Chapter 15: Chapter 15

‘It’s true what we say, that a child will someday wear the same loincloth his father had worn,’ Reverend Grace, said.

‘Of course, it’s true. It’s why we also say that when one looks at a king’s mouth, one would think he never sucked at his mother’s breasts,’ Reverend Joy, replied. Reverend Grace and Reverend Joy were talking about Moses’s sudden growth and masculinity. Last week, he had returned from school looking as tall as a palm tree and fresh like a blooming waterleaf in the rainy season. The shape of his face was strong and manly, with sparse moustache and goatee. His body looked hale and fleshy. And whenever he talked, his voice was guttural like the angry bark of thunder in the rainy season. Reverend Grace was amazed by his sudden machismo. If Moses was not her son, she would have thought he had a wife at home. How did Moses grow this big? When did his voice break in this manner? Moses was a month away from turning eighteen. Reverend Grace had continued to pray, and watch him with the same hope that he would one day think of becoming a priest. It was what she dreamed of him to become. However, she had always maintained that she would never push him into it. It was entirely his choice to make.

Moses had a strong penchant for flowers. He was an anthophile. The convent was planted with several species of flowers. Moses loved their scent and juice. The African daisy and the ixora flowers, some distance away from his room were his favorites. Sometimes he went over there to spend hours, plucking the flowers and sucking the juice. And lately, Martha had been spending some quiet time at the orchard. At first, Moses did not know her, but he had seen her a few times with Reverend Grace and the other nuns. Martha was particularly different from the other nuns. She was younger, slender and strikingly beautiful.

That evening when Moses left his room to go to the orchard, he was whistling a hymn. When he got to the orchard, Martha was there. She was sitting on the bench with her arms folded across her breasts. She was sobbing. Moses watched her from a distance. Martha was an enigma. She was the youngest and the most beautiful nun at the convent, yet she looked like the saddest. Moses went closer and stood beside her. Martha was unaware of his presence. He remained there, watching her as tears seeped from her eyes. His eyes travelled to the long and gleaming strands of her hair, and down to the thick lines, drawn on her back, from what seemed like a violent whipping. Moses heart melted, giving way to a strange numbing rush of pity. He touched Martha’s shoulder and she shuddered at his presence. Martha rose sharply from the chair and made to leave. Moses stared into her face. Martha’s eyes were filled with sadness. Her face was pale as milk. Yet, Moses was certain he had never seen a more beautiful nun.

‘I am sorry, I frightened you,’ he said to her, breaking the silence. Martha wiped the tears in her eyes quickly, with the back of her fist. She was abashed by Moses’s presence and sympathy. She stared into his face and jogged her memory. She was certain she had seen him before with Reverend Grace, but that was all about him. There was a strange glint of compassion in Moses’s eyes and a certain lilt in his voice.

‘I am sorry if I bothered you. I should not be doing this here,’ Martha said, looking away from Moses.

‘You don’t have to say that. Everyone cries when the occasion allows it,’ Moses replied. ‘I am Moses.’

‘I am Martha,’ Martha replied, in muzzy voice. ‘I am a nun here, yet to take her final vows.’ Moses nodded his head like a man that had uncovered a secret. Of course he had. Martha had not taken her final vows and she was still new in the convent. It was why her face was different from the other nuns at the convent.

‘Forgive my asking,’ Moses said, ‘why were you crying, and what are those lines on your back?’ Moses’s questions unsettled Martha. She shifted clumsily on the bench and stared at Moses. He was the first to see the stripes on her back. The stripes were self-inflicted. She had committed another sin. The usual one she always did. She had masturbated. The stripes were as a result of her flagellation. She had whipped herself violently to show her remorse and to deaden her fleshly craves. Still it had not helped. The whipping had caused her unbearable pain. She was a human being, and it was normal for her to feel horny. She couldn’t explain why her sexual craves of late have been so ferocious. The immoral and boring life she was living was not what she dreamed of. She had dreamed of a life of bliss and fantasy, filled with laughter. Now she was tired of her sad and sordid life. The constant thought of home and the badgering of the flesh always made her lonesome and sorrowful.

