Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 105

More Lost Files and A Question Answered

My best friend has just finished reading my novel, “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”, and she is full of questions, all of which I have enjoyed answering. And which gave me the idea that maybe you have the same questions and I should give you the answers. So here’s our first question. Who is Tangwes?  Was she inspired by an orphan you met while in Africa?Tangwes is a little girl who shows up late in the book, if you haven’t gotten that far. She is a little orphan living in Ruth’s village. In the first version of the story, part of the deleted files I’ve been sharing here, Ruth had a friend named Tangwa and a sister named Kangwes. Ruth’s Maasai name was Kasirimo (all Maasai names I found on the internet, but decided not to use because I didn’t feel I had enough knowledge of Maasai names to use them in the final book). Here is a scene from when Tangwa is in labor.
      “Tangwa, I’m here,” Ruth knelt next to her friend and grabbed her hand. The small room seemed filled with women, some chanting quietly, a few doting on the young girl who was writhing in pain.      “Ruth, it hurts so bad,” she cried, gripping Ruth’s hand with all the strength she had.      “Don’t be afraid. The baby will come soon and the pain will stop.” She didn’t know what else to say or do. Someone reached over and mopped Tangwa’s forehead with a wet rag.        “I’m so afraid.”      “Don’t be. Don’t be afraid.” Tears started down Ruth’s cheeks. What else could she do? Why was her friend in so much pain? She had been around other women giving birth and they remained silent. Were they really so much more stoic than Tangwa or was there something wrong?      She turned to the woman who was between the young girl’s legs. “Why does it hurt so much? Can’t you help her?”      “Ahh, something is wrong, but there is nothing I can do. Baby will come when it is ready,” the old woman answered. Ruth had seen her deliver babies before and there had never been anything wrong. This was her best friend, someone had to do something for her. She looked around the dimly lit room in desperation. She counted four other women, besides the mid-wife and herself. The fire in the center of the room gave off just enough light to see by, but at the cost of extreme heat. She thought that she would pass out from it and couldn’t imagine how Tangwa could possibly not do likewise. “Please, you have to help her,” Ruth pleaded with anyone who would listen.“Maybe you should wait outside,” her mother ran her hand across Ruth’s cropped hair. “The others will help her. She’ll be ok.”Ruth tightened her grip on her friend’s hand. “I can’t leave her like this.”“Come, now,” her mother pulled on her arm. “Say good-bye. You can see Tangwa and the baby in the morning.”Tangwa’s screams had subsided and her body was still, exhaustion setting in. Her hand let go of Ruth’s.“Tangwa?”“It’s ok, Ruth. The pain is better now. I am so glad you are here. I’ll be ok.” She even began to smile, but it quickly turned to a grimace. “Really, I am ok. I will see you after the baby comes.”Ruth placed the back of her hand on her friend’s sweat-covered cheek. “In the morning.”     "In the morning.”
I guess if the orphan Tangwes was inspired by anyone, she would be a combination of two little kids I’ve met in my travels. The first one is Sandra who I met in Mathare slum on our first trip. Her mother had AIDS but was trying to work to support herself and Sandra  The other girl was from my trip to Peru, one of the little kids who lived in the prison with her mother. We took all the kids out of the prison for a day and the one little girl really bonded with one of the male volunteers who was with us, teasing him and loving to be teased back, hanging on his arm all day. So, yea, I guess she was Tangwes too.
If you have any questions for me, shoot me an email, message me on facebook or post a comment here. Please don’t ask anything that would spoil the plot for someone who hasn’t read it, though. Such as, “in chapter 43, why does the earthquake have to kill the boy?” Don’t worry, there is no earthquake, but I can’t tell you what happens to the boy. You have to read it for yourself! And one last thing. If you have finished the book, I would really appreciate your honest review on Amazon.com, if you haven’t already written one. Thanks!

