A Tale Of Choice

Shelly awoke as the late afternoon sun streamed into the ward. As she looked around with interest, she noted there seemed to be about six or seven beds in the room, three on one side and three or four on the other. She couldn’t tell for sure because there were dividing curtains hanging from the ceiling drawn around most of the beds.

  As she lay there, she heard breathing sounds from someone lying in the bed next to her. Someone else moaned softly in pain across the room. She closed her eyes to her own pain, trying to drive back the discomfort. But it was no good. She was hurting, hungry and missing the children. She got up cautiously and dressed as carefully as she could. Her arm in the cast felt cumbersome and awkward. She looked around for something to use as a sling. Finding an ace bandage, she wrapped it several times around her neck and arm.

  This will have to do for now, she thought to herself. She wanted to eat, take a pain pill, see the children and find out what was going on, in that order.

  Shelly looked out into the hall. It was empty. She could hear voices in the reception area. They must still be helping those poor people out in the clinic. But, I don’t hear the children.

  Then she heard a child laughing somewhere outside.

  Walking down the hall, to the back door, she discovered Tom and Faith playing next to a large, ample woman sitting on a bench, under a beautiful tree covered with yellow flowers. Sparse weeds grew in the dust near the base of the tree. The woman shucked peas into a large bowl on her lap. Small, colorful chickens where scratching at her feet and consuming the pea pods as fast as she was throwing them to the ground.

  As Shelly walked out the back door, Tom and Faith looked up and dropped what they were doing to run to her side. She tried to kneel down to hold them, but her head started to throb in painful bursts. Returning to a standing position, she held her head with her good hand. Then she reached down to stroke Faith’s hair as the child clung to her leg, chattering away like most four-year-olds can. Tom just stood by her side smiling affectionately at her, for he could see she was hurting.

  “How are you doing Mrs. Ferguson?” he asked softly.

  “I think it’s about time you called me Shelly,” she answered just as softly. “I would like you to, Tom.”

  “Okay… Shelly,” he responded with a wide grin.

  Shelly returned his with a larger grin of her own.

  The children walked her over to the woman sitting on the bench and introduced her as Momma Blessing.

  “You have the same name as Benjamin’s wife,” Shelly said with a smile.

  “In my country, the mothers are called by the name of their first born daughter. Blessing is mine,” she said with a cheerful, warm smile, her eyes twinkling with a brightness of mind and spirit.

  “Oh, I didn’t know. What a cute custom,” Shelly offered.

  “Come, child, you look like you could use a good, hardy cup of soup,” the large woman offered warmly as she stood up.

  “I am hungry,” Shelly responded as her stomach sounded its demands.

  Momma Blessing took Shelly into the kitchen and fed her a warm bowl of soup, made of chicken, kidney beans and all kinds of vegetables, with a slice of homemade bread served with goat’s cheese. A glass of fresh goat’s milk was given to the wounded guest.

  Shelly ate everything. It was wonderful and she felt so much better after eating the good meal. Tom and Faith sat at the table, chatting with her and content to be near her again.

  “Have you heard anything new about the war?” asked Shelly through a mouthful of fresh bread.

  “Not recently,” Momma Blessing replied, sitting in a large rocking chair near the open door. “We haven’t been able to get a message out and no one has come into the clinic since you arrived this morning. But, I’m not concerned. Everything will work out according to Gods’ will,” she said with conviction.

  Momma Blessing noticed a dark shadow cross Shelly’s face and a look of hurt and anger was clearly visible. The large woman, with a knowing look, determined right then and there to help Shelly somehow.

  When Shelly had finished eating, Momma Blessing cleaned up the kitchen and then put some green beans in a bowl.

  “It’s cooler outside, let’s go sit on the bench for a while,” she suggested. “Would you take this outside for me?” she asked Tom as she handed the bowl to him.

  “Sure,” he replied as he and Faith ran out the door, the two women following at an unhurried pace.

  Momma B, as some called her, helped Shelly to sit down. Then she took a seat beside the wounded American… wounded in more ways than one, in her opinion.

  As the two women sat under the tree, with the children playing nearby, Shelly placed her head against the building wall and closed her eyes. It was so relaxing to just sit on the bench, guarded from the African sun by the shade of the beautiful, fragrant tree. The chickens made soft clucking noises as they resumed their pecking in the hunt for more food. Warm breezes softly blew around them once in a while, bringing a faint smell of smoke.

 

  Path Of Choice