Legacy

Chapter 1

In the year of our Lord, 1980, a  male child was born unto a mother of unknown name.  She died in childbirth.  The child was placed in a rather non- descript London orphanage.  His orphanage name was John Doe, number fourteen.  At age four he was adopted by a Lutheran Minister by the name of Winston Arbuckle and his wife Sarah.  They named him Jonathan Arbuckle.

Jonathan never knew any other parents and he loved his adopted parents.   Of course, he was raised as a proverbial preacher’s kid, and educated at Oxford University, majoring in theology.  He even got a PhD in Christian theology.

Jonathan excelled and was given a professorship in Theology, and taught for several years.  He remained single as none of the ladies had yet caught his eye, and partially because he was so focused in his vocation.

At about age thirty-two, Jonathan was sitting in the study with his father having an after dinner cup of tea, when he announced to his father’s great surprise that he’d come to the conclusion that he was being called to do more than just teach in a university.  In fact, he’d felt a very strong urging from the Holy Spirit to become a missionary.

That took his father back to a few minutes of silence, but as he recovered from his surprise, he said, “Where do you plan to be a missionary?”  Jonathan said it would be in the very extreme southern part of South Africa, where a finger of the Kalahari Desert almost reaches the coast line.  His father asked, “Why there?   That seems an unusual place.  Geographically it is probably a hostile climate.”

Jonathan could only say, “I don’t know about such things, but I will probably be finding out.  But as to why, that’s where the Spirit’s urging is sending me.  I don’t know exactly why either, but as you taught me well, Father, I will not argue with the spirit, only obey.”

His father, The Reverend Winston Arbuckle  said, “I agree that is what I’ve taught you and I know it to be true.  I wish you much success there and I will pray for you daily.  By the way, if you should by happenchance run into the Inud’s, say hello for me.”

Jonathan said, “Whoa! What’s an Inud, or who is an Inud?”

Winston replied, “I’m not totally sure, I only met them once.  They are said to have wealth beyond measure.  They rarely show up in big cities, but when they do it is usually to give lectures on the needs of the African people.  They never host fund raisers, but people just give them checks anyway, or pledge materials to be delivered.

“They used to be in the news every couple of months as having opened and paid for another hospital or clinic somewhere in Africa.  Their philanthropy is legendary in African circles.  They are thought to be based or living somewhere in the southern reaches of South Africa, but no one knows for sure.  The mystery is, they suddenly dropped out of the news and no one seems to have heard from them for about fifteen years now.  It’s a personal curiosity on my part, I guess.”

A few weeks passed and Jonathan had made all of his arrangements.  He left for South Africa promising to write at least once a week, but wasn’t too sure how frequently his opportunity to post the letters would be.

Jonathan was not an officially sponsored missionary.  It can take years to obtain such status.  So Jonathan was a self-funded body of one, following the Spirit’s calling.  Of course his funding was limited and he was really stepping out on faith.  He arrived in Johannesburg, rented a jeep, loaded it with supplies he would need to sustain himself, and headed out in the general direction that he felt he was led to go.

Each time he came to a fork or a turn or even a directional inclination over open ground, Jonathan would stop and pray for direction, in a literal sense.  Not too sure where he was going or what to expect, he forged ahead.

After a couple of weeks, Jonathan started to see a little greenery, a pleasant respite from the bleak hot desert.  Trees became more frequent and Jonathan figured he must be getting close to the coast because the air had scents of the sea wafting upon it.  As Jonathan progressed a little farther he thought he could hear the sound of pounding waves.  Yes, he was getting close to the coast.

When Jonathan rounded a tree line, he spied a fairly large ramshackle- looking  barn with a native man sitting on the ground in front of it.  He was an older man whose hair had grayed.  Jonathan approached him and was surprised when his greeting was returned in perfect English.  The old man apologized for not rising to greet him, but he had sprained his ankle a few days ago and while it would probably heal in a few more days, it had impeded his ability to secure food.

Obviously the old fellow hadn’t eaten for a few days, so Jonathan decided he would have to do something about that.  But first he fished through his supplies and found an Ace Bandage to wrap his ankle.  Then he cut a limb from a tree and fashioned him a crutch the best he could.  It was obvious he was not a master woodcrafter, but it was functional.  He fished in his supplies, and fished, and fished.  The old man was taking note of his every move, although Jonathan wasn’t aware of it at the time.  He finally found the last box of C-rations.  He didn’t realize he was nearly out, but that didn’t matter because the old man had been without for several days.  Jonathan figured he could scrounge something later for himself albeit he didn’t have the foggiest idea as to what that might be.

