Red Bike Publishing Books

Monday, February 27, 2012

What do you Expect Me to Do?

John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.”
“We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied.
John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground.
“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta.
Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude.
“Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed.
“Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled.
Marta saw recognition in Mewpa’s eyes. He often referred to Sandy as the white medicine lady, having been present on many occasions as she looked into the eyes, ears, and mouth of Marta. This woman had the power to gaze into the inner soul of a person. Very powerful medicine to him, and she possessed a skill that made her a very worthy adversary.
Marta hoped Sandy would take charge of the situation. Marta could reason and that was to no avail, and John could only aggravate the situation. By taking Marta’s side, they could very easily cause the village to choose loyalties. Not a situation to get in the middle of, for it could only cause hardships for missionaries throughout the region. Sandy was the best hope; diplomatically speaking.
“Marta, please translate to the medicine man. I think I can solve this on a nurse to doctor professional basis,” Sandy said.
“I’ll do whatever I can – anything to change his mind.” Marta wiped her eyes.
“You have worked so hard to heal this ill boy. You have spent many hours, tirelessly struggling to end his affliction, as any caring doctor or parent would. You have treated him with the utmost respect, dignity, and all the power that you possess,” Sandy began.
Marta was grateful that Sandy took a few breaks to allow her to translate. “Yet he grows weaker in spite of your excellent care. His sickness is too strong.”
The ceremony came to a gradual halt as the medicine man seemed to struggle with something within. It seemed as if Sandy’s words finally began to sink in.
“What do you expect me to do?” Mewpa asked.
“I have something called antibiotics. It is good medicine that will kill the fever and infection. If you will allow me to give this to the boy today, his fever may be gone before the sun goes down. If his fever is gone by tonight, John can fly him out and his bone can be repaired properly. If we don’t, he could die,” Sandy said.
“I will let you work on him, but approve everything with me,” Mewpa replied.


Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

The Medicine Man

Marta saw recognition in Mewpa’s eyes. He often referred to Sandy as the white medicine lady, having been present on many occasions as she looked into the eyes, ears, and mouth of Marta. This woman had the power to gaze into the inner soul of a person. Very powerful medicine to him, and she possessed a skill that made her a very worthy adversary.
Marta hoped Sandy would take charge of the situation. Marta could reason and that was to no avail, and John could only aggravate the situation. By taking Marta’s side, they could very easily cause the village to choose loyalties. Not a situation to get in the middle of, for it could only cause hardships for missionaries throughout the region. Sandy was the best hope; diplomatically speaking.
“Marta, please translate to the medicine man. I think I can solve this on a nurse to doctor professional basis,” Sandy said.
“I’ll do whatever I can – anything to change his mind.” Marta wiped her eyes.
“You have worked so hard to heal this ill boy. You have spent many hours, tirelessly struggling to end his affliction, as any caring doctor or parent would. You have treated him with the utmost respect, dignity, and all the power that you possess,” Sandy began.
Marta was grateful that Sandy took a few breaks to allow her to translate. “Yet he grows weaker in spite of your excellent care. His sickness is too strong.”
The ceremony came to a gradual halt as the medicine man seemed to struggle with something within. It seemed as if Sandy’s words finally began to sink in.
“What do you expect me to do?” Mewpa asked.
“I have something called antibiotics. It is good medicine that will kill the fever and infection. If you will allow me to give this to the boy today, his fever may be gone before the sun goes down. If his fever is gone by tonight, John can fly him out and his bone can be repaired properly. If we don’t, he could die,” Sandy said.
“I will let you work on him, but approve everything with me,” Mewpa replied.


Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is an author of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Broken Leg of Any Other Name...

