TWISTED DESTINATION - TRIMVIRATE

CHAPTER 6

 

  THE CHURCH

  NEW YEAR

  Lucy was a 19-year-old girl whose hobbies were reading, preaching and doing charity. She engaged herself in every charitable project that involved orphans. An intelligent and curious young lady. Her dream was to become the first woman pope. Like Martin Luther King Jr., she believed in God but not in blind dogmatism. She excelled in theology like no other sisters in the nunnery and she outsmarted any atheist who dared to diminish her because of her faith, except Steve, who was agnostic and would always have very compelling pleas. The thing with Steve is that he understood her faith and he even somehow envied it. He wanted to believe in God but his knowledge and probable data didn’t quite help.

  If she wasn’t at Church, she sure dwelled on the Church Library devouring some old manuscript. She taught herself Latin for she said a lot lost was lost in translation and sometimes when translators came across “Lacunas”, they would leave the place blank or would put a very improper word instead, creating dangerous ambiguities to the text. She even translated a couple of manuscripts for her fellow nuns. A perfectionist as she was certainly perceived, she would sometimes stay hours trying to find “le bon mot” in her translations. Even the priest recognised her work already.

  She never got to know anything about her parents. It was one of those classic stories of a baby left at the convent doorsteps. She started reading more Sherlock Holmes to learn how a detective does his work. Her logic, ‘I can become better than Sherlock Holmes and even better than Irene Adler and then I will find my parents’. The truth is, she never went even close to finding them. There was no letter, no name, nothing, nada. The only thing she had from her parents was just an odd looking necklace that hid a crucifix with the symbol of the Vatican and a “G” carved on it, the sign of the Pope, the highest rank of the Catholic Church. Mother Martha had died before the progenitor questions started to arise and even her, never actually knew what the G on her necklace stood for.

  One day, in her younger days, she returned from School which allowed her to walk 500 metres, she saw a coin of 5 meticais lying on the ground. A red, black and a white cloth surrounded it. She looked on the left and saw a candy store, on her right and saw a bakery and she was starving. She just left it there and carried on. The next day, again, it was there, no one had picked it so she remained proud she made the right choice in not taking it. Eventually, perhaps the wind took it away but at the third day, it was nowhere to be seen.

  Lucy believed in God, although a Caucasian woman, she was an African woman as well and she had heard a lot of stories about witchdoctors who would rid someone from a disease and place it on a coin and whoever picked it, would contract the disease. She had seen a lot of things as well. Nothing surprised her. When she was younger, an old woman lived in a secluded decadent house surrounded by luxurious buildings whose yard no one dared to enter. It had the most beautiful trees in every season with the ripest fruits yet the children were forbidden to eat from that yard’s trees. One day, a new foreign boy arrived in the neighbourhood. He wanted to make some new friends so he said he was super courageous and that he would go there and pick some mangoes to them. He entered the yard, climbed the trees, ate some fruits and brought others for the rest of the kids and Lucy was amongst them. She and the other kids had warned him not to enter. Although tempting, they refused to take the mangoes.

  “All right then, suit yourselves, there are more for me,” He told them.

  The next day, the boy woke up with a belly as big as a pregnant woman’s. Shocked and ignorant of any solution, his European mother decided to take him to the hospital. When she got out of the car, about to enter the hospital, one of the street marketers saw the kid’s belly and asked her to stop.

  She got shocked because a street seller was addressing to her. Although almost certain of the marketer advertisement intentions, her politeness impeded her to ignore. Polite as she was, she stopped. The lady who had a round shaped body not to be mistaken with obesity, huge breasts, and an old face, told her, “White woman, I know what is wrong with your son, I can help. The medicos won’t be able to help you.”

 

  The boy’s mother asked, “What is it?”

  The old lady just looked at the boy and asked, “Did you eat any fruits from someone else’s yard yesterday?” The boy, a bit ashamed just nodded affirmatively.

  “Yes, I can help. Come with me boy, and you (addressing herself to his mother) when we get into a house, don’t come in.”

  The boy’s mother agreed. She happened to be an anthropologist and she had come to study African witchcraft. That was either a tremendously ironic episode that led to a jackpot or simply bad luck.

  The woman took his arm, walked some blocks and entered an old house with a rundown wall. His mother waited outside, and people who had seen the kid’s condition also gathered outside with those who just came close because everybody was getting close. A few minutes later, the entrance of the old witch woman, Mfene was crowded.