He started a small fire and prepared the C-Rations.  A few bites for himself, but most of it for the old man, who ate heartily.  He thanked Jonathan profusely and asked why he’d give the last of his food to a stranger.  Jonathan said that it might be because he had more heart than brains, but mostly because he serves “He Who Is”.  The old man replied that that was a good answer.  Then he asked Jonathan what had brought him to these desolate parts in the first place.

Jonathan told him the entire story, and when he mentioned what his father had said about the Inud’s, he sat back and roared a great laugh.  He had a twinkle in his eye like a kid with a new toy or someone who had just won a lottery. Of course, Jonathan didn’t quite know what to make of that.

The old man said, “I know I don’t look it, but I’m one hundred and thirty years old, my name is Wababi, and I think I still have a few years left.  I have also been waiting for you for a long time.  I didn’t know who you would be, but I knew you would come.”  Having said that, the old man unwrapped his foot, threw the crutch aside,  stood up with no effort, and said,  “Follow me, and all will be explained.”

Jonathan thought, “Okay, I’ll go along for the ride, but it’s getting a bit weird.”  The old man led him back into the tree line about a hundred feet away, where they came to a mound of dirt and rock with a door in it.  The mound was overgrown and looked like an entrance to a root or storm cellar.  The old man opened the door, went in, and beckoned Jonathan to follow.  At this point Jonathan was stunned and was operating on knee-jerk reactions, following orders almost like a robot.

They went down a spiral staircase for about fifty feet.  It opened to a tunnel with a concrete floor and was well lit with electric lights, even though Jonathan hadn’t seen a light switch.  It sloped downward gently and ran for another three hundred feet.  At the end of that was a door.  The old man opened it and they both stepped through.  Jonathan gasped as he saw what looked like palace, a very opulent setting.  The old man gave him the cook’s tour, so to speak.  There were many, many rooms of various decorative textures.  You name it, there was something to suit every taste.

Through some sliding glass doors we went onto what the old man called the viewing veranda.  Floor to ceiling it was semi-shiny white and gray marble.  It was approximately forty feet wide, curved slightly and ran for nearly two hundred feet.  The solid rock-like railing was about four feet high and had an opening above that of about ten feet.  Plenty of clearance to observe the sea, smell the sea air, and enjoy the cry of sea birds.  Jonathan could hear the pounding surf, and as he looked over the rail he instantly realized he was just inside a cliff.

The old man explained that the opening was narrow enough and the glass fronts back far enough as to not glint and was not visible from the sea.  Of course questions were starting to form in Jonathan’s mind, but before he could ask any the old man said he had two more special places to show him.  At the right far end of the veranda there was another heavy metal door.  He took Jonathan down what seemed to be another tunnel, but not too far in Wababi pointed out a small alcove and told Jonathan that it was like a communications center.  It had a computer, television, and short wave radio.  The necessitie’s of communicating to the outside world to be able to know what’s going on in it.  Jonathan thought that could be handy for someone.

Then they approached a larger alcove.  With great reverence Wababi entered.  In the center spaced about four feet apart and on elevated platforms were two containers that looked like caskets.  One held a man, the other held a woman.  Both looked as if they had but died the day before.  Wababi explained that they were the Inud’s:  Kenton and Rebecca.  They were preserved so well within the glass-topped caskets because as soon as each had been placed, a vacuum was drawn, thus preventing any noticeable deterioration for centuries.  However, they had only been dead thirteen and fourteen years respectively.

Then Wababi gave Jonathan a letter.  He said he was instructed by the last Inud to do so.  The letter read, If you are reading this letter, it is because our faithful servant Wababi has deemed you worthy.  He will present you with material that discloses the numbers to access our Swiss Bank Accounts.  The amounts on deposit are great.  It is our desire that they be used only for the benefit of man, with heavy emphasis on helping Africans.  Should you ever exhaust those funds which is not likely, there are more veins of gold down the far end of this tunnel than you can imagine.  There is one final stipulation, and it is not one made out of vanity but one made to help facilitate your accessing our funds and continuing our work.

You will be required to assume our last name of Inud, keeping your own first name of course.  If this is acceptable to you, confirm it to Wababi.”

