you can get a lady. Tomorrow will be a life-changing experience for all of you. Some of you will never see the world in quite the same way ever again. Empathy, hope and courage will take on new meanings for each of you. Welcome! Welcome to Africa! And may God-Almighty and the gods of Africa watch over all of us and keep us safe. I thank you all for leaving your families and loved ones to come and help us. Dr Appiah raises his beer bottle.

You are one sick bastard, Thomas, jokes Dr Wentworth as he pats the man on the back.

Matt and Josh exchange glances, though they each keep their own thoughts unvoiced.

The journey begins the next day as soon as the sun rises. For those accustomed to early-morning city noises, it is unusually quiet driving through the mud-packed roads along the coast-line of the Freetown peninsula. Deeper into the countryside, there is a lot less traffic and most of it pedestrian, women carrying laden baskets on their heads, children herding a few goats or leading a cow to market.

How exciting, thinks Matt, I’m heading to Liberia!

They stop at sundown to make a camp near the crest of a small hill beside a wood, where they will stay for the night. The sky is the dark blue of autumn, but the heat rises from the earth like nothing any of them have previously known. Thomas, Matt and Josh are all in one Jeep with two of the female doctors from the UK, Sharon Johnson and Tracy Cole. Miraculously, all of them are thirty-three years old. Josh laughs and suggests it might be their lucky number. Both women are brunettes, stand about five feet five inches tall, and maybe 140 pounds soaking wet. All day, Sharon and Tracy have kept up a catty banter, but suddenly they are very quiet. Amused by their sudden silence, the men tease the women about being slow-pokes setting up camp. Everyone else seems to have tents set up and sleeping gear in place. Matt and Josh have noticed that the women are not behaving in their usual catty style.

Josh teases Matt, "Too bad you’re taken. It looks like they will need my personal assistance with their tent until we reach our destination!"

Matt just ignores Josh. He sets up a tent for Sharon and Tracy while Josh ambles over to the Jeep to sweet-talk them. As he comes alongside of the Jeep, Josh begins to understand why the two women are frozen in their seats. It turns out that one of their backpacks has a snake in it.

Holy shit! exclaims Josh, motioning for Matt to come see the snake.

Matt gently opens the door of the vehicle, telling the ladies not to make any sudden movements.

He shouts, Tom! Tom! I need you now, man! Hurry, there’s a snake!

Thomas grabs a long piece of wood and brings it over to the Jeep. The snake is less than a foot away from Tracy’s feet. Using the pole to manoeuvre the snake, Thomas scoops it up and tosses it into the burning camp fire.

I guess we forgot to tell you there are a lot of snakes here, says Dr Wentworth, sheepishly. Watch your luggage: they do tend to crawl into things.

The first night in Africa was nothing compared to their second night: it rained non-stop until the mid-afternoon the next day. The mosquitoes busily feasted on the new doctors so badly that eight of the team members told Dr Wentworth they did not want to go any further. Josh and Matt are not too crazy about the insects either, but they agree they want to continue to Monrovia. Sharon and Tracy concur. The team split up, with Sharon, Tracy, Matt and Josh driving with Thomas to Monrovia while Dr Wentworth drove the others back to Freetown to await the next plane out. It took another four days of hard driving before they reached Monrovia. On the fourth day, just as the group was beginning to feel travel weary, Thomas reassured them that they would soon be able to rest.

The host of this project lives near here. His family happen to own a large piece of Monrovia. You’ll soon see that Africa is just like the Western world—even richer. Here, the rich are filthy rich and the poor are filthy poor.

Matt thinks it is an apt description of African life.

Thomas continues, The Washington family are very rich, but they are not like your average rich Africans, who abandon their country when war breaks out. They have stayed and they have been doing their part for the war effort these last seven years, each one of them. The Washington family has been our host the past eight years.

Turning down a long driveway, Tom grins, Ah ha! We’re here!

Sharon and Tracy have been sleeping for the last three hours, and when they open their eyes, Tracy asks Tom, Are you sure we’re still in Africa?

Of course, we are! Does this mean that I’m not in the dog house anymore?

I’m still pissed off at you, so don’t push it! Tracy says threateningly.

Puzzled, Matt asks, Hey! Do you guys know each other already?

Fellows, meet the love of my life, Dr Cole, Thomas says proudly.