Live Like You're Loved

So go ahead and live like you’re lovedIt’s ok to act like you’ve been set freeHis love has made you more than enoughSo go ahead and be who He made you to beAnd live like you’re loved. (Hawk Nelson)
 A couple weeks ago, a co-worker shared a post on Facebook about knowing that you’re not good enough and you can’t do anything right and you’re just tired. I posted back “welcome to my world”. Another co-worker saw it and admonished us, writing “knock it off, live like you’re loved, cuz you are.”
I felt guilty, but sometimes life just weighs us down and we are so tired of it all.
The next morning, driving to work, the Hawk Nelson song “Live Like You’re Loved” played on the radio as I was pulling into the parking lot. God’s got that covered, huh?
Then when I got to my desk, that second co-worker had printed out the lyrics to the song for us. God’s not only got it covered, He is simply amazing.
Lord, God, help me to remember that when life gets me down, that You are there. You love us all unconditionally and You give us a reason to love life. Amen. 

Flashback Friday - Life Back in the Day

Last weekend, when I opened another one of the boxes of Mom’s old pictures, I was greeted with this old photo album. Inside were pages of snapshots from the thirties and forties. All very fascinating, some labeled and some not. I haven’t gotten all of them scanned into my computer yet, but they are all dear to my heart.
I chose these six photos today with the theme of life back in the day. The subjects aren’t posed or at least not in the conventional way. The people in these shots are just out living life, a sometimes-hard life at that time. But still they found time to have fun. And somehow found the resources to record their lives on film. Which I especially appreciate.   This one was dated 1939. That's my grandma (my mom's mom) on the right. The back of the photo says the lady on the left was Della B. Not sure who that was, but she could put some meat on her bones. That's quite the stack of wood they are stacking wearing their dresses.
 Not sure who this is either. Maybe some family member seeing this will recognize her. There was always musical talent on my dad's side of the family.
 Also not sure who this was, but since my dad drove school bus in the 40s, I suspect that was him in the driver's seat.
 This was from around 1942 and features my cousin Florence feeding the chickens. Isn't that adorable?
 This one was dated 1942. Any of you from our old neighborhood remember when Hay Creek flooded many a spring? For those of you not from the 'hood, see the road going up the hill in the upper right hand corner? Our house was half way up that hill.
That's my mom on the right, not sure who her friend is. Aren't they adorable?

The Elusive Cat

           Here is yet another scene from the deleted files of “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”. I can’t believe how many of these passages I cut in my second edit of the book. Going back over them takes me right back to Kenya, and this scene especially reminds me of why I have to go back some day. On the two safaris I’ve been on, I’ve seen every animal I wanted to except for one. The one which the boy in this story falls in love with.  
 Far in the distance on the lowest branch of an acacia tree, a tan animal crouched. Ole thought it was the same leopard they had seen the week before. She was heavy with unborn cubs and had barely been able to get to this low branch.               The Jeep took off in her direction. Even from his perch on the roof, Ole could hear the people inside. They chattered on as all of the guests seemed to, with no concern for the animals they stalked. Ole still could not picture what their lives were like. Lives where there are no wild animals. Lives where there are more buildings than grass.                He took a sip from his water bottle as the Jeep lurched along. If there was anything he had learned here, it was how to drink without spilling as the vehicle tossed him about as James pursued the lions and elephants and warthogs.               As James stopped the Jeep a short distance from the acacia tree, Ole was certain this was the same leopard. He figured that her den must be in the brush on the hillside behind the acacia. In his past life, he had never noticed the leopard much. She had been more elusive than the lion. The lion, knowing its great power and knowing that it was rarely without its pride, had nothing to hide. He knew he was king out here.               The leopard though? Her beauty rivaled the lion’s. Her fascinating and varied spots, her patient eyes, her solitary life.  Her ability to climb trees, even when she was carrying a freshly killed antelope.                Ole was surprised that he saw so many animals travelling on the roof of the camp’s Jeep. So many animals that he rarely saw while herding his goats. Had the animals always been there, watching him? And he hadn’t been watching back? Were the people from his village right when they told him that he never paid attention?               The leopard hung her huge paws over the branch of the tree. Ole promised himself that he would always pay attention from now on, especially if it meant watching a beautiful creature like her. Yup, I've seen lots of lions.  Lots of cheetahs, too. But the elusive leopard? Could she be hiding in that tree?
(No, she's not.) This may be the last of the "lost files" for a while. I have other things to write about, you know!
 