Jonathan was silent for a few minutes while he was praying and assessing things.  Then he turned to Wababi who was being very patient and said, “I accept.  I feel it is a mission directed to me by He Who Is, and I shall make it my life’s work.”

This pleased Wababi considerably.  He said, “I will now show you the other special place.”  A few feet farther down the tunnel was a very small spring, a finger- size stream of water from the tunnel wall that just hit the floor and flowed away.  A cup hung beside it.  Wababi said, “Drink a cup of this water two or three times a year.  It will slow your aging process by half.  No one has ever figured out why,  but it tastes just like any other water.”

He told Jonathan that should he find a woman who was trustworthy, a wife was acceptable and helpful to buffer loneliness.

Jonathan asked whether or not he could tell his father.  Wababi said,  “It is  not a good idea.  As far as your father should be concerned, you are still an Arbuckle and he will be happy to simply know things are well with you.”  Jonathan nodded in agreement that he understood.

Wababi told him there is one more thing he needed to see topside.   Back up they went back to the old ramshackle barn.  There Wababi pressed a button and the entire front side of the ramshackle barn simply raised up like a giant garage door.  Inside was a nice two-seat small Tri Pacer Airplane.

Wababi said that Kenton Inud flew it as a quick way to go to Johannesburg.  It hadn’t been flown for a few years, so Wababi wasn’t sure it would run.  He said that was not a big problem since Jonathan could now afford a new one with ease.  He probably would need to be taught how to fly.  Jonathan said, “That is for sure.  But that once accomplished it would be a real help in wife-hunting efforts.”  They laughed at that.

Wababi pointed out the pile of gas cans in the back of the hanger that should provide the fuel to get him and his jeep back to Johannesburg.  He also showed him a pile of C-Rations to keep him well fed on his trip.

Seeing those rations, Jonathan realized that the old faker had really reeled him in.  But he loved Wababi for it as he understood why he did it.

Chapter 2

After a few weeks in Johannesburg, Jonathan completed flying lessons and secured his pilot’s license. He headed back to home base loaded with a few supplies, anxious to see Wababi.

He landed the plane like an old pro and taxied right up to the hanger disguised as a ramshackle barn.  As he hopped out, he saw Wababi waiting with open arms and a huge smile.  Warm greetings were exchanged.  Suddenly without warning Wababi’s face grew angry and he jumped on Jonathan.  “Where did you get that ring?  Did you get into the glass casket and take it from Kenton’s finger?”

“No, I didn’t!” shouted Jonathan.  “How could I have?  I was only in there once and that was with you.”

Wababi looked confused and said, “There are only two rings like that in the world.  It is emblazoned with the Inud family crest.  How could you have it, and why didn’t I see it before?”

Jonathan began a long and complex explanation.  “First of all, you didn’t see it before because it was on a chain around my neck.  It was on that chain because it was too big for my finger.  However, while I was in Johannesburg I had it sized and am now wearing it on my finger.

“It was given to me by my father, the Reverend Winston Arbuckle. You see, my father wasn’t born an Arbuckle anymore than I was.  He was adopted into a family of Arbuckles.  As the story goes, at the age of two he was one of the survivors found bobbing in a life jacket from the sinking of the Titanic.  Apparently no surviving parent could be located nor his identity discovered.  All he had was this ring around his neck on a chain.”  At that point Wababi started dancing around like a chicken about to lay an egg who couldn’t find a nest, while shouting in his original native dialect  This went on for a few minutes.

Jonathan wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be angry, or laugh, or maybe cry, it was all so confusing.  When Wababi calmed down, he said, “Sit down, Jonathan. I have something of great importance to tell you.”

Wababi said that Jonathan’s father’s birth name, albeit unknown to him, was Harold Inud, baby brother of Kenton Inud.  Both were on board the Titanic.  Their parents apparently did not survive and Kenton never knew the fate of his baby brother, but he’d always hopped he was rescued.

“Now here’s where it gets to be a mouthful to try to understand.  At this point you are an assumed Inud.  However your father Winston, really Harold, is a blood Inud.  That means you were adopted by a blood Inud whose only name known to him was Arbuckle.  Technically that might make you an adopted Inud as opposed to an assumed Inud.  But it’s no big matter.  In finality you are Inud.”

Jonathan said that information would blow his father’s mind.  Wababi agreed that it would be a bit for him to digest, but he bet he is up to it.  “You’ll recall that shortly after you and I met, you  asked if you could tell your father of your new name and I said it was not a good idea.  But I have changed my mind.”

