He seemed calm and rational and the Mayor knew he had let out all his frustrations on him and the road forward will be easy. The two men discussed other matters regarding the church. They discussed other matters regarding the clinic they wanted to build. They discussed other matters regarding the criteria through which they will identify the young men they are going to take to city to learn medicine. They discussed many other issues and they made good progress because the Bishop was in a good state of mind.

“Let’s drink coffee before you go,” said the Bishop.

“Thought you would never offer,” joked the Mayor.

The Bishop prepared coffee and biscuits and the two friends enjoyed themselves in the privacy of the Bishop’s study. They finished and the Mayor stood up to leave.

The Mayor went over to his friend and hugged him.

“Good luck,” he said to the Bishop but the Bishop did not reply. “You have a good left hook by the way for a man old man,” the Mayor said to break the ice and the Bishop laughed.

“My right hook is deadly, I spared your life,” the two men laughed.

“Well, I would have liked to see you give it to that idiot Banker we saw the other day,”

The two men cracked hysterically and at the same time both said: “DE-NO-MI-NA-TOR!”

The Mayor waved and left the room closing the door behind him. He left laughing and the nuns looked at him strangely and began giggling themselves enjoying seeing him feeling so happy. The Bishop stayed behind in his study attending to his shoulder and laughing as well.

“Mabel would just know what to do here,” he thought to himself.

But she had lost favour with him and him with her. They had said hurtful words towards one another and needed time apart for now. She saw the Mayor leave from her bedroom window and wondered if she should go to the Bishop’s study but decided against it. There were pending matters that were long overdue to be discussed and she did not want to linger on any longer. She stood up and sat down and stood and sat down again. And finally she decided to let him be until such that he would invite her.

She went out of her room into the amphitheatre and prayed. She prayed for the Bishop to find peace in his heart and not be strained in his calling as a Bishop to pray and worship God because of her actions. She prayed also that the Bishop finds it in his heart to forgive her. She prayed the little girl forgives her for the decision she made a little over a decade ago. She prayed for the nuns and the mothers who served in the church to forgive her when they find out. She prayed that the community at large must forgive her but mostly she sought for God’s forgiveness for the darkness of her sins.

She retreated to the laundry room to clean the cloak and then finally went back to the room to start writing a letter to the Bishop.

She took out her special paper made out of cow dung she had made a while ago. She found some ink in her drawer and poured in into a glass jar to begin writing. She went outside and found a long and beautiful feather that fell off the back of a peacock. She cleared her table and turned it towards the window, then opened the window for fresh air and clarity of her mind.

She listened to the tweaking of the birds as she was contemplating what to put down in words in the letter. She looked up and out her window and saw a flock of birds in motion. They looked as if they were flying towards her and would glide straight into her bedroom. She watched in envy how they glided happily in the sky and wondered to herself, what was the cost of that happiness.

Were they truly happy or was it all a façade? Had they in that flock never hurt each, then forgave each other and went up in trust with one another again. The flock, moving towards her window, was telling her a story. She watched as they flew in single file, then paired, then circled then dismantled. It was a story of life and love and hardships and trust. It was as if they saw her watching them, embarrassed, they gained altitude and disappeared into the clear blue sky.

She stood from her chair and stuck her head out the window. They were gone. Gone far beyond what her eye could see, but they were in perfect view for someone else who needed to see their story.

Bishop

I humbly ask to speak to you. Please find it in your heart to spare me a moment. I have a story to tell you. A story told by the dance of a flock of birds. It was a story of life and love and hardships and trust.

Sister Mabel

She folded the letter and slid it under the door of the Bishop’s study.

Every day she waited behind the shadows of the other nuns invisible to him. But visible to him in her service. Every day he found his cloak stretched. His biscuit tin refilled. His bedroom cleaned and his bed made with the whitest linens that blinded the eye. She pleased his soul. It was his heart that was closed towards her. But it shut itself closed because it was uncomfortable with the lesson that the sweetest love could sting this badly.

He wondered where she was or how she was. He wonder about the girl too, where she was and how she was. He wondered about Thekeza’s son too, where he was and how he was. He was failing at the lessons of love.

He failed with Mabel. He failed with the girl. He failed with Thekeza’s son.

***

Tell us: Do you think the Bishop is being too hard on Mabel?