Rudd and Father Norman find Tim and Jacobus at the back of the truck, loading it with belongings. Both men look exhausted.

“Such a mess out there,” says Jacobus as he closes the back.

“Any idea how many dead?” Rudd asks.

“No. Still discovering bodies.”

“Plus hundreds of families without anything. Everything gone. Just like that.” Tim clicks his fingers, the sound snapping between them.

Father Norman shakes his head sadly. “You two must have been a godsend.”

“Perhaps, but we couldn’t do much,” says Tim. “We’re heading to Mutare now. Guess the roads are okay if you’ve managed to get through?”

“Not easy, but you’ll do it,” says Father Norman.

Jacobus nods. “Good. We’ll get some kip in Mutare, and catch up with Hansie and the others. Then bring in more supplies.”

“Should be back first thing tomorrow,” says Tim, swinging his backpack into the cab.

“I’ll be here,” says Rudd.

“I won’t. I’ll be at the mission, roads permitting. All the best with your plans,” says Father Norman, shaking both men by the hand.

“Thanks for your help Father, and big thanks to whoever saved this baby,” says Jacobus. He pats the top of his cab, and then settles himself into the driver’s seat.

“Good luck Rudd,” says Tim.

“Thanks.”

As the truck edges away slowly down the hill, Father Norman claps his hands together. “Right. I must go, if I want to get back before it’s dark.”

“I’ll come with you. Don’t know what the road’s going to be like up there. You may need a hand.”

They set off in slow convoy, heading deeper into the mountains, away from the lower levels of the tea estate. The further they go, the easier and dustier the journey gets. They reach the track leading to the mission without incident. The deep red walls of its church are the first thing Rudd sees through the trees. As they approach children scatter out from the shade, laughing and jumping, while two women try to gather them back.

Rudd switches off his engine and sits quietly, watching as Father Norman gets out to touch heads and hands. When the general chat, and exclamations over the state of the truck, have calmed a little, Rudd walks over to join the excitement.

“Can we give you a cup of tea?” Father Norman asks.

“No thank you. I’d better be getting back.” Rudd extends his hand to say goodbye, and Father Norman seizes it, wrapping it in both of his own, his gaze so intense that Rudd has to look away.

“Thank you. And may God bless you boy,” says the priest, finally releasing his hand.

“And you,” Rudd mumbles, climbing back into his truck.

He drives away slowly, eyes on the rearview mirror, watching Father Norman at the centre of the growing group, with the church behind. It’s like a painting he thinks, untouched by the cyclone. He stretches his arm out of the window in a final farewell.

He takes the journey back slowly, enjoying the viewpoints, and wondering with each whether his decision to leave is the right one. He knows he will never know, but he is certain of two things – he feels relieved to have made the decision, and he is certain that he will be back.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

The next day Rudd is up at dawn to say goodbye to the helicopter bound for Harare. On board, as decreed by the doctors, are Fred and Bernard, and, after a little persuasion, Marybelle. Rudd waves until the glinting speck disappears into the blue, then he heads back up to the lodge, where a text from Hansie pings on to his mobile.

“Arrived. All fine. Tried calling no luck. Aneke and Ruan got lift to Harare. Hope tea estate roads sorted. Will get bus to main road junction midday for last guests.”

Rudd considers the message, the roads, and the guests he has left – including Hansie’s mother Karen, her elderly cousins, and a not very mobile, middle-aged couple from Harare. He finalises a plan and explains it to the group when they gather for morning tea, and the last of the bread. All are relieved to hear that they will be on their way out that morning.

The first task is to get passengers and luggage to the top of the hill. Rudd does several trips on foot with an assortment of bags, before escorting the not so young up to where his truck and Father Norman’s are waiting.

Once he has loaded the guests into the vehicles, and padded the luggage into place around them, he leads the way down, the battered mission truck following precisely in his tracks. It is not an easy journey for anyone. Those in the front of the vehicles are especially nervous, and those crammed into the back especially uncomfortable, but any complaints are silenced by the devastation beyond the lodge.

