Читать книгу One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana - William Bond - Страница 8

Chapter 2

The evening meal was as delicious as Christine had expected it to be, and even the fried bananas weren’t so bad. Mother had always said that if one was hungry enough, almost anything would taste good. During the meal, they had talked about the activities of the day, and although Mother had kept busy and had even helped to deliver a baby who was being named Josiah, Christine acknowledged that her day had been pretty uneventful except for the fact that Joao had killed a snake that afternoon near the poultry pen. This disclosure caused Mother to recall that Ms. Ferguson had awakened, one recent morning, to find a snake curled up on her kitchen floor! She had managed to get the creature out of her kitchen without much trouble, but the incident had served as a reminder that snakes did inhabit that area, and they were apt to be found almost anywhere. Mother used the incident to remind Christine that she should always look on the floor before stepping out of bed, and extra caution is needed to be exercised whenever a trip was made to the outhouse. Christine knew, of course, that while one watched the ground for cobras and mambas, one also needed to exercise caution when walking under trees because the deadly boomslang vipers attacked their unsuspecting victims by dropping on them from the lower branches of trees. This discussion concluded with the acknowledgment that they both hated snakes and always needed to be on the watch for them.

Christine also mentioned that she had spent some of the afternoon looking through two photo albums, and for a time, they reminisced over some trips they had taken together.

Christine had not decided if she would mention anything about Jim Pearson to her mother, but she did ask if she could take a couple of pictures with her when she returned to school, and she was happy that her mother voiced no objections.

When they had completed the main course of their dinner, Joao came in and cleared away some of the dishes. A few moments later, he brought them each a piece of the banana cream pie that Mother had made on the previous day. She had actually made two such pies, and she told Joao that he could take the other pie home to enjoy with his family. This disclosure made Joao very pleased.

“Ah, Mamana.” He beamed. “My family will like it very much. Nkomo. Nkomo xi neni gofu!” he said, expressing his sincere thanks.

“You may also have tomorrow off,” she said. “You need to spend some time with your family.”

This also pleased him, and he thanked her again before he returned to the kitchen.

The pie was delicious, and Christine could have enjoyed a second piece, but she decided to save it for another occasion. When they had finished, they carried their plates into the kitchen where Joao was already washing the dishes. They had been hearing thunder in the distance, and Joao seemed appreciative when Mother told him that they would finish cleaning up so that he could hurry home before the storm arrived.

She put a pie inside a paper sack and handed it to Joao. “Sa laquatsi,” she said, meaning “Stay well.”

“Nkomo xi neni gofu,” he said, smiling. Then bidding them both goodbye, he said, “Sa lani.” They finished the chores in the kitchen, and then, Mother began her nightly ritual by going through the house with a flyswatter to eliminate any flies and mosquitoes, for such things are pests. Mosquitoes are carriers of malaria, and they are, therefore, potentially dangerous to one’s health. Despite having mosquito netting around their beds and killing mosquitoes whenever she could, Mother had suffered with malarial fever on many occasions. Once malaria was in one’s system, severe chills and a fever could reoccur at any time. It was with you forever—or “ku nga heliki,” as the Shangaans would say.

After completing her routine evening activity, she found a couple of lanterns and lit them as it would soon be dark. Christine took one of the lanterns into the living room and set it on the piano. But before she could sit down, Mother called from the kitchen.

“Have you taken your quinine yet?” she asked, with motherly concern.

Christine replied that she had not, so she returned to take the bitter medicine. Although she disliked the medicine, she knew that quinine helped to prevent malaria, and she realized that Mother was only reminding her to take the medicine because she wanted to spare her from getting the dreadful disease.

After each of them had made a necessary trip to the outhouse and had washed up a bit, they dressed for bed, although neither of them intended to go to bed immediately. Mother had gone to her office where she planned to do some work, and Christine had intended to play the piano, but a certain curiosity first drew her toward the front door where she noticed that the wind had increased. The rumble of thunder could be heard, now and then, and the lightning did not seem so far away. She then moved to the piano and was playing “Silent Night” when a very loud clap of thunder above the house startled her and she let out a cry of surprise.

