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front. It took a few minutes to climb through all the bodies and pieces of the
collapsed ceiling, but I
finally got to them."
"Were they already dead?"
"My father was. My mother was still breathing. She was bleeding profusely.
There was a big blade a cooking knife of some kind stuck in her chest. I just
stood there. I could see she was dying. But I didn't know what to do. I froze.
Eventually, I held her in my arms. I
was sobbing and screaming for help, but no one came. No one could hear me. And
then just like that, she was gone."
The two men drove in silence for a few miles. Then Bennett asked, "Is that why
you became a doctor?"
The man nodded. They drove another few miles in silence before he said, "I
never went back to the mosque. I couldn't. I couldn't understand why Muslims
were killing Muslims.
And then I found my birth certificate, in with some of my parents' papers. It
said I was a
Jew. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what that meant or how it could be.
But something inside me told me it was true, and it was time to learn about my
heritage."
"So what did you do?" Bennett asked.
"I wasn't sure what to do," Dr. Kwamee replied. "I was all alone. My older
brother had died of malaria. My younger brother died during childbirth. Most
of my aunts and uncles were killed in the civil war. My one surviving uncle
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was still pretending to be a devout
Muslim. He had taken me on the hajj, for crying out loud. There was no one to
teach me what
it meant to be Jewish. I finally decided to be an atheist, or at least an
agnostic. I didn't know what I believed. I just knew I couldn't be a Muslim
and I had no idea what it meant to be a
Jew. But I did have a cousin in Nairobi. He was ten years older than me, but
he was always very nice to me when I was growing up. He left for university
when I eight, but he came back in the summers to visit, and he'd take me
swimming and rock climbing and what have you. He even taught me to drive one
summer. So I called him. I begged him to let me come live with him, and he
finally relented."
"Was he a Muslim, or at least pretending to be one?" Bennett asked.
"No, no," Dr. Kwamee said. "Well, I assumed so. I'd never thought to ask. But
when I got there, I found that he had become a follower of Jesus."
12:09 P.M.-ROUTE 15, ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF AMMAN
Bennett hadn't seen that one coming.
"How'd you feel about that?" he asked.
"Honestly, Mr. Bennett, I didn't understand it at all, and at that age, I
wasn't much interested. I just needed a stable, safe place to live. My cousin
was an emergency room physician at a large hospital in Nairobi. He wasn't
making a lot of money not by
American or Israeli standards, of course but he told me if I got good grades,
he would help me pay for college. I'd never been real focused in high school.
But I was so grateful, I
studied harder than I'd ever imagined. I wanted to make my cousin proud."
"I'm sure he's very proud of you," Bennett said. "Is he still in Nairobi?"
"No, sir."
"Where is he now?"
Kwamee didn't answer for several minutes. The tension in the vehicle was
suddenly palpable. Bennett was sorry he had asked. But after a while, Kwamee
said at last, "He died in the firestorm."
Bennett listened in silence.
"He'd gone back to Ethiopia last summer for a few months to help start an
orphanage for children whose parents had died of AIDS. I got an e-mail from
him in October. He said he felt something terrible was about to happen. He
wanted to stay and help. And then . . ."
A flash of lightning lit up the car. Thunder boomed directly overhead.
"It was the last I ever heard from him. I cabled the Mossad station chief in
Addis
Ababa, asked him to check on my cousin. It took a few months, but I finally
got confirmation recently that he didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry, Dr. Kwamee," Bennett said.
They drove in silence for another few minutes. Bennett took another sip of
water and watched the driving rain pelt the windshield in front of him as he
tried to process this man's story. And then, almost before he realized what he
was doing, he asked, "Dr.
Kwamee?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Bennett."
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course, please."
Bennett hesitated. He knew it was a very personal question. But the man was
baring his soul. He clearly wanted to talk. And how much time did they have
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left anyhow?
"Are you really convinced there is no God?"
Dr. Kwamee cleared his throat and said, "I didn't think so. Not after my
parents died.
How could there be?"
There was another long pause.
"And now?" Bennett asked.
Dr. Kwamee didn't turn to look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the road and
swallowed hard. "After the Day of Devastation, you mean?"
"Yes," Bennett said.
"It is very difficult," Kwamee confessed.
"Why is that?" Bennett asked.
"Because I don't want to believe in God," the man replied. "I am very angry
with Him."
