Of Snakes and Flip-Flops
by Daniel Dore
After breakfast, Timmy walked outside, wearing his flip-flops on his bare, sun-tanned feet. He loved the weather in West Africa, always summer! There were six months of rains, and six months of dry season. But it was always hot enough to wear shorts and flip-flops. It was Saturday, and the mission school was closed for the day; he could do whatever he wanted. He decided to hop on his bike and go explore.
“Wait just a minute, young man!” his mother stopped him. “Put on your sneakers. There are snakes and hornets and fire ants and all kinds of things that can hurt you.”
“Come on, Mom, I will be riding my bike. My feet won’t even touch the ground.” Timmy pleaded.
“No way. You know the rules. Outside shoes when outside. Now get those sneakers on!” She then added, “You will thank me later.”
Timmy sulked into the house, wondering if he still wanted to go on that bike ride. Mom’s attempt at humor, using a favorite family movie line, did not cheer him one bit. But the freedom to ride around the mission base was calling him. He might see a monitor lizard or find some ripe mangos. Maybe some of his friends would be riding around too. He retrieved his sneakers from under his bed and shoved his feet into them. No socks. Hopefully Mom would not object to that.
On his way out the door, Mom met him with a hug. “Have fun, dear. And be safe.” And then the usual, “I love you.”
Lately, Timmy had been feeling he was getting too big to say “I love you” back, like he did all the time when he was younger. He jumped on his bike, pedaled away quickly, saying “Bye, Mom” over his shoulder.
He rode around the sports court on the ridge above it. It had a soccer field and playground on the flat bottom, with a hilly ridge surrounding it. Their neighbors in the village had said that, years ago, it was a gravel pit. Now it was only a place that collected rainwater. Like a bowl, Timmy thought.
Spying a pile of leaves at the bottom of the hill, Timmy decided to ride his bike right through the middle of it. If he picked up enough speed, he could do it. He pedaled so fast, he thought maybe he could use it as a ramp to jump high in the air. But the leaves were too soft to bear his weight. He soon found that he and his bike were slowing down so fast that he might not make it to the other side of the pile. When he was almost at the opposite end of the leaf pile, his bike came to a stop. In order not to fall, he put down both feet to balance the bike. He did not see the snake.
But he did feel it. A dull tap on the side of his sneaker. Like someone hitting him with a stick. He looked down to see what kind of branch, sticking out of the pile, had struck his foot. What he saw made his heart beat quickly in his chest. It was a small, brown snake. The triangle shape of the head meant it was a viper. And poisonous! As quickly as you can say “pit viper,” he lifted his feet onto the pedals and rushed away, his heart pumping as fast as his feet. It was such a close call with danger. Such a narrow escape! He didn’t want to think of what would have happened if he only had flip-flops on ….
When he arrived at the back door of his house, he dropped the bike on one handlebar and one pedal, the front wheel still spinning in the air like an electric fan. Mom opened the door and poked her head out.
“Timmy, is everything okay?”
He could not speak; he was breathing too fast. The only thing he could do was run into his mother’s arms. She was right. He needed those sneakers. With gulps of air in between sentences, he finally was able to explain what happened. At the end, he could not bring himself to say, “Thank you, you know, about the sneakers.” Especially after she had said, “You’ll thank me later.” But one phrase did come to his mind. He was not sure he wanted to say it. But he finally did.
“I love you, Mom!”
About the Author
After 25 years in Africa as a missionary, Daniel is now 65, delivering mail by day and writing by night. In May 2024, he was chosen as a semi-finalist in the ACFW Genesis Contest for his unpublished middle-grade novella, Children of the African Bush. He has been published eight times in Unlocked, a teen devotional by Keys for Kids. Memberships include: American Christian Fiction Writers, Word Weavers International.
Daniel is the husband of one wife for 45 years and counting, the father of four, grandfather of 13. When not writing or walking to deliver mail, Daniel likes flyfishing, blacksmithing, going on adventures with his wife, and spoiling his grandchildren.
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