“Are you all right?” Mother called from her office.

“Yes,” Christine replied, with some embarrassment. “The thunder startled me, that’s all. The lightning must have been awfully close.”

Realizing that she could not work effectively now that the storm had arrived, Mother returned to the living room and then set her lantern on the table which stood immediately behind the sofa. Another sharp crack of thunder sounded above the house, signifying that the lightning was striking in the immediate vicinity. Although the windows had been closed, the front door had remained open, and they could feel the wind as it came through the screen door.

For a few minutes, they stood together by the door looking out into the night. The booming thunder seemed awfully close, and the nearby area was intermittently lit up by the lightning. In addition to the claps of thunder, one could hear a torrent of rain hitting the roof. Soon, water was pouring over the eaves, and its movement could be heard as it rushed through the downspouts toward the rain barrels or the underground cistern. When lightning illuminated the area, it appeared that the house was now standing in a vast pond of water, but experience had shown that even a lot of rain would sink into the ground within a very short period of time.

“For a while this evening, I wondered if we might be getting a really bad storm,” Mother said, as she closed the front door, “but I guess we’re just being treated to a summer thunderstorm.”

Then, for a few minutes, they stood near the front window in the dining area. The rain was still coming down in earnest, but the claps of thunder already seemed to be moving into the distance—suggesting that the storm would not be with them for much longer. Mother acknowledged that she was now too tired to continue working in her office, so she suggested that they have their prayers and then turn in for the night. They soon knelt at the sofa, and Mother said a prayer. When she had finished, they stood up, kissed each other, and said, “Good night.” Then, they each picked up a lantern and went into their own room.

After Christine had entered her room, she set the lantern on her dresser, and then, she stood near the window for a few minutes to watch the storm. It was still raining, but the lightning and thunder had moved quickly into the distance. She was relieved and grateful that it had not been a destructive storm. However, bad storms did pass through the area, from time to time, and some of Mother’s letters had described some of the damages that had occurred in the vicinity. She had said how grateful they were that the mission station had been spared much damage, but trees and crops had suffered—and several buildings in Manjacaze had been damaged. Even recently, she had seen that some of the damage in Manjacaze had not yet been repaired. Fortunately, this thunderstorm had probably not done much damage. Many people would be glad about that.

She moved to the dresser and extinguished her lantern before lifting the mosquito netting and getting into bed. The rain had become gentler, and the sound of it falling on the roof was actually rather pleasant. She now felt relaxed and suspected that she would have no trouble falling asleep.

On the following morning, Christine had followed her mother’s advice and glanced around to see if there were any snakes before she put her feet on the floor. Moments later, she looked out the window and saw that it was a beautiful morning. The palms, the cashew trees, and all other forms of vegetation seemed refreshed, and although the ground appeared to be damp, there was no standing water to give evidence that a storm had passed through the area on the previous evening. The atmosphere was as clear as could be, but one knew from experience that, within a few hours, it would again be uncomfortably hot and humid.

While still in her nightgown, Christine went to the kitchen to prepare herself a simple breakfast. Mother had left a note saying that she had gone to the health-care facility, but since she had given Joao the day off, she would come home around noon to fix something to eat.

She indicated that, after lunch, she might work in her office—or return to help Ms. Ferguson, depending on how things were going on down there.

After breakfast, Christine went outside to bring in the washtub, and she also brought in two pails of cistern water which Joao had filled on the previous day. She emptied one pail into a large container which she could heat on the stove. She then poured half the water from the second pail into the washtub, and when the water on the stove was quite warm, she poured half of it into the washtub and the rest was put into the pail that she would use as rinse water. Although she knew that Joao was not expected, she locked the front and back door before commencing her bath. She got the soap, washcloth, and towel and placed them near the tub. She had become used to a shower or a porcelain tub at school where bathing could be a pleasure. At home, however, bathing was a real chore! One did it when it was necessary, but one did it as quickly as possible.

She had tested the water and found the temperature to be satisfactory, so she eased into the tub and began the business of bathing. People in the cities often had much nicer facilities with hot and cold running water in the house, showers or bathtubs, and flush toilets! They also had electricity which provided electric lights, refrigeration, electric stoves, radios, and many other conveniences. However, such amenities were not yet available in many rural areas, so people like the missionaries at Tavani had to do without such things. They managed, of course, but this was not a lifestyle that Christine wanted in her future! She felt a bit guilty for her complaining attitude, for she easily recalled on other occasions, Mother had reminded her that the missionaries’ facilities were “much better that what the Shangaans have,” and there was no doubt about that!

Nevertheless, Christine had seen various magazines at school, and she recalled one particular photo of a bathroom that had gleaming white porcelain fixtures in an area that appeared to have walls and floors made of dark marble. In a mirrored alcove, there had been a sunken tub that seemed more like a sunken pool than a bathtub. Nearby, there had been luxuriant leafy plants and an ornate gilded cage containing some exotic birds, and on the dark marble floor there had been a lovely tiger’s skin which served as a rug. She had yet to see such a bathroom in person, but apparently, they existed, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in a home that had a bathroom like that.

The fanciest home that she had visited was in Johannesburg. She had accompanied Mother there on an occasion that involved church business. The home had a beautiful formal garden, and the furnishings in the house were the finest that she had ever seen. She recalled that the bathroom had white porcelain fixtures, and the lower part of the walls were covered with white tiles while the black-and-white-tiled floor had a pattern that resembled a checkerboard. She had no idea how expensive it would be to have such a nice home, but that wasn’t going to keep her from dreaming! As she used the warm water in a nearby pail to rinse herself, she found herself hoping that, one day, she could live in a home that was full of conveniences and luxuries.

After she had stepped out of the tub and dried off, she returned to her room and put on the clothes that she planned to wear for the day. She worked with her hair until it met her satisfaction, and then, she unlocked the front and back doors. She made a necessary trip to the outhouse, and after she had returned to the kitchen, she washed her hands and proceeded to tidy up. Before long, she had emptied the bathwater outside and returned the tub and the pails to the place where she had found them.

Having completed her morning routine, she proceeded into the front room. The Christmas tree failed to inspire her, for the tree’s decorations looked so dated, and the other decorations in the room looked more forlorn than festive. Christmas was tomorrow, but Christine still had no sense of expectation or excitement. To pass some time, she seated herself at the piano and played several of her favorite Christmas carols.

As she was playing, she recalled the Christmas which they had spent in Michigan back in 1916. She could remember that her grandparents’ Christmas tree had been beautifully decorated. She recalled that snow covered the ground there at that time of year, and it had even snowed on Christmas Eve. It was the only time that she had experienced snow at Christmas, but she remembered that she had liked it. Suddenly, she had an inspiration!

She hurried to a hall closet where certain things were kept, and she rummaged around until she found what she wanted. She then took these things into her room, closed her door, and began to work excitedly on a project that had just come to mind. It was hard to keep things from Mother, but she knew that her little project would only be a success if she managed to keep it a surprise.

Christine worked industriously for a couple of hours and then decided that she ought to put things away before Mother came home for lunch. She soon closed the door to her room, set the table for lunch, and was playing the piano when Mother arrived home just before noon. They greeted each other, and then, Christine joined her Mother in the kitchen.

“Is there something I can do to help?” she asked.

“Lunch will be easy,” Mother replied. “I’m going to use some leftover chicken from last night, and I’ll make us some mulligatawny soup. I’ll get a fire going, and lunch should be ready shortly.”

The soup was seasoned with Indian curry, and it was something that Christine had always enjoyed. They’d had it many times, over the years, and Christine had been told that it was one of her father’s favorite meals. The soup was believed to have originated in India, and because her father had liked it, mulligatawny soup had become a kind of tangible connection with her father and her Indian ancestry.

Within a few minutes, they sat down to enjoy their tasty soup and some leftover pie.

Mother indicated that she ought to spend a little more time at the health-care facility, so Christine said that she would do the dishes. She gave no indication, however, that she was glad that her mother would be gone for a few hours.

After Mother had departed to the health-care facility, Christine cleared the table, put the leftovers in the kerosene-generated refrigerator, and heated some water on the still-warm woodstove. After the water was sufficiently heated, she washed things in a dishpan, rinsed things in a different pan, and dried them with a towel before putting things away. She then poured the rinse water into the dishpan, opened the kitchen door, and tossed the used water out onto the ground. With her chores completed, she returned to her room where she worked at her project for a couple of hours.

Then, before Mother returned home, she put things away and was again playing the piano when her mother returned home in the late afternoon. Mother acknowledged that she didn’t feel like making a big meal, so for dinner, they had the rest of the mulligatawny soup and the last servings of the banana cream pie.

That evening, many people living in the area attended a Christmas Eve service which was held at the mission’s little church. The Bostwicks were not there, of course, but Ms. Ferguson and the Rankins were present and a good number of Shangaans showed up in their colorful attire. Mr. Rankin was in charge of the service, and both the Shangaan children and adults seemed fascinated as he used small painted figures from a nativity scene to explain the Christmas story.

From time to time, Christine had glanced at Sara and her mother who sat across the aisle and somewhat ahead of her. Both of them had smiled pleasantly at her when they had arrived at church, but such smiles could be deceptive. There seemed to be no indication of problems that simmered beneath the surface. It was rumored that Nell Rankin resented Clara Cartwright because Clara had better relations with the local people. Mother had a better command of the local languages, and because of her experience, she had more authority than any of the other missionaries at Tavani. Perhaps Sara’s unkind words and malicious teasing at school were based on jealousy of Christine, just as Nell may have been jealous of Mother.

As she looked at Sara, Christine could see that her one-time friend had certainly put on some weight. Her appearance also suffered because of the way that she had chosen to pull her blonde hair into a tight little bun at the back of her head. Was Sara trying to look more grown-up with her hair fixed that way? Christine felt that Sara’s frumpish hairstyle was very unbecoming. In truth, she felt Sara looked more like a spinster than a schoolgirl.

Had Sara picked up her attitude from her mother? No doubt, it was at home that Sara had heard that Christine’s father was half Indian. The rumors about Christine being a half-caste had to start somewhere, and no doubt they had started at home! Had Nell Rankin encouraged Sara to behave as she had? That was a real possibility. It was also possible that Sara was not happy with her own appearance, and belittling Christine had somehow made her feel better. The boys at school had not shown much interest in Sara, and in reality, Christine thought her own figure, hairstyle, and complexion were much better than Sara’s. It seemed likely that Sara was jealous of her old Tavani friend, and she had been trying to make herself feel better by making her old friend seem worse.

Later, Mother played the piano and led the singing of several carols that were, of course, sung in Shangaan. The local people really loved singing the Shangaan version of “Joy to the World,” and as they sang, Christine hoped that she and Mother didn’t have to walk back home with the Rankins. In the past, she and Sara had spent countless hours together during the holidays and throughout the weeks of their summer vacation, but Christine had no desire to spend time with her old friend. It was hard to forgive someone who had purposely criticized her appearance and said things that were intended to hurt her reputation. She wondered if she and Sara would ever be friends again. It didn’t seem likely. So much depended upon how things went after they had returned to school. Christine had liked to think that she was a forgiving person, but she had felt that Sara should offer some kind of apology, and she had offered no apologies at all. She felt that Sara needed to act like a friend and not an antagonist! For now, their relationship was strained, but perhaps something would work out. She decided that she would just leave the whole matter in God’s hands.

After singing the Shangaan version of “Silent Night,” the service ended and people began to make their way out of the church. Christine lingered in the church to wait for her mother who had tidied up a bit near the piano. As they were leaving the church, Mr. Rankin bade them a merry Christmas and they might have had to walk home with him and his family, but a Shangaan woman had lingered nearby to speak with Christine.

“Xe weni, Mu Shangaaniana,” she said, greeting one whom she had known since birth.

Then inquiring how she was, she said, “Wa hania xana?”

They chatted briefly, and Christine was glad that the Rankins had headed for home without them.