The tea factory is nothing but twisted metal and broken sheets of corrugated roofing, its perimeter patched here and there with fallen trees, and smashed avocadoes. Both sides of the dirt road beyond it are washed away in places, with only just enough firm ground left on which to coax the trucks along. Slowly, slowly they make progress, passing rockfalls, flooded ditches, destroyed homes, electricity lines swinging listlessly from leaning poles, and the occasional straggle of tired families, the mothers with belongings balanced on their heads, and their babies strapped to their backs. There are no happy children calling out for sweets.

The journey is so slow, that the minutes to the meeting place stretch out to three times their usual length. By the time the convoy reaches the main road it is after midday, and the bus already waiting. The last to board is Karen, maker of the morning’s tea. She gives Rudd a fierce hug, thanking him for all he has done. As she disappears behind the others to find a seat the bus lurches back up on to the tarmac, leaving Rudd and Father Norman in a fog of diesel fumes.

Their drive back to the lodge proves more hazardous than the one from it. The worst part is the final stretch up through the tea fields. Rudd inches upwards slowly, riding the ridges and gravel patches, with the red truck roaring and slipping in the steep red mud behind. At last they reach the final rise, and as Rudd crests the top he sees Jacobus’ truck gleaming in the sun.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

As the tractor’s lights drop from view, Rudd turns to Father Norman. “Thanks for your help. You’ve been brilliant. Kept me standing.”

The priest grins. His hair is untidy, his shirt mud-splattered, and his trousers rolled lopsidedly up to his knees. “Don’t mention it. Can’t remember when I last had such fun. Or so much exercise. Not sure I’ll be able to move tomorrow, but it’s been a relief to do something useful and physical.” He pauses, and looks up at the night sky. “And these skies. Doesn’t feel the right thing to say right now, but they are something I’ll never forget.”

Rudd nods, and links his fingers behind his head. He looks up and lets his eyes sink in amongst the millions of stars above them. “I’m going to miss this,” he says, pulling his elbows back as tight as he can to stretch out the tension in his shoulders.

“Of course … but you’ll come back won’t you?”

“That’s my plan. Right now I just need a break. Although right, right now I need to go and sort out transport for the rest of the guests. The tractor driver told me that some vehicles had reached the village below the tea factory. He didn’t know where from, but they got there.”

“Sounds promising,” says Father Norman. “We should probably get back then.”

“Ja. And I’d like to catch the doctors. Saw their helicopter come in as we were heading up here.” The pair follow the others down over the wet slip of the road, churned up by tractor tracks.

Marybelle and the doctors are in the kitchen. The doctors are chatting, while she cooks by candlelight. The news is not good. The worst is that a school has been flattened, with at least ten children and two teachers missing, presumed dead. In another village a river has swept away two families. Dr Hove says he is certain the numbers lost will have doubled by the morning.

The only good news the doctors have, is that they came across Tim and Jacobus who were both well, and asked them to pass on the news that Tonderai’s family were safe.

“I’m so thankful to hear that,” says Marybelle, her tired face shining briefly as she grates cheese for the evening’s pasta.

“Hallelujah,” says Father Norman.

“Amen to that,” says Dr Hove.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” Rudd asks.

“Tomorrow. First they’ll hand out the medicines we left them, then they’ll walk back. It’s not too far,” says Dr Jabu Ndlovu.

Marybelle puts down her grater, and raps on the large saucepan beside her with a ladle. “Right everyone, supper is ready to be served. Rudd could you wash that dirt off your hands and pass me some plates from the cupboard there?”

“Sure,” says Rudd, taking over from Father Norman at the sink. He lathers his hands under the tap, wondering as he does so at Marybelle’s stamina. He collects the plates and takes them across to her.

“Thank you,” she says to him. “Let’s get these ready, and through to Fred and Bernard on the verandah. They’ll want to hear the news, and the others can come and help themselves.”

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023