Heroes
One week later, Shelagh arrived at the still rather new building at KCMC campus where the weekly family planning class for young mothers took place.
The building housed the offices of several Western aid organizations including Dr Turner's. Fred, who had driven Shelagh, helped her to carry the two large boxes with teaching materials into one of the seminar rooms on the ground floor. Shelagh thanked him and they agreed that Shelagh would call him once she was done to pick her up.
Shelagh did not like to travel with a driver, but it was the mission's policy. Staff had to travel with a driver for security reasons at all times. In all the years she had been working for the mission, Shelagh had never gotten used to certain rules, although she accepted them. She did not like to be singled out – and travelling with a large Land Rover and a driver were just that to her – but these were the rules and they were a means to the end of improving the lives of many people living in poor conditions.
Shelagh had arrived well in time as always and routinely set up the room for her workshop. Cynthia had picked the right day to let Shelagh step in for her as today's topic was the prevention of sexually transmitted diseases, and Shelagh, even though she had no personal experience of the matter, never tired of teaching the importance of ABC – abstain, be faithful, or use condoms.
When she had first come to Nonnatus Mission, Shelagh had been responsible for a programme supporting local women's groups to build their capacities for spreading awareness of HIV and AIDS. She soon had set her focus on mothers and babies, and especially young mothers who were particularly vulnerable to being infected with sexually transmitted diseases.
Shelagh did not judge any of the women. She had soon learned to understand the conditions many poor women lived in. They hardly had any chances, often lacked education and, especially when they had one or more children, struggled to earn an income to sustain themselves and their children. They were like mothers anywhere in the world; all they wanted was the best for their children.
At twenty to three, the first girls arrived. Shelagh greeted them in fluent Swahili and patiently waited until three sharp to begin with her class.
When she first had begun facilitating workshops, she had been incredibly self-conscious. Not just because her Swahili had been rather poor in the beginning, but also because she did not like to be the focus of attention. But with time, she had gotten used to her task and even begun to like it.
Also, because she had found out that she was able to establish a rapport especially with young girls and women who likely could relate to her because of her young age. Still, she often felt slightly uncomfortable being a white teacher for a group of black people. Thus, a few years ago she had begun to train Tanzanian midwives interested in joining her. In her daily outreach programme, she worked together with her favourite colleague Patience who by now had also become a friend outside of work. Jane, too, had become a good friend, although she was in many ways the opposite of the outgoing, straightforward Patience.
Shelagh began the class by introducing herself and explaining why Cynthia was not here today. Then she facilitated a few role-plays with the girls which were among her favourite teaching methods. She loved how enthusiastically everyone took part in the short plays, and how everyone dared to open up to discuss even sensitive matters regarding sexuality and girls' roles in society in the setting she had created.
About half an hour into the class, they heard shouting in the hallway. Shelagh excused herself and peeked through the door to see what was going on. Outside, Dr Turner and his son were standing opposite each other, the father shouting angrily at the son. Dr Turner was just going to say something when he noticed Shelagh.
"What is the matter?" she asked concernedly.
Dr Turner grabbed his son by his arm, presenting a nasty-looking cut to Shelagh. "The school sent him here. Can't they deal with it on campus? They do have a nurse for cases like this," he bellowed.
Shelagh looked at Timothy who was on the verge of crying. She instantly felt sorry for the young boy. Dr Turner held his mobile phone in his hand and shouted: "I am in the middle of a meeting, I can't possibly have this now." For a second she thought he was going to throw his phone against the wall, seething with rage.
Shelagh frowned and extended her arm to Timothy. "Here, let me have a look at it," she said in an attempt to calm the mood between father and son. She gently took the boy's his arm with both of her hands and examined the wound. "What happened to your arm, Timothy?" she asked.
"We were spinning around at play time," the boy sobbed.
"This needs some cleaning and a bandage," Shelagh stated. Then she turned her head, addressing Dr Turner: "I have a first aid kit with me, I can take it from here."
