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Both Mrs. Bodewes' mother and Mrs. Huygens' mother live in the same block of the same street in Rotterdam, and according to reports are in the midst of heavy fighting and bombing. 
In the evening we had supper at the Mission, and found getting over there, in the dark and on these rocky mountain paths, rather an adventure. We made one wrong turn and found ourselves at the hospital back door, but eventually reached Miss McKenzie's verandah, somewhat flushed and dripping with perspiration. We had creamed chicken and waffles, and I was touched by the Southern atmosphere of the Mission house (Miss McKenzie is from North Carolina). There was a fine linen cloth on the table, flowers in the center and candles with rosy shades, and both women were wearing pretty chiffon dresses. Miss McKenzie told us many stories of her experiences in Liberia, including one hair-raising tale of trying to get out in a surf boat to her steamer one time when she was going home on leave. A big breaker caught the boat, and all the boatmen jumped overboard, leaving her to be washed back and forth by the waves. Some of the Mission boys swam out to her rescue, including one Robert Sherman, and paddled her safely out to the steamer, but there was great excitement for a time, with the school children wailing and trying to pray, and one of the native priests shouting "O God, be rightuous to the merciful."

May 13 - 

Our caravan of porters, with Flomo, Pay-Pay and Bobo, left the house at 6.45, after the usual palaver over loads. We sent a note over to the doctors asking for an invitation to breakfast, which was promptly granted. About nine we went down to the town, and found Robert Sherman waiting for us with the Mission launch. Mr. Paul joined us for the expedition to Bendaja. As we started across the bay to the mouth of the Mani River, we saw the surf boat, loaded with our boys and baggage, just beside us, and learned later that they had had trouble getting a boat, and had been delayed two hours at the waterslide.
 
The launch took us up a jungle-bordered river to a tiny town called Medina, where we transferred to a dug out canoe, and went about a mile farther up the river to Dia. Here Mr. Paul has a small branch store, and the wife of the agent there cooked us country chop, while we sat and watched the rain, and waited for our porters. They made good time, and arrived only about an hour and a half after we did, having taken a trail that leads here from Sawilo. 

We were then introduced to a new type of conveyance for Africa, called ricksha by the Mission and wheelbarrow by the natives. Father Simmons, of the Mission, had invented it, and as far as I know there are only two of them in the world. He took one wicker chair and one one canvas camp chair and mounted them on rubber-tired wheels. An iron shaft for and aft enables one boy to puch and one to pull. It is not a bad way of getting over the road in those portions of the country where trails are wide and kept in good condition. Where the road was level, or going down hill the richsha boys ran at topspeed, a little terrifying at first until one is quite convinced that the makeshift vehicle will really hold together. f course there are the countless native bridges of logs and saplings and twigs that have to be crossed on foot, and some hills so steep and rocky that we had to walk up and down them. However, we arrived at Mombo in two hours and forty-five minutes, while the last of caravan did not get in until two hours later. 

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