“I’m sure your experience will serve God’s purpose well. Sister Marie Claire believes you can fly your silver plane to the moon if you wished to, isn’t that true, sister?”
The nun blushed a bit and turned to Hanley. “You would think the seminary would have removed all the evils from a man before making him a priest, but as you can see, some small amount still hides inside them. The seminaries should do a better job of cleansing these undeserving young priests before turning them out into the world. I must write the bishop and suggest they examine their methods before we are all taken down by these small devils they leave inside them.” Hanley saw her blush even more, as she watched the priest’s delight in what she said.
“Perhaps you are right. I will leave you to pray and ask God to remove the small devils I still shelter. They are well hidden and only appear when provoked by nuns who believe it is their duty to search out all the evil in men and bring it to God’s attention. Nuns are God’s detectives, did you know that, Mr Martin?”
“Yes, Father, I have learned just what ecclesiastical sleuthing really is after meeting the good sister and her friend Sister O’Brien back in Indiana. They are God’s CIA.”
“Who?” Jumma asked.
Hanley laughed, instantly realizing the rarity of the act, then surprised by it, by both the laughter and the realization. He said, “Jumma, you are why Sudan will someday be a great nation.”
25
October 5th
Dear Elizabeth,
It is Wednesday and it has been a slow day for me. On Monday, I flew a doctor in from Khartoum to perform surgery on a woman who had a difficult birth Saturday night. Had the doctor not been here, this woman would certainly have died from complications. I flew the doctor back to Khartoum yesterday. I’m tired, as I have been flying every week to Khartoum, Ethiopia or Nairobi. Supplies are now always short. The number of refugees has tripled in Mapuordit in the past six months. The raids on the villages in Darfur have increased substantially and the people are fleeing with what they can gather as they are forced from their lands, the lucky ones, that is. Most are going to Chad or the ROC, but some come here on their way to Ethiopia or Kenya. So many are killed, many are raped and brutalized. It’s insane here.
The Sudanese government is more of a hindrance than a help. The church does what it can, but it’s in a bad spot. They have little protection and they know it. Muslim extremists are more involved in the politics of the country, at least that is what I’m told, although this is not a region of great importance to them, like Gaza or the Balkans. I suppose we are in as safe a region of Sudan as any, but we see the results of the persecution and it’s very ugly. I know this is an unpleasant subject, so let’s change it.
So, how are you and Carrie? I’m still sorry about the marriage, but I believe it was the best thing you could have done. Time will tell whether Gary is a good father, but I think Carrie will be fine. She has too much of your mother in her to let this get on top of her. Don’t give up on instilling some compassion in her; it’s in there, it just needs some coaxing to come to the surface.
The house is certainly big enough for the two of you and having Rocky next door is a great help, I’m sure. I know she’s happy. Her letters almost sing, she’s so happy. Weed can stay with her and visit you whenever you and he decide it’s okay.
Rocky also told me about your mother showing up at her door and outlining what she believed was Rocky’s role in your life and Carrie’s in particular. I was mad at first, but if there is anyone on this earth that can handle your mother, it’s Rocky. She said Weed actually hid behind her couch in the den when he heard your mother’s voice.
Next week, I’m going north with Sister Marie Claire to visit some displaced children. They’re everywhere in Sudan. Homeless and orphaned, they can be found in every refugee camp and group of people fleeing Darfur. Many have been taken in by relatives, aunts and uncles and older siblings, but too many are alone. The sister wants to help or at least try. So, we travel north to see what we can do.
I want you to know how very much I love you and love Carrie; saying it is never enough. Words are so inadequate, you know. I love you and I’m proud of you, of the person you are and will be. Squeeze Carrie for me, do it every night. Tell her I love her too.
When I see how bleak the future is for the people of Sudan and how they continue to strive, to try to live their lives somehow, every day, no matter what happens to them, it makes me realize how damned lucky I have been and how fortunate you and Carrie are. We take our futures for granted most of the time, like it comes with a guarantee. It doesn’t, you know. Anyway, I love you.
I’ll write in a week or so and tell you about our trip. I miss you both.
Love,
Dad
26
Hanley had been rubbing the same spot on the side of the Beech for five minutes when Jumma said, “If I may, I believe the metal under your cloth cannot possibly shine more than it does now. Your beautiful airplane shows most of our country along its side. I think it is the biggest mirror in all Sudan.”
“What?
