The Torment of Hatred

The Slums

The four of us, the Sisters Anita, Pauline, Valentina, and I, all packed the fresh medical supplies and as many provisions for the sick children as we could carry. The slums were nestled in the valley below the hills, a steep trek but we were all fairly young, Anita was the youngest, 22 I believe, and Pauline the oldest, at 40. I was close behind, as I had just celebrated my 32nd birthday last month. I looked healthier than perhaps most my age, as I kept a somewhat thin frame but retained a great enough height to be considered the tallest in our band of missionaries. Some have considered me handsome, but I was merely blessed by the Lord, as we all are.

It took us a full hour to come to the edge of the slums, and my bronzed skin glistened with sweat under the noontime sun. As soon as we entered the town, a small, frail girl collided with my legs, hugging them tightly. "Father, thank goodness you've come! I don't know what to do... I thought..." A cry caught in her throat and her eyes grew distressed as she looked up at me. Not a year over 12, little Nina had already seen the death of her mother and her own abandonment by her father, leaving both her and her little brother behind to starve. I found her year back and took them both into the care of the brethren. She now lived with another family in the slums and I watched as she grew up, my heart breaking a little more every time I saw her as she struggled to care for her brother, who now contracted the foreign disease. I quieted her, swinging her up into my arms, and swaying back and forth to calm her. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt how pitifully lightweight she was.

"Shh, Nina, shh, it's okay, I've got you now. Tell me what's the matter, querido, you can tell me." She picked her head up from my shoulder, and managed to speak through assorted sniffles.

"Little, sniff, little Tomas woke up this morning and the rash had spread all over his neck and cheeks and he was so warm and wouldn't stop crying and I've tried begging God to take away his pain but his crying becomes so loud I can't even, sniff, focus on that..." She trailed off and I held her close again, closing my eyes and moving my lips in a silent prayer to God to heal this village.

"It's okay Nina, God will provide, you have to trust him. Remember what I taught you about God? He loves us and he is there with you in every trial. We've brought new medications for Tomas, we'll take care of him now." I set her on the ground again and looked into her wide, silky eyes. "I'm so proud of you for being strong through this." She bit her lip and held her chin high as a promise of future strength to me.

"Thank you..." She whispered

"Now, let's take a look at that brother of yours and see if we can't hush his crying, shall we? Lead the way, m'lady!" She giggled through leftover tears and took my hand to tug me to her family's hut.

A two room adobe hutch was pinned between two others like it, crammed into the town much like the family inside it. Six people in all, the mother and father worked to sell carpets they wove on the loom the monastery supplied years before. Nina and her brother Tomas joined their family after staying in the monastery the first few years. Now they could at least have a chance to get back on their feet, and they might have already if it weren't for the illness after illness that plagued the town. I entered the dimly lit hutch to find the mother kneeling over Tomas, blotting his head with a wet rag. His face was colorless except for the crimson rash that itched up his neck and cheeks. The Sisters immediately went to work, changing the bandages that had tried to contain the rash around his forearms and hands, and prompting him to drink the warm soup they treated with herbs.

When they stood up, nothing more to be done, Tomas' eyes found me and held his small, chubby hand out to me. I bent down and took it, closing my eyes and earnestly praying over him. "Amen" we both spoke, and he opened his eyes to smile up at me. I dearly hoped this would subside soon. We exited to treat the next household, bidding the family goodbye and instructing them the steps they should continue to take to not spread the disease to the other children. Nina hugged me one last time and I cherished the small, loving arms as I would if they were my own daughter's.

...

Tired and slightly discouraged, our band of four hiked back up to the monastery after making our rounds. The sun now brushed against the horizon, swinging low one last time to douse the earth in thick golden light before disappearing beneath the mountains. We reached the church's wooden door and Pauline sunk onto a step, sighing loudly.

"What will we do if this doesn't go away? All those children... God have mercy."

I sat down next to her. "We must continue to have faith, Sister. The Messiah has walked on stormy seas long before us, and the one thing that kept Saint Peter above the waves was faith. Still, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Do you believe that?"

She nodded and said, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

"God will honor our faith. Now, let's get home, I'm half starved!" Spirits uplifted, Pauline stood and we entered the church to pack away the leftover materials we brought. When all was in order, the candles were quickly blown out and I bid each good night. Anita followed me out the door, and I turned to her once the door was closed.

"Try to sleep peacefully tonight, won't you? I want no more dreams of such horrible things!"

"Yes of course Father, please forgive me for having such a dream." I smiled at her and handed her my rosary, a gift from my mother when I was very young, when she was still alive.

"There is nothing to be forgiven for. Here, take this one with you tonight and pray with it. I believe the demons will be warded away by the traces of my mother's spirit that is left with this. She was a godly, upright woman." Anita's eyes shone bright at the honor; she knew how much this rosary meant to me spiritually and personally.

"Of course, Father! Thank you, and goodnight!" She skipped off down the road to her own home, and I similarly turned down another road, almost able to smell dinner from there.