Seeds of Peace
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
"What time is it?" Wes wanted to know. "Heavens, it’s after 5 o’clock," I told him, consulting my wristwatch. "Check the map, Glad. Shouldn’t we be hitting the road down the other end soon?" "It doesn’t look like a very good road," I told my husband, in a gross understatement. I could scarcely see the minute hairline that ran down between the shadings at this end of the plateau. "Well, we really don’t have much of a choice, do we?" he answered, a trifle grimly. As we approached what seemed to be the end of the world, the tracks grew fainter. Even in my concern, I was entranced by the tracings of mauve and deep purples the evening shadows cast on the pinnacles surrounding us. "Here we go!" Wes warned, as we dipped over the edge of the plateau onto a trail that was decidedly meant only for horses. As we bounced and jolted almost straight down with boulders seeming to pop out of nowhere, I put my hand over my mouth to suppress even the slightest sound that might distract my husband, who was doing a superb job of guiding the bucking Plymouth through the granite. I heard a moan from the back, however. Our vertical descent had dislodged the cushion of the back seat and poor Maharajah, our Siamese cat, was clinging desperately to the wildly swaying top, his blue eyes bulging in terror. I stretched over and grabbed him between bounces. As I clutched him to me I was grateful for the seatbelt that kept us both from flying out through the window. The final screech around a large boulder brought us to a gentle slope. The shades of night descended fast. We hadn’t realized how quickly night comes in Southern Africa. At the foot of the incline we could see the outlines of a group of thatched houses. "A village," Wes said with relief. "You can use your language now." "But I’ve only had two lessons," I objected, as Wes pulled up near the thatched houses and we were immediately surrounded by curious, but friendly black faces. "Khotso (Peace)," I volunteered, using the first word I had learned in the Sesothan language. There was an enthusiastic response of "Khotso’s" and a delighted flashing of white teeth. "O Pele Khe?" I asked politely. "That’s all I remember," I had to confess. "What did you say?" Wes wanted to know. "I asked how they were and they told me they were fine - but what do we do now?"
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
This book is a fascinating account of the lives of Wesley Smith, a Foreign Service Reserve Agricultural Officer, and his wife, Glad, the narrator, and their three children. Shortly after retirement from the Department of State, Wes suffered a cardiac arrest while working with a Foreign Students Program at the University of Missouri. He stepped briefly into God’s Time but was resuscitated and brought back into our time. The writer uses the seven years shared before his physical death as a thread to weave together their actual and spiritual journeys, with love as a common denominator. The reader is taken from the halcyon days of Vietnam in 1956, through the gradual deterioration of a beautiful culture by 1961. After a 5 ½ year tour in Turkey, Wes is urgently requested to return to the tragic maze of Vietnam for another two years (1966-68). After a Washington, D.C. interlude, Wes was asked to go to East Pakistan, just the year before the bloody birth of Bangladesh. That tour was terminated on the last evacuation plane out. After an interim in Thailand, Wesley’s Foreign Service career was finalized in the independent southern African countries of Lesotho and Swaziland (1971-75). In the framework of the present time journey, the writer shares insights on man’s universal ability to face adversities and tragedies with Faith and humor always with the hope of having planted seeds of Peace along the way.
About the Author
Gladys Klöthe Smith married Wesley S. Smith right out of college. After W.W.II, Wes returned to Graduate School, under the G.I. Bill and Glad got her PHT –"Putting Hubby Through" – (a tongue in cheek term used by many wives of that era). In 1956, with family agreement, Wesley accepted an appointment with the U.S. Department of State as a Foreign Service Reserve Agricultural Officer with USOM – United States Operation Mission, actually a continuation of the Marshall Plan – (later USAID). They and their three children lived in Vietnam 1956-1961 and Turkey 1961-1966. During both of these tours the author taught "English as a Second Language", establishing a warm rapport with the Nationals while emphasizing the similarities, rather than the differences in God’s people. When her husband was asked to return to Vietnam, in 1966, and dependants were not permitted, she went to the Philippines as a safe haven post. While there, she conducted a training course on teaching English as a second language for the House mothers at Children’s Garden, a part of a worldwide charitable institution, which sheltered and taught orphans and children in need. After a rotation tour in Washington, D.C. 1968-1970, they lived in East Pakistan (which at the end of the tour became Bangladesh), Thailand, Lesotho and Swaziland in southern Africa, where the author continued her teaching and interaction with the Nationals. Currently she resides in the Hudson Valley where she grew up. She is now synchronizing narrative and music for videos of her husband’s photographic collection, which he had well organized before his death in 1983. Her future plans include writing a series of children’s’ books.