"Because of your parents."
"Because of my parents. Because of my brothers. My cousin. My whole family.
There has been so much death, so much killing, so much sadness. It makes no
sense. If God is love and joy and peace and happiness, why am I not
experiencing any of it? And yet, what am I
supposed to do now?"
"What do you mean?" Bennett asked.
"I mean, I felt the earthquake. I saw the hailstorm. I saw the fire fall from
heaven. I
saw it with my own eyes. I saw what it hit, and what it didn't."
"And?"
"And it's very clear to me now that there is a God," Kwamee said, staring
straight ahead at the road as more lightning flashed and more rain fell. "It's
clear to everyone, isn't it? And
He is not the god of the Koran. He is not the god of the Buddhists or the
Hindus. He is most definitely the God of the Bible. Now it's not a matter of
whether I believe He exists. I do."
"Then what it a matter of?"
is
"It's a matter of whether I want to be His follower."
"What holds you back?"
"Fear."
"Fear?" Bennett asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.
"Yes," Dr. Kwamee said.
"Of what?" Bennett asked.
"Fear that Jesus Yeshua might actually be the Messiah."
"Why does that frighten you?"
Kwamee said nothing.
"It's okay," Bennett assured him. "You can be honest with me."
Kwamee seemed to think about that for a moment, and then said, quite bluntly,
"The truth is, Mr. Bennett, I don't want to believe."
That was honest, Bennett thought dangerous, but honest. "Why not?" he asked.
Kwamee shrugged. "It's many things. Partly, I just don't want to change who I
am, you know? Following Jesus means giving up a lot of stuff... stuff I like .
. . stuff I don't like to be told not to do; you know what I mean?"
Bennett nodded. He knew all too well.
"And . . ."
"And what?" Bennett asked, even more curious now.
"I don't know," Kwamee conceded. "Believing in Jesus feels like . . ."
"Like what?" Bennett pressed.
"Like . . . betrayal."
"Betrayal?"
"Yes," Kwamee confessed. "It's like betraying my people, my country. I mean, I
know all the facts. Jesus was Jewish. His disciples were Jewish. The apostle
Page 120 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
front. It took a few minutes to climb through all the bodies and pieces of the
collapsed ceiling, but I
finally got to them."
"Were they already dead?"
"My father was. My mother was still breathing. She was bleeding profusely.
There was a big blade a cooking knife of some kind stuck in her chest. I just
stood there. I could see she was dying. But I didn't know what to do. I froze.
Eventually, I held her in my arms. I
was sobbing and screaming for help, but no one came. No one could hear me. And
then just like that, she was gone."
The two men drove in silence for a few miles. Then Bennett asked, "Is that why
you became a doctor?"
The man nodded. They drove another few miles in silence before he said, "I
never went back to the mosque. I couldn't. I couldn't understand why Muslims
were killing Muslims.
And then I found my birth certificate, in with some of my parents' papers. It
said I was a
Jew. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what that meant or how it could be.
But something inside me told me it was true, and it was time to learn about my
heritage."
"So what did you do?" Bennett asked.
"I wasn't sure what to do," Dr. Kwamee replied. "I was all alone. My older
brother had died of malaria. My younger brother died during childbirth. Most
of my aunts and uncles were killed in the civil war. My one surviving uncle
Page 118
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
was still pretending to be a devout
Muslim. He had taken me on the hajj, for crying out loud. There was no one to
teach me what
it meant to be Jewish. I finally decided to be an atheist, or at least an
agnostic. I didn't know what I believed. I just knew I couldn't be a Muslim
and I had no idea what it meant to be a
Jew. But I did have a cousin in Nairobi. He was ten years older than me, but
he was always very nice to me when I was growing up. He left for university
when I eight, but he came back in the summers to visit, and he'd take me
swimming and rock climbing and what have you. He even taught me to drive one
summer. So I called him. I begged him to let me come live with him, and he
finally relented."
"Was he a Muslim, or at least pretending to be one?" Bennett asked.
"No, no," Dr. Kwamee said. "Well, I assumed so. I'd never thought to ask. But
when I got there, I found that he had become a follower of Jesus."
12:09 P.M.-ROUTE 15, ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF AMMAN
Bennett hadn't seen that one coming.
"How'd you feel about that?" he asked.