I’ve been angry because this is nothing like Tom said it would be. He has been asking me to come to Africa to help for the last two years. When Sharon said she would like to come, I thought what the hell, I’ll come, too, but he didn’t mention non-stop rain, snakes and insects, or how dark it is at night. Tracy crinkles up her nose and they all begin to laugh at her expression. Tom is right, though, about how the rich live in Africa. They pull up at a pair of huge iron gates. Tom stops to shake the gate man’s hand, and they are motioned through the gates. As Tom drives toward the house, they can see lights, and Tom explains that the power generator keeps the lights on only for three hours each night. It is a huge estate, one would think a whole survey; in fact the property contains more than sixty acres of land with long bungalows behind the house, one after another.

I thought you said this was a private home, comments Matt.

Yes, it is, replies Tom.

Gee, he must be one rich son-of-a-gun, Josh remarks.

Tom laughs. The Washingtons are Americo-Liberians. They own one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in this part of Africa. The original owner is in his late seventies and he lives in England. His grandson refused to leave when the war began—he’s a doctor, too—so their grandfather stayed. I believe his younger sister returned from England just before we left to meet you guys. She is a pharmacist. You will get to meet them all tonight. We always have dinner with them when we are here. Dinner’s at six, so don’t be late, and don’t forget the lights go off at nine sharp. I will drive us down to the main house because it is too far to walk from here. Come! I will show you your rooms.

Thomas showed them around the rooms where they would be staying. They were all relieved to be sleeping in real beds tonight. After everyone had showered, they began to relax. Fresh fruit and baked goods were in the living room for them to sample as well as an assortment of cold drinks. Josh arrived in the living room first. He wasted no time digging into the food and drinks.

Hey! My friend, slow down, or you are going to be sick if you drink too much of that stuff! It’s stronger than Russian Vodka.

Josh looked up to see a tall man with pale golden skin. He spoke clear English with an American accent, yet Josh could not be sure whether the man was a light-skinned Indian, or a white man with a dark tan.

Oh, don’t you worry about me. I can hold my drink, replied Josh.

Not African Gin, you can’t, the man warned Josh.

Josh didn’t like this man already. Who the hell does he think he is anyway? Imagine, telling me what I can and cannot drink! Josh muttered to himself before walking away.

Well, just you go easy on that stuff, Dr O’kelly. It can kill you just as easily as any deadly poison. It is also a strong disinfectant, Thomas joined the conversation.

Josh ran outside and began to vomit. As his stomach cleared, Josh looked up in time to see the man from the living room drive off in the most expensive sports car Josh had ever seen in his whole life.

No! he thought. Can it be? I must be drunk! I’m in a war-torn African country. People don’t drive expensive Italian sports cars here, do they? Could be I’m dead and already in hell for my crimes! He chuckled. Then Josh began to laugh hysterically. Thomas heard him and remarked sardonically, I think Dr O’kelly is drunk.

Matt could not believe it. He could have waited at least a day before screwing up, Matt thought, shaking his head in disappointment. He had a niggling feeling that Josh was going to be nothing but embarrassment during this trip. Matt sincerely wished he had known Josh was coming out here because he was sure he would have chosen to go to the Congo, instead.

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Michael Washington is seventy-nine years old. He still has most of his black hair, but a touch of salt mixes into its pepper black. He settles on the couch to listen to the radio, anxious about the civil war crisis in Liberia. He shrugs his shoulders and tries not to think too deeply about the safety of his grandchildren, a burden he has carried on his shoulders for some time now, and he genuinely wishes the children would listen to him and return to England. Lock has just arrived from England, six days ago, determined to stay and do her part until the war is over. Just as stubborn as her elder brother, Freedom, Michael worries most about Lock’s safety. During a war, no woman is safe in the country, especially someone like Lock. It has been confirmed that the rebel soldiers are stepping up their attacks in the countryside and Lock is determined to go out there to deliver medication to the needy.

Pa, she told me this before she came back to the country, Freedom explains to his grandfather.

Why didn’t you try to persuade her not to come, Freedom? The old man speaks tearfully.

Pa, you know how pig-headed Lock can be . . . Freedom says in his own defence.

His grandfather sighs, ruefully smiles, Still . . . she is only twenty-one years old, and still a child. Have you met the new doctors yet?

Yes . . . I have met one of them. Freedom sits across from his grandfather. I could be wrong, but the man doesn’t seem like someone with his head screwed on straight. I really don’t want my sister around a person like that. The countryside is full of rebel soldiers, who are mostly drugged out of their minds, and there have been more than a few rumours that many of these Red Cross and UN workers support the rebels and their habits. The longer this war goes on, the better for them. Personally, I don’t think Lock should go with the new doctors. She can still contribute here and keep her eye on you, Pa.

Michael chuckles as he leans back in his chair.

Michael’s cook has fired up the big barbecue grill. The guests have gravitated toward it, and as Freedom surveys the new arrivals, he realizes they are hosting guests from all over the world, even a few journalists, too.

Lock awakens from a long nap. She has been sleeping odd hours since she arrived in Monrovia. Sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Lock slides her feet into her slippers and walks over to the window. Looking out at all the media guests, she feels a particularly venomous loathing for them. One would think that with this many journalists from around the world in this particular hot-spot that something might be done about these bloody killings, Lock thinks. She pins up her hair and sits down to meditate. She decides to grace her grandfather with her presence at the barbeque downstairs in the main house. Swiftly, Lock changes into a white T-shirt, jogging pants, and Nike running shoes.

Michael smiles when he sees Lock coming downstairs. Won’t you consider going back to England with me next week, Ma?

Lock smiles as she wraps her arms around her grandfather and kisses him. She looks over her shoulder to see Freedom coming into the yard with the new arrivals from the Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders.

Will you excuse me, grandfather? asks Lock. She wants to leave the room before she gets inundated with introductions. He nods and she returns to her room upstairs. Michael strides forward, hand ready to grasp hand, to greet Thomas and all the new doctors. He thanks them all for leaving their families to come to the aid of Liberia. He invites them to enjoy their dinner, making a joke about camp food. The new doctors chuckle politely. Freedom tells everyone that he will re-join them soon and he follows his sister upstairs. Knocking gently on her door, he pokes his head into the room. Lock stands by her window with a very serious expression on her face.

Are you okay? Freedom asks.

Hey! Free, I’m good and you? Lock replies, hugging her brother.

You gonna come down and join us for dinner?

I’ll pass, Lock sighs.

Freedom could not understand why Lock tolerates being isolated in her room. She is unusually quiet, and has been this way since her return to Liberia.

How can you leave your wife and children to come to this mess of a civil war, Free? Lock enquires as she turns to look at her brother.

Freedom sighs and pulls up a chair. As he sits down, he says, "I guess I feel that I don’t really have a choice. Lock, you do have a choice. You must go back with Pa. Please."

I can’t. Not yet, anyway.

Why did you come back, Lock? Liberia is a dangerous place right now, especially for you.

Lock shrugs. I can take care of myself, Free. I’m more worried about you and your foreigner friends, and our own African press who can’t seem to get the truth out there for the world to see how many of our people are being slaughtered because of guns and greed. You know, a week ago I watched a CNN interview with US President Clinton. Larry King asked him about the war in Liberia. All Mr Clinton could say was ‘we are close to bringing peace to that country.’ There are tears on Lock’s face as she shakes her head, Dead bodies everywhere on the streets of Liberia’s towns, women and children being raped and slaughtered like animals, and Bill Clinton smugly sits there with a straight face and tells the world that the war in Liberia is close to an end?

Freedom watches his little sister rant. His intuition tells him that she did not simply come back to Liberia to help protect the family wealth. Freedom chuckles dismissively. Lock. Why are you really here?

Lock smiles, and says in softly, To make a difference.

There was something very dark in her brown eyes that her brother couldn’t place, something wild, passionate, and dangerous. It breaks his heart to see Lock this way. Lock has always been an out-going, friendly person, but this mood is different.

You must go and join your guests, Free. I want to discuss something with Pa.

