“Dis vill keep you avake on the trip home,” Deet said, turning toward me.
“I say, ma fren, can ya take people back wit ya, oh?” the man asked.
“How many?”
“A woman an’ her daughta. Her daughta vey sick and no one go to de mission anymore fo help.”
“Sure,” Deet said. “Is she going to pay?”
“De village got money for her. She mus’ take her daughta to hospital in Monrovia.”
“Fifteen dollars, US, for her und I’ll let de kinder fly fur five.”
The old man shook his head. “Oh, dat is very high price, but she mus’ go jus now. I go now an’ tell her to prepare.”
“Tell her to bring someting to sit on. De cargo bay can get wery uncomfortable.”
When I had finished my walk-around check of the airplane, the Head Man brought the “woman” over. She was barely fourteen and held a small child, less th