"Honestly, Mr. Bennett, I didn't understand it at all, and at that age, I
wasn't much interested. I just needed a stable, safe place to live. My cousin
was an emergency room physician at a large hospital in Nairobi. He wasn't
making a lot of money not by
American or Israeli standards, of course but he told me if I got good grades,
he would help me pay for college. I'd never been real focused in high school.
But I was so grateful, I
studied harder than I'd ever imagined. I wanted to make my cousin proud."
"I'm sure he's very proud of you," Bennett said. "Is he still in Nairobi?"
"No, sir."
"Where is he now?"
Kwamee didn't answer for several minutes. The tension in the vehicle was
suddenly palpable. Bennett was sorry he had asked. But after a while, Kwamee
said at last, "He died in the firestorm."
Bennett listened in silence.
"He'd gone back to Ethiopia last summer for a few months to help start an
orphanage for children whose parents had died of AIDS. I got an e-mail from
him in October. He said he felt something terrible was about to happen. He
wanted to stay and help. And then . . ."
A flash of lightning lit up the car. Thunder boomed directly overhead.
"It was the last I ever heard from him. I cabled the Mossad station chief in
Addis
Ababa, asked him to check on my cousin. It took a few months, but I finally
got confirmation recently that he didn't make it."
"I'm so sorry, Dr. Kwamee," Bennett said.
They drove in silence for another few minutes. Bennett took another sip of
water and watched the driving rain pelt the windshield in front of him as he
tried to process this man's story. And then, almost before he realized what he
was doing, he asked, "Dr.
Kwamee?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Bennett."
"May I ask you a question?"
"Of course, please."
Bennett hesitated. He knew it was a very personal question. But the man was
baring his soul. He clearly wanted to talk. And how much time did they have
Page 119
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
left anyhow?
"Are you really convinced there is no God?"
Dr. Kwamee cleared his throat and said, "I didn't think so. Not after my
parents died.
How could there be?"
There was another long pause.
"And now?" Bennett asked.
Dr. Kwamee didn't turn to look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the road and
swallowed hard. "After the Day of Devastation, you mean?"
"Yes," Bennett said.
"It is very difficult," Kwamee confessed.
"Why is that?" Bennett asked.
"Because I don't want to believe in God," the man replied. "I am very angry
with Him."
"Because of your parents."
"Because of my parents. Because of my brothers. My cousin. My whole family.
There has been so much death, so much killing, so much sadness. It makes no
sense. If God is love and joy and peace and happiness, why am I not
experiencing any of it? And yet, what am I
supposed to do now?"
"What do you mean?" Bennett asked.
"I mean, I felt the earthquake. I saw the hailstorm. I saw the fire fall from
heaven. I
saw it with my own eyes. I saw what it hit, and what it didn't."
"And?"
"And it's very clear to me now that there is a God," Kwamee said, staring
straight ahead at the road as more lightning flashed and more rain fell. "It's
clear to everyone, isn't it? And
He is not the god of the Koran. He is not the god of the Buddhists or the
Hindus. He is most definitely the God of the Bible. Now it's not a matter of
whether I believe He exists. I do."
"Then what it a matter of?"
is
"It's a matter of whether I want to be His follower."
"What holds you back?"
"Fear."
"Fear?" Bennett asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.
"Yes," Dr. Kwamee said.
"Of what?" Bennett asked.
"Fear that Jesus Yeshua might actually be the Messiah."
"Why does that frighten you?"
Kwamee said nothing.
"It's okay," Bennett assured him. "You can be honest with me."
Kwamee seemed to think about that for a moment, and then said, quite bluntly,
"The truth is, Mr. Bennett, I don't want to believe."
That was honest, Bennett thought dangerous, but honest. "Why not?" he asked.
Kwamee shrugged. "It's many things. Partly, I just don't want to change who I
am, you know? Following Jesus means giving up a lot of stuff... stuff I like .
. . stuff I don't like to be told not to do; you know what I mean?"
Bennett nodded. He knew all too well.
"And . . ."
"And what?" Bennett asked, even more curious now.
"I don't know," Kwamee conceded. "Believing in Jesus feels like . . ."
"Like what?" Bennett pressed.
"Like . . . betrayal."
"Betrayal?"
"Yes," Kwamee confessed. "It's like betraying my people, my country. I mean, I
know all the facts. Jesus was Jewish. His disciples were Jewish. The apostle
Page 120 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]