Torch, Spring 1980

12 rank Bymers rolled restlessly on his bed. Glancing at his illuminated watch, he saw that it was four o'clock. The first light of day would soon be making its way into the little mission house located at the medical station of lppy, Central African Empire. He couldn't keep from thinking about the canton chief at Yambo, a large village of 200 homes, forty miles into the bush. Just the day before, Frank had received an urgent message from Joshua Mamba, the village pastor, to come immediately. The chiefs fifteen-year-old daughter had fallen on a rock and cut an artery in her leg. Frank and June had left right away for Yambo. As their pickup truck entered the village, men and women everywhere in the village were crying a death wail. Pastor Joshua ran up to the truck with a worried look on his face. "Mr. Bymers, she may already be dead. She has lost a lot of blood. The chief tells me that if she dies, he is going to force me out of the village and close the church. He says my God was not powerful enough to protect his daughter." Frank knew that the chief would carry out his threat if his daughter died. Quickly he ran to the chiefs hut and knelt beside the girl. He gently opened her eyelid and noticed the whiteness of the flesh inside the eye. "She's lost a lot of blood," he murmured. He couldn't feel any heartbeat, but he knew she was still alive. "Chief," he said in a clear, distinct voice, "come with me. I need to take your daughter to the mission station." Even in the dim light of the small kerosene lamp, Frank could see the glare of the chiefs bloodshot eyes. "You want to kill her. That's what you want to do. But since she is dead already, or nearly dead, I'm going to force you to take her with you! If she doesn't come back to this village alive, you and your preacher boy are finished in my district." "Dear Lord," Frank prayed silently, "spare this girl. Keep this village open to the gospel and save this canfon chief." The almost !ifeless form of the young girl was placed on a mattress in the back of the truck The chief and three of his wives got in with her. Frank drove as fast as he could safely go on the treacherous road. June prayed silently beside the young girl in the back of the truck. As he drove, Frank prayed that Dr. Sims would be home from Bambari, where he had gone to have repair work done on his truck. The girl needed a blood transfusion. But to the Banda tribe the transfer of blood from one body to another was a white man's curse. It meant death or sickness to both people. Turning down the hospital drive, Frank saw the doctor's truck. He breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord. "She's just about dead, Frank," said Dr. Sims. "Only a miracle by the Lord will save this girl." One of Dr. Sims' African assistants was busy in the lab finding out the girl's blood type. "It's 0-positive, Doctor," the young assistant said as he rushed into the operating room. Frank's heart beat with excitement. "Ed, that's my type. Take my blood for the girl," said Frank as he unbuttoned his shirt. The canton chief had never been in the hospital before. He stood in amazement, looking at the spotless room with all of its equipment. His eyes widened as the white missionary's arm was punctured by an African assistant. The chief could hardly believe that a white man would give his blood, especially for an V. Ben Kendrick African he didn't know. Dr. Sims loosened the tourniquet which Pastor Joshua had so expertly put on the girl's leg. "Praise the Lord, Fran," Dr. Sims said to the missionary nurse. "I believe the girl is going to make it. We'll be able to tell better tomorrow morning. I want you to stay with her tonight if you will." Fran knew the seriousness of the case and nodded her approval to her missionary co-worker. After the evening meal that night in the Bymer's home, Frank and June and their two sons prayed for the chiefs daughter. "Dear Lord," ten-year-old Stephen prayed, "please don't let this girl die. Help her to get well. I pray that she and her father and others in her family will accept Jesus as their Savior." As Frank lay in his bed that night, he could hear the chiefs voice over and over again telling him that if his daughter died there would be no more preaching the gospel in his entire district. The next morning Frank walked into the hospital. He was relieved to see that the young girl was awake and alert. Fran, who looked worn out from her sleepless night, had fastened a pole alongside the hospital cot for the intravenous feeding and blood transfusion. "This is the white man I told you about," the chief said to his daughter. "You now have his blood in your body." He quickly added, "And don't worry, my daughter, for you're going to get well." Frank could hardly believe his ears. The chiefs attitude had changed overnight. The chief got up from the girl's side and motioned for Frank to follow him. Once outside the hospital, he turned to Frank. "Mr. Bymers, forgive me for what I said to you last night. I