Looking for Lovedu: A Woman's Journey Through Africa by Jones Ann

Author:Jones, Ann [Jones, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography
ISBN: 0375705333
Amazon: B004DEPHK2
Barnesnoble: B004DEPHK2
Goodreads: 10259774
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2001-01-23T00:00:00+00:00

MALARIA AND MISSIONARIES

At the border the Road Warrior went ballistic again. What was wrong with this man? Usually he stayed in the Land Rover at checkpoints while I cleared our documents with officials. That’s what he did while I completed the departure formalities at the Office of Cameroon Customs and Immigration. But a little way down the road, when we pulled up at the entry checkpoint for the Central African Republic (CAR), Muggleton announced, “I’ll take care of these chaps.” He got bored waiting in the vehicle. He snatched the folder of documents from my hands and disappeared through the open doorway of a little wooden shed labeled IMMIGRATION. Within minutes I heard an African man shouting in Sango and Muggleton shouting back, “The bloody hell you can!”

When I walked in, Muggleton was standing toe to toe, nose to nose, with a big African in uniform. Behind the African, flanking him, stood two more guards with AK-47s at the ready. The African was sweating, and Muggleton had gone all red in the face. They shouted, and spittle flew across the closing gap between their chins. Another man, who stood behind a desk near the door, was muttering something in French about cholera and fanning the air with a yellow paper that I recognized as Muggleton’s international health certificate.

Muggleton bellowed, “The bloody hell you will!”

His next move, I knew, would be to bash the African in two or three places simultaneously, using both fists and feet, and send him flying backward to take out both the men who backed him up. I stepped behind Muggleton, caught the eye of one of the armed guards, and circled my finger at the side of my head in the international gesture that says, “You are dealing here with a crazy person.” The guard stepped forward and muttered something to the shouting African, who laughed and drew back, while I grabbed Muggleton’s belt and dragged him—still screaming—outside.

“They won’t let me into the bloody country!” he shouted. “They can’t bloody well keep me out!”

“Calm down, Muggleton,” I said.

“They told me to go back to bloody Nigeria!” he shouted. “Nigeria!”

“Calm down, Muggleton. Calm down, and stay here, or …” I cast about for the sort of threat Muggleton himself would use. “Calm down and stay here, or I’ll kill you.”

I went inside and got the story from the sharp-eyed clerk behind the desk, who had spotted the blank line on Muggleton’s health certificate where a doctor should have signed off on his cholera vaccination. Without that signature, the clerk explained, the health certificate was no good. And without a valid health certificate, Muggleton could not enter the Central African Republic. I thanked him, flashed what I hoped was a winning smile at the guards, and took the health certificate out to the vehicle, where Muggleton was pacing and cursing and slamming his fists into the minimally padded car seat. I found a pen and filled the blank line on the health certificate with the first name that came to mind: Dr.

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