When Christine and Mother finally got home, they were a bit hungry, so after the lanterns were lit and some water had been heated, they had tea and enjoyed some of the fruitcake that Mother had recently made.

After they had finished eating, Mother poured more tea, but she took their plates and the fruitcake back into the kitchen. When she returned from the kitchen, she took a box out of the nearby hutch, and the two then played several games of dominoes until the mantle clock announced that it was nine o’clock.

It seemed to be time for bed, so they both went about their evening routines, and finally they knelt for prayer by the sofa. After the prayer had been said, they each picked up a lantern and bade each other good night before entering their own bedrooms.

Although Christine closed her door, she did not extinguish her lantern. Instead, she worked quietly on her project for about an hour and a half. When she felt that Mother was asleep, she quietly left her own room, and with a basket full of things in one hand and a lantern in the other, she entered the living room where she intended to silently continue her secretive activities. The mantle clock had announced that it was twelve thirty before she finished her project and finally returned to her room for the night. After putting out the lantern, she got into bed, but her mind was still excited, and sleep did not come quickly.

Would Mother like the surprise? She certainly hoped so. She tried to relax, but she heard the clock strike one, and later, she heard the chimes signal that it was a quarter past one. It was sometime after that when she finally fell asleep.

In the morning, Christine arose earlier than usual. After dressing quickly and quietly, she took the gifts which she had wrapped on the previous day out to the living room and placed them under the Christmas tree. She hadn’t had much time for shopping in LM on her way home from school, but she hoped that Mother would like the things which she had purchased for her.

She then went into the kitchen and built a fire in the woodstove. She boiled some water for tea, and she also cut some slices off Mother’s recently made bread. She set the table, put the bread, butter, and marmalade on the table, and lit some candles in the dining area and the living room. She scrambled some eggs and then placed them on the stove where they would remain warm but not get overcooked. The sun had been above the horizon for several minutes before she decided to call her mother for breakfast.

She knocked lightly on her mother’s bedroom door and said, “Merry Christmas!” Then, using a line that her mother had often used, she added, “Time to rise and shine!” She also said, “Put on your robe and slippers and come to breakfast. I have it ready.”

A few moments later, Mother came out of her room and entered the living room. “What’s this?” she exclaimed, showing complete surprise.

“It snowed during the night,” Christine replied with a smile. “We’ve had a blizzard, and we’re having a white Christmas—just like you used to have in Michigan!”

“My, my,” Mother said, looking around the room. “Someone has certainly been busy here. This is a surprise, and a lovely one at that.”

The paper chains that had decorated the tree were gone, and the tree was now decorated with numerous white paper snowflakes that were delicately shaped and quite different from one another. Yards of yarn had been strung across the room from the tops of various windows and doors, and from these strands of yarn, other snowflakes hung at various heights. It seemed that there were hundreds of them, and it appeared that no two were alike! The remnants from cutting the paper had been cut into tiny pieces to resemble snow, and these had been scattered on the mantle, the top of the piano, and on top of the table that stood behind the sofa.

Mother walked about the room, ducking to avoid some snowflakes while pausing to admire others.

“We’ve really had a blizzard, haven’t we?” she said, finally giving Christine an appreciative hug. “You really have been busy!” She smiled. “I can see that we are having a white Christmas…and perhaps it’s the only one in all of Africa! You must have been up all night.”

“I was up for a while,” acknowledged Christine. Then she said, “I have breakfast ready, so you just sit down at the table, and I’ll bring the tea and the food right in.”

“I love surprises…and I love you,” Mother said, as she embraced Christine. Christine then went into the kitchen feeling happy that her surprise had been well received. She carried out a pot of tea, and then, she returned to the kitchen to get the scrambled eggs.

Clara looked around the front room, and almost felt tears coming into her eyes. Her daughter was nearly grown and would be going abroad, before long, to continue her education. How would she ever get along without her? She also had a surprise for Christine, but she decided that it could wait until later.

After setting the plates down, Christine sat down, and Mother said a brief prayer. They said “Merry Christmas!” to each other, and then, they took time to enjoy the pleasure of a leisurely breakfast together.

