The familiar sound of women laughing and conversing amongst themselves was a blessing to hear. It reminded Rose that even through tragedy love would prevail and good would triumph over evil. It had been weeks since the last European had been buried and it looked as if the yellow fever that had struck the area was finally gone. Prayer had worked, and God had spared the village of Calabar, but not before taking most of the foreigners with it. She had been spared, along with a small handful of her father's church. Her father, Reverend John Delany had survived, but her mother Eugene had not.
Rose reached the river, glanced across at the cemetery that her father had erected after arriving in Calabar. The bodies of the missionaries that had not survived the trip across the Atlantic had been the first of many that had sacrificed their lives for the Word. Her mother now rested there, along with family friends of both races.
"Miss Rose, come on down here and join us."
The young woman turned, smiled softly and closed the distance between her and a group of middle-aged black women. It did not take them long to bring the shy girl out of her shell and wash away the stain of sorrow that often filled her thoughts. They talked and laughed as they worked to cleanse the clothing of their respective families. Rose did not mind helping, in fact she embraced work, it was one of the things that helped her feel useful.
"How is your father?"
Rose turned toward the woman who had raised the question. Suidelike, a woman of strong character and distinct features looked back at her. "He still insists on leaving when the next trade ship comes in."
"That is a pity," Suidelike said. Her displeasure was soon echoed by the others, as well as Rose.
"He has lost the will to live," she admitted. "Ever since mother died. I have tried to bring him back to us, to the church, but he is done."
"He's lost his faith?" another woman asked.
"Yes Samona, he has. It has been a hard year, the loss of mother has convinced him that our God is not the loving presence he had always believed in," Rose confessed.
"And what will become of us?" Suidelike questioned.
Rose sighed. "I have petitioned the church that I be allowed to remain behind and continue my father's work."
The other women all seemed to smile, save Samona. Rose noticed the lack of joy on the girl's face, but she chose to ignore it.
"When will you know?" another asked.
"I will know when the merchant vessel arrives. If the church agrees then I will hear from the new Pastor that is being assigned. Until then, I will continue to pray that God allows me to remain here, with all of you."
Rose could not help but glance toward Samona. She felt the displeasure of her decision to stay behind rolling easily from the woman's stare. Again she said nothing, choosing to pick her battles and jealousy was a battle that could not be won.
When the washing was done, the women gathered their clothing, and made their way back toward the village. Working side-by-side they draped the clothes over twine that had been linked between poles. It would not take long for the heat to dry the wet material. Rose thanked her friends for their prayers and shared that she too would keep their families in her thoughts and ask the Lord to protect their homes.
Back in the small hut that had been made for her and parents, she saw her father still lying where he'd fallen the night before. His clothes were rumpled, dirty and torn. Sometime during the night he had kicked off his shoes, leaving his socks to keep his feet safe from bugs that often frequented their small dwelling. The bottle of rum was empty; the amber glass lay on its side. He would wake up with a headache and once again blame God for the death of his wife and she would do her best to console him. She would not however quote bible verses -- the last time she had done that her father had struck her. The bruise was long gone, but the pain behind his words still haunted her. Someday she would forgive him, she knew it, but it would only be through God's healing hand.
Rose headed toward the desk that her father use to use to write out his weekly scripture lesson and pulled some of the books from its shelves. She packed them into a worn satchel, along with fruit and a vessel of water that would see her through the day. A quick glance back at her father left her more determined to remain at Calabar -- if she were to go home with him -- what would she be going home to?
As she made her way through the village, waving at children and saying hello to the few missionaries that still lived, she thought back over the past year and how much she had changed. She had balked at the idea of coming to the African continent and had it not been for the kindness of its people, she would not be the woman she was now. They had absorbed the word of the Lord like a sponge absorbing the much needed rains. They were anxious to learn, eager to please and more friendly than Rose could have imagined.
She had come to Calabar believing that the black race was ignorant, cruel and full of demonic beliefs. Yet the missionaries before her and her father's church had done so much to help the faithless grow more aware of their Creator and civilization seemed to flourish within the village, once education and God had been introduce. It did not take long for Rose to embrace the culture and learn how to survive in the wilds of Africa.
The sound of men shouting brought her up short, causing her to turn on her heel and seek out who or what had caused the ruckus. The satchel she carried was hefted higher on her shoulder as she stopped in front of Samona's home.
Women and men were scrambling to removed several logs that had spilled off a wagon. At first Rose did not understand why they behaved so chaotically. Then she saw the legs and arms that lay under the pile of wood. Quickly she dropped what she carried and hurried over to help. Soon the logs were discarded and the bruised and broken body of Samona's intended lay still. Samona screamed and fell to her knees, rocked back and forth as she prayed to God in her native tongue.
Rose hurried to the young man's side, pressed her fingers to his neck and searched for signs of life. The rise and fall of his chest was inconsistent, but it was there and an overwhelming since of thankfulness assailed her. "He's alive!" she shouted, then began directing the men in the area on how best to transfer the unconscious Kame to the medical hut.
She followed the men, pausing only long enough to pick up her belongings. Samona followed, her weeping was loud and echoed those of Kame's mother and sister. Rose felt a pang of sorrow in her chest at the anguish the women felt, as well as the knowing fear that Kame would not recover from his injuries. One leg appeared crushed, walking again would be a miracle. Both arms looked to be broken, and the wound on his head had left bone exposed. She feared that his lungs were punctured by ribs that were most likely broken.
