to sleep.
'Follow me back, Joseph.'
'Yes, Bwana .'
'And stop calling me Bwana !'
'Yes, Bwana . I'll stop calling you Bwana after you leave.'
Olofson gives Joseph some money. 'Your sisters are beautiful.'
'They would like to marry you, Bwana .'
Olofson crawls into his hard bed. Before he falls asleep he
hears Joseph already snoring outside the door.
He wakes up with a start. The pale man is standing over him.
'Father LeMarque has returned,' he says in a toneless voice.
'He would like to meet you.'
Olofson dresses hastily. He feels bad, his head is pounding
from the African whisky. In the early dawn he follows the pale
man across the red dirt. So the missionaries travel by night, he
thinks. What is he going to tell me about why he came here?
He enters one of the grey buildings. At a simple wooden table
sits a young man with a bushy beard. He is dressed in a torn
undershirt and dirty shorts.
'Our guest,' he says with a smile. 'Welcome.'
Patrice LeMarque comes from Canada, he tells Hans Olofson.
The lame man has brought two cups of coffee and they sit at the
back of the building in the shade of a tree. At the Mutshatsha
mission station there are missionaries and health care personnel
from many countries.
'But none from Sweden?' Olofson asks.
'Not at the moment,' replies LeMarque. 'The last one was here
about ten years ago. A Swedish nurse who came from a city I
think was called Kalmar.'
'The first one came from Röstånga. Harry Johanson.'
'Have you really come all this way to see his grave?'
'I stumbled upon his story when I was quite young. I won't
be finished with him until I have seen his grave.'
'Harry Johanson sat in the shade of this very tree,' LeMarque
says. 'When he wanted to be alone and meditate, he used to
come here, and no one was allowed to bother him. I've also seen
a photograph of him sitting in this spot. He was short but he
was physically very strong. He also had a keen sense of humour.
Some of the older Africans still remember him. When he was
angry he could lift a baby elephant over his head. That's not
true, of course, but as an illustration of his strength the image
is good.'
He sets down his coffee cup. 'I'll show you his grave. Then I
must go back to my work. Our pumping station has broken down.'
They walk along a winding path that leads up a hill. Through
the dense thickets they glimpse the reflection of the river.
'Don't go there without Joseph,' says LeMarque. 'There are
many crocodiles in the river.'
The terrain levels out and forms a mesa on top of the high
hill. Olofson finds himself facing a simple wooden cross.
'Harry Johanson's grave,' says LeMarque. 'Every four years we
have to put up a new cross because the termites eat them. But he
wanted to have a wooden cross on his grave. We comply with his
wish.'
'What did he dream about?' asks Olofson.
'I don't think he had much time for dreaming. A mission station
in Africa requires constant practical work. One has to be a
mechanic, carpenter, farmer, businessman. Harry Johanson was
good at all those things.'
'What about religion?'
'Our message is planted in the maize fields. The gospel is an
impossibility if it is not involved in daily life. Conversion is a
matter of bread and health.'
'But in spite of everything, conversion is the crucial thing?
Conversion from what?'
'Superstition, poverty, and sorcery.'
'Superstition I can understand. But how can one convert
someone from poverty?'
'The message instils confidence. Wisdom requires the courage
to face life.'
Hans Olofson thinks of Janine. 'Was Harry Johanson happy?'
he asks.
'Who knows the innermost thoughts of another human being?'
says LeMarque.
They head back the way they came.
'I never met Harry Johanson, after all,' says LeMarque. 'But
he must have been a colourful and wilful person. The older he
got, the less he felt he understood. He accepted that Africa
remained a foreign world.'
'Can a person live long in a foreign world without trying to
recreate it so that
'Follow me back, Joseph.'
'Yes, Bwana .'
'And stop calling me Bwana !'
'Yes, Bwana . I'll stop calling you Bwana after you leave.'
Olofson gives Joseph some money. 'Your sisters are beautiful.'
'They would like to marry you, Bwana .'
Olofson crawls into his hard bed. Before he falls asleep he
hears Joseph already snoring outside the door.
He wakes up with a start. The pale man is standing over him.
'Father LeMarque has returned,' he says in a toneless voice.
'He would like to meet you.'
Olofson dresses hastily. He feels bad, his head is pounding
from the African whisky. In the early dawn he follows the pale
man across the red dirt. So the missionaries travel by night, he
thinks. What is he going to tell me about why he came here?
He enters one of the grey buildings. At a simple wooden table
sits a young man with a bushy beard. He is dressed in a torn
undershirt and dirty shorts.
'Our guest,' he says with a smile. 'Welcome.'
Patrice LeMarque comes from Canada, he tells Hans Olofson.
The lame man has brought two cups of coffee and they sit at the
back of the building in the shade of a tree. At the Mutshatsha
mission station there are missionaries and health care personnel
from many countries.
'But none from Sweden?' Olofson asks.
'Not at the moment,' replies LeMarque. 'The last one was here
about ten years ago. A Swedish nurse who came from a city I
think was called Kalmar.'
'The first one came from Röstånga. Harry Johanson.'
'Have you really come all this way to see his grave?'
'I stumbled upon his story when I was quite young. I won't
be finished with him until I have seen his grave.'
'Harry Johanson sat in the shade of this very tree,' LeMarque
says. 'When he wanted to be alone and meditate, he used to
come here, and no one was allowed to bother him. I've also seen
a photograph of him sitting in this spot. He was short but he
was physically very strong. He also had a keen sense of humour.
Some of the older Africans still remember him. When he was
angry he could lift a baby elephant over his head. That's not
true, of course, but as an illustration of his strength the image
is good.'
He sets down his coffee cup. 'I'll show you his grave. Then I
must go back to my work. Our pumping station has broken down.'
They walk along a winding path that leads up a hill. Through
the dense thickets they glimpse the reflection of the river.
'Don't go there without Joseph,' says LeMarque. 'There are
many crocodiles in the river.'
The terrain levels out and forms a mesa on top of the high
hill. Olofson finds himself facing a simple wooden cross.
'Harry Johanson's grave,' says LeMarque. 'Every four years we
have to put up a new cross because the termites eat them. But he
wanted to have a wooden cross on his grave. We comply with his
wish.'
'What did he dream about?' asks Olofson.
'I don't think he had much time for dreaming. A mission station
in Africa requires constant practical work. One has to be a
mechanic, carpenter, farmer, businessman. Harry Johanson was
good at all those things.'
'What about religion?'
'Our message is planted in the maize fields. The gospel is an
impossibility if it is not involved in daily life. Conversion is a
matter of bread and health.'
'But in spite of everything, conversion is the crucial thing?
Conversion from what?'
'Superstition, poverty, and sorcery.'
'Superstition I can understand. But how can one convert
someone from poverty?'
'The message instils confidence. Wisdom requires the courage
to face life.'
Hans Olofson thinks of Janine. 'Was Harry Johanson happy?'
he asks.
'Who knows the innermost thoughts of another human being?'
says LeMarque.
They head back the way they came.
'I never met Harry Johanson, after all,' says LeMarque. 'But
he must have been a colourful and wilful person. The older he
got, the less he felt he understood. He accepted that Africa
remained a foreign world.'
'Can a person live long in a foreign world without trying to
recreate it so that
Similar Books
