Page 200 - Reason To Sing by Kelita Haverland

Reason To Sing

We hunker down for what feels like forever. I pray to God
no one’s hurt. The silence is eerily overwhelming. The only
sound is the whirring of the bus. We’re all terrified. I still can’t
believe this is actually happening. What the hell?
The Major finally speaks again. “Okay everybody, you can
get up now. Return to your seats. Is anyone hurt?” The Major is
tough, but I can tell even he is shaken. The bus is now buzzing
with chatter.
Someone calls out over the noise. “Back here. It’s Rick. He’s
been hurt. The window smashed where he was sitting. Anyone
have something to wrap his hand?”
“There should be a first aid kit on the bus somewhere,” the
Major shouts back.
Thankfully Rick is the only casualty. He was leaning up
against the window using his hand as a head rest when the
shots were fired. His head and hand have taken a hit from the
shattered glass. He has cuts on both. Stitches will be in order
once we get back to civilization. Other than some shaken up
entertainers, we are all okay. THANK GOD!
We are now fully awake. How can anyone possibly think
about sleeping? And if anyone was drunk before, they are
pretty damned sober now. We arrive back to our hotel. The
leaders examine the bus. What was thought to be soldiers
firing bullets is deciphered as simply Bedouin punks stoning
the bus. A common occurrence along the Gaza Strip, we soon
learn. We are so grateful it was nothing more. Now we will all
have a story to tell our grandkids.
When not performing and spending time on the military
bases, we’re treated royally by the UN. And this is an especially
good day because Gord chooses to sit with me on the bus as
we head out for Cairo. I’m trying to play it cool. And he is
obviously somewhat cautious. Can’t say I blame him. After all,

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