One Love, Many Tears

by Gertrude U. Uzoh

  But, rather bemused, Christy would not believe all that. When the sisters realized that Christy would not be swayed, they still will not give up on her. Instead, they always assure her that “our lady” will soon visit her for conversion. They continue praying for her anyway, the reviling contempt in their undertone quite evident!

  Christy can feel the tinge of that discrimination, and she is befuddled at the sisters’ either mindless or careful effort to make her feel guilty for not being a Catholic—or even worse, to make her feel stupid for not wanting to become one.

  However, such opinion and attitude of the sisters is one type that Father Phoebus always finds culpable. Not that the dogmas are wrong in themselves, but the attitude with which some of the sisters preach them to avidly imply that they are better off than Christy, and more suitable for “heaven” because they are Catholics, displeases Phoebus, because he knows such opinions are untrue and ill informed. Father Phoebus does not like that and will not entertain or encourage such as thwarted as they are. He considers it fallacious and fanatical, even though he needs to tread carefully while correcting such extreme opinions, to avoid rubbing the value off of the dogmas, which are still vital.

  Besides, he understands the rather not-so-enlightened sentiments of the people that often make them rather deplorable, in his opinion, around various other sensitive topics. He encounters these people every day and has been able to draw up some hypothesis about them.

  Over his years in Nigeria, Phoebus as a person has generally adjusted and adapted most of his Irish-French informed experiences and exposure to suit that of his Nigerian counterparts, and not just directly for his parishioners. This requires him to often be subtle but still firm when correcting the myriads of misplaced—or rather, not-so-balanced—opinion around various sensitive topics. Topics usually range from prudery and chastity, sexuality and geniality with opposite sex, and celibacy and marriage; to even less sensitive ones like fasting and prayers, use of alcohol and medications; and to the very small ones as minute as whether women should wear trousers to church, even though they could wear them at home or elsewhere, or whether a man is not justified to beat his wife into submission! Mostly people are questioning which one behavior or opinion is sin or not, right or wrong.

  In Father Phoebus’s opinion, the people seem so confused about almost everything, which he observes could be as a result of their relapsing tendency to focus more on the outward rather than the inward, on the literal dogmas and doctrines rather than the spiritual interpretation of them, on mere physical contact and effigies rather than the real soul relationships humans should have with one another.

  Phoebus realized this long time ago when he first came to Nigeria, and it is even more obvious now after all his years here, that the people seem to believe less in themselves. Thus they endlessly yearn for some “superior” directive in almost every aspect of their lives. He does not feel it is psycho-emotionally balanced, and this is why he will hardly indulge anybody with a seeming inferiority; neither will he allow himself to be fooled by it, either!

  But despite this, he loves the people in his care, notwithstanding the way they are, which is actually his duty as a human that he is, and even more so as an ordained priest. As much as he can, he encourages everyone, whatever faith or orientation they may have, to pursue what he interprets as a more balanced path. That is why he won’t take it lightly any time he notices any taint of inferiority complex or any kind of intimidation in a person or their relationship with others.

  When the sisters persist in their opinion over Christy, and it finally comes to his attention, Phoebus therefore calls them to order as carefully as he can. Eventually, in order to enforce practicality into his intervention—which the sisters and some of the other priests seem rather determined not to allow—he has to take a more extreme measure of moving Christy to the fathers’ house, giving her a room at the extreme part of the one-storey block, though as far away as possible from his and other priests’ apartments.

  Moving Christy that far off, though on the same block of house, is a very simple act that probably means nothing. But Father Phoebus does that on purpose, to allay hushed suspicions that would surely arise about his sexual abstinence and celibacy as a priest. That would have surely been the case, if Christy, a woman—especially a woman he is trying to protect from faith abuse—is not visibly separated from him, even if it means to a point of seclusion. That is what will satisfy the people, so he keeps her visibly away and off their backs.

  He knows the people this much and wants to be careful, so that the people will not be restlessly confused. Some insecurity it is, one might say, but he helplessly still bows to it; he wouldn’t want to displace his good intentions or opinions with the possibility of misguided opinion about himself.

  And pity enough, if not as painful in his heart, Phoebus is sorry to note that many a number of his fellow priests, despite their extensive years of “formation and refined training”, are not truly in the duty of making wholesome understanding of self and faith accessible to all. They rather unfortunately seem to prefer shilly-shallies with half-enlightened or ignorant people, just for the easy gratification of their own personal comfort in the doctrinal way of maintaining or insuring uninformed submission; hence the unquestioning obedience to their over-exalted control. They seem to prefer to rule over dummies who won’t question the appropriateness or necessity of some questionable standards. Some of his counterparts would rather stick to double standards and hypocritical lifestyle, as ugly as it sounds, than live up to the honest expectation of the priesthood. A barefaced shame it is that usually keeps the status of their priesthood at a level of easy political liberty, wanton economic empowerment, and unchecked freedom. “What a decadence of moral authority!” Phoebus always laments about his holy church.

