with a professional steadiness. The muscles in his forearm twitching with the sense memory of an aerial savant.
As the plane hovered 25 feet off the ground it tilted left and for a split second it looked like the left wing was going to touch the airfield before he could even square the landing gear perpendicular to the ground. With a sudden jerk of the joystick, Mitch managed to right the plane. We suddenly felt a strong bump, followed by another. The single engine Cessna sputtered to a halt. I looked over at Sister Janice and she had her head in her lap and didn’t look up until I nudged her with my elbow. “Did we crash?” she asked, looking around the cabin like a startled little girl.
“ Welcome to Zaire, sister,” exclaimed Mitch.
Sister Janice let out a relieved cackle and looked to the ceiling of the cabin. “Thank you Jesus.”
Mitch opened the little door at the front of the cabin and pulled his seat forward so Sister Janice and I could get out. A small gathering of people began to emerge and walk toward us out of the heat waves that rose in the distance at the edge of the landing strip. As soon as we stepped from the plane, I instantly felt the heat and humidity press against my face, chest and legs.
“ Here you go, sisters,” said Mitch, as he handed us our bags from the small storage compartment underneath the Cessna. I smiled at him as he gave me another wink. Mitch’s half smile and quick draw of his eyes let me know he probably found me attractive but respected who I was. I bucked the trend of old nuns with brown stockings and wrinkly double chins, and I was a welcomed relief to a man who spent most of his time in the skies above the dark continent.
“ Hello, mes amis ,” bellowed a booming voice with a French accent, right behind us as we grabbed our bags. “I hope Mitch’s flying didn’t hurt your tummies.”
Mitch gave Father Anton, a somewhat hefty man with a gray goatee, curly long hair, and a cheery disposition, a friendly pat on his back. Father Anton wore the thinnest linen shirt and matching linen pants. It would’ve been delirious on his part if he elected to sport the typical black clerical clothing we were accustomed to seeing on priests in the sweltering mid-afternoon heat.
“Hello, my name is Carmen,” said the other sister alongside Father Anton, as she reached over to shake my hand. She was a gray haired lady in her sixties, who had a firm demeanor.
“ Jessie, Sister Carmen has been our main liaison in Africa since 2002,” explained Sister Janice. She turned to Sister Carmen. “Sister, Jessie here is the newest member of our convent. She will do a wonderful job, I believe, of getting the message across to the youth in our mission that exuberance and modernity does not have to be compromised to follow Christ’s message.”
“ That is wonderful,” proclaimed Father Anton. “I think your youth and energy will do wonders for our mission here in Zaire,” he grinned.
“ Well, friends,” interjected Mitch. “I must leave and go back to Kinshasa. I will see you at the end of the month with the scheduled supplies. I’ll also be picking you both back up.” Mitch nodded and hopped back into his plane, closed the small door and turned on the Cessna. The propeller sputtered to a start and the engine murmured like a toy. Mitch looked through the window and made a small salute with two of his fingers before building momentum for his ascent. As Mitch’s plane began to speed down the runway, we heard the unmistakable shrill cheers of children emanating from the path that was carved into the jungle across the runway.
A tall, slender figure came running toward us, blurred by heat waves and whirling particulates of dirt from the runway. A chiseled frame, with muscular legs, shoulder-length dreadlocks, and the most beautiful pair of blue eyes I had ever seen contrasting against clean mocha skin, emerged from beyond the runway. He was sprinting and kicking a soccer ball and
As the plane hovered 25 feet off the ground it tilted left and for a split second it looked like the left wing was going to touch the airfield before he could even square the landing gear perpendicular to the ground. With a sudden jerk of the joystick, Mitch managed to right the plane. We suddenly felt a strong bump, followed by another. The single engine Cessna sputtered to a halt. I looked over at Sister Janice and she had her head in her lap and didn’t look up until I nudged her with my elbow. “Did we crash?” she asked, looking around the cabin like a startled little girl.
“ Welcome to Zaire, sister,” exclaimed Mitch.
Sister Janice let out a relieved cackle and looked to the ceiling of the cabin. “Thank you Jesus.”
Mitch opened the little door at the front of the cabin and pulled his seat forward so Sister Janice and I could get out. A small gathering of people began to emerge and walk toward us out of the heat waves that rose in the distance at the edge of the landing strip. As soon as we stepped from the plane, I instantly felt the heat and humidity press against my face, chest and legs.
“ Here you go, sisters,” said Mitch, as he handed us our bags from the small storage compartment underneath the Cessna. I smiled at him as he gave me another wink. Mitch’s half smile and quick draw of his eyes let me know he probably found me attractive but respected who I was. I bucked the trend of old nuns with brown stockings and wrinkly double chins, and I was a welcomed relief to a man who spent most of his time in the skies above the dark continent.
“ Hello, mes amis ,” bellowed a booming voice with a French accent, right behind us as we grabbed our bags. “I hope Mitch’s flying didn’t hurt your tummies.”
Mitch gave Father Anton, a somewhat hefty man with a gray goatee, curly long hair, and a cheery disposition, a friendly pat on his back. Father Anton wore the thinnest linen shirt and matching linen pants. It would’ve been delirious on his part if he elected to sport the typical black clerical clothing we were accustomed to seeing on priests in the sweltering mid-afternoon heat.
“Hello, my name is Carmen,” said the other sister alongside Father Anton, as she reached over to shake my hand. She was a gray haired lady in her sixties, who had a firm demeanor.
“ Jessie, Sister Carmen has been our main liaison in Africa since 2002,” explained Sister Janice. She turned to Sister Carmen. “Sister, Jessie here is the newest member of our convent. She will do a wonderful job, I believe, of getting the message across to the youth in our mission that exuberance and modernity does not have to be compromised to follow Christ’s message.”
“ That is wonderful,” proclaimed Father Anton. “I think your youth and energy will do wonders for our mission here in Zaire,” he grinned.
“ Well, friends,” interjected Mitch. “I must leave and go back to Kinshasa. I will see you at the end of the month with the scheduled supplies. I’ll also be picking you both back up.” Mitch nodded and hopped back into his plane, closed the small door and turned on the Cessna. The propeller sputtered to a start and the engine murmured like a toy. Mitch looked through the window and made a small salute with two of his fingers before building momentum for his ascent. As Mitch’s plane began to speed down the runway, we heard the unmistakable shrill cheers of children emanating from the path that was carved into the jungle across the runway.
A tall, slender figure came running toward us, blurred by heat waves and whirling particulates of dirt from the runway. A chiseled frame, with muscular legs, shoulder-length dreadlocks, and the most beautiful pair of blue eyes I had ever seen contrasting against clean mocha skin, emerged from beyond the runway. He was sprinting and kicking a soccer ball and
Similar Books
