"Coyote" Part 12 'Working out the wonders'

I am doing a bit of an experiment at the moment with the two stories that I'm writing, one I'm putting part of the story on as the book's already written, and the other, I'm writing the book 'as we write the hubs'

I'm enjoying both, but wondering which is the best way, in favour of this method here, I found out that both Mark Twain and Charles Dickens used to write in weekly installments (sometimes monthly) and people would literally save up all month, just so they could buy the next installment of whatever story it was, and the illiterate 'Barrow boy' would then get someone to read the story to him!!!

I've no idea why I put that in, maybe it's the desire to 'influence a generation' like those giants of the literary world did, but anyway, here's the next installment.

In the last one, we began to see some of the Mysterious ways that God might be at work, but you know, there are times when he wants us to 'work with him' on stuff, maybe that's what Samir was learning, how to work with God and not so much for him!

“I’ve heard that you’re a good mechanic” the man spoke loudly as he climbed out of the car, a seven series BMW that looked really out of place in the ramshackle area, not only that, the car looked new, which meant it was probably stolen from somewhere, no one had been able to import cars for at least two years. Samir was immediately wary.

“It’s nice to know that people like my work” he replied warily, he had no idea whom the stranger was, “what’s the problem?”

The stranger was slightly younger than Samir, three or so inches shorter, with thick black hair, cut almost in a crew cut style, no beard (this gave him away as not being a Kurd) but a full moustache that was almost bordering on the ‘handlebar’ style, he was clearly a Turk, or a Turkoman, one of the many ethnic minorities in the region.

“Radiator” the man replied, “least I think it is, the car keeps overheating, couple of times I’ve had to pull over and wait for it to cool off!”

“Okay” Samir replied indicating for the man to open the bonnet or hood of the car, “let’s have a look?” he couldn’t really help himself, he just had to fix things, he hated to see good machinery that wasn’t working properly, not that he didn’t have enough work on, he had work backed up for weeks, but he just couldn’t help himself, “besides” he told himself, “it might only take a minute or so”

A few minutes later he looked up at the man, “Yep, I see the problem” he began reaching for a screwdriver.

“How much will it cost?” the man began reaching for his something behind his back, Samir momentarily froze, afraid of what might be coming out, then he relaxed when he saw the wallet.

“Not much” he replied, “just looks like a busted hose, might have damaged the radiator, but I can’t be sure until I fix the hose and top her up, I might have to reset the sensors, but we’ll see, at least with the hose repaired you might be able to get to where you’re going.”

“I’m taking the car to Iran” the driver told him, it was also a message not to ask any more questions.

Half an hour later the car was fixed, the man tried to pay Samir for his time, but Samir refused to take anything, truth was, he didn’t really want these people showing up, and didn’t want them thinking he ‘owed’ them, doing them a favor was ok, he could always claim he was just helping a man in need out, anything more could create problems!

“My name is Turgut Ozman” the stranger shook Samir’s hand as he paused before climbing back into the driving seat, Samir felt something in the hand, he didn’t look, just made sure he held onto it as he looked the man in the eye.

“From Diyarbakir” he continued, “if ever you’re over that way, and need anything, you give me a call okay” the man slid back behind the wheel, started the engine and put the car into reverse.

“Thank you” Samir replied, not really thinking he’d ever see the guy again, that turned out to be wrong, Turgut now had someone who could fix cars in Iraq, even if it was simple stuff, but Samir didn’t ever expect to meet Turgut again, and certainly not in Diyarbakir.

Just as Turgut was pulling out of the workshop Samir saw Father Boutros heading his way, he had another with him, and the both looked distressed, there was an urgency about the way they were walking.

“Welcome Father” Samir tried to be polite, a waiter from the local tea shop was walking past, Samir gave him a quick order for three glasses of tea, “and be quick about it” he sent the boy scurrying off.

