by Saul Dobney
He handed the cup to Eshe and she walked around the villagers. Hands dipped into bags, and coins and the odd small note went into the collection as it passed.
Mosi and Kwasi started a new song and the queue subsided.
Eshe passed the cup to Tremus.
“It’s mostly coins,” said Eshe to Tremus as he and Riaz peered into the cup. “It is not much but these people are poor.”
“See. We do need Riaz,” said Tremus to Eshe. He slapped Riaz on the back. “Someone remembered why we are here.”
“There is more to be won than money,” said Yanif.
“Let’s go and join the party,” said Tremus drawing Yanif and the others away. “I am hungry and it has been a long evening. Go and get beer Mosi.”
31. Tabitha Coombe
Yanif awoke to the banging of empty jerry cans as the women from the village left to collect water. He rolled up the blanket he had slept on. Nearby, Tremus stirred from the bed he had made from the empty beer crates. Mosi and Kwasi were awake, stretching and limbering up for the day ahead.
Keneth came out of one of the huts shaking his head. “Hey Mosi, you want to earn some money today?” he called as he reached his truck.
“What do I have to do?” asked Mosi.
“Eddy, my co-driver, took too much beer and is sleeping like a hippo in that hut. I need some help on deliveries if you're interested.”
Mosi looked at Tremus and Tremus gave Mosi a ‘you-go’ look.
“Yeah. I’ll come,” said Mosi. “Every penny counts. Maybe Yanif can take care of your friend.”
“It would be a waste of Yanif’s talents on such a beerhead,” said Keneth.
Yanif lifted his head, hearing his name.
“The mganga believes you are a great healer. He will send people to you. My uncle told me that you should come to his village too. The crops are not growing and the chickens have stopped laying good eggs. You must go and bless his village. There is work here if you want it.”
Tremus was about to reply when a horn sounded.
“You ready to go?” shouted Riaz from his car. “We should go and see this little girl.”
“Come on Yanif,” said Tremus. “Time for more work.”
Yanif stretched and climbed into the back of Riaz’s car behind Tremus.
“The evening was better than I expected,” said Riaz yawning, half-hungover. “No money, but they will tell others about Yanif.”
“Should we do it again? If Keneth’s uncle has invited us?” asked Tremus.
Riaz shrugged. “I guess. If he has asked. There is nothing to lose, and Keneth’s beer is good.” He turned on to the main road. “But next time we should be prepared. You would have forgotten all about a collection if I hadn’t been there. And Yanif, you will need something to say.” Riaz said, catching Yanif’s eye in the rear-view mirror.
“I thought you would say no to another village,” said Tremus. “Do you think that this thing with the girl will make money?”
Riaz waved a mobile phone at Tremus.“Mr Coombe said it could last several weeks when I spoke to him.”
“Hey Riaz,” said Tremus seeing the protective plastic still on the phone’s screen, “How did you pay for that? You still owe us remember. You don’t have money to spend.”
“It’s not my phone,” said Riaz.
Tremus looked confused. “Who's is it then?”
“It’s yours.” He grinned. “You need one. I had to drive halfway across the country to find you last night. How else am I supposed to contact you?”
“Mine?” said Tremus. He took the phone and prodded at the buttons. “Here, Yanif have you seen?”
Yanif gazed out of the window at the passing countryside, uninterested in Riaz's gift.
They parked in the visitor car-park of the hospital and walked towards an angular white building set among an expanse of lawns with a tall fountain in front of the entrance.
As they entered two pretty female nurses in white and blue uniforms whisked out of the door. Riaz watched the sway of their skirts as they strode down the path and almost bumped into a tall man in a light brown jacket.
“Riaz?” said the man in a soft brogue accent. “Niall Coombe.” He looked the three of them up and down noting the dust and creases. “You're not quite what I was expecting to be sure.”
The four of them made their way into the reception area. Fresh orange tulips stood in a vase on the reception desk, and modern art hung on the white walls.