Let me introduce Rueben

Blog post #4 from the deleted files of “Where the Sky Meets the Sand”. Today’s installment of the “lost files” occurs fairly late in the book, chapter 26. Rueben was the unsavory manager of the safari camp where the businesswoman befriended the lost boy. As I keep reading over all these deleted scenes, I start to wonder why I didn’t leave them in, make it work. Well, maybe it was so that I could share them all with you here. I haven’t gotten my supply of books to sell yet, but you can order “Where the Sky Meets the Sand” from Amazon.com and you’ll probably get it in the mail around the same time that I get mine. Or download it now and start reading today. Oh, and the picture is from Narok when I road through there in October 2015. Rueben crawled into his Jeep and took one last look up the street. People crowded the sidewalks, heading in every direction, a buzz of humanity. Where they were always going, he did not know.He thought about the many times he had visited this dirty busy town. The tourists heading out on safari, the locals taking advantage of as many of them as they could. The women looking to do anything they could for any money they could. He sighed. Even the thought of the brothel down the road did little for him. Maybe I really am sick. First no booze and now no women. He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. On the seat next to him were all of his possession, little though they were. A few changes of clothes and that was really all. He rubbed a hand across his rough hair. Where had his life gone? What had all the years of driving across the plains, showing the tourists a good time done to him? And why was he so alone after all of that?He started the engine of the Jeep and shifted into gear. As he turned the first corner at the end of the street, his pile of clothes shifted and slid to the floor. Left behind on the seat was the book he had taken from the abandoned hut at Red Rock Camp. Without looking where he was going, he pulled the jeep to the side of the road. That book. What was it even about and why now in the middle of Narok, in the middle of the street did he have to pick it up?He tentatively opened the first page. “This very day in David's town your Savior was born.”Rueben looked around him. The street had suddenly gone quiet. People still scurried about and vehicles of every shape and size drove up and down the road. But all noise seemed to have stopped. The only sound Rueben heard was the sound of his own words in his head. “You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”He studied the pictures on the page. A young woman, a tiny baby. He turned the page and beautiful men and women filled the page, dark-skinned men and women dressed in glistening white.“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!”He continued reading the book, studying each page, each picture, saying the words out loud. All around him people kept walking by and cars and trucks rumbled by, but Rueben didn’t hear any of them.