  The comments differed but had the same theme, 'the old lady had done it again'. The mother despaired. Some people started praying he was forgiven, others hopping the stomach exploded because that would be a very good story to tell in the future, others said the kid was possessed and others that he was going to have a monster baby.

  Finally, 3 hours later, the kid and the lady got out and his belly normal again. Some started to pretend to have been worried but most just carried on with their lives, disappointed nothing exciting happened. Since that day, Lucy knew that even believing in God, witchcraft was real, as real as medical doctors, only mystic. She knew that some people believed only in witchcraft, others only in God and others only in medicine but she recognised undoubtedly the realness of every single one of them.

  After Mother Martha died, Lucy focused herself on her faith and her books. She was so dedicated at the Convent and in Church matters that she was always something of a leader when one was required. Everyone used to call her Mather Teresa’s incarnation for she had such a generous, selfless and loving heart. Some maids of her age, envious of the attention she was getting, started to call her Lucifer, saying Lucy is short for Lucifer, the Devil. She felt pity for them, first for being so stupid and second for being so ignorant.

  On a decade where the Catholic followers were quitting one by one because of the modern world and because of the rise of the evangelic Churches, Lucy managed to convert more nonbelievers to Christianity than Jesus could have managed if he hadn’t been labelled the son of God. Father Gustavo, a young priest that enjoyed her company admired and somehow beatified her. Her approach to making people believe in God was quite effective. So effective he asked her to teach him. At the end, he found out that it was not about the approach itself, it was all about her. She was such a happy vivid girl with no concern whatsoever because only God knew who she actually was and to the rest of the world, she couldn’t care less.

  Lucy radiated energy of positivity, sanctity, and happiness around her. People felt like they were sitting beside a statue of Holly Mary. They felt small because she believed she was being used by God himself and felt big since she told them that God architected that encounter and he believed they deserved saving. She gave people hope and, she looked at them with a forgiving face, forgiveness for all the wrong things they had done and she even told them that even being a nun, she had sinned too, she’s only human. She shared how happy, cleansed and fulfilled God made her. She could ask if you, theist, atheist or agnostic, could feel a void inside your soul that you can’t fill, not with money, not with power, not with anything and then she would tell you that only God could fill it.

  She would tell you to talk to Him, alone in your room. You didn’t have to go to any Church or mosque or sanctuary or anything, you just needed to make peace with God, therefore make peace with yourself. She could say that God is real, whether He is the man on the bible, the man on the Quran, or the entity that created the Universe
, whatever you believed He was, you should believe in Him. She would tell you all this with such belief and commitment that whoever you were, something in you could change after the conversation. Some people would eventually find a Church, others would go home, and love their families or lock themselves in their rooms and talk to Him without any tertiary part like a religion sanctuary, while others would just say ‘OK’ and move on to their bars, shopping centres, whorehouses, or whatever people commit sins, everywhere.

  After Christmas, Lucy stayed the entire day at the Church library catching up with Steve’s theology-related book recommendations. Steve was an agnostic but he was also incredibly smart and sometimes he would cite a religious book she hadn’t heard of. Confronting him antagonistically signified not only stupidity but also uselessness. Making it a friendly conversation always widened her mind, so she often preferred the latter.

  As she returned from the library, somehow in shock, her face was of incredulity.

  “It must be all lies or a confused objectively plotted mixture of truths and lies. A forced attempt to reach a bestseller, it must be,” She thought to herself.

  She had read that book she wasn’t supposed to read that talked about this painting that contained some secret in it, drawn by Da Vince. It also mentioned a descendent of Jesus Christ. She gobbled the book in less than 5 hours. Steve had mentioned the book several times in the past, the Church specifically forbid any nun to read this particular book for its blasphemous and unfunded content. She had always followed the rules but since Steve himself told her that reading a book is the best way of criticising it, she had to read it. There is a read-me magnet banned books have that its request is irresistible.

  “You are smart enough to know what fiction is and what history is, I suppose,” Steve had said.

  “Yes, I suppose,” She had answered.

  “But Lucy, be wise, sometimes fiction is so famous and so magnificently plotted that it becomes History, and History is so polemic and unbelievable that with time it fades into fiction. The book could shake your beliefs.” She giggled a bit, her answer had been, “Don’t worry Steve. My faith is unshakable!”