“Samir” Father Boutros began, “I’m glad we’ve caught you here, I’ve got some grave news from the villages, we need help, and we’re not sure where to turn”

The boy got back with the teas and Father Boutros began to explain, “Emad here is from the village of ‘Kanissa’ down by the river, about half an hour from town”

“Kanissa?” Samir asked, he’d never heard of it, but there were so many, it could be any one of hundreds.

“It’s a village that was re-settled about a year ago” Father Boutros explained, “A Christian one that was destroyed in the Anfal, but the people came back about nine months ago and began to rebuild, they were getting food from the UN, but that stopped three months ago, and their crops aren’t ready yet, they’ve had no food for three months!”

Samir looked at the man, he looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, “How have you found food then?” he asked.

“We sold what we could” said the farmer, “thinking that the UN would start bringing food again, but they’ve brought nothing, and we don’t know who to ask, or who to see, we have no money left, and nothing to sell, we need help!”

“How far is the village you say” Samir got up and began looking for his keys, he made clear they were going somewhere.

“About an hour from the town” father Boutros replied, “why?”

“And Emad can direct us I assume?”

“Yes, Why?”

“Because I need to see for myself, before I go and talk to Mr Tariq” and with that they headed for Samir’s Dodge.

He once said "Going to church, doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to McDonalds makes you a Hamburger!"

Another favourite I heard him say on a record once, "God can't cash out of state cheques in Heaven!"

I'll leave you to think on those as we get back to the story.

Zakho sits at the junction of two valleys, with one, the wider of the two running Northwest to Southeast, but a smaller valley runs off to the east, just where they meet is a flatter piece of land, about five kilometers wide and seven kilometers deep, that’s where the village of Kanissa sat.

The name means ‘Church’ so it was kind of appropriate that the village was a christian one, though there were five or six other villages with the same name that Samir knew of that were all Muslim, a testament to the heritage of the Kurds, who were once animists, then Zoroastrians, then became ‘Christian’ and finally Muslims, but never forgot the pain that Islam brought them, most had been given the choice “Convert, or be exterminated” and had chosen to make a ‘Deal with the Devil” yet still held him at arm’s length, they were more tolerant because they admired those who hadn’t made the ‘deal’ Kanissa was one of those places, and it’d paid a heavy price over the centuries, but they hung on to their roots.

The village was picturesque, right by the river, it had fields around it where crops were planted, but they weren’t ready for harvesting, a huge Oak in the middle was where the people all met for any important things, as soon as they saw father Boutros they started making their way there, expecting a service of some kind, even though it wasn’t a Sunday, or any other saints day, but one thing was clear, there wasn’t any food there.

They left Emad at the village and went straight back to Zakho, Samir didn’t even stop at the workshop, but drove straight round to Op Mercy’s office.

Mr James and Mrs Pauline had left the country a few months earlier, they’d gone on a long break, and weren't due back for another month or so, but Mr Tariq was still around, and he was the one they wanted to see.

“Are you sure they’ll be able to help?” Father Boutros asked, he was nervous, yes, he knew Tariq a little, and he liked the guy, but as an Iraqi, he was always hesitant to ask anyone in authority for help.

“I’m not sure what they can do” Samir was truthful, “but I think you remember the food convoy when the Turks invaded, don’t you?”

“Yes, but that” Father Boutros began.

“The convoy was Mrs Pauline’s idea” Samir cut him off, “Bulshitting the way past the guards was Tariq’s” he saw father Boutros’ eyes light up, more in shock at the language used than anything else, he carried on, “He’ll know who to ask, if not at the UN, he’ll know where to find the information, and sort something out for us!”

That's all for this episode this week. But I want to leave you with the song from Keith Green, it's an awesome song, he was only really 'at the top' for two years, but oh man, what an Impact he had!

Take a moment to think about the words.

The only difference was what one group did, and one group didn't do. What they believed was irrelevant! (Have a think on that one, it goes against what most churches teach!)

Blessings, don't forget to leave a comment

Lawrence