Pastor Mulu Ken led us into the village. It was larger than ours, with some traditional Ethiopian houses and some homes made out of metal and stones. People watched as we went by. Dawit jumped off Kassa and walked with the pastor, glad to be on the ground again. We stopped in front of a house and a woman came out. She smiled at us. Pastor tied Kassa to a tree and gave her a bucket of water, which she slurped up. He helped me off her back and I walked stiffly into the house.
Ogbay was lying on some blankets, drinking coffee. He smiled at us as we entered. His leg was wrapped in new cloth, so someone must have looked after him.
“This is my wife, Lakech,” he said. “Would you like something to eat?”
I bowed respectfully to the pastor and his wife. “Thank you for helping us,” I said. “We would be honored to eat with you.”
“It’s very good food!” called Ogbay from his bed. Everyone laughed. Lakech filled a plate with enough food for Dawit and myself while we washed our hands. While we ate, the pastor said he would send more men down the trail in case Father needed help.
It felt good to be still, and dry, and fed, Diary. When Lakech left the house to speak to a neighbor, Dawit and I talked to Ogbay.
“They said you did a very good job on my leg, Rahel,” he smiled. “Eh, wait ’til your mother hears. She will be so proud!” He sipped his coffee.
I was going to get up and check Kassa. But my legs felt so tired. Dawit’s eyes were closing. Ogbay was nodding his head. Time stopped. I fell asleep.