  There was a group of young sisters gossiping in front of the Church. When she saw her fellow sisters, she said “Hi sisters” and the girls said nothing. Suspecting that they didn’t hear her, she repeated, but this time, she mentioned the most famous of them.

  “Hi, sister Mariabela,” and again no answer. She ended up quitting and leaving. Four steps forwards, one of the girls shouted “Lucifer”. She looked back more chocked than she was before but the girls kept talking like nothing happened. When she kept walking, the girls started laughing, enjoying a private joke. Lucy ignored it for she knew of that mocking for quite some time. Another said “How do you hide your horns?” in local Bantu Changana language, thinking that she couldn’t understand it because she was white and white people can’t understand the complicated native African intonations of Bantu languages. That was it; Lucy stopped, looked at them and went straight towards them. All of the 6 girls were alarmed, ‘What is she about to do?’

  She looked straight to Sister Mariabela who had said that offensive comments about horns and she retorted in very fluent Changana, “Do you really think Lucifer had horns? Are you at least aware of what Lucifer means?”

  “Of course I do, it is the name of the Devil.”

  Lucy, a bit impatient resumed, “I am aware that everybody, even Forrest Gump, knows whose name it is. What I am asking is if you know what it means?” The girls kept staring at each other trying to guess if one of them knew the answer. When no one said anything, Mariabela answered, “Well, it must mean evil, right?”

  “That’s what I thought,” Lucy pointed out, “Sister Mariabela, Lucifer means Morning Sunshine. I can’t take seriously anybody who ignores that. God created the Devil and banned him to rule Hell. And right now, I have just read two books, one on a Jesus Christ child,” the girls were shocked by that comment, “and other on Greek Mythology that tells the very same story written in the Bible with different characters. My head conflicts with itself. The girls were chocked and their eyes were of fear. They stared at her as if she was actually threatening. Lucy ignored all these signs and kept talking until someone touched her shoulder.

  Mother Maria was passing by when she heard Lucy talking. As she loved Lucy, she decided to approach and greet her. She intended to surprise her but she froze behind when she heard her explanations. The girls didn’t freeze because of what Lucy was saying. They froze because Mother Maria was listening to it too. Lucy turned back slowly knowing beforehand that she was in deep trouble.

  “Lucy, my child. So you are saying that we stole the bible's accounts and knowledge from the Greeks, ham?” Mother Maria said.

  “No. No, Mother Mary,” She stuttered, frightened and in panic. “It’s… It’s just that they are calling me Lucifer and I had to defend myself.”

  “By defending the Devil and insulting the Bible?” Lucy got even more terrified, “No mother, I am just confused. I don’t know if the Greek manuscripts are forged. They must be, right?”

  “Well, they are not!” Mother Maria answered. The girls were incredulous. She looked straight at them and said, “Girls, leave me alone with Lucy. Go back to the Convent.”

  “Yes Mother,” they said in chorus. The girls left and Lucy’s only wish was not to be on her own shoes at that moment.

  “Lucy, dear, everything you have read is true but the similarities exist because God enlightened both Greeks and us. The Greeks understood it wrongly. They were pagans, remember that!”

  “So, Mother is saying that the Greeks created their pagan Gods and Their stories from the same source we did but they didn’t understand it properly?” Lucy questioned.

  “Well, something like that.” Mother Maria acknowledged a bit sceptic of her own words, “Anyway, God enlightened the prophets to write the bible to avoid false truths so all you have to do is follow the bible. What really matters is the faith you have in God. People will try to make you doubt but, yield my child, for you are stronger and smarter than most. The Devil will tempt you more. I believe you have got to confess your sins to cleanse your spirit.”

  “Yes Mother, may God forgive me.”

  “Let us visit the house of God and talk to God’s messenger Father Michael.”

  With her head down, her face full of shame and her eyes staring to the ground, she entered the Church unaware of what would follow and afraid she had made a capital mistake to the Church, to judge the word of God over the word of men. She knew all this but all she was looking for was a logical explanation that proved that everything she had read was untrue or at least a pagan opinion. Only that would suffice but it had to be told by somebody else. She hoped Father Michael would be that someone but the priest was a very conservative man and what she had done could mean banishment.