  But unfortunately as a result of the retained confusion inherent, such people who are not duly enlightened continue to wallow in ignorance and unexpressed intellectual authority. This is because, in a bid to condone their psycho-intellectual and even emotional immaturity in order to avoid stirring up the still water, they are rather left desolate as they continue to live in intellectual and mental poverty.

  That religion is very sacred to man, and the Catholic faith is very dear to all involved; Phoebus knows as much. He also knows that most extremisms are mere offspring of short-circuited development of potential skills and mental power. Extremism often stems from some short-sighted exegeses, which are displayed quite outlandishly in myriads of the religious stupor he observes among the people. Often nurtured by inherent fear and poor mental orientation, he mourns pitiably, as indicative as it seems, that the people on a large scale prefer to be blindfolded and led by some structured even though error-filled authority, instead of trusting themselves enough to stretch out and be whole.

  Such is Phoebus’s perception, and it often can’t help but rear its head one way or the other in most of his activities or relationships—and of course, in many of his sermons at the pulpit. But as much as he may not be able to correct every error he observes, he only wishes that the people might believe in themselves enough to effectually realize that God loves, cherishes, and regards them too, just as much as other people they readily look up to and exalt, and acceding their own powers to in mental surrender. He wishes that people everywhere would live up to their full potentials, as well as understand that love, obedience, and humility may never mean codependence, little or no sense of self, or blind following. What a balance of mind it requires to maintain such a critical and high level of existence, and what a pity he feels that majority are living far below the cadre. For him, the higher the cadre, the closer one is to God.

  What an oxymoron that it is! It sounds and seems almost against what Christianity — or rather, Catholicism — should stand for. “But may God bless whomever he pleases to reveal to, the deep understanding of the thin line between real virtues and ruling virtues,” Father
Phoebus always says.

  So finally, at Phoebus’s perceptive intervention, Christy is now spared the consuming vice of feeling sentenced to hell for a sin she knows not of. She is now left with her own worries about her beloved children. She constantly prays for them every day. The sisters are left at the mercy of any grace that might enable them to either advance their attitude and opinion or continue to remain disillusioned and perverted.

  Although Christy gladly participates in most of their activities at the parish house, these activities are expectedly still imbued graciously, with one form of Catholic prayer, piety, or another. And she is okay with them, accepting them all happily and quite gratefully, too, because these people she lives with are mostly good people with demonstrated kindness. She is relieved enough to really relax here, knowing that they are not after her life and are not going to kill her. Above all, they give her shelter and food while she is still helpless and stranded. She feels very safe here, away from the village and her real enemies.

  Eventually and all through her time here now, she joins the workers to sweep and clean the church. This is also supposed to be another form of piety, perhaps—a Christian service that goes without pay. But Phoebus pays Christy some allowance for her works. It is little indeed, almost just a token of assistance or acceptance by the man who feels obliged as a human, and of course as a priest, to help. He thoughtfully anticipates Christy’s other needs that might need money, and hence he pays her as little a token as it is, the way he pays his other hired workers. Though it is little, Christy is very happy and grateful in receiving it.

  She lives here, and the years wear on.

  Seventeen

  When a happy moment comes into someone’s life, especially when it is a sudden satisfaction to a long-awaited wish or hope, usually it makes one feel light. The new wave of joy washes away the dirt of old pains, leaving the heart clean, bare, and quite susceptible to a rush of various emotions—hence the commonly acclaimed “tears of joy.”

  When the heart is touched by love, and in that delicate place where perhaps it has never been touched before, usually the most private place of the heart that is kept away securely from the careless reach of people who might hurt it, the body, soul, and mind can become so weak simultaneously and almost helpless, as they melt and dance unstoppably to the tune of the love that awakened them.

  When someone that has been toughened up by harsh experiences suddenly meets a love that is able to penetrate through his emotional walls and touches that sensitive part—the very sacred island of the heart—the person usually gives up everything to follow that love.

  One prays, therefore, that such a touch be made only by a genuine love, because whoever is touched that way usually falls for the touch, head over heels.

  This is what happened with Cynthia when she gets to know Edmond personally. And luckily for her, Edmond’s love is real. But it takes her time to realize and believe it.

  The years have helped her to heal from her painful past, but a part of her is still kept hidden and out of reach. But it does not take Edmond too long to figure that out. It is almost difficult, after the ups and downs of her life, for Cynthia to trust anybody else except Paul, his wife, and their family back home in Nigeria. Dr. Edmond defeats her fears, reaching down through her very soul to bring out a love she never knew she had or could give to someone.

  To start with, Edmond is a man that passed through the huddles of life himself, and he knows from personal experience what it is to build walls around oneself. He himself has never truly given his heart to a woman before. But Cynthia is one person that affects him beyond comprehension, and against his usual personal restraints.

  But even at that, still she seems not to know she is affecting Edmond so. Edmond also does not seem to know that Cynthia is so affected by his very person already, even from the very first time they met. It is such a confusion of their minds at the moment of Love’s breakout. Cynthia does not also know that she is already affected by him, despite all her carefulness. Like a mystery, it is something beyond their control or understanding; they never knew their feelings for each other were mutual, and mutually restrained, too, until one particular Sunday.

  Cynthia on her part, and rather very shyly, always avoids his smashing eyes. She feels rather unnaturally restless inside herself any time he pays her a visit. Especially in those early days of their acquaintance, his presence always seems to unsettle her. Edmond for his own part is rather reserved, and he postpones telling her his feelings when they meet, because whenever he tries to, he is usually distracted by one thought or another. With thoughts of wariness and uncertainties, his heart usually misses a beat at that, because he doesn’t want to say something wrong and lose her granted friendship! They are both adults for love’s sake, and they hardly behave this way around other people. But such strange love for another person sometimes makes one weak, demure, and even as helpless as a child.

  But at last, this particular day, Cynthia breaks the ice.

  “So, why do you keep coming when I have never reciprocated your visits, even once? And you don’t always seem quick to leave when you are here.” She asks the question casually, comporting herself to be as relaxed as possible in her home.

  They have been discussing the various reasons people often keep their true motivations away from their actions, as a way of creating suspense and eventually getting what they really want in the end. The conversation stems from Paul’s recent experience in Nigeria—a supplier did not inform him of a change in price of the new surgical equipment supplied to the hospital. In appreciation of the very long-standing business relationship, and quite grateful too that the equipments was the best of their kind and delivered promptly, Paul had been very happy. The need was very expedient, and they had commenced the use of the equipment at once without price evaluation.

  It was only a week later when the dealer came for his check that he informed Paul there was a change in price. No problem with that! Paul thought. It could only be a slight change. However, Paul was disappointed—it later turned out to be a big change that would strike a large amount of naira off their budget.

  But that cannot just be a mistake on the side of the dealer? Paul thought. The inflation was big enough to not have escaped his mind to inform Paul. Or perhaps he just took it for granted that the hospital would pay him any amount of bill. Paul felt so double-crossed and unhappy about that, but because of the trusted business relationships of the past, coupled with the fact that the equipment was already being used, they had no option but to pay for them.

  Cynthia called home last evening on their weekly chitchat calls, and Paul told her. Somehow the story drifts into her discussions with Edmond this afternoon. And before long, discussion turns to questions as they try to understand what would motivate someone not to show true intentions behind their actions.

  Sitting casually and opposite each other in her cozy living room, a soft and slow music coming from her player, they theorize on various possibilities for the reasons of such behavior. The ambience of the beautiful room is very relaxed and inviting in its soft collection of glamour. They make various remarks as they share their opinions, and it suddenly turns to personal questions. Now Edmond is the one being asked.

  Edmond can see the sharp turn in their discussion, and he likes it. But being a reserved person, most of the time he speaks less and thinks more. Now he merely says in reply to Cynthia’s question that he visits here simply because he likes her company.

  “Does it mean you do not like the company of other people? The frequency of your visits is making me wonder why you always come. And you are usually so quiet most of the time, which unsettles me somehow, to be frank with you,” she confesses in her characteristic way, making it seem less like a complaint.

  But for Edmond, this is just an invitation to speak further, and possibly get to a point. “Oh! I never realized,” he says simply, not knowing w
hat else to say about her observations, except to follow it up with a small, questioning smile.

  “Really? How can you not know about yourself?” she interrogates further, rather surprised. She is almost amused, but she is also almost telling him off without knowing it.

  He has admired her from the start of their acquaintance, but he was not sure of it. Having seen her closely and knowing her these past months, however, he really likes what he can see about her. Though a few months might not be enough to really tell, he still reminds himself. But he feels so familiar with her already, as if they have known each other for ages, and he can’t help it, not when he is also aware of this unprecedented, enthralling feeling he has for her. He is both overwhelmed and thrilled by this strange effect she has on him.

  She seems to be the woman of his dreams, and he appreciates her a lot. He definitely does not want to escape the alluring effect of her striking beauty, yet Edmond knows that what he desires, what he feels, and what he can see are far beyond just this beauty. Her simple spirit and deeper soul seem to be the greater charm for him. He is just beyond himself, unreservedly this time, enchanted by this ravishing goddess. Yet does he not know himself or what he wants?

  After going through his thoughts for a brief time, Edmond now fears that he has been misconstrued. He should better have this as an opportunity to make himself clearer. He should just make his undeniable and mounting intentions known. Instinctively, he lowers his glass of champagne to the table nearest to him.

  “Not really. It’s just that… well, um, I have been trying to tell you something that I am not quite sure how you might receive it,” he says carefully, unsure what her reaction will be. He does not want to be disappointed!

  “What is it that you want to say and can’t be sure of?” she asks eagerly but still casually. She daintily picks up her own glass now to savor the delicate sweetness of its contents once more.