Release of the Book

Today is the day! The day that the paper version of “Where the Sky Meets the Sand” is released. I follow a few other authors and from what they post, “release day” is a big deal. So far it doesn’t feel any different, okay it is only six am. I guess I feel like I should do something today, like stand on a street corner and announce this news to passers-by. I will probably clean house instead.  Here is another installment from the lost files of the novel. In this scene, the boy has accepted a ride on the roof of the jeep taking the American woman and her husband to the safari camp. It will be one of many new experiences for the boy.
At one stop, the driver leaned out the window and looked up at the boy. He handed him a clear bottle. Inside was a liquid so clear that the boy could see right through it. He tilted the bottle and wondered what it was. It was like it was almost invisible, yet he knew the fluid was in there.“It is water. Drink it,” the driver commanded. “The woman is worried you are thirsty.”The boy never thought about being thirsty. It was just the way it was, his mouth and throat dry most of the day. A drink from the muddy river when the goats were done and the hot chai tea with breakfast and dinner were the only liquids he consumed throughout the typical day. Some days he would get to drink fresh goat’s milk, and on very special days, the men would gather to bleed the large vein in the neck of one of the cows. All of the men would get a drink of the fresh blood to make them strong, and if there was enough, the boys would get a sip. Today was turning out to be even more special than one of those days. After a few attempts, he figured out how to screw the small cap off the top of the bottle. He still looked at the liquid with suspicion. Water? He thought, how could it be so clear? The water he drank from the river was darker in color than the sand, sometimes darker than the milky chai his mother made. He brought the bottle to his lips and tentatively took a sip. Just at that time, the truck hit a bump and the water spilled all down his front. He jumped with fear, thinking that the pure liquid would somehow burn him. Instead it felt cool and left a trail through the dust on his bare chest. He used the blanket which was tied around his neck to dry his skin. He tried again. This time the water wet his dry mouth and flowed down his throat. He tried to recognize the taste. At first he thought it tasted like air, but then as he smacked his lips, he thought it reminded him of the sweet sugar his mother once in a very great while let him sneak from their meager supply. Then he thought it tasted like goat’s milk only not so thick and sticky. Finally he decided it tasted like nothing he had ever had before.He carefully screwed the cap back on the bottle and studied the water inside. He cursed himself for having wasted so much. The bottle was just over half full. He felt he had to save it; he would only allow himself tiny sips from now on and only when the truck was stopped. He tucked it into the sack still tied to his side. This picture is from my first trip to Kenya in 2006. The bus we rode in was much larger than the Jeep the boy is riding on in the scene above, but it gives you an idea of the dust the boy was combating.  This picture, from the same trip, shows the Maasai from the tribe at Mosiro drinking clean water for the first time. They must have felt the same way as the boy. 

Seeing through someone else's eyes

            The last month and a half has flown by. Hard to believe that “Where the Sky Meets the Sand” will be officially released in just a few days. Back when I was notified of that magical date, I promised that I would try to post some excerpts from the discarded files, all the scenes that I had to delete because I had too many points of view and was confusing even myself. I mostly needed to cut the scenes told from the perspective of my Maasai characters because I felt that I couldn’t do them justice. I didn’t feel right being in the head of people I hadn’t lived among for more than a few days at time.             In this scene, the Maasai boy Ole first meets Jenny, the American businesswoman who changes his life just as he changes hers. 
The sun, as it burst upon the horizon, woke the boy in the morning as he slept in the crook of the tree. He cursed himself for being so lazy, so useless. He would simply have to find the lion now as it slept away the day in some shady spot on the savannah.The boy broke off a piece of chapati and chewed it while he walked. Then he pulled a short stick from a scrubby bush and rubbed the end of it on his teeth, until the fibers of the stick were splayed and tickled his gums, reaching the places between his teeth. He passed a herd of zebra and several giraffes. When he drank water from a muddy river, he heard the baboons in the trees on the other side. He imagined that they were chastising him for taking their water. He thought he saw a hippo downstream, but couldn’t be sure as they wallow deep into the mud at the bottom of the shallow river until only their nostrils are sticking out.The boy had never been this far from the village by himself. His innate sense of direction gave him no cause for alarm. He knew he only had to turn around and he could walk right back to his little mud and dung home. But he also knew he couldn’t do that until he had killed the lion and tucked its tail in his pouch. He heard a rumble in the distance and saw dust rising. As he watched the dust cloud move closer, he sometimes saw a spark of light as if a fire was about to start on this object. Soon, however it was close enough that he could see it was only the sun bouncing off of the metal roof. Leaning all of his slight weight onto his walking stick, he waited.As the jeep stopped in a cloud of dust next to the boy, he wondered what interesting things would be inside. The driver looked like any other man from his tribe, except that he wore clothes all over his body. The other people – the boy assumed they were people though they didn’t look anything like him – were covered in clothes too. But their skin was bleached the color of white sand, their hair was straight and fine. They had black straps around their necks from which hung black boxes, some large and heavy looking, some small. There was even a woman in the truck. Her hair was long, down past her shoulders, and it was the color of the sun. Her skin was the lightest, almost pink, and her eyes were the brightest blue. He didn’t even know that people could see with eyes that color. She smiled at him and said something through the open window.The boy looked at the driver and didn’t say a thing. A Maasai warrior. Picture taken by my daughter when she lived among the tribe for several months in 2010.

