by Sheryl K. Jones

Ngam ran to the forest as fast as his callous, bare feet would carry him. Around him, tropical mountains rolled down to the blue river that snaked through the valley and into the forest. Ngam loved to hunt birds near his small village in Cameroon, Africa.

When he came to his favorite spot, Ngam squatted in the bushes and waited quietly. Cocoa yam leaves flapped around his head like elephant ears as he fitted a stone into his slingshot.

“Hunting?” a scornful voice asked.

Spinning around, Ngam found himself face to face with Wam, the village bully. Ngam’s brown eyes flashed, remembering yesterday’s fight.

Wam chomped on a hunk of sugarcane. “No one’s here to help you today,” he taunted.

Ngam clenched his fists. “I’m not afraid of you or anyone.”

Wam grunted. “Well, I know something that’d make you shake.”

“Try me,” Ngam said, digging his heels into the soft dirt.

“The river god!”

Ngam swallowed. All his life, he had heard stories about this god. A legend of the Kom people said the river god blessed children and crops but cursed offenders. To gain the god’s blessing, the head of a household or the oldest child had to bring a special offering at night to the sacrificial rock near the river. But if a younger child entered the sacred grounds unsupervised, it was said the river god would rise up from the water, snap off one of the thin trees guarding the place and beat the child severely.

“Listen,” Wam said. “I’m coming with my oldest brother tonight to offer a sacrifice by those trees.” He pointed with his chin. “You meet me here alone tonight when the moon is high. I dare you to touch the rock.”

“I’ll have nothing to do with your dares,” Ngam said, his mind racing. “Besides, what will it prove?”

“It’s a test,” Wam said, spitting out the chewed sugarcane. “A test of your bravery—and of your God’s power.”

“What’s bravery got to do with my God?” Ngam demanded, feeling the heat of anger on his cheeks.

“Everything!” Wam spat. “You can’t go to the rock without protection. And your God is no match for the river god.”

“You wait,” Ngam challenged. “When the moon is in the sky, you’ll see my face.”

Truth or Dare

That night after the cooking fire had settled into a heap of flickering coals, Ngam sat up on his bamboo cot. Reluctantly he planted his feet on the dirt floor and crept toward the doorway. When he emerged from the house, the cool night air pricked at his skin like thorns.

Fear gripped his heart. More was at stake than his test of courage. Ever since the day Ngam became a Christian, Wam had ridiculed him. Ngam was one of the few in his village who believed in the God of the Bible—the God who was powerful enough to create the world and restore sinful man to Himself. Ngam believed God gave His only Son, Jesus Christ, as the one sacrifice needed to pay the penalty for all sins.

Ngam fell to his knees. “Jesus, I believe you are the one, true God,” he prayed. “Give me courage to go to the river.”

“And,” he added, “show yourself strong, Lord. Not for me, but for Your name.”

Rising to his feet, Ngam saw the moon climb into a star-filled sky.

Wam is waiting, he thought.

His heart pounded with anticipation as he raced into the shadows of the forest. Ngam couldn’t reach the river fast enough. Finally he pushed his way through bushes and heard a voice above the rustling sounds.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Ngam took a step toward the voice until he saw Wam’s beady eyes. “I said I’d come. Now show me where to go.”

Wam pointed toward an opening in a small cluster of trees. “The stone’s by the river bank. Can’t miss it.”

Ngam glanced at the trees. His knees felt like water.

Taking the Plunge

“What are you waiting for, scared, or. . .”

Before Wam could say anything more, Ngam bridled his fear and lunged into the clearing. Tall, spindly trees surrounded him like sentinels. They spoke in eerie whispers as the breeze ruffled their leaves.

Ngam listened carefully for other noises, but his thumping heart muffled even the murmuring of the river. He groped and stumbled near the riverbank before spotting the rock. As he neared the rock, he glanced over his shoulder, feeling that someone—or some thing—was following him.

Suddenly, a gust of wind broke loose, tossing the trees and thrashing the river. A branch reached out and caught him.

The river god! he thought.

The dead branch tore into Ngam’s shirt as he turned to flee the river.

Instead he collided with another body, which threw him backwards into the chilly water. Ngam frantically thrashed against the downward pull of the current. Then, as blackness surrounded him, he remembered to pray.

The next moment, a rocky bottom rose up to his feet. With the last of his strength, Ngam pushed off and kicked furiously until he broke through the surface of the water. The air tasted sweet as he gulped in big breaths. Catching a glimpse of the bank, he paddled arm over arm until he reached the shore.

River Rescue

As his body flopped on the bank, he heard a cry. “Help me! I can’t swim.”

Recognizing the voice, Ngam turned and saw Wam struggling in the river.

So Wam was the one who crashed into me, Ngam thought. He made us both fall into the river.

Ngam paused for a second, wondering what to do.

Looking down, he saw the same branch that had snagged him. He seized it and thrust it toward the flailing boy.

Wam reached out and squeezed the stick until his knuckles almost popped.

“Don’t let go, Wam!” Ngam yelled. Carefully, Ngam pulled him to shore and helped him crawl onto the muddy bank where he collapsed.

After several minutes, Wam’s breathing finally quieted. Ngam looked at the bully as if he saw a different boy. Ngam smiled. The anger and fear had disappeared.

Wam moaned and rolled over on his back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I came here to hurt you, and you saved my life.”

“God saved us both tonight, Wam,” Ngam said. “But He did more than that.”

“What’s that?” Wam asked.

“He changed my heart. I hated you. I hated you for making fun of me. But now I don’t feel that anger anymore. I’d like to be your friend.”

The corners of Wam’s mouth turned up slightly. “I’d like that,” he said between chattering teeth. “Besides, you won the dare, and your God won the battle at the river.”

Ngam laughed. “Let’s go home. And on the way, I’ll tell you all about my God.”

As Ngam helped his new friend to his feet, he felt warm inside. He was eager to tell Wam about the love of Jesus and how Jesus had already saved his life, not with a broken branch but with His sacrifice on a wooden cross.

	Q: Why did the dog lay on its back with its feet sticking in the air? A: It was trying to trip birds. Amy S., 11, Illinois Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe