It is with great delight that I today
share with you an extract from my book. I am taking forward near the end but
there is something special about this extract from Chapter 43. This segment
happens in December, and as you read, you can imagine how much comfort Nicole needs
at this moment as she tries to come to terms with the recent passing of Padre
Angelo. As Angelo’s secret place is revealed, some secrets about his spiritual
and artistic nature and the conflicts he had inside himself are revealed too. Enjoy!
-
8 December 2004
T
|
he next day Nicole was up and fully dressed, long before the
dawn. There was silence in the mission, which tended to belie the drama of the
recent events. She paced the verandah, sometimes stopping to look into the
valley, wondering how often Angelo had looked across that direction. At times,
she would just sit on the bench, facing the large cross, lost in grief,
wondering when it would all end and if she would ever recover completely.
It was the same cross that depicted a distraught
Saint John, who was standing with his arms wrapped around Mary, supporting and
consoling her. It was Angelo’s favourite spot. And his violin was still
reclining on Mary’s knees.
An old wound had re-opened; more than
that – an old wound had been ripped open.
Nicole was still standing staring into
the valley, when Carlos reappeared. It was just some minutes before six o’clock
in the morning. He looked very tired, not having had much sleep, as he had to
remain at the hospital while procedures were carried out before he could bring
Angelo back to the mission for the final time.
He kissed her tenderly on her cheek and held her hand.
“Angelo is back.”
Then he saw the bruise on her forehead.
Carlos felt as if something hit his solar
plexus. He lost his balance and tottered.
Before she could respond to either event,
the singing and the drums, together with other homemade instruments, started
again and seemed to get louder. Nicole held onto Carlos’ hands even more
tightly and hid her face in his chest in an attempt to escape this never
–ending nightmare.
He tenderly nursed the bruise on her
forehead. And explanation for its presence was not necessary.
Soon, her daughters joined them on the
verandah, in the silence of pain, which seemed to be compounded by each beat of
the drums.
“Nicole… Come!” Having regained some
semblance of strength, he intimated to her, also stretching out his hands to
the girls. Carlos led her through the archway of the sweet smelling vines,
which were now in blossom. Nicole thought that he was taking her to the church;
however, she found herself going down into the valley, further and further away
from the drums.
They came to a little stream. Carlos
explained, “It comes from the mountains.”
Nicole washed her face in the cool,
crystal waters and felt refreshed.
The very attractive and unusual stones
and pebbles could be clearly seen lying on the sand bed. She was caught up in
the wonder of the soothing waterfall and the stunning rainbow that was created
by the cloud of mist and foam. The water flowed so peacefully from the
waterfall and gurgled warmly, foaming as it made its way past the little
boulders. Nicole found deep comfort.
“Look,” he pointed to a flat-topped
rocked in the middle of the stream and another close by. “Take your shoes off and we will rest here
for a while. My daughters, there is also a seat for you. Don’t worry! No
crocodiles!” He gave them a mischievous grin. This brought a smile to their
faces as they looked in awe at the beauty of the place and welcomed the relief.
There could have been no better remedy
for Nicole. The tranquil stream invigorated her soul. She swung her legs inside
and against its flow. The water was refreshingly cool and the sand felt so soft
between her toes as she wiggled them.
The early morning rays shone through the
tall trees on either side of the bank and played on the water, giving off
dazzling hues.
For Nicole, something was instantly
familiar about this place and it brought back memories that were hidden in the
recesses of her mind. Yes, the sheer peace, the seclusion of the trees, the
sunlight flowing through the branches and the sound of the gurgling water
reminded her of the secret place, with the flowing fountain and the towering
statue of Archangel Michael.
It seemed like only yesterday.
“Angelo loved to come here. To hide here.
To read his books and to write.”
“To write?”
“Yes. He liked to write poetry, stories
for the mission children and various articles. He took great delight in
composing music for the church and many things like that – like your John Bradburne.”
His eyes twinkled as he caught her look of amazement.
“So when no one could find him, he was
mostly here. This was the place where he came to find God. He often said God was
waiting for him and he did not want to miss the appointment. Even when he felt
unwell, he could be very stubborn and would still come here. Many times he came
back in the rain, soaked.”
Carlos shook his head, “Angelo! Stubborn!
Like ox!”
He asked her softly, “Did Angelo ever
speak to you about the few weeks here in Mozambique before he became very ill
and was taken to Zimbabwe?”
Encouraged by the look on Nicole’s face,
he continued, “Angelo thought that the jungle would be a remedy for the pain he
was going through, all the suffering and guilt he felt after…” He shrugged.
“I am his closest friend since seminary.
I was with him the time his brother died. We were ordained together
side-by-side. As we lay face down on
that day, Angelo was on my left side. We were like brothers, like Anton and
Andre. Then it happened. The sorrow. All our celebrations stopped. He was still
staggering, trying to find answers.”
He blinked back tears, “After some time,
they allowed Angelo to join me here in Missao. He tried. He tried so hard. It
was not easy. We all tried to help him. On the contrary, the jungle did not
shield him from the devastation he felt on the inside. Then one day, he
announced first to me, then to the Church, that he intended to leave his priesthood.
Just like that! Can you imagine all our shock and disbelief?”
Carlos often wrestled with himself for
not relating this painful aspect to Nicole when he brought Angelo to St
Michael’s….
Meanwhile, below is a floral arrangement I made for my daughter, Candy, for her 21st birthday!
Olivia
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