Earlier in the week, Clara and Nell Rankin had volunteered to work at the health-care facility on Christmas so that Ms. Ferguson could have an entire day free from responsibilities. Clara had said that she would work in the morning, so not long after breakfast had ended, both she and Christine got dressed and then walked down to the facility that was actually comprised of three parts. Part of one building was known as the dispensary. This was where first-aid items, bandages, some medicines, and various medical supplies were kept. The other part of that building was used for consultation with patients, delivering babies, performing minor surgeries, and dealing with things of that sort. Nearby, there were six small Shangaan-styled huts where patients and their close relatives could stay during a time of recuperation. Things that required expert medical attention, of course, were handled in better-equipped facilities which could be found in Manjacaze or in other cities.

Ms. Ferguson was a capable nurse with years of experience who had managed the facility alone most of the time, but there were occasions when she needed assistance. In recent days, there had been several births and a variety of injuries, so Clara had been giving her a lot of help. Ms. Ferguson was very devoted to the people she was helping, but Clara and Nell Rankin had insisted that she take a full day off on Christmas. Clara had said that she and Christine could visit the patients or visit with each other until Nell Rankin came to relieve them in the afternoon. Christine had willingly gone along with this plan because it was sure to be more interesting than staying home alone.

During the time that they were on duty, there were no emergencies, but Clara checked on some young gals who had had their own mothers with them much of the time since they had given birth. Then, she and Christine talked about one thing or another until Nell Rankin arrived around 2:00 p.m.

As they were leaving the health-care facility, they saw some Shangaan women in the vicinity, so they went over to greet them, and the women seemed happy to see the one whom they had always known as Mu Shangaaniana. After a brief conversation, they wished each other a merry Christmas, in Shangaan, and then, Christine and her mother headed up the hill toward home.

Although many Shangaans had some knowledge of Christmas, their general poverty did not allow them to celebrate the occasion as the missionaries did. They had no Christmas trees or an exchange of presents, but sometimes they were able to have a meal that was more special than usual. Most Shangaans had never set foot inside any of the missionaries’ homes, so they didn’t really see how the missionaries celebrated Christmas. However, some like Joao had been in the Cartwrights’ home, so he had seen that they had a Christmas tree, and he heard that they exchanged gifts. He also knew that Mamana and Mu Shangaaniana liked to have a special meal on the day when they celebrated the birth of the Christ child.

For lunch, Mother fried up some grits and eggs, and because it was Christmas, she splurged by frying some bacon. Christine had sat down at the piano to play Christmas carols, and the aroma of the bacon frying in the kitchen promised that lunch would be good.

Although it came a bit later than usual, lunch was good, and they finished the meal with some homemade fruitcake and a second cup of tea.

After completing lunch, they cleared the table and washed the dishes. When their chores were done, they returned to the dining room.

“Well, I see there are some presents under the tree. Do you think we should open them?” Christine said, with a twinkle in her eye.

“I think we should,” Mother agreed. “After all, it’s Christmas!”

As they moved closer to the tree, Christine could see that there were only seven wrapped gifts. How much more exciting this occasion might have been if there had been more presents and theirs had been a larger family, but this was how it was. Despite the limited number of packages, there were sure to be surprises.

Christine felt excited as she opened her first present. She soon discovered that it was a handmade wooden box that had been made by some Shangaan craftsman. Inside, she found a note in which Mother had said that she would make a fruitcake which she could take when she returned to school. In a second package, she found a decorative tin box that contained some spending money. A third package contained new undergarments which were practical—if not exciting—and in a fourth package, she found a beautiful red sweater that her mother had knitted. Christine was happy with her gifts, and she gave her mother a big hug.

Christine had saved some money, and she purchased her mother’s gifts in LM. She watched excitedly as Mother opened the first gift which was a beautiful Portuguese teapot. This was clearly received with delight as was a lovely, hand-crocheted tablecloth and a tin container which included various kinds of tea. All the gifts had been appreciated, and to show their real gratitude, the two exchanged a warm embrace.

They were folding up the wrapping paper for possible future use when a knock was heard at the back door. Most visitors would have knocked at the front door, so Mother presumed that it was Joao arriving to begin preparing the evening meal. As she entered the kitchen, she could see through the screen door that it was Joao, and she could see that he was beaming.

“Greetings, Mamana. I bring you something for Christmas!” he said, as the door was opened for him and he entered the kitchen with his hands full. “I hunt and kill yesterday, so I bring you fresh meat that I roast for you today. I think you call this venison.”

Mamana Cartwright seemed surprised, and she expressed her delight.

“You do so much for me and my family,” he said. “I want to do this for you.”

This was clearly a meaningful gift, and the one he called Mamana thanked him graciously.

“Should take two—maybe three—hours to make dinner. Is good?” he asked. “That would be fine,” Mother replied. “We can be ready whenever you call us to dinner, and by the way, would it be all right if I invite someone to dinner? It would be just one extra person.”

“Of course, Mamana.” He smiled. “I will prepare plenty to eat.”

During the afternoon, Clara went over to wish Jessica Ferguson a merry Christmas. At one point, she said, “If you don’t have other plans, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?”

“My heavens, yes!” replied Ms. Ferguson. “That would be splendid!”

A time was set for her arrival, and then, Clara went home to tell Joao that there would be three for dinner. She then spoke with Christine and found out that it would be fine to use her new tablecloth and teapot that evening. She placed her new embroidered cloth on the table and proceeded to set the table for three. For a centerpiece, she put her nicest African violet between two candlesticks bearing new white candles.

At the appointed time, Ms. Ferguson arrived. She found the snowy environment fascinating, and she wanted to know how things were going for Christine at school. Christine acknowledged that things were fine, but she said nothing about a boyfriend or the problems that she’d had with Sara and some of her friends.

At one point, she said, “I guess you’ll soon be off to college, dear. Do you know where you plan go?”

“We really don’t know,” Christine replied. “Probably somewhere in the United States. Perhaps in Michigan. We have relatives there, you know.”

They visited until Joao announced that dinner could be served. They then seated themselves at the candlelit table, and Clara offered grace. Moments later, a platter containing the roast venison arrived at the table, and then, Joao returned with other things which included cooked rice, gravy, green beans, sliced homemade bread, and some mixed fruit which was a tin item that Mother had kept on hand in a cupboard.

The meal was delicious, and conversation went easily. At one point, Ms. Ferguson remarked about the lovely embroidered tablecloth, and Clara acknowledged that it had been a Christmas present, that day, from Christine. When they had finished eating, Joao cleared away the dishes and brought in other plates bearing a slice of fruitcake. Following directions that Mamana had given him earlier, the hot water for their tea arrived in Clara’s new teapot along with a container bearing various kinds of bagged tea.

Following the meal, Joao cleaned up in the kitchen, and then, he came into the dining area and spoke.

“Merry Christmas, everybody,” he said. “I be going home now.”

Clara thanked him for the lovely meal as did the others, and then, he was on his way.

For an hour or so, the three played dominoes, and then, Ms. Ferguson decided that she should make her departure. After expressing her appreciation for the lovely evening, she bade them goodbye and headed off to her home.

“I guess I didn’t tell you that I have some news,” said Mother. “What’s that?” asked Christine.

“Well, it is this. The Rankins have been called to a new appointment in Southern Rhodesia, and your friend Sara will be going to school in Salisbury! What do you think of that?”

Christine was stunned. This would have been bad news for her, in earlier years, but this meant that Sara would no longer be bad-mouthing her at school. Maybe things would now be better at school.

“How long have you known about this?” asked Christine.

“I’ve known for weeks,” she replied, “but I saved it ’til now because Christmas is a time for surprises!”

“It has been a day full of surprises.” Christine smiled. “I wonder what the year 1930 will hold for us?”

“Who can say?” Mother sighed. “I only know that because of the Rankins’ move, I will not be able to go on furlough next year, so therefore I won’t be able to take you to college in America—or anywhere else.”