Authors: Sieni A.M.
“
Apo
, when we said you could choose one of your dream destinations to travel to, we expected you to go on a holiday—not travel to some far-off place we’ve never heard of before to do work.”
Alana bit her lip. “I know, Lola. But I want to go there. I need to go there.”
“What if something happens to you, Lana? What if you contract the Ebola virus or something like that?”
This made her heart skip a beat. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Lola,” she had said trying to sound convincing. “I will be careful. I will get all the necessary vaccinations needed for this trip and just trust that things will be okay.”
“Well, even if your grandfather and I agree, let’s just see what your mother and brother will say about this.”
Alana knew it was no easy task to prepare for this trip. She had to firstly convince her mother and siblings that she was capable of traveling on her own. They didn’t like the idea, and she worked hard to make them see that everything would be fine, even if she secretly had no idea that it would be. Over time, she attempted to prove this to them by working hard and saving her money and giving what she could to help them when they needed it. When they finally relented, she almost broke down in tears. She couldn’t explain to them the personal journey she was setting herself on, just that she needed to do it. While her grandparents agreed to cover the airfare, she insisted that she would take care of her living and food expenses. Now it was coming to an end.
With dusk surrounding her, she moved inside the clinic to collect her belongings.
“Ready to go, Miss Alana?” Emmanuel, the clinic’s driver, asked her.
She glanced around the small hospital for the final time. Its four concrete walls were home to her for nine months. She was going to miss its simple furnishings, basic supplies, and everything that came with it—the sweat, blood, and tears; drama, loss, and hope.
“This is for you,” Rose, the clinic’s main doctor from England, said as she handed her something wrapped in a plastic bag.
“What is it?” Alana asked curiously.
“Local coffee, your favorite,” she answered.
Alana smiled at the gift. She was fascinated to learn during a coffee safari that Uganda was the third largest producer of the substance in Africa. She became addicted to the rich, roasted drink shortly after.
“Thank you, Aunty Rose. I’ll always think of you when I make it.”
“It goes without saying that your presence will be sorely missed around here, Alana.” Her warm face was weathered with fine lines. “Is there anything I can do or say to make you extend your stay?” she asked hopeful.
Alana smiled sadly. While it had been the most incredible and humbling experience of her life, she knew she was ready to go home. She lived and breathed as a nurse for months, staying with Rose in her simple two-bedroom home. Rose was someone she came to revere as a mentor, aunt, and friend.
Alana encountered health problems she’d never experienced before, witnessing firsthand the dangers of malaria and treating patients as young as children with the disease, feeling horrified by the normalcy of HIV, and challenged by the limited antenatal and postnatal care provided to mothers and their infants. She would never forget the first time she had to squeeze out a mango worm from a local farmer’s infested back. It was a painful process but had to be dealt with. She took great care in ironing her clothes as a result for fear of contracting the parasite, the heat instantly killing off any eggs that landed in her laundry pile. Alana smiled when she remembered the local children calling her
muzungu
, the Swahili equivalent to
palagi
. She was proud of herself when she learned how to ride a motorbike, Jinja’s popular form of transportation. Emmanuel’s patience never wavered when he trusted her with his own, taking her out on the dirt roads and teaching her to maneuver it. She now had scars on her elbows and knees to prove it. When Alana succumbed to malaria during a weekend visit to Kenya, she felt as if she was going to die on African soil. Never before was she subjected to a more agonizing fever, soreness, and vomiting that shook her body savagely for days. She was grateful for Rose’s attentiveness when she returned and cursed herself for forgetting to take anti-malaria pills.
Rose was not amused in the slightest. “You are your own worse nurse,” she had scolded her.
Alana reflected back on the months and felt she had been pushed to limits she never realized she possessed, but she knew she would never trade it for anything. Her life had been enriched all the more by her experiences, hardships, challenges, and the people she met and befriended along the way. When she started on this journey, she didn’t know where it would take her emotionally. Months later, she realized they had been stretched to her capacity.
Now, looking at the old woman in front of her, she felt her heart tug. “Aunty Rose, you have been an incredible source of inspiration to me,” she said. “Your dedication to this clinic and the care you bestow on patients are the examples I will take with me for the rest of my life.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for everything—your counsel, guidance, and knowledge throughout these months.”
Without a word, the older woman engulfed her in an embrace that felt real and warm.
Alana climbed into the old Suzuki van, her suitcase in the back, carry-on bag secure in her lap, and turned to wave to her one last time. As Emmanuel cranked the engine and drove onto the bumpy road that led to Kampala, she turned back again to see her home disappear from sight, its outdoor light flickering in farewell, moths dancing around it.
***
Frigid air sliced through her sweater and jeans, the shocking drop in temperature a harsh contrast to where she was thirty hours ago. Alana shivered uncontrollably as she descended the plane’s steps onto the wet tarmac. Rushing forward to protective cover, her breath rose in visible wisps in front of her. God, it was so cold! The winter air bit through her skin and seeped into her bones. When they made their descent into Portland’s domestic airport, she gazed out from the warmth of the plane and observed snow blanketed earth, roofs camouflaged in ivory, and a white endless sky. Now that she was on ground, there was no way she could have been prepared for the icy wind. Her toes were already numb inside her shoes.