‘I fell down and hurt myself,’ Martha lied, avoiding Moses’s stare. Moses smiled kindly at her, slightly abashed by her barefaced lie.

‘I am sorry, if I stirred your emotions,’ he said, ‘I was only bothered about you. I am Reverend Grace’s son.’ Martha was surprised. How could that be? Did Moses say he was Reverend Grace’s son? Nuns were not allowed to marry and bear children. They live a celibate life. So how could Reverend Grace have borne a son? Or was it possible after all?

‘You mean you’re the abbess’s son?’ Martha asked. Moses revelation sparked a new life in her.

‘At least, that is what I am allowed to think. You see, all my life I do not know another mother. But I’ve always wondered how I came to become the son of a nun. Where is my father? My mother never talks about him. She always avoids the question. You do not know how it feels not to know the truth about yourself. Sometimes I feel very sad about it,’ Moses said in a soft voice. Martha’s heart softened for him. Moses’s words were touching.

‘Most times it’s good not to know the truth. Truth hurts and ignorance is bliss,’ Martha replied. She had learned that from her own life that somethings were better left unsaid and unquestioned. ‘I am sorry you feel that way,’ she whispered, touching Moses’s hand. They were not far apart. They were cut from the same cloth, and their stories were weaved together. They shared a fellow feeling. Martha had come to the convent, not of her own accord, but as a sacrifice for her family to have an heir, a male-child which her father thinks is more important than her. It was her destiny to be the sacrificial lamb.

‘I am not different from you. I am here not because I really want to. I am a sacrifice for my parent’s need. If I do not come here, my mother will not bear another child. I still miss home and the world out there. I miss my adolescence and what I should have become.’ Martha’s voice was sad. Moses was blanched by her words. He watched her as tears streamed on her face. Martha was enchained by her own sorrow.

‘I am so sorry you were treated that way. You’re very young and in the flower of your life,’ Moses said, ‘but what you’re saying is strange. Are you an oblate then?’ Their eyes locked in a deep stare. They were like woods touched by fire, and not hard to set ablaze. A leaf from the tree floated in the air in a wave-like fashion and Moses watched it as it perched on Martha’s hair. He reached out and flicked it away.

‘The reason for my mother’s inability to bear another child after my sister’s birth is strange to everyone. The fact that I am here for what is strange to everyone is what makes it more painful. I’m not a male-child, and my father doesn’t think that what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. It’s my fate and I’ve accepted it,’ Martha said.

‘I see you’re very close to my mother. I see how she treats you,’ Moses said after a brief silence.

‘Yes. Reverend Grace is a good mother. You should be happy to have her and to call her your mother,’ Martha replied in an undertone. Moses placed his hand on Martha’s shoulder and Martha came closer to him. He clasped her in his arms, and they remained so for what seemed like an endless time. The clasp of their bodies was brief, and it seemed like nothing. Yet there was more to it. Warm and deep feelings coursed through their bodies and souls. And suddenly, there was love in their eyes and hearts which in the end would come to mark a watershed at the convent.

The bell chimed, cutting through the air. And it was time for evening prayers.

‘I must go now,’ Martha said gently, as she broke from Moses’s embrace. She bade him goodbye and turned to leave. Everything had happened fast and Martha was still struggling to breathe. She was feeling giddy. She had not embraced a man before, it was her first time and it felt really warm. She looked up in the sky, and was surprised when she took a few steps away from Moses and then returned to him.

‘Promise me you’ll see me again and that you’ll always be with me. I am so lonely here.’ Moses caressed her back and ran his hand on her curly hair.

‘I promise to always be here for you.’ His promise warmed Martha’s heart and her face broke with a smile. She left him and began to trot to the Chapel. When she reached the chapel prayers have started. Reverend Grace’s soft voice was floating in the evening air. Martha entered the chapel and knelt on the pew. The nuns’ eyes were closed except for Reverend Joy who saw her when she snucked in. She stared at Martha and she stared back at her. The nuns were reciting the Fatima Prayer; she joined them to recite it with a half heart.