By Kathy Duble as told to Barb Marshall
A true story that took place in Febrary, 1992 in Kenya
The warm sun greeted me as I awoke on a typical Kenyan day. I quickly dressed and mused, "After a year of missionary work we're finally going to take a few days to go to the beach on our ministry trip to Mombasa."
A trouble four-year old emerged from the bedroom, "Mom, I had a TERRIBLE dream!"
"What was it about, Daniel?"
"It was SATAN!" he replied emphatically.
"What do you mean, it was Satan?"
"In my dream Satan said, 'don't go to Mombasa' and I was very frightened!"
(Daniel had been looking forward to going to the beach and assumed that Satan didn't want him to have fun.)
Before we were able to begin our eight-hour trek, a tire had to be purchased in Nairobi. After the errands were completed I glanced at my watch, it was about 10:00 a.m. "It's really getting too late, maybe we shouldn't go today. . ." nagged a thought. Normally we would have gotten an earlier start for we knew the trip would be difficult. The two-lane road was treacherous: sections of smooth pavement with unexpected potholes. The only other time we had gone to Mombasa we had ruined a tire, an inner tube and had a flat tire. With no speed limits, buses would race around you. The scenery was dull: hot, dry bush for endless miles. We didn't dare stop along the road, the area was notorious for heartless bandits. All in all , it was one trip you wanted to get over with!
Purchased used from a safari company, our Suzuki had a fiberglass top with an observation window. Because it was top-heavy and rolled easily, this model had been outlawed in the States. But, having a four-wheeled drive vehicle was very necessary to us for the kind of driving we normally did. Two Kenyan pastors had joined us causing our seven year old, David, to be sandwiched between them in the back. Doug, my hasband, and I were the onlyones in seat belts, leaving Daniel on Doug's lap. We were almost half way there when I relieved Doug from the driving duty.
Unknown to us, earlier that morning an oil tanker had leaked oil over the entire surface of the upcoming road causing it to LOOK like new pavement. We passed through the local police check where they didn't bother to tell us about it.
"Hey, they must have done some work on the road, it looks good," commented Doug.
The bus ahead of us was aware of the oil slick and was traveling with two wheels on the road and two wheels in the dirt. The dust billowed up in our faces, causing poor visibility.
"Just pass the bus, Kathy," advised my frustrated husband.
By now I was also pretty fed up. As soon as I began to pass it I COMPLETELY lost control! It was like sliding on a sheet of ice: I was hydroplaning at 60 MPH.
The bus stopped abruptly, the anxious passengers watching in horror as we slid sidesways down the road, hitting the berm, and rolling over. On that first roll, unknown to us, Daniel flew out the windo and landed in the dirt and gravel.
A Christian lady on the bus desperately prayed as she watched with apprehension the car roll over and over on a path that would have crushed our helpless, little Daniel.
"I have to move," was his silent cry. But there was no time to react, it all happened in a matter of seconds.
Then, to everyone's amazement, defying the laws of momentum, only inches before its cruel blow--the car stopped in mid-air and rolled backwards, wheels spinning in the air. IMPOSSIBLE! WHAT UNSEEN FORCE HAD PUSHED IT BACK! The praying lady sighed in relief, "Thank you, Lord, for sending your angel!"
(That was only the beginning of their troubles and their rescues, find out what happened to the Dubles and other missionaries when you order the book)
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