Disclaimer: Does someone want to buy me them for my birthday? Because I still own nothing!
A/N: Thanks so much for the great response last time. All your reviews made me really excited to continue writing this story. I'm glad to know it hasn't been completely abandoned by readers after the long hiatus. To those of you wishing this was an update of Cetera Desunt, I'm sorry, but my muse has denied you. I'm thinking there will be two more chapters of this story before another update of CD if my muse continues to cooperate. But who knows. Muses are tricky beings.
A/N: Melissa, do I even need to say it? Waar kan ek 'n droogskoonmaker vind? Also, please note that several lines in this chapter came from online sources: Google translator or a nifty website that gave basic Afrikaans phrases. I am sorry for any inaccuracies that you may notice, though if you know Africaans I will be more impressed than apologetic.
"Heads up, Dr. Cameron! There's another one coming your way!"
Cameron sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. It was her fourth day here, but it was by far the hottest, despite it being autumn. The limited ventilation in the clinic did little to help fight the heat. She pulled off her gloves and smiled reassuringly at her patient. The young girl didn't smile back, but Cameron wasn't surprised. She didn't expect eleven-year-old rape victims to have very much to smile about. She promised the girl she would be back soon, and then took off toward the nurse who was waving her over.
"Thanks, Mary," she said as she took the chart. Weiss had told her Mary had been with MSF for eight years, and although she was native to South Africa, she had spent most of her time working in other African countries. She was fluent in English, Afrikaans, all right in Zulu, and also knew how to communicate in a handful of other languages, which, as Weiss had said, made her dead useful. She had only been at the rape clinic in Simelela for a few months. Cameron could already see how the rapes had affected the nurse.
Cameron grabbed Mary's arm to stop her from leaving. In an undertone she asked, "Um, sorry, how do you…?"
"It's like you would in English, except without the 'h'," Mary whispered back. Cameron nodded her thanks and released her. She looked back at the chart, brushing her hand along her forehead again as she did so. It really was too hot. She had been on her feet for hours, unable to take a break as they were short-staffed. Scott and one of the other nurses had taken the van to the local market to buy more water, as the clinic was desperately short. The water had to be rationed out to the patients, which left little for the staff. She hoped they would return soon.
"Themba, I'm Dr. Cam…" Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the child sitting on the bed. The girl had long dark hair and couldn't have been more than six.
"…Allison," she finished, trying to keep her tone even. "My name is Allison."
The girl didn't look up. Her only indication of having heard Cameron at all was her wrapping her arms around her legs and drawing them to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees and began rocking slowly back and forth.
Emotion welled inside of her; the sight really was pitiful. She took a step closer and bent down so she was eye-level with the young girl. "Hey," she said softly. "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you." She unclipped her ID and showed it to the girl. "My name is Allison and I'm a doctor. I like to help people."
Themba stuck a thin hand out and tentatively touched the ID. She ran her fingers over Cameron's photograph, slowly tracing the outline of her face. Then she looked up. "Ji is mooi."
Cameron's heart sank. Themba didn't speak English. She looked around for Mary, but the nurse was nowhere to be seen. All the same, Cameron knew the clinic was too short-staffed for two people to work on the same patient at once today, though she and Mary had worked together a few times before. She would have to do the best she could.
The girl dropped her gaze back to the ID. Cameron hesitated, wondering if she should say something else, but then the girl spoke again. "Al..li..son," she said carefully. "Kan jy my help?"
Help? Cameron hoped that was a cognate. She smiled encouragingly. "Help?" she repeated. "Do you want me to help you?" She asked the question slowly, pointing to herself and then to Themba.
"Help?"
"Help," Cameron repeated.
Themba stared at her for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "Praat u Afrikaans?
Something Afrikaans? Cameron shook her head. "No, I don't – I don't understand. I only speak English, I'm sorry…"
"Kan u langsaam praat?"
Cameron could feel her cheeks growing red. She couldn't do this. She had no idea what the girl was saying. She desperately needed a translator.
"I am going to find someone to help us," she said slowly. "Someone who speaks Afrikaans." She could tell Themba recognized at least one of the words. "Wait here," she told her, using her hands to gesture to the girl and then the bed. She waited a few seconds to see if Themba would respond and when she didn't, Cameron turned to leave.
She felt the hand on her wrist almost immediately. "Laat my nie," Themba said tearfully. "Laat my nie!"
Cameron could only shake her head. "I'm sorry," she said yet again, as she tried to pry Thembra's fingers from around her wrist. "I'm trying to help--"
Themba began to cry. "Laat my nie, laat my nie!" she sobbed. "Ek is bang. Ek wil my suster. Laat my nie!"
Cameron could only watch helplessly as Themba's cries grew louder. She tried to reassure her, but the unfamiliar language didn't comfort the young patient. Themba's fingers were still clenched around her wrist, and Cameron didn't want to risk her crying louder if she tried to move away for help.
"Everything okay here?"
With a sigh of relief, Cameron recognized Mary's voice. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks again. "I don't speak Afrikaans…"
Mary impatiently brushed her apology aside and turned to Themba. "My naam is Mary. Kan jy my vertel wat is fout?"
Cameron felt Themba release her immediately when she recognized her native Afrikaans. Cameron stepped back from the bed and let Mary take over. She watched the nurse talk to the patient for a few moments, and when it became clear that she would not be needed, she slipped quickly away.
It was night. Cameron was lying on her back on her cot, staring up at the ceiling. After Mary had taken over the young Afrikaans girl, Cameron had been given only older patients who all spoke English. While she appreciated the gesture, she was embarrassed by her own limitations. Not knowing the language had been bad enough; scaring a patient to the point of tears was almost more than she could bear.
A soft knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and then called, "Come in!"
Weiss entered slowly, carrying two mugs of tea. He handed one to her and she accepted gratefully. 'It's chamomile," he told her. "Supposed to be calming."
She laughed dryly. "You know that there's no medical evidence that actually supports that claim, right?"
He shrugged. "Ever heard of the placebo effect?"
She smiled and sipped at her tea. She wasn't sure if it was him or the tea (or the placebo effect), but she was starting to feel slightly better about her day.
As though he knew what she was thinking about, he said, "Mary told me about what happened earlier. I'm sorry, Allison. I should have warned you."
She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I should have had a translator."
He brushed off her comment. "It's difficult to find enough staff members to cover all the patients and serve as translators. Sometimes, you have to make do the best that you can."
Cameron sighed. "I've never had a patient start crying before because I scared them. I'd have to say my best is pretty horrible."
Weiss smiled sympathetically. "You'll get better. You will start to hear the language more, and you'll recognize the important phrases."
Cameron looked down. Learning from experience wasn't going to be a fast enough teacher. "How much do you know?" she asked.
He smirked. "Ek is vloeiend."
Her jaw dropped and she stared at him. "That's not fair – you're fluent!"
He laughed. "And you're not as bad as you think! That's exactly what I said – 'I am fluent.'"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. I'm-fluent-in-Afrikaans-but-you-can-learn-from-experience, what else can you teach me?"
"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "Repeat after me: My Afrikaans is sleg."
"My…Afrikaans…is…sleg?"
He laughed again, a loud booming laugh that echoed off the walls. "Yes, it certainly is."
Her eyes widened. "What did you make me say?"
He winked. "My Afrikaans is bad."
She laughed. "I guess that's fair…What else can you teach me?"
And so it went on. It turned out that Weiss was a pretty effective teacher. Soon Cameron could say all sorts of phrases: Wat is jou naam?, My naam is Allison Cameron, and Ek werk soos 'n dokter. Weiss seemed pleased by her progress.
"Repeat after me," he said after an hour. "Jy is baie vriendlik."
"Jy is baie vriendlik."
"Why, thank you."
She rolled her eyes. "What did you make me say this time?"
"You are very kind."
"Why, thank you," she responded, laughing. "What else can you manipulate me into saying?"
He smiled coyly. "Gee my 'n soen."
Cameron eyed him carefully before slowly repeating, "Gee my 'n soen."
Weiss' smiled broadened. "As you wish." He leaned over and kissed her.
Cameron was surprised, but she didn't pull away. She laughed. "How did I know that you would do something like that?"
"How did I know you would let me?"
She smiled and kissed him again. "Touché."
A/N: Please review. I love to know what you are thinking! This chapter was one of my favorites to write, especially the last section. Your reviews inspire me to write and feed my muse.