“I thought we might talk before dinner. I have questions. You are the person I believe has the answers,” he said as she sat in the chair.
“I have the answers? Oh, my, you could have picked a better chair than this. I will need help when it comes time to stand up.”
“There wasn’t much to choose from. Your friend, the overwhelming Sister Mary Kathleen O’Brien, said you, more than anyone else here, knew what was what, as they say.”
“She did?” The nun turned to look at Hanley. She shook her hand to dislodge a fly that landed there, gripping the arm of the chair tightly as the chair swayed with her movements. A shout from the camp beyond the clinic caused her grip to tighten even more.
“My conversations with her were full of references to your command of the political and social situation here. And, as I’m now your aerial courier, I thought it might be beneficial if I learned some of what you know. I’m about to meet and interact with people in cities in this country and others as I move about, carrying medicine and people. I simply thought it might be to my advantage to understand a bit more about this country, above what I learned on my own or with the help of the good Sister back in Indiana. A little bit of nuance may go a long way,” he said. The sun was now half-hidden behind a low hill, the tree a black shape in the low evening light. Hanley stared ahead, listening to the sounds of the camp and the chair as Sister Marie Claire shifted her weight seeking comfort.
“By the country, you meant the government?” she asked.
“Yes, the government.”
“The local leaders, even the leaders in Rumbek, are not bad but they do little to help. Perhaps they cannot. Perhaps I expect too much,” the nun said, looking off toward the clinic and the campfire beyond. “Yes, I may expect too much.”
“What about the church? Do they do as much as they should?” he asked.
“What did Kathleen say?” she asked, the use of her first name only surprising him. Hanley thought he heard caution in her voice. He wanted to look at her face, to gauge her reaction, but didn’t.
“She said they did what they could, more than most,” he told her. “I had the feeling she was somewhat more defensive than she needed to be when answering the question. You know, the old ‘I think thou dost protest too much’ or however it goes. Like, she was defending the church but not sure she should.”
Movement to his right made him look, squinting into the setting sun. Two of the doctors and a nurse were walking to dinner, laughing together at a remark, the nurse a full head shorter than both physicians. She wore a blue baseball cap, her blonde hair done in a ponytail and held in place with some sort of tie, pulled through an opening in the back. He estimated she was in her early thirties, some years older than his daughter. Her face was brown and freckled. He thought she was pretty, her body trim, not quite petite, but close. She looked over at Hanley, saw he was with the nun and frowned. Odd, he thought.
“We all defend the church as we defend ourselves. Our lives are the church,” the nun said. She stood with her hands pressing the small of her back, bowed backward as she stretched. “That chair is dangerous,” she said. “Are you hungry?’
“Since I’ve been in Sudan, I’m always hungry but I’ll adjust. May I ask you something?” He waited a second and said, “This may sound odd to you, but, as you are a person of faith, I thought you might find this interesting. I…”
The nun held up her hand to interrupt and said, “My faith is not as strong as you may think. Sudan is draining my faith from me, takes a drop each day or so, it seems. I try to stop it, pray that I don’t lose more, but it leaks from me as I walk about, as I sleep, as I pray. I may not be the best person to ask.”
He blinked and said, as if she had not spoken, “I have for years wondered about my good fortune, about why I succeeded when many others didn’t. My success was, it now seems, effortless, at least. So much so that luck must have played a major role in it. So, I began wondering if I should do something to make up for my good fortune.”
“Why would you?” she asked. “If your good fortune was God’s will, should you not accept that? Giving back is something we all should do. You are no exception. I would not recommend that you think there is something special about your circumstance.” Turning away, she said, “I’m going to dinner. Please join me.”
Getting to his feet, Hanley said, “I don’t think I’m special. I just feel this deep need to repay fate or God or whomever for my good fortune. I’ve been lucky, that’s all. Too lucky, it seems.” Hanley noticed how dark it had become. Hurrying to catch up with her, he said, “I just need to know if I’m doing enough, that’s all. I thought, with your background, you might guide me.” Night sounds swelled around them, dampening the sound of their walking, overcoming the sounds created by the few humans scattered about the mission.
“A woman walks into the bush to bring water back to her family. In Africa, the