They walk downstairs together, hand-in-hand. Michael is on the walkie-talkie, but suddenly he terminates the call. A dead expression haunts his face. Freedom exchanges a glance with Lock. Jordan Washington is Michael’s younger son. He, too, has refused to leave the country, and so far has hung on to his place in Port Roberts. Michael has just received the news that a gang of rebels has stormed Jordan’s home, raping and killing his wife and his fifteen-year-old daughter. Jordan’s other daughter is with him and they have just arrived at the gate and are driving toward the main house. For Lock and Freedom, everything they fear has now come to pass. Despite this news, Freedom and Lock cannot ever forget New Year’s Eve 1990 when their own parents were brutally murdered. The memory flashes through their minds like thunder. The war has once again taken two more family members. Freedom’s body shivers as his uncle tells them about the gruesome slaughter of his wife and daughter while Lock holds her teenage cousin. She grasps Michael’s hands and squeezes them. Yelling loudly, Lock calls for the maid, demanding that bath water should be drawn for her cousin. Lock carries the girl in her arms, and together they go upstairs to the bath. A little while later, Lock rejoins her family. Her facial expression says it all. Her family watches as Lock pounds her fist on the window frame.

Look at them out there, she hisses. "They eat. They drink. They laugh—totally oblivious to the war going on outside our gates. They have no idea. Lock is silent for a few minutes, but when she speaks again, her voice is tinged with pain and sorrow, We are kidding ourselves if we are sitting here waiting for the UN and our own African Peacekeeping force to come and stop this war for us." For a few more minutes, Lock is consumed with emotion. Then, turning toward her brother and her grandfather, she has a split second of startling clarity. Lock, who has given very little thought about the civil war in her country, suddenly knows why she has come home. She recognizes what is happening and what she can do to bring peace to Liberia. In that instant, it is all crystal-clear to her as her fears suddenly vanish and are replaced with hope.

Lock tightens her grip on her grandfather’s hands. He looks exhausted. Her brother and uncle are shocked by her words. To their surprise, Lock removes an automatic gun from the back of her pants and puts it on the desk next to where she is standing. She folds both hands on her chest then sits down behind the huge desk. Sighing, she says, Pa, I have men to escort you, Freedom and Kaylee, to Ivory Coast tomorrow. Freedom will return to help me and Uncle Jordan with some things before he returns to England in a month’s time. We’re not waiting any longer for the world to hear us. There is a voice of Liberians, and in a month the whole world will hear it. No one is able to stop this war—not the rebels, not their villain, not the UN or our own Peacekeepers. It’s all about greed.

The men can hear the sadness in her voice. They know the fear they have all shared has left Lock’s voice and been replaced by a tone of excitement tinted with pain, anger, love and hope, above all, hope. They are quiet; all of them, and then Michael Washington breaks the silence, speaking to them in their native Kru.

Lock, this is Africa, not some London slum that needs fixing up. It’s war-time and women have no place in it, he says firmly. We are all leaving for England and that is the end of discussion.

Jordan and Freedom agree with him. Lock frowns and puts both of her hands together as if she were praying. Lock is offended by her grandfather’s chauvinism.

Pa, I am ashamed that an educated man like you could say such a thing about women in this day and age. It’s disrespectful! she tells him. Have you all forgotten about Yaa Asantewah and the crucial role she played in Ghana’s struggle for independence? Have you forgotten that Margaret Thatcher—a woman—was England’s Prime Minister for eleven years? Do you recall that some of the world’s most influential politicians and religious leaders have been women? Lock stops to take a breath. For a moment, the family loss is forgotten and the tension in the room lightens as Jordan, Michael and Freedom laugh.

You want to be the next President of Liberia? asks Michael sarcastically. He is losing patience with Lock’s disobedience and her Western idealism.

Pa, I have no interest in politics, not now and not in the future. A sudden physical sensation sweeps over Lock as she dares to stand up to her grandfather. She feels good . . . better than anything she has ever known, especially once she realizes the men have not simply dismissed her. Her grandfather is fiercely aware of the stubborn streak in Lock’s personality, but he also recognizes a new determination and his thoughts are scattered as his eyes meet hers and hold for a second.

What’s all this about, Lock? Michael asks as the intense primal reality of Lock’s suggestion that women could fight this war, too, swamps his senses. He resists the urge to warn them that there is more to this war than meets the eye.

"Liber? It’s about getting the truth out there, Pa, the truth that your guests don’t seem to know, or even to care about it. Some of them will have such experiences here that they’ll go home when this is all over and write books, make movies about the civil war in Liberia and become rich. But these books and movies will be about them, not us. These people are not our friends, and they are not here to help our country. Lock makes a dismissive hand gesture. They’re here to further their own careers!"