The next morning, John set Buttercup down for a bumpy but otherwise perfect landing at the Tarampura airstrip. He made a mental note that the strip of land carved from brush and trees would have to be groomed before it got out of hand. He also noted Marta wasn’t there to greet him.
“Hi, John! Are we going to fly on this nice day?” Tucker asked.
“I don’t think we can. The nurse and I still have a lot of villages to visit,” John said.
Numah smiled a bashful greeting.
“Where is Marta? Doesn’t she come to greet friends anymore?” asked Sandy.
“She want us to bring you. She fight with the village doctor,” Tucker said.
They climbed hurriedly to the village. They could hear Marta yelling loudly in the local dialect. When frustrated, she threw in intermittent English.
“What do you mean waving these feathers over him? This isn’t going to do any good. Just give it up and let me help,” Marta begged.
The witch doctor just grunted and continued his magic. Multi¬colored sacred bird feathers fluttered with the timed flicks of a nimble wrist as Mewpa ran them the length of the injured boy’s body. The young man was covered in skins and flower blossoms. Smoke spiraled upward from the scented candles on each corner of the mat he lay on, as if the sickness would drift away with the rising columns.
The young boy’s right leg lay at an odd angle, just below the knee. A simple splint of bamboo, secured with long grass, had lost its effectiveness as it began to unravel.
Marta insisted on evacuating the pitiful boy by air, to a facility where he could be properly treated. She couldn’t understand why Mewpa refused. His stubborn pride would not yield to pure logic. She could tell the patient was very sick and probably close to death. No amount of pleading could stir the consciousness of the elders, or even the family members. Nobody, not even the converts, would ever cross the will of one of the most powerful men in the village.
“Look, I know you mean well, but sometimes you have to go to other sources of help. He is going to get sicker. He needs medicine, and his leg needs to be fixed,” Marta begged.
“There is nothing more powerful than my medicine. I will heal his sickness, then we will fix his leg,” Mewpa replied, unfazed.
John and Sandy entered the hut as Numah and Tucker fearfully withdrew. Marta, having fought long and hard on behalf of the boy’s welfare, fell into the waiting arms of Sandy, and let herself sob with frustration. “We’ve got to do something, Sandy. He won’t even listen.”
“We’ll do something. Don’t worry,” Sandy replied.
John kicked at the dust and pretended to look at something on the ground.
“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to lose control in front of you. I’m just frustrated,” said Marta.
Marta saw the witch doctor snicker, then continue with a professional but I-know-what-I’m-doing, and-you’re-too-simple-to-¬recognize-greatness attitude.
“Don’t worry, Marta, I understand what you have been through. I’ve been through less frustrating situations, but didn’t handle them nearly as well as you are this one. At least the doctor is still standing.” Sandy laughed.
“Don’t get me wrong. I haven’t ruled out violence.” Marta allowed a chuckled.


Jeffrey W. Bennett is an author and owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Take Care of Tucker; Won't You?

Marta was touched. She blinked back the tears as the impact of his words slammed into her like a huge wave. She could only stop and hold him in gratitude.
They ascended the hill to the village. Several people waited at the entrance of the hamlet. Some were walking back from the nearby stream with fresh water for cleaning wounds. They greeted Tucker and Marta by name, but she never got used to their fingerless waves or toothless smiles. Marta wondered where they got their encouragement.
Maybe it was because they were not forgotten, she thought. Despite living in austere conditions, their home villages still visited and brought food, and professionals offered support and comfort. Faith seemed to thrive in a place of much decay.
The ground around the village was beaten down to hard earth. Constant use had worn away any grass. What survived grew in less frequented areas bordering huts. Small green patches symbolized the spirit still thriving in a place of eventual death.
At the entrance to Kilea’s hut, Tucker hesitated, afraid of what he would find. All of the changes were for the worse, as Tucker saw his mother wasting away physically. Yet, her mind remained alert.
Kilea noticed their shadows and sat up on her cot.
“Who is there?” she asked.
They had to go in now and Tucker did so after Marta gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
“It is Marta and me. Just lie back. I am coming to you,” Tucker replied.
“It is wonderful for you to come and visit an old sick woman,” Kilea said.
Even with blotchy skin and her hair thin and gray, she looked beautiful. Though naturally tiny, she looked fail and small in her cot. Marta had heard the stories of when Kilea was younger, before the sickness. Of how she carried heavy loads and butchered the meat. Even through the decay Marta could still see her strength and determination.
“You know I wouldn’t miss a chance to visit. And I was honored when Tucker asked me to come with him,” Marta said, continuing in the local dialect.
“I asked my boy to bring you this time. I missed you, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Kilea took her son’s hand and asked him to leave her and Marta alone for a few minutes. He smiled, and reluctantly left the hut. Marta noticed it hurt Kilea to send her son off.
“I hear an airplane flying overhead; that should keep him busy for a while,” said Marta.
“He loves his giant birds, doesn’t he?” Kilea asked.
“He does. That’s all he ever talks about.” Marta agreed.
“It makes me sad that I can’t share exciting things with him. What kind of mother can’t share in her child’s life?” Kilea asked.
“But Tucker knows your enthusiasm and interest. He comes here willingly sharing of his adventures. He wouldn’t do that unless he knew you cared and were genuinely interested,” said Marta.
“You are so sweet, my girl. Listen, listen closely. I want you understand my wishes.” Kilea waited until she was sure she had Marta’s full attention. “I want you to take care of Tucker when I go, be his new mother.”
“I... I could never replace you,” Marta said.
“I’m not asking you to. I know he respects you and listens to you, and I know you respect me and will keep my spirit alive for him. I know that I will not be forgotten after I go,” Kilea tried to reassure Marta.
“What about his other relations in Tarampura?” Marta asked.
“They are well meaning, but can’t give my son the life he needs. He will always be the lesser of all children and family members. You know my boy, the center of attention, curious, and quick to learn.”
“Yes, he is everything you say.” Marta sniffled and wiped off tears.
“The old ways are not for him. He has learned your ways; he will not survive very well without you. I know this. I want you to care for him, take him to your world when you decide to leave.”
Marta was shocked. She had no idea Kilea was so observant. She had noticed all the changes. “Then you are not disappointed in what has happened to Tucker?”
“Tucker is special. He has an adventurer in him, and the invisible walls of the village would not hold him in. His future is in you, Marta. Please promise me you will respect my wishes,” said Kilea.
“Kilea, it is a strange request, one that will not please the elders of the village. But I love Tucker as my own. For years I have taught him to read and write in my language, and he has learned about experiences in my country, from books and my stories. I will do as you say. I will raise your son,” said Marta.
Kilea enjoyed another rare moment of happiness.


Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Do You Think God Knows My Mom is Sick?-An Excerpt from Commitment

Marta reflected on her visits with John – how she had enjoyed them, and how matchmakers popped up out of the woodwork. She had waved them off, not taking their comments seriously. She and John had insisted there was nothing to become excited over. John was her pilot, a link to the outside world. He brought her mail, supplies, and good conversation. But she had to admit, she looked forward to those visits. She refused to admit that these feelings were out of romantic notions, even if those like Tucker noticed differently.
“Do you think John likes to visit here to my mother?” the twelve¬ year-old asked.
“Maybe we can ask him later.” Even he has his suspicions about us, she thought, feeling ambushed by the question. They walked down to the dock for the boat ride to the leper colony.
Within twenty minutes, a boat chugged up river. Smoke belched skyward in dirty cotton puffs as the diesel engine reversed, then revved to dock the boat. Marta smiled a welcome as Eric Schneider tied his craft and lowered a plank. Marta accepted his invitation to load as he made a swooping motion with his hat.
Eric had been navigating the Baliem River for the better part of twenty years. “Always wearing khaki pants, knit shirts, and a navy blue hat trimmed with a patent leather brim. He arrived in Irian Jaya with the Dutch army back in the 1950s as a gun boat officer, and fell in love with the natural beauty.
“It is well to see you again,” Eric said in his milkshake thick accent. After years of private business on the Baliem River, Marta was his favorite passenger.
“Looking sharp, Eric?”
“Ladies love a man in uniform,” Eric replied.
Floating down the river was always an adventure. Startled deer and wild pigs drinking from the river darted from behind river plants as the boat rounded a bend. Water snakes swam by, and occasionally, a crocodile. Such scenery sounds, and smells always helped the trip go faster. A few hours later, Eric docked the boat, helped the passengers off, and floated away.
Marta and Tucker stayed around and waved the TULIP away, watching it drift slowly while collecting themselves for a difficult visit.
Marta took Tucker’s hand as they walked to Delany’s Colony. They passed between huge upward sloping hills surrounding the valley. Emerald green highlighted the brilliance of blooming plants, more commonly orchids, Javanese edelweiss, and ginger.
Tucker looked up and spoke, “Do you think that God knows mother is sick?”
Marta continued to walk, holding his hand all the while. “Yes, he does. He doesn’t like that she’s sick, but he knows it.” She knew where he was going with the questioning. She had the same questions when her husband was suddenly taken from her, but she wasn’t sure she had the courage to answer Tucker.
“If God knows she is so sick, why doesn’t he help?”
“God didn’t do this to your mother, Tucker. I believe he let it happen for reasons only he can give,” Marta replied.
“But why have to let it happen to mother?” he sobbed.
Marta stopped and held him for a few minutes until he quieted down. “God loves you and your mother. We don’t know why this is happening to her, but you have to have faith and pray for God’s will and our understanding.”
“I do that, but I still have these questions. I know God is merciful and strong, that why it is so hard to believe this happens, even to mother. But I am not mad at God, I am sad,” Tucker said.
Marta couldn’t have been more proud of him. Mentally, he was growing into a young man quicker than she was ready, one of amazing courage and conviction.
“Do you think John visit my mother, if I invite him?” he asked a second time.
“Why don’t we wait a little before inviting him? The time will be right for that soon enough, and I’m sure he will be glad that you gave him this honor of meeting your family,” Marta replied.
“He has already met my family.” Tucker allowed himself a small smile.
“Oh yeah?”
“You my family, Marta,” he said hugging her again.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM