The sun once again began its cycle in the sky. Warm, almost bearable. Window open, a peculiar insect with long slender legs climbs onto the desk and approaches me unconcernedly.
In the corridor of the clinic I hear voices. People come and go, apparently carrying X-rays, which make an almost eerie sound with every movement.
Knock on the door. Immediate thought: ‘they’ve confused the eye clinic with the Episcopal office again’. I reply mechanically: “come in!”.
The handle comes down with a creak, and a squat man emerges timidly.
Awkward smile and greeting. I quickly explain that the ophthalmologist is just across the street and turn to my insect, which somewhere in between got lost in the pencils.
“No, Father!”, the man says, “I want you!”. Paradoxical I thought, leaving the insect in the forest with the Faber pencils and colored pens, while at the same time offering a seat to my visitor.
-“I can hear you,” I said somewhat coldly.
-Pater, after 60 kilometers and a day of walking I arrived here…
First calculation: ‘the usual excuses of someone who will ask for money’. With the man’s monologue as a sounding board, I open the desk drawer, grab a bill and hold it out.
-“Perhaps you don’t understand me,” he says, “I didn’t come to get money. I came to offer you something!
I froze. The man was almost offended by my mechanical movement. I put the bill on the desk, furrowed my brows and asked him to explain. Sixty kilometers of footpath to offer something is, if anything, strange.
-We know you from descriptions. We have learned of your work. We have seen the Cross raised on buildings and the joy spread to the people around them. Unfortunately, an Orthodox missionary never arrived in our village. Unfortunately we have no church. And because of these two “unfortunately” we decided as a community to offer a field to you in order to create a centre of our faith.
-The center of your faith; repeat.
Strange wording and yet strangely sincere.
-You find me somewhat unprepared.
-“Please, please, dare to make the journey to our village,” he retorted, eyes wide. Please, Father.
-On our next tour, you will be the first stop. In about a month, I promised him.
A smile lit up the dark skin and two lips touched my embarrassed hand, which by then was rhythmically tapping the bill. I stood up, pressed him to take the money so he could get a vehicle back, and the door closed after the doorknob made its characteristic sound. Silence in the office. Voices outside. Radiographs waving and I stare at the door, frozen.
A month later and the car is rumbling along loaded with food and people. Back another with medicine, further back and government security. A charmless escort, I thought, but sometimes, in their fatigue, they tell extremely funny stories and tales of their service. Somehow they compensate for their armed presence.
We’re moving! I’m crossing my fingers… Travel time is about 3 hours. We’re coming up on an opening. A figure is waiting for us. Again, in the same clothes and, thankfully, the same smile. The office man. Kissing and kissing. Tears on his part unexpectedly. Repeated thanks. He leads us to the river. We get into the pirogues and continue for about an hour along the river.
The pirogue found in the mud. One by one, with small jumps, we fall knee-deep in the river and continue. The village is as it seems. Huts and a smoke in the middle. A crowd is waiting for us. Eyes of anguish and hands full of gifts. Baskets made of leaves made full of tropical fruits. Chickens tied by the legs. Pails of water. Voices, cries, cries. A welcome disproportionate to our effort and worth. Hands touching us, children pulling at our robes. Young men caress their faces wondering what these beards we have are. “Thank you, thank you…”. A voice everywhere. Percussion music. With relative solemnity an old man brings us a document. “Here, the paper for the field. Do the best you can.”
Dizziness. A wonderful dizziness. Like being drunk on the sweetest drink in the world. Within half an hour they told me everything and did it all. Like a kid who hasn’t talked for hours and suddenly sees his best friend after years. Almost panting with the longing of life. They pulled me almost to the field. I saw a wonderful place. Certainly grand and expensive. These people, ignorant of the worship of our Church, give their all for it. To know God through their senses. To become one with the Body.
I stayed looking at the field for a while and almost saw a temple in the center raising the cross on its roof. I closed the contract in my hand, folded it and deposited it in my bosom. I sat down at the common table. I laughed and was moved. I saw the nobility of poverty. The sun has set. The pirogue came loose from the mud. The wheels rolled and 3 hours later, in the office with the forest of pencils and pens, I drew the church behind the contract. Just as one day the love of the world will make it flesh.
✝ The Bold Prodromos
