Jeanne leave the room.
They take a left and enter one of the small offices at the end of the long hallway.
“How may I be of service to you?” Maryam asks as she gestures for Jeanne to take a seat at the small round table.
Maryam pours them both and glass of water and takes a seat opposite Jeanne.
Jeanne takes a sip of water.
Starts.
“Merci. Thank you-uh. I-hu am-hu so-hu thirsty-uh… Must-uh be the-hu nerves-uh.”
She takes another sip.
Maryam smiles.
Waits.
“Well-uh, I guess-uh I must-uh introduce-uh myself, ahem.”
She drinks the last of the water in the glass and pours herself more.
“Sorry-uh, thank you-uh, for the water-uh. Nothing-uh comes close-uh to water-uh, don’t you agree-uh?”
“I do,” Maryam says with a smile, “God knew exactly what He was doing when He made it. All praise and thanks is due to Him for making wadder sweet and not bidder because of our sins.”
Maryam pours herself some more water too.
Jeanne looks at her admiringly.
“That-uh is lovely-uh, ahem, I-hu mean-uh what-uh you say about the-uh water-uh.”
“It is,” says Maryam amused, “but that is nothing I came up with. It’s a common prayer all Muslims say, before drinking wadder.”
She takes three short sips and puts her glass back down.
‘Very interesting-uh. Beautiful-uh.” Jeanne relaxes more.
She sits back and continues.
“My name-uh is Jeanne Dieudonné. I am from Versailles, Paris.”
She coughs.
“I have heard of Versailles. World War and Peace Treaty springs to mind, I might be absolutely wrongk.” Maryam smiles.
“Spot on-uh, if you are-uh referring to the-uh treaty signed-uh after World War I.” Jeanne drinks more water.
She continues.
“Lovely place. Grew-uh up there and lived-uh there most-uh of my life-uh.”
She sighs.
She removes some fluff from her small cardigan and continues.
“My work-uh is what brought-uh me-uh to-uh America-uh.”
She straightens up.
Takes a deep breath.
“I have a background-uh in clinical-uh psychology, specialising in child-uh care-uh. Before I moved-uh here-uh, I was a-uh practising child-uh psychologist in Versailles-uh.”
“We have that in common then, clinical psychology. I am currently defending a thesis relating to the direct impact the environment has on the psyche of the child, specifically the mind and how it impacts the soul. How there is something other than what is obvious to the naked eye. Other influences.”
Maryam says ‘other’ sort of funny and stares at the glass of water in front of her.
She laughs to herself and takes in Jeanne’s curious, dark-brown eyes.
She starts.
“I’ll probably fail my defence,” she says laughingly.
“Why-uh?” Asks Jeanne surprised; almost as if she was disappointed.
“The whole point of view is a bit sketchy to most people; especially those that view it purely scientifically. They consider no religious information. God is not part of the equation.”
She coughs.
“God has been removed. No. It is more as if God is non-existent.”
Jeanne nods her head.
“I-uh see-uh what-uh you-uh mean-uh.”
She breathes deeply.
Shakes her head.
Continues.
“It-uh is-uh this-uh exact-uh thing-uh that-uh has-uh brought-uh me-uh to-uh America-uh and-uh to-uh you-uh.”
She tries to smile, but only manages a frown.
“I-uh read-uh your-uh paper-uh published-uh earlier-uh this-uh year-uh. It-uh was-uh how-uh I-uh found-uh you-uh.”
“Ahwesome,” Maryam says encouragingly. She unfolds her arms and relaxes them on the table.
Immediately Jeanne relaxes more.
Maryam removes her scarf and plays with the frills.
Jeanne stares at Maryam’s dark hair.
Smiles.
“I found what you said about the, dark-uh, influences, particularly interesting.”
Maryam nods her head as she continues to twirl the frills around her fingers.
“I was asked to assist with several, strange-uh, cases. All abuse. But strange-uh.”
Maryam simply nodded her head and gave Jeanne a warm, encouraging look.
“I, I-uh, am convinced that there-uh, is more to it…”
She trails off.
Coughs.
“Supernatural almost.”
She sits up straight again.
Maryam drapes her scarf across the top of her head and ties it at the back.
She smiles.
“Maybe not supernatural, but rather absolutely natural, simply not known, or we do not have enough information. It is as you say, strange.”