Welcoming warmth surrounded her when she stepped into the arrivals’ lounge, melting away the icicles she was sure were under her skin. Descending the escalator to baggage claim, she spotted her grandparents’ beaming faces immediately. They pulled her into a group hug as soon as she stepped off the revolving stairs.
“Welcome home, Lana.” Her grandmother kissed her on the cheek. Alana inhaled, smelling her familiar soft perfume. “My goodness, your hands are freezing!” she said, rubbing them between her own. “Well, not to worry,
apo
, we have all the gear you need to survive your visit with us.”
Alana smiled. “Thank you, Lola. I’m looking forward to warming up with your hot apple cider.”
Her grandfather bellowed, “Yes, there’s that and more, Lana. Just you wait and see. We want to hear all about your adventures in Africa as well.”
They led her to retrieve her suitcase. Grabbing the handle, which was tagged with airport code names from Entebbe to Addis Ababa, London to Boston, she lifted it and extended the handle to wheel it to the parking lot.
“You must be exhausted,” her grandmother observed as they walked towards the exit.
Alana admitted she was tired, having slept very little on the flight over the Atlantic. She was buzzed about reading a new novel she purchased from a bookstore at Heathrow and immersed herself with three-quarters of it before slipping into a short nap that was interrupted by the flight attendants preparing them for landing.
“Before we head to the car, you have to put this on,” her grandmother said, pulling out a black hooded jacket from a large bag she didn’t notice she was carrying before.
Alana gasped in surprise and slipped her arms through the fleece lining; it was a perfect fit, the hem reaching down to her waist.
“You shouldn’t have got me anything, Lola. I could have borrowed something of yours,” she said.
Lola waved her hand dismissively, retrieving a warm hat, gloves, and scarf from the bag. “These are just a few things I picked up from the Salvation Army, but don’t worry, they’re all washed.”
Alana breathed in its crisp fabric softener. She always loved that smell. “They look so brand new.”
Lola smiled. “You’ll be amazed at the things people give away. Besides, there is no way your Samoan bones could fit into any of my clothes.” Alana laughed and layered up.
Lola looked down at her old sneakers and frowned. “Those shoes won’t do you any good here. Tomorrow, I will take you to get boots.”
***
Her grandparents’ home smelled of Christmas: all warmth, pine, cinnamon, and apples. The tree was still up in all its glittery splendor despite it being two weeks past the auspicious day.
“We kept it for you,” her grandfather said as he lowered himself in his comfy old chair, extending the footrest so his legs were raised. Alana smiled and sunk into the sofa beside him, sipping apple cider and allowing its warmth to pool in her belly. Her grandmother bristled in carrying a package wrapped in green and red. Alana’s eyes rounded at the sight.
“This is your Christmas present,” she said smiling, sitting down beside her and placing it on her lap.
Alana looked at the box and then up at her grandparents’ eager faces. “But, Lola, Papa, you’ve already given me so much,” she said.
Lola smiled. “Since our grandchildren are scattered over the country and the Pacific, it is our pleasure to spoil you all when you visit,” she said.
“We’ve never given you this before, now open it,” her grandfather encouraged.
Alana smiled shyly, set her cup aside, and tore through the wrapping. Mouth dropping, she took the e-book reader out of its package and studied it in awe.
“The boy down at the shop told us it was all the rage now with you book lovers,” her grandfather continued. “Since we don’t know how that thing works, we hope you can figure it out on your own.”
Alana laughed and lunged at him, squeezing his arms in gratitude. He chuckled and hugged her in return. Embracing her grandmother next, she thanked them over and over again.
***
Her two-week visit with her grandparents flew by quickly. Between helping them with the chores around the house, shoveling snow in the driveway, and accompanying her grandmother to garage sales, she made a couple trips to the mall to purchase gifts for the family back home and to also get a much needed haircut. She watched
Jeopardy
with them, indulged in her grandmother’s glorious cooking, including consuming an excessive amount of root beer floats, and then jogged around the neighborhood to work it off.
Cape Elizabeth was one of the most beautiful towns in Portland, and the street her grandparents lived on, one of the prettiest. Quiet and removed from the main city, its opulent trees spread out in between each two-story house, the road still country enough that there were no paved sidewalks. It was during these moments of solitude that she thought of him.
Chase was there with her from the first rays of light filtering through the slats in the window blinds, dust particles rising and visible to the eye. He was there in each snowflake that fell to the ground and every soulful ballad that came on the radio. He was with her when she walked to the old fort as the Atlantic Ocean crashed on the rocks near the lighthouse, sending a light spray of seawater on her face. She loved him more each day for the all the ways that he was serving others and healing them. She understood that fully now. Inhaling sharply, she clung to the railing and wondered where he was. She paid more attention to the news, to every earthquake, tsunami warning, and thunder storm in the Asia-Pacific area. Because if she kept herself connected to these events then she could feel connected to him as well.
Chapter 25
“B
ut you just got back!” Perlita exclaimed as Alana zipped up the bag on her bed. She turned her head and smiled at her mother who was standing inside her bedroom door.