“My daughter Tabitha's the reason you're here,” said Mr Coombe as he accompanied them to the lifts. “She’s been cooped up here for the last little while, with more to come I'm afraid.”
“What is the matter with her?” asked Riaz.
“Leukaemia,” said Mr Coombe. He saw the blank look on their faces. “Blood cancer. Attacks the bone marrow and poisons the blood. Nasty little disease. We were lucky to spot it in time.”
The nurse came and they entered the lift. Mr Coombe pressed the button for the third floor and continued: “She fell off the swing in the garden and got some cuts and bruises that wouldn’t stop bleeding. After a whole mound of tests, they told us 'leukaemia' and she came straight here. Now it's just one round of treatment after another.”
“So why Yanif?” asked Tremus.
“Oh, I'm not expecting him to fix the cancer. We have doctors and all this for that.” Mr Coombe motioned with his head to indicate the hospital around. “But the chemotherapy makes Tabitha very, very sick. You cannot begin to understand how it makes me feel.” He rubbed his hand down his face and inhaled. “The worst of it all, is that with everything that's happened, she keeps wanting to give up. Her hair has fallen out and she lacks any energy for life. I need someone who can make Tabitha feel better about being here, and about all this stuff. She needs a spark. And Mr Eden said to me that you could be the one to help. Magic fingers he said.”
“Then Yanif can help,” said Riaz. “You will see.”
The lift opened and they stood in front of a private room. Mr Coombe gently turned the door handle and placed a finger to his lips to indicate that they should be quiet and the four of them peered inside.
In the room, small thin girl aged around nine lay asleep, a hairless head resting on a pristine white pillow. On the table beside her, a stack of children’s books added the only colour to a white room that looked out over the lawns and gardens below.
As the four stood there, the girl gave out a little moan and half opened her eyes.
“It’s all right Kariboosh, this man is here to make you feel better.”
Mr Coombe walked into the room and beckoned Yanif to follow, but signalled that neither Riaz nor Tremus should enter.
The girl groaned a little more and turned her head away from the door toward the window shivering slightly as the cold breeze of the air-conditioning blew across her face. Mr Coombe motioned that Yanif should sit down besides the girl and then sat down himself.
Yanif lifted his hand gingerly above the girl almost uncertain if, or where, he should touch her. He brushed his fingers against hers, and Tabitha closed her hand around his without stirring.
For several minutes Yanif sat in silence, hands entwined with hers. Slowly the tenseness in Tabitha eased. She relaxed into the pillow, her breathing deep and regular and fell into a tranquil sleep.
Mr Coombe touched Yanif's arm and whispered, “That is the first time she has looked at peace since she arrived here.”
Yanif smiled at Mr Coombe and murmured, “She must rest.”
Mr Coombe nodded and tiptoed out of the room to join Riaz and Tremus outside.
“Is anything happening?” asked Tremus.
“She’s sleeping,” said Mr Coombe. “I don’t know if Yanif is doing anything, but we will leave them. Come and take a coffee with me.”
Yanif sat with Tabitha for almost two hours. The others came by from time to time, but Tabitha kept sleeping. Yanif seemed to be in the same place each visit, a living statue sitting holding her han
d.
Around midday she stirred, eyelids fluttering and she looked at Yanif. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Yanif. A friend,” said Yanif.
She turned her head. “Why are you here?”
“To help you feel better,” answered Yanif.
“Are you a priest? Or a witch doctor? I saw a witch doctor. He made me eat toad meat. He said I would get better. Would I get better if I ate toad meat?” asked Tabitha.
“No, not toads” replied Yanif, “Tabitha Coombe, close your eyes. Think of a time when your were happy and let that feeling of joy touch you. If you ask, God will help you.” He squeezed her hand.
The girl closed her eyes and thought. She started smiling and opened her eyes again. “I remembered running through the garden with a hose pipe.” She laughed. “My dad was all wet.”
Yanif reached into his pocket and took out six shiny pebblestones in different colours.
“Each stone has a secret,” said Yanif. He licked his finger and wetted each stone in turn so each gleamed like a jewel.
He offered the stones to Tabitha and she picked out a rose pink pebble and a second in blue grey, still warm from where Yanif had been holding them. She studied the stones observing the flecks of colour and obtuse shapes.
“Hold them and close your eyes and let them connect you with your dreams,” said Yanif.
Tabitha rubbed the pebbles in her palms feeling their smoothness and weight.
“The pink one is a princess in an English garden surrounded by flowers,” she said. “There is cake with pink icing to eat and dressing up and eating apples with Grandma. It’s going home.”
Tabitha opened her eyes and grinned.
“And the blue one?” asked Yanif.
“The blue one is deep water waiting for someone to dive in and discover it’s treasure.”
Tabitha laid back, her bare arms on the bed sheet and Yanif balanced the stones along her forearms. She shut her eyes again trying to sense the stones, holding still so they would not fall.
“Shhh,” said Yanif.
Tabitha lay without moving and slowly fell back asleep.
After an hour Tabitha awoke and Mr Coombe appeared at the door. “Hello Kariboosh. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Tabitha replied to her father. “Much better. I like Yanif. He makes me feel good.”
Mr Coombe rubbed Tabitha on the cheek and kissed her lightly on her head.
He turned to Riaz who had put his head around the door. “It seems Yanif has had an effect,” he whispered, “but whether it's because Tabitha slept, or because he’s done something I don't know.”
They left Tabitha and walked outside among the gardens.
“She seems to have made an improvement,” said Mr Coombe. “At least for a little while. I’d appreciate it if Yanif could come back and then maybe it will be a little clearer.”
Riaz smiled. “Of course. He is here to help.”
“And Mr Eden said that you were looking for donations,” said Mr Coombe. “How be if I give you twenty thousand shillings now? If you come back in a week and the improvement lasts, I'll raise it to a fifty thousand in total for the two visits. Does that seem fair?”
Tremus grinned at Riaz.
“Perfectly fair,” said Riaz.
Mr Coombe took some notes from his wallet. He paused looking at something inside and sighed.
“There is a sadness in you,” Yanif said to Mr Coombe. “More than for Tabitha.”
“Here’s not the place,” said Mr Coombe. “A different day maybe.” He handed the bills to Riaz. “What else do you do?” he asked changing the subject.
“Oh, we go out to the villages,” said Riaz. “That's where we were last night. Yanif wants to help, and local people are more spiritual and appreciate his healing.”
Tremus raised his eyebrows at Riaz.
“Are you out among the villages often?”
“We do something every two or three weeks, spreading the word.”
“Then I’d like to come and see Yanif at work with other people. Which village is next?” asked Mr Coombe.
Riaz bit his lip then smiled. “We are just making negotiations. Let me call you this week.”
32. The meeting with the chaplain
Dr Hill sat at the back of the college chapel in the half light. The last of the choral voices echoed off the stone walls and stained glass windows as evensong came to an end. As the small collection of students, worshippers and tourists followed the red-surpliced choristers out to the courtyard, Nicholas sidled up to where Dr Hill was sitting.
“A surprise to see you in chapel,” said the chaplain.
“I’d forgotten how pure the voices could be,” said Dr Hill dreamily as if the music was still floating through the chapel.
“One of the delights of being chaplain. How are you? You’ve had a lot of shocks recently.”
“Bearing up,” said Dr Hill, coming to.
“Have the police found out anything more?”
Dr Hill shook his head. “Bits on the Internet that’s all. A couple of others have had notes pushed through their letterboxes. But you wanted to talk about this vigil you have planned?”
“Well, there’s good news so far. We have commitments from the Catholic community, the Jewish society and the Muslim society. The general feeling is that as a community we have to stand up to this Hands of God group. So now we just need to arrange an appropriate date with you.”