Weathering the Storm

As they sailed, he fell asleep. A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!” He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm. “Where is your faith?” he asked his disciples. In fear and amazement they asked one another, “Who is this? He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him.” Luke 8:23-25 [NIV]  I’ve gotten together with various members of my family more in the last seven months than I have in years. Unfortunately, as you may know if you have been following me, few of these occasions have been happy. Earlier this summer, Hubby and I decided that we needed to host a family picnic so that we could all feel good about seeing each other for a change.  
We’ve not had much of a summer here in the Northwoods this year, but we have been blessed with at least mostly decent weekends. Today, however, the day of the family picnic, it is cold, cloudy and the forecast promises rain and possibly thunderstorms.
Hubby and I have a contingency plan; we have a large living room. We may all be cozy by the end of the day, but we will have a good time. (At last count, 38 people may be here, in addition to four dogs!)
And in perspective, what is a little rain compared to Hurricane Harvey which has been belting the Texas coast.

Lord, Jesus Christ, help us to remember that whatever storms may roll through our lives, whether from the weather or personal problems, it is all under Your control. Amen  The potato salad is ready and the burgers and brats will be going on the grill by noon. 

Day Two in Door County

Our second day in Door County last week, our first major stop was Whitefish Dunes State Park. What a beautiful shoreline.   I guess I don’t have to narrate every picture. 
 This one certainly needs to comments from me. Isn’t this clever? 

 The furtherest beach access was the dog beach. We were all happy to see Dino out swimming. It turns right back into a puppy. 

 This is Cana Island. On the far side of it is a neat looking lighthouse, which I would have loved to see.
 There isn’t a bridge to cross with a vehicle or open water to cross with a boat. Instead there is a watery isthmus, which you cross by riding in a wagon pulled by a tractor. I don’t know. That didn’t seem right to me somehow, so we didn’t even check it out. I don’t know how much it would have cost or if they would have let Dino on. Maybe another time.  
 An old barn somewhere along the road between Gill’s Rock and Sister Bay. 
 Liberty Grove Historical Society Museum at Ellison Bay. 
 Had beautiful views. I can see why someone would build their farm here 150 years ago.
 Last we drove through Peninsula State Park. Also had beautiful views. 
 And a lighthouse! It was starting to get late in the day, so we didn’t take the tour of it. I think we are going to come back some day, though. 

Day One in Door County

After cancelling our campground reservations and spending five hours in the ER last Monday to find out that my pain was from a kidney stone, I woke up Tuesday morning feeling physically quite a bit better even if I was in a sad emotional state. Around 8:30, when Hubby suggested we take a ride to Door County, I sprang into action. We left the house an hour later.
What would have been a three hour drive was much longer due to lots of potty breaks, but that’s okay. We finally stopped for lunch around 1:30 at Bay Shore County Park in Benderville. Dino wanted to play, but no dogs were allowed in the playground area. He really needed a nap by then anyway, so finally laid down by our picnic table while we ate our picnic lunch.  Before we left home, I had taken a few minutes to see what accommodations were available in Sturgeon Bay. I thought that Beach Harbor Resort sounded promising as they allowed pets, was right on the water and was reasonably priced.  Hubby had doubts as we pulled up. It looked fairly old, but I told him life is an adventure.  In fact it had been built in the 1940s and had been very fashionable at the time. After it’s heyday, it had sat empty for years, before a couple bought it, fourteen years ago, revamped it and reopened it.  Our room was nothing fancy, but was clean. Didn’t stay that way long once we moved in though, huh?  After settling in, we took a walk, first down to the dock.  Then along the dead-end road until we reached the end and the beginning of the trail into Potawatomi State Park. The trail offered beautiful views of Sturgeon Bay


 We didn’t spend much time in the state park, as it was getting supper time and we were tired. 
There would be much more to see the next day.