Christian POV

"And so our profits made from the oil productions in the middle east should be able to fuel 40% of our productions into the African agricultural projects," said Stewart, head of my NGO, but he did not have the heart and only saw the dollar signs. I kept him around because so far he works hard enough to fuel his ego.

"Surely we can do better," I said. "We fueled 60% last year."

"Well with the Economy sir-"

"Bull shit! Our stocks have gone up 32% this year. Don't blame the economy. Where is my money going, Stewart?!"

"We have many projects and for them to produce proper yield we have cut spending in some areas."

"How much is a proper yield?"

"30% profit, sir."

I gritted my teeth. I felt my hand shake, I was so mad. I took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten in french, because that was harder and took me longer. "So you're telling me, that because you want a 30% profit instead of a 15% profit which I expect you want to cut 60% of my NGO of giving clean water to kids in Africa."

"It will raise our bottom line exponentially, sir," he protested.

"Why are you worried about the bottom line? You only have one kid, and your salary pays for her college tuition. What? Do you need a fourth Mercedes roadster?! Did you want one in canary yellow?"

His shocked look on his face told me that he did not expect me to know the colors of his cars.

"Not that I care, but how much profits did we make from oil productions last year?"

"Around $20 billion, sir."

"And you are saying we don't have two billion to spare to fund my plans to feed the children. Ten percent? I am asking for ten percent? Christians give ten percent to their church, an invisible God who does not do anything to them. Why can we not give ten percent to starving kids?"

"Sir, that is a lot of money."

"Well, it is my God-fucking money! Now get it done or I will find someone who will!" I yelled.

Everyone in the room flinched. I know I should not have raised my voice, and I never raise my voice, but I was tired of dealing with him. The board was fine with this, but my own employees wanted more money. God, they did not know who they were dealing with.

"Sir," came a small voice, behind a laptop. I looked to see a small-framed African American woman with long black hair cascading to her shoulders. She wore purple glasses that hid her dark brown eyes. It took me a second to think of her name, she has been just the secretary taking notes. Smith, Michelle Smith.

"Yes, Michelle."

"I would like to nominate a small country named Rwanda. It was an Belgium colony in the late 1800s and gained independence in 1962. It went through a series of civil war between two rival cultures, one master and dominant, the Hutus, and one submissive, the Tutsi. In 1994, the submissive rose up and tried to kill the dominant race. Many children from both sides are now facing much poverty, pain, and loss. To this day, they need plenty of financial support to survive."

"How do you know about them, Michelle?"

"My mother, Ella, fled a Rwandan village with me in her arms. We are of Hutu descent, and two Tutus men killed my grandfather and my father."

"I am so sorry," I said, ignoring the similarities in our mothers' names. "Where were you?"

"The genocides happened all over the place, but we were in a small village called Nyamata."

"I am very sorry that this happened," interjected Stewart, unsympathetically, "but we cannot rehabilitate an entire country."

Michelle bowed her head, and continued typing, as if she considered the matter dropped.

"Oh no, my dear. I am the master here," I thought. Turning, I glared at Stewart, and said, "Not with my money greasing our own pockets, we can't. We can start small, in Nyamata." I turned to Michelle. "Do you know what the city needs?"

"We have a small business town there, it is close to the airport, there is a central market, and two banks. But-"

"Yes. Michelle."

"We need a school," she said, quietly. "A place where children from both cultures can come and learn. With good teachers."

"A school?!" scoffed Stewart.

"Sir," came Payton, a young girl from across the table, "I disagree with Mr. Stewart and want to say that the tax break from funding another project in Africa would generate the funds to pay for it. However, I must confess that we don't know anything about building a school. How many children are in the area?"

"The population is 35,000. It is a small village."

"Okay, so it can be a small school," she said, pacified. "Do they have the resources to provide for it?"

"We can provide for it. Fund everything from the building to the pencils they write with."

"How?!" demanded Stewart.

"Our stocks have gone up 32%," I said, glaring at him.

I looked to Michelle. "Would they accept our aid?"

"Yes," she said, sheepishly. "I think so."

I raised an eyebrow. "There is more to the story than you are letting on."

"After the fighting stopped, my grandmother and my mother had been living in the US for three months, and did not want to return. However, two years ago, when I was married my mother returned to Uganda because it was her home. She met and fell in love with a man who was now a leader of the village. I speak to my step-father often, and he is most interested in how to heal the village, now town, but he needs help. I thought we, you, could help him."

"So you already have a contact with someone on the possible project?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "I made no promises, but I told him that I would ask you to consider Rwanda."

I looked at Payton, she was already crunching numbers. She was on board, good. Glancing at Stewart, I saw him huffing, like he was getting ready to talk about how expensive the project would be. I shot him a glare how that would not end well for him.

"I think this is worth a shot," I said. "Consider it as diversifying our interests. And since we will need the head of the project to be familiar with Rwandan culture, have contacts in Rwanda, and can ascertain what they will need, I will put Michelle in charge of the project."

There were gasps and shocked faces from all around the room. Across the room, Michelle looked like she had just won the lottery or found out she was pregnant, I could not tell which. I gave her a reassuring nod. She could do this. She had dedication, drive, and knowledge. That is all you need. Well, that and luck, but I was plenty lucky.