Chapter 1

Novas was exhausted. Not just from the heat, the work, and the life threatening conditions around her, but from the lifelong battle with herself. Was it possible to love God and hate oneself? She knew tons of Bible verses that consistently spoke on that subject. "Love your neighbor as yourself" came to mind. To love one's neighbor, one had to love oneself first. It wasn't a weighted concept, love neighbor first or more or any such thing. It was consistent, direct, uncompromising. Everything in life was consistent, direct, and uncompromising in the African mission she worked in. It was exhausting just thinking about it.

Her day started as always. Get up at 4:30. Pray for an hour. Eat the morning gruel at 6:00. Meet the long line of ragged and starving refugees at 7:00. Men first, women second, children, maybe. Wouldn't even be women if most of the men weren't too proud to have a white female touch their faces. And worse, look inside their mouths. And even more worse, if possible, tell them anything. As she rested her hands in soon-to-be-cold dishwater, she thought about her first "customer" of the day.

"He doesn't want you to touch him outside of his mouth."

The interpreter probably edited out the "If you touch me, I'll slit your throat" part. She didn't trust the interpreter any more than she did the gaunt, balding man, looking fifty, probably thirty if even, sitting in her dentist chair and glaring up at her.

"If I can't touch him, how can I look at his teeth, if he even has any?" she snapped back.

More conversation. Then, "That's your problem."

Well, at least he had teeth, although one less after she yanked it. Didn't have to use any antiseptic; the men would withstand a tooth pulled without even jerking away in pain. How could they do that? She knew the answer. Even what little she could see of him, arms, face, neck, he was covered with scars. Someone had tried to slit his throat, probably more than once. Seemed to be one of the favorite forms of recreation among those male in this part of the world.

She gave him the obligatory toothbrush and a tube of Crest, the traveling size. Not that he would ever use it. She tried to show him how to clean his teeth, but failed as usual. Sucking on the brush, he grabbed the Crest and departed without comment, blood still trailing out of the corner of his mouth.

“Sister Mary Sarah!”

The only thing Novas hated more than herself was her name. And, perhaps the Father Superior addressing her. Not that he would ever know she called him that in her mind. She almost giggled, despite herself, exhaustion and hate notwithstanding.

“Yes, Father MacClenny?”

“The dishes…now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…I’m exhausted.”

Can’t you tell, you old fart?

“Sister Mary Sarah, you were almost sleeping in the sink. Where is your sense of responsibility? Being a doctor doesn’t absolve you from your chores. Everyone shares equally.”

Yeah, everyone…everyone, but you.

Sarah dried her cold hands and plopped into a nearby kitchen chair. “Please, Father. Just allow me a few minutes. I need to gather myself back together. This day has been so very hard to get through.”

“And what is harder, viewing teeth or washing the dishes? Each task is the same under the Lord’s eyes.”

“Father, the dishes aren’t dying while you wash them.”