October 8, 1976
It was towards the end of the dry season. Six of us were going to an Indian settlement where a school teacher had arranged for us to show the film, King of Kings, in Hindi. The projector, generator and three of us men were wedged into the back of the small Mazda van. Something was wrong with the battery, and we had to start the van by pushing it downhill. Sr. Frances was driving. “Sister, don’t let the engine cut out.”
A local youth volunteered to show us to the school. We travelled slowly and carefully about two miles along a narrow dirt road pockmarked with holes and flanked on both sides with ugly mangrove swamps. We halted in front of a narrow gauge railway line running right across our path. I could see nothing on the other side of the tracks.
Our local guide said to drive on the railway line for about 600 yards to reach the road again. He insisted that other cars did it all the time. Reluctantly Sister drove slowly with one wheel outside the tracks and one between the tracks. In the middle, the stones and sand between the concrete ties had been washed away. The van went bump...bump…bump and stopped. The body of the van was resting on the line. We realized in horror that we couldn’t go forward or reverse! We remembered the faulty battery. We must not let the engine die.
The rail tracks lay along a narrow embankment strip. The stagnant waters of the mangrove swamp lay about four feet below on both sides of the embankment. It was dark except for the pale light of the moon and stars. Frantically we searched for timber, branches, rocks to raise the wheels. The three of us men, walking ahead to where the tracks met the road again, spotted two men coming towards us. “You’d better get your van out of there fast shouted one of them, We have come to meet the sugar train – it’s due any minute.”
The same possibility had occurred to the women back at the van. Nani, who suffered from a limp, was nervously going from one edge of the embankment to the other saying “What will happen to us if the train comes?” The other old lady stoically asked, “Are you not read to go? I am.” This made Nani in danger of tumbling into the swamp. Sr. Frances summoning all her authority, barked out, “Nani, sit down at once.” Nani sat down.
We returned with the two local men and pointed out the problem. “That’s easily solved,” said one. “Just drive with one of the forward wheels on top of the track. It sounded impossible but he was insistent. I got behind the wheel. The heat of the floor was almost unbearable. But with the two men shouting instructions in front it worked. When we reached the road, I turned the van around and drove slowly back the same way. We reached the road home. I took a deep breath thanking God that the engine had not cut out. Within two minutes the sugar train came thundering by – just like in the movies.
We never reached the village that night. So we didn’t preach to others. But we learned a lesson ourselves that we’ll never forget.
