Rex wrote the Rest of the Story: Nakawakawa
After the meeting,
Pita asked if I would drive him home and bring back some food his wife and
mother-in-law had made. He said it would only take ten minutes to warm up.
Elder Harward came along to help, and Pita’s family all jumped in the truck.
While the women cooked, Pita showed us the river behind his home. We stood on
the edge of his back yard looking over a fifteen-foot cliff at a beautiful
clear pond lined with big rocks. One day Pita’s little daughter had fallen off
that cliff. They were afraid she had hit the big rocks right below, but somehow
she had landed about five feet out into the pond where the water is three feet
deep. They got her out, and she was fine. Now she stays right away from the
edge.
The river continues on with rapids, about
double the size of Cub River, and flows into another pond they use for baptisms.
We stood at the edge of that pond, and Pita’s daughter picked up little rocks
and threw them into the water. I grabbed a big rock about the size of a shot
put and hurled it in to watch the splash. It was impressive! The streambed is
filled with rocks. A company wants to come and haul them all away for $4 a yard
to use for road repair. I said, “Don’t let them destroy your river.”
Elder Harward gave Pita some advice for
his new calling as Branch President, “My own son was just made a bishop and
asked me for advice on how to handle the load. I told him, ‘Read the handbook
and find all the things that only you can do. Do them and delegate everything
else to your counselors. Put God and family first, calling second, and
occupation third.’”
After the ladies finished cooking the food,
and we got it into the truck, President Harward looked back at the little house
in paradise. He said, “This is like a micro glimpse of Heaven -- a worthy
priesthood holder; a loving, virtuous wife; a beautiful child; and a peaceful
place to live.”
We had an enjoyable meal and lots of fun
and visiting. We are grateful and privileged to have been part of this glorious
day in Nakawakawa. After pictures and farewells, I led the branch in three
shouts for Nakawakawa. It was a grand tribute!
Before the ride home, we divided to ride
in the three trucks. The men in the mission and district leaders were in the
lead truck to hold a presidency meeting; the women and I were in the middle
truck; and the AP’s and the Nakawakawa Elders were in the last truck. As
we left at 3:30 PM, the saints lined the hill by the chapel and waved goodbye.
We felt like VIPs in a parade. The plan was to drive the two hours on the
graveled road to the junction and then redistribute passengers to get them back
where they needed to go. As we drove, I held back a little from the dust of the
lead truck. The elders, however, stayed right on my tail, eating all of my
dust, making it easy for us to see they were there, but probably hard for them
to see. In places, the tiny, loose gravel made the road like driving on
marbles, a lot like slushing through the snow at home. The truck fishtailed as
it hit some bumps, but nothing that letting up a little on the gas and a
careful steering adjustment would not correct.
I got a little too close to the lead truck
as they slowed down near one narrow bridge and turn. Sister Layton acknowledged
to herself that would be an easy place to go off into the stream. I was lost in
their dust like a heavy fog, but I made all the right choices and kept the
truck on the road. I backed off again to see better. We were laughing and
talking, looking at all the side roads and feeling grateful we had a guide to show
us where to go.
A couple miles farther, I looked in the
mirror, but there were no elders on my tail. I slowed down and then stopped.
Where were the elders? Sister Layton was concerned for her boys. We tried to
call President Layton to tell him the Elders were not behind us. The phone rang
but no answer. Right then, my Iphone died, and there were no other phones in
the truck.
Sister Layton said, “Let’s go back.”
Betty said, “Don’t you think we’d better
go on to the junction first and let the President know what’s going on and then
go back together.”
Sister Layton tried to comfort herself, “They’re
probably just making a pit stop.”
We drove ahead. About a half hour later,
we saw the Harward truck coming toward us. The President stopped and told us the
elders had been in an accident. He didn’t say if anyone was hurt before they
drove off. We followed them. As we drove, we hoped the elders were on the main
road and had not taken a side road. The sun was getting low, and we were not
seeing them. We passed the scary bridge Sister Layton had noted, but they were
not there. A mile or so farther, at about dusk, we saw four elders standing in
the middle of road. It felt to me that there were others with them, but I could
not see the others.
We looked for the truck; but we could not
see it until we stopped and looked down a steep bank, there hidden in the brush
was the bent and broken truck. The marks on the road told the story. The truck
had almost gone off a thirty foot drop into the stream on one side. The elder
had overcorrected, and the truck spun around backwards, went off the road on the
other side, hit the brush, rolled at least once, and came to rest down a steep
drop about 30 yards from the road. Only the top of the cab was showing, and its
color blended well with the foliage. The truck was totaled. How could anyone
have walked away from that? They had followed the rules and were all wearing
seatbelts.
We hadn’t been able to get through on our
phone to President Layton. If they hadn’t been able to call, and if they had
been injured and not able to get out of the truck, it would have been dark, and
we would have never found them until at least morning. That was the scenario that
kept playing in President Layton’s head.
Sister Layton had us get our first aid kit
out and ready, but there was only a small cut on a finger, and it had already
stopped bleeding. We just kept shaking our heads. We knew they had been
protected. As I looked at the scene, it was deja vu. My companion and I had
done the same thing on my mission back in 1972.
After we saw everyone was okay, my first
suggestion was that we say a prayer of thanks. In President Layton’s prayer, he
thanked a loving Heavenly Father for his protection and asked that we make
correct decisions. Even though I really wanted to show my farm boy prowess and
pull the truck out with the new tow rope I had just made and brought with me, I
knew that would put our truck in jeopardy. It was almost dark; the truck was
too far away from the road and down too steep of a drop; and even if we got it
out, the truck was not drivable.
We had the Elders gather
everything out of the wrecked truck; the President took pictures and made the
wise decision to monitor the exact distance from the turnoff so the tow company
could find the camouflaged truck. I suggested all the Elders go to Savusavu and
come the next day by bus to Labasa for training. We put two elders in the back
of Harward’s truck, and they took off.
President Petero volunteered to ride in the
back of our truck with the now twenty-five sideways-facing chairs. It was not a
comfortable ride, but he insisted. He just put on his hoodie and held on to my
new rope I had used to tie the chairs in. At least it was good for something. I
had to drive really slowly on the terribly bumpy roads so I wouldn’t throw him
off. At times we would stop and try to trade, but he declined. It took two
hours to get to the main road and about an hour more to Seaqaqa where we unloaded
their chapel’s chairs and let President and Sister Petero out near their home.
Then it was only forty-five minutes to the North Pole to get the Layton’s to
their hotel. We got home just before midnight. It had been a day. It felt like
two. The next day President Layton had the unpleasant job of calling the
parents and Stake Presidents of the four missionaries. One of the elders had just
been in Fiji a little over a week. His mother was a little freaked, but President
Layton was glad to say they were all safe.