“Look Nicholas, if I’m honest, the whole event has left me feeling quite tender, and I'm not really happy with this multi-faith vigil thing,” said Dr Hill. “I know you mean well, but, well, I can’t do with all this God stuff.” Dr Hill waved his hand to refer to the interior of the chapel.
“I can understand your anxieties. But this is all of us coming together to help each other, and to help you. From time to time people of different faiths have to work together for the greater good. Sometimes we even have to work with atheists.”
“Nicholas. It’s just that,” Dr Hill stopped to consider his words. “If I stand there with you and the other religious leaders I feel that gives credence to religion. I’m sorry, but to me this God stuff is like believing in fairies. It’s nothing more than a warm comfort blanket that some people wrap themselves up in to protect them from the real world.”
“James, James, James. Let me try and help you by following that analogy through. If religion were just a comfort blanket, and I don’t believe it is, but if it were, and you were a child who relied on that comforter to keep them safe, how would that child feel and react if some bully tries to snatch the blanket away and tell them they can’t have it any more?” The chaplain paused to let the thought sink in. “That's what it feels like when you launch your little tirades against religion.”
“But a comfort blanket won’t do anything to save them when they collide with reality,” said Dr Hill. “Remember Johannes. It’s like the emperor’s new clothes. Someone has to stand up and point out there is nothing there.”
“James, you’re being difficult. I hoped we could deal with this in a civilised way. Sometimes we all need a little help. You know James, a colleague of mine saw you in the church in Grantchester the other day.”
Dr Hill looked perplexed.
“You shouldn’t be worried. We all seek comfort in our own way.”
“It’s not what you think. It was raining and I needed a shelter. And I don’t know what it has to do with anything.”
“Help. Support. There’s more to faith than God.” Nicholas rubbed his hand along the pew. “What would it take for someone like you to believe James?”
“I’d need evidence. Strong evidence.” Dr Hill banged his fist against the roof column next to him. “If God is that important there should be a lot of very strong evidence for him.”
“So I give you evidence that God exists through my personal experience. I have felt God’s presence, heard his voice in my mind and it was such a strong feeling that there can be no doubt that G
od exists.”
“Then I’d say you were mistaken. It’s just a feeling. It’s not real evidence.”
“What allows you to dismiss my evidence because it doesn’t match with your beliefs? Here I am, living walking, talking evidence that God exists and you ignore it. Somewhat hypocritical I'd say. Isn’t sauce for the goose also sauce for the gander?”
“Nicholas, I can see that you believe very strongly in what you say. But there is more to evidence than feelings. As a physicist, I can tell you that leptons and fermions exist. I have never seen them, but I have seen the traces that they make and the energy discrepancies that they give rise to. I know they exist. But if I was in your place, I would find myself questioning this certainty. Isn’t it just something physicists have made up through their mathematics and formulae? Well the answer is no. I can describe a number of experiments that you could do where you would get results that can only be explained by the presence of those particles. That’s real evidence.”
“How can you not accept the physical reality of God is all around us? It’s in the trees and the flowers and the bees. It’s in all the wonders of nature.”
“But every time we break these things down to look for God, the closer we look we find that God isn’t there. There are no hiding places Nicholas. We don’t need God to explain nature any more.”
“And every time you take something apart you lose sight of what you are looking for.” Nicholas tapped the back of the pew with his finger. “It’s like if you scientists were studying St Paul’s Cathedral, all you’d see is the stone and the mortar. You might marvel at the mathematics of the dome, but you would completely miss the meaning and significance given to the building by the imagination of Christopher Wren and the people who built it. To understand the world you have to try to understand the mind of the maker, the great architect who put all this here, but you miss it. To you, we just seem to be random dots of energy floating aimlessly in space.”
Dr Hill shook his head. “You still don’t get it. It’s about real evidence, not made up feelings. I knew I couldn’t explain.”