She pauses for a moment, glancing at each of the men. "This nightmare that we face everyday keeps them all employed. Who makes and supplies these young boys with the guns? They do! Oh, not these young doctors, but the manufacturers in their countries. In our language, liber means free, a catch-phrase for everyone during this war wanting freedom, even those gun-toting boys, but very few of us have the honour of being named for the idea of freedom . . . So, Liber, you’ll leave for Ivory Coast in the morning, and once you’re in England, you’ll help me and Uncle Jordan to save and to protect our country. It is our hope that one day soon we can all come home in peace to be with our families. Lock exhales, shoots her grandfather a look. Hope has risen in the hearts of all of them, listening to Lock speak. She touches her grandfather’s shoulder and speaks in their native language, Me ah not gonna fight you oh, Liber.—I’ll not fight with you on this, Free."

I suppose we could try Lock’s suggestion and see where it will lead us, Pa, Jordan agrees slowly.

Michael flexes his hands on her shoulders. Yes. Yes, damn it! I’ll admit that I fear what is to become of our country if we don’t find a peaceful way to settle our differences. I’m exasperated and I feel my body has become even more wrinkled with all the arguing in the last hour, Ma. He chuckles. Liber? I’m saying before we make any decisions, let’s all sleep on it, eh? Hmmm. He laughs softly.

Lock could hardly believe her eyes and ears, so shocked to see that her grandfather, her uncle and her brother smile supportively. She nods thoughtfully. You all have my word of honour that we will have peace in our country soon, and we will be safe.

It rained for three days, so torrentially that no one could go out of the house. Lock and her grandfather calm down. They talk together often, and Lock explains why she has come to Africa and why she cannot leave just yet. She describes her plan and impresses upon Michael the importance of him being in England to use his influence with other powerful people to bring peace to their country. Michael agrees that it is a good plan. Lock also spends the three days helping her uncle and cousin deal with their loss. She talks a lot about the loss of her own parents and how she and her brother have found a way through that grief. Jordan and his daughter are beginning to cope. She promises her grandfather that she will continue to host the international guests. You know I could care less about them. They have their own agenda, Pa, but I’ll not turn my back on them. Michael nods in agreement. When the weather clears, Freedom drives his grandfather and his cousin to Ivory Coast to catch a flight to England with no expectation of seeing them again.

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The doctors begin their mission one week after arriving in Monrovia. Thomas informs them they will be heading to a town called Greenville, where the main group is stationed. He explains their duties and cautions them again about the dangers they will be facing. Dr Wentworth, who has returned from Sierra Leone, adds his own caution, reminding the new doctors that the war in the countryside is nothing like what they have seen in the movies.

Dr Appiah is your liaison to the Doctors Without Borders organisation, if you are not able to voice your concerns to me.

There are six doctors in each unit. Since the four new doctors are getting along well with Dr Appiah, Dr Wentworth suggests that they stay together as one unit, even though he senses some friction between Dr O’kelly and Dr Parker.

Dr Freedom Washington will be your guide. He speaks many of the native languages from around here and knows your assigned region very well. Dr Wentworth introduces Dr Washington to them again. He motions to Dr Appiah and Dr Washington to speak with him on the side and whispers something to them. They all embrace and Dr Wentworth gets into his jeep with his team and departs.

I don’t know about the rest of you, says Josh, but I feel like that song about the Englishman in New York. Matt rolls his eyes, ignoring Josh.

You are no English man, says Dr Johnson. She points to Thomas and Freedom, "Those two are English men!"

Dr Parker and Dr Croft laugh. In a pout, Josh storms across the kitchen to where Matt stands. I know that. Why is Dr Wentworth giving them hugs?

Not everyone here thinks like you do, Josh. Just lay off them and mind your own business. This is not hockey. You heard the man . . . get your head in the game. I’m not gonna let you bring me, or any of these people, down, Matt warns Josh.

You know something? You’ve changed since you took up with Sam, but you’re still a loser, Matt, and sooner or later, they are all going to know what an idiot you really are. Who are you gonna run to, pal?

