Peeping at the missionary shyly from behind her brother, Kempi smiled timidly. She saw a woman with brown hair, blue eyes, white skin, and a very friendly smile. Looking at Kempi, the missionary saw a dear, little Brahman girl with big dark eyes, a fair skin, and hair that was black and shiny with coconut oil; and when she smiled, the missionary saw teeth that were beautifully white from many brushings with charcoal.
"How nice that you have come to our Sunday school," smiled the missionary. "We hope you will like it so much that you will come with your brother every single Sunday."
They found seats with other children, and soon the happy singing began. From beginning to end the Sunday school hour seemed wonderful to Kempi. She was sorry when it was over, and it seemed a long time to have to wait for the next Sunday to come. After that Kempi seldom missed a Sunday, and she soon loved the missionaries dearly. As she learned of the love of the Lord Jesus for her, she gladly received Him as her Savior, and her big eyes would fill with tears as she thought of all He had suffered on the cross for her sins.
Then one Sunday she did not come to Sunday school. The next Sunday came, and still she did not come. Sunday after Sunday went by, and the missionaries missed Kempi's sweet little face, so one day one of the missionaries decided to visit her village to see if she could find out what was the trouble.
After asking a few questions she found Kempi's home. It was just a little mud hut with a roof of straw. The floors and walls were of mud, and there were no windows, just the door. And there on the dirty floor lay Kempi, very sick with malaria fever. Her black, shiny hair was snarled and matted, and she looked so dirty and miserable.
The missionary learned that Kempi was living there with an aunt, for her mother had died some time before. No one seemed to have the time or the desire to care for the sick little girl, so the missionary asked, "Kempi, wouldn't you like to come to our nice, clean hospital at the mission station where we can take care of you and help you get better?"
"Oh, yes," Kempi whispered.
So the missionary hurried out, and found a man with an old bullock cart that she was able to hire to take Kempi to the mission station. They laid Kempi carefully on her mat of straw in the cart, and after a bit of coaxing, prodding, and twisting of the bullock's tail, the bullock began the journey to the mission station. It was only a mile away, but the shaky old cart groaned and creaked as it jolted over the ruts in the road. The slow trip must have been painful to little Kempi already so sick and aching with fever, but she kept her lips bravely closed and did not cry.
At the hospital loving hands bathed Kempi and then put her into a clean bed. How good it felt to her hot little body! Then she was given some medicine, and some good milk, and soon she was sleeping restfully. The relatives who had followed the bullock cart to the hospital watched carefully all that the missionaries did for Kempi. They were high-caste people, and in India a high-caste person must only eat food that they themselves have prepared-they must not even drink water that a white person gives to them.
But in a little kitchen back of the hospital the relatives were allowed to prepare food for Kempi with a few careful suggestions from the missionary doctor. Every day the missionary read to little Kempi from God's Word.
"Read me more about the Good Shepherd," she said, one day. "His words are like gold to my ears."
She grew better each day, and how happy they all were when she was finally able to be up for a little while! But then her relatives said, "It is time for us to take Kempi home."
How the missionaries hated to see her go, for they longed to keep her with them that they might teach her more of the Savior and His Word. In her own home she would be surrounded by much sin and wickedness, and her own people would try to make her worship their heathen gods. But the missionaries could not keep her, so she returned home.
One day when she was about thirteen years old her aunt said, "Kempi, you are old enough to be married. A husband has been chosen for you, and you are to go to his house to live."
"Oh, no!" Kempi cried in a startled voice. "I do not want to get married yet! Oh, why must I?"
"Nonsense, Kempi," her aunt replied angrily. "Many girls, much younger than you are have been betrothed and are living in their husband's home serving their mother-in-law. How long do you think I must keep and feed you?"
Kempi could not answer. How well she knew this was true! Many girls much younger than she were nothing but slaves to their mother-in-law, and were never free to run and play.
"He is a fine man," her aunt said, "about thirty years old, and I am sure he will treat you kindly if you behave yourself."
At least he was not a real old man, as some little girls' husbands were, she thought sadly to herself. Then she whispered, "Is he a Christian?"
"I should say he is not!" answered her aunt. "He is one of our own caste, a fine Brahman!"
"But I cannot marry someone who is not a Christian. God's Word says that is wrong."
"We shall see about that! You shall marry this man whom we have chosen. You forget that the choice is not yours to make."
As is the custom, a girl in India often lives in her husband's home, serving his mother until she is old enough to marry him. So one day Kempi was taken to the home of the man whom she was to marry, although she still insisted that she could not marry him. She found the man was a sullen, unhappy person, and he and his mother were very cruel to Kempi, thinking they would force her to obey them, and marry him. Often she was beaten, and her hair was pulled, and from morning until night she had to work very hard.
One morning she arose early as usual, and was sent out with a basket to get some firewood. As she hurried along with her basket she wished she could just walk on, and on, and never go back to that dreadful house.
Well, why not do just that? She was beside the railroad tracks which she knew led to the village where the mission station was. She would run away to the missionaries. Pulling the basket down over her head so no one would recognize her if they saw her, she began to run down the tracks to the distant village. It was many miles, but finally she reached the mission station and met the missionary who had been so kind to her when she was sick.
"Why, Kempi dear! Where did you come from?" cried the missionary when she saw the weary little girl.
"I ran away," answered Kempi simply. "They said I must marry a man who was not a Christian, and I could not. So I came to you."
The missionary asked a few questions, and soon she had the whole, sad story. As the missionary looked to God for guidance she felt she must try to save her.
"It would not be safe for you to stay here now, for they may come here to look for you. In fact, they may be coming at any moment if anyone saw you coming here, and has told them. I will hide you, and then tonight will take you to a safer place."
So Kempi was hidden under the missionary's bed until it grew dark. Then the missionary dressed her in clothes that made her look like a Mohammedan girl instead of a Brahman. At midnight they started out on their journey, riding in a Jutka, which is a small carriage drawn by a pony. The moon was shining brightly, and they could see the rice fields and groves of coconut palms and banyan trees almost as plainly as in the daylight. The missionary could not help but wish it were a little darker, and she prayed continually that the wicked men from Kempi's village would not catch them.
Arriving at another village, they took a train. Here Kempi hid under the long seat, for she still did not feel safe. At another stop they changed to a bus, and finally after a long ride they reached a girls' school in Bangalore. They gladly welcomed Kempi, and she was soon tucked into bed and sleeping soundly.
After three months it seemed safe to bring her back to the mission station, and how happy Kempi was to be with her dear friends again. She did all she could to be helpful, and was a real testimony for the Lord.
One happy day she was baptized, and it gave her much joy to let all know in this way that she belonged to the Lord and wanted to live for Him. The Christian friends decided to change her name, for Kempi was the name of a heathen goddess. They chose Jaja for her, which means "victory" in the Kanarese language.
Other happy days were in store for her, too. After a few years passed she and a native Christian schoolteacher fell in love with one another and were happily married. Now they have a little family of their own which they are seeking to bring up for the Lord.