Wababi recommended Jonathan’s father and mother be invited to come to live in the Inud base with all its opulence.  After all, his father is the blood inheritor by right.   However, he should not be told any other details until after he arrives here.   Jonathan agreed that made sense.

Wababi suggested that Jonathan begin to familiarize himself with the living quarters, including the Library where there are many years of journals kept by Kenton.  That would make good reading while he awaited his  parents’ arrival.

Jonathan agreed that was true and decided he would call his parents shortly to have them meet him in Johannesburg.  Wababi noted there are no phones here.   Jonathan said that by using the short wave radio he can call Johannesburg and arrange for a phone patch.  Wababi didn’t know one could do such a thing, and said he still had things to learn.

Jonathan made his call and surprised his father and mother with the invitation, assuring them they were not too old to make the trip or deal with the climate.  So they agreed to come.  Meanwhile Jonathan spent a few days pouring over Kenton’s journals.  He learned much history from them and was awestruck by all he read.  He wondered if he could ever fill Kenton’s shoes.  Time passed quickly and it was now time to go to Johannesburg and pick up his parents.

They arrived on schedule and many hugs were exchanged.  Jonathan’s father said, “I hope your jeep is air-conditioned because it’s a lot hotter here than in London.”  Jonathan laughed and told him they would not be taking days by jeep to get where to their destination, and they would understand why later.  They all boarded an airport shuttle that took them to the private plane portion of the airport.

Then Jonathan pointed at his airplane that stood about a hundred feet away. “That’s our ride and it will only take about three hours by air.   Sorry, but small airplanes aren’t as fast as big jets.”

That was fine with his father, and they got into the little airplane.  His father asked, “Where’s our pilot?”

“I am he and this is my airplane. Yes, I’ve now got a pilot’s license.”

“My, mywhat’s been going on in your life?”

“All will be explained a little later, but for now just look out the windows and enjoy the view.”

They made better time than expected, had a good tail wind.  When they landed and disembarked, they were met by Wababi.   Jonathan’s father looked around and asked, “Just where will we be staying, son?”

“Follow me.  First, I’d like you to meet Wababi, my best friend.”   He introduced his parents to his friend and they shook hands.

They approached the door in the non-descript mound of rock and dirt.  As Jonathan opened it, his father said, “I know missionary’s live poorly, but in a hole?”

Jonathan said, “Patience father, just follow along.”   And so his father followed.  As they got to the long concrete floor tunnel, Jonathan’s father’s teeth began to chatter.   He said, “Well, at least it’s cool down here, and it is a sizable hole.”  But when they got to the door that opened into the areas that looked like a palace, his father was speechless as he began to look around.

Wababi told them that during the time that Jonathan was gone he had killed a small antelope and gathered some vegetables.  The antelope was dressed, cut up, and put in the kitchen freezer.  He would prepare the meal while Jonathan gave his father and mother a tour.

By the time supper was served, Jonathan’s parents had heard the full story.  His father was flabbergasted to find out he was a blood Inud and rightful heir to all of this.  He agreed that there was no shortage of space and he and Jonathan’s mother would be happy to stay permanently.  “Of course, we have to dispose of the house back in London and so forth.”  Jonathan said he knew of a quick solution to that problem:  simply write a quit claim deed to the church, giving the house and contents to them.  They liked that idea, and so it was done.

Jonathan had used the short wave radio to make contact with Johannesburg bankers to represent and handle a number of matters.   That is why a Schakowsky work helicopter dropped off a large covered flatbed truck loaded with supplies.  The helicopter pilot didn’t give it a second thought as he figured someone would drive the truck from there to another one of the Inud’s projects.  He didn’t realize he dropped it off right next to home base. The household was growing so a large stock of assorted food stuffs and first aid items was a prudent idea.

During one of Jonathan’s trips to Johannesburg, he met Susan Ellison, the girl of his dreams.  She was the daughter of a local church college professor.  After they had been dating about six months, Jonathan proposed.

He had come to learn much about the lady of his choice and was comfortable with the idea that she would have no difficulty in understanding and accepting what she’d walked into, albeit after the wedding.  Jonathan figured he’d get a bit yelled at for not telling her in advance, but he had reasons to feel she would understand.  He was right, and after her shock she just accepted it all as he was sure she would.

It wasn’t too long before Jonathan’s parents became grandparents when new Inud’s were born.  Indeed the line and work shall continue, all because Jonathan had heeded the call of He Who Is.