Deek’s Lompoc group is being ignored by the African government. As hard as they try to remain positive they are hit repeatedly with brutal life struggles. To say they feel abandoned is an understatement. For Deek there is only one solution . . . it’s time to build a boat.
I repositioned my feet in the sand and continued to push. The others rapidly mimicked my efforts. Everyone’s muscles from back to legs burned from fatigue. Pushing and pushing, the craft moved another foot. Quickly three other smaller Lompoc tribesmen scrambled aboard the beached vessel. Again we strained with all our might. Excessive adrenalin finally launched our vessel of hope into the frightening ocean ahead.
I yelled. “Brace yourselves! Ready the sail then drop the rudder!” Sly and the others clung to one another near the mast as they met the first wave head on. Water crashed over the bow and exploded in all directions. I cupped my hands to my mouth and hollered. “God speed, Sly! God speed!”
Our blessed boat raced down the backside of the next wave, disappearing from sight. Each and every Lompoc member held his or her breath.