Matt’s hands twinge sharply as he makes fists, ready to punch Josh, but he thinks about why he is here and decides to laugh it off. Dr Johnson and Dr Croft ride with Freedom in his jeep while Matt and Josh ride with Tom. The drive to Greenville is neither as terrible, nor as long as they expected. Tom tells them that they will be staying in one of the Washington’s estates while they are in Liberia. Greenville also happens to be the hometown of Freedom and Lock’s late mother, a sprawling ranch their mother named Hope Lives. Mrs Washington had worked as a midwife and maintained her own midwifery practice at the ranch. A large building, separate from the main house, was set up as an orphanage before the war began. Many of the orphans still live there.

The Hope Lives Ranch is heavily guarded by the Liberian Army and some of the African peace-keepers. Several bungalows are used to house these men. The main house is an imposing, solid brick, two-storey building. Only the Washington family, their guests and their most trusted servants use this part of the property, a practice that has not changed since the civil war began.

Just how many estates do these people have anyway? Josh asks, enviously.

Damn it, Josh, there is no reason to be rude, Matt interjects reproachfully. In case you have forgotten, we’re not in Canada anymore.

Josh laughs, You’re too serious, man. No sense of humour, whatever!

Tom has observed that the two men don’t like each other, but he has not yet ascertained the reason. There will be time enough to get into that kettle of fish. He drives behind Freedom’s Jeep until they arrive at Hope Lives. Just like the estate in Monrovia, the Hope Lives ranch is heavily guarded, and the electricity is on. Both Matt and Josh are relieved to see the lights on because the dark African nights scare the shit out of them, but they laugh when the girls complain about the much darker nights.

Josh is the first to make himself at home: as usual, with the strong African Gin first and then with the generous variety of food spread out for them. They join Dr Washington and his Uncle Jordan for dinner in the main house. Lock does not join them. The rest of the doctors spend the evening thinking and feeling anxious about their first day working in the middle of a war zone. Josh, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. To his mind, it is better than being in a locker room after winning a hockey game. Not only has he managed to find himself the best pot he has ever smoked in his entire life, he has a young African maid giving him a blow job. At first, the girl almost bites off his penis, but after Josh shows her how to do it just the way he likes it, the girl’s skill is followed by the best fuck he has had in weeks.

The next day at Hope Lives Ranch, all of the new doctors visit the orphanage. It is unlike any orphanage any of them have ever witnessed. The Hope Lives Orphanage rests on a hilltop, surrounded with wide, open fields—at least twenty acres of land. A pair of wrought-iron gates separates the orphanage from the midwifery practice. In fact, the children’s dormitory building looks a bit like a fantasy world, a thoroughly enchanting place to live. The doctors could not believe that such a magical place exists in Liberia. The extensive gardens of trees and flowers provide interest: stone crop, ice plants, and fire thorn, Oregon grape, coconut and palm trees. The trees are surrounded by a colourful array of flowers—hyssop, marsh marigold, indigo—creating a beautifully manicured lawn. English wall flowers grow prolifically around the perimeter of the building.

Inside the boys’ dormitory, many different kinds of birds, lizards and other reptiles, especially local snakes, are housed in glass display cases. In the girls’ dormitory, fish, birds, rabbits and other small mammals are displayed in a similar fashion. The variation of sizes, colours and shapes is visually compelling, and there is much to view. The indoor tour of the orphanage ended just before noon—just in time to watch some of the children playing football outdoors. They all wear football jerseys with their names on the back.

I forgot to tell you that it’s game day, today, apologises Dr Washington. One of my brothers plays professional football in England. He gets his team mates and other clubs to donate sports equipment and goods for the children each year through his charity. Many of the children play a variety of different team sports every weekend.

How old are they? asks Dr Johnson.

They range in age from seven to fifteen, replies Dr Washington.

I don’t know what to tell the rest of you, but I’m in love with Liberia already, says Dr O’kelly.

It is the first time that the rest of the doctors have heard Josh showing genuine interest in Africa.

Do any of the kids play hockey, by any chance? asks Josh.

Dr Washington smiles and says, Well, just field hockey. We don’t often get snow here.

The others chuckle at his joke, though they all stay to watch the game. At the end of the game, Dr Washington continues with the tour around the orphanage. Behind the orphanage building, they discover a small farm. Dr Appiah notes that more food is produced here than is needed to feed the whole county. The cows produce more than enough milk for the children, but any villager from around here is welcome to come and milk a cow for their own milk.

At the farm, Josh and Matt seem right at home, and for once since their journey began, they are not bickering with each