Jeanne nods.
“Yes-uh?”
“I’ll explain. We do not see air, though we accept that it is there. The same it is with this. God clearly tells us that angels and other beings exist. They are a natural part of the creation. They are apparently all around us, though we do not see them, believers accept that they are there. It is normal and not supernatural at all.”
“I see-uh what you-uh mean.”
She takes in what Maryam was saying.
“So you believe that the devil-uh exists and that he-uh influences us?”
“Absolutely.”
Maryam says confidently.
Jeanne smiles.
“What I am about to say-uh, might sound crazy, but I think-uh, these abuse cases, involved something… satanic-uh; like it was some ritual-uh. Too many common denominators-uh and from children that had no contact-uh with each other, though in the same neighbourhoods.”
She seems embarrassed.
“Sounds crazy, I know-uh.”
“Not at all. I will have to read your initial assessments and perhaps interview the children, but I doubt you would come all this way, if you were not convinced otherwise.”
Maryam says encouragingly.
“I believe we have a few of those cases here as well.”
She sighs.
Frowns.
“I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else, being the only Muslim here. Most of the rest are Christian, most non-practising; the rest Atheist. Our doors are open to everyone.”
Maryam gets up and heads to the cupboard in the corner.
She removes a file and hands it to Jeanne.
“These are all the children we have here currently. I would advise that you look at the ones I highlighted purple.”
Jeanne looks at her surprised.
“I will clear the room next door. It can be your office while you are here.”
“My office-uh?” Jeanne more confused.
“It’s why you are here, isn’t it. To learn? To help? To be able to go back home with absolutely surety. It’s why you came, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t planning on going back… but, you are right. Yes.”
Jeanne smiles and starts paging through the file.
“You’re welcoming to scrutinize those, they are simply observations, nothing personal, but you know I will have to contact references to find out whether you are legit. I can’t let just anyone near my children.”
“Oui, of course-uh,” Jeanne nods.
Maryam smiles at her.
“I think we’re going to be one heck of a team.”
She gets up and extends her hand to Jeanne.
They shake hands.
“Welcome to Good Hope.”
الاعمال الخيرية
November 2013
For the children
The lanky girl walks into the lobby.
A youthful energy about her.
Her dress bounces gracefully as she skips all the way to the receptionist.
“Special delivery!” She says w
ith a smile.
She stares at her reflection in the mirror-like glass on top of the counter.
The caption at the bottom of the glass read:
You are responsible for your own safety and the safety of others.
She smiles, tucks at her ruffled bangs that reached past her eyes and rubs at the bold red lipstick that bled at the edges of her mouth.
Satisfied, she blows herself a kiss and focusses on the receptionist.
“Are you from the committee?” The plump woman cheerily directs her attention to the blonde in front of her.
“You betcha, names Maria, we met before,” she puts her hands to her sides, as she pops her hip and strikes a pose.
“Oh,” she fiddles in her huge bag and hands her phone to the lady, “do you mind? I’d like to post this on my wall.” She resumes her pose and blows a big kiss, “Mwha!”
Amused, the receptionist snaps a picture and hands Maria back her phone.
“You’re fabulous. Thanks hoots.” Maria quickly presses a few buttons on her phone and adds a tag.
Dropping off invitations to the show.
She presses send and focusses on the still smiling receptionist.
“I have the wonderful goodies right here,” she says as she removes a stack of envelopes from her bag.
“I was told that fifty should be enough, is that correct?”
She places the invitations on the counter and immediately, reads a comment to her latest post.
“That should be more than enough. There are currently only 37 children here. The rest have been taken. Social services, foster care, adoption, you know.”
The receptionist takes the envelopes.
“Ahhhhh, that’s so ahwesome-ish.”
She puts her phone down and leans into the counter; the charm on the chain around her neck, dangling hypnotically in sight of the lady.
Her eyes follow it for a few seconds before she shakes her head and says.
“It is, yes. It is not always easy. We rely heavily on the good will of others. Poor Mary has mostly been the source of all the food, blankets; the basics; mostly from her own pockets and generous contributions from her family.”
She adjusts her granny spectacles and opens an invitation.
“That’s really neighbourly of her. I think you’re all fabulously wonderful for caring for these
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