Dr Turner seemed to relax instantly. "Will you be alright with Shelagh?" he asked his son. Timothy nodded, a sheepish expression on his face. "Thank you, Shelagh, you don't – "
Shelagh interrupted him. "It is really no problem, Dr Turner. You go back to your meeting and Timothy can sit with us. I will take him upstairs when we're done."
Patrick smiled at her relieved: "Thank you, Shelagh. I cannot possibly skip this meeting now, I am sorry."
Shelagh nodded and indicated Timothy to follow her. They entered the seminar room and Shelagh announced a five-minute break during which she carefully cleaned and bandaged Timothy's wound.
Then she produced a banana and a granola bar, which she had carried in case she might run late. "Here, you look as if you could do with something to eat," she told the boy affectionately. "If you want, you can listen to our class. You can also sit over there in the corner and begin with your homework if you like. I could help you with anything you need help in once the class has finished."
Timothy smiled at her thankfully and retreated to a vacant table near the door. Shelagh called the young women who had gathered in the middle of the room and were chatting lively back to their seats and continued her class.
When they were done with the session, Shelagh began to gather her materials. Timothy came up to her and said: "Thank you, Shelagh, you are really cool. I am glad you were there to calm down Dad."
Shelagh felt the urge of hugging the boy but was not sure how he might react. Instead, she said: "Oh, I don't think it was that bad. He was just in the middle of something and I noticed that he sometimes does not handle it well when he has multiple things to do at once."
"He is always in the middle of something," Timothy complained. Shelagh sighed. She had been through this too, as a child. After her mother had died, her father had worked so much that she had hardly seen him. Still, in hindsight, she realized how much her father had loved her and how he must have struggled to balance his work and the care for a young daughter.
"I am sorry, Timothy," she said, "but he loves you very much. He just has too much to do sometimes." Timothy frowned and Shelagh knew she did not have the means to placate the boy right now.
"Well then, why don't I take you upstairs and we'll see whether your father has finished his meeting."
"Seriously," Timothy went on. "He is a doctor and could have taken care of me. But he rather goes to some meeting than spending time with me."
Shelagh felt her heart break again. "I am so sorry, Timothy. And I know I cannot change things right now. But perhaps it helps you to know that your father does a very, very good job at everything he does. And since he is the leader of his programme he is needed during those meetings, he needs to make important decisions."
"But I need him, too," the boy shouted angrily. "I never get to see him."
"Now, let's see where we can find him right now, all right?" she said when they were approaching Dr Turner's office.
Shelagh knocked on the door and was surprised to hear his voice call "enter," in response. She had expected him to forget about Timothy and allow himself to be held up, but there he was, at his desk, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled but wearing a grin, albeit with his forehead showing wrinkles of sorrow.
He held his arms open for his son. "Timothy, I am so sorry. I should not have shouted at you. I called the school and they apologized. Apparently the nurse is on sick-leave today and because I work at the hospital, they brought you over here."
Timothy hesitated for a moment but then smiled wearily at his father, went to him and embraced him tightly. Shelagh felt relieved seeing them hug and said: "Well then, I leave you two here."
She turned around and was already half way through the door, when Patrick shouted: "Wait!" Shelagh turned again and looked at him.
"I… umm… we… I am going to go home with Timothy. Would you… erm, could I drop you off on the way?"
Shelagh blushed. "I… well, why not. I would have to call Fred to pick me up, so I might as well go with you."
Patrick smiled a big smile. "Wonderful. Now, let me pack my things and we're off. Do you have got anything we need to take along?" he asked Shelagh.
She nodded. "Yes, two boxes downstairs."
When Dr Turner was done, the three walked downstairs. Patrick and Shelagh carried the boxes to his car and everyone got in. Shelagh smiled when he started the car and apologized while turning the music down.
"No need to apologize," she said. "I am always in for David Bowie."
"You are? I love it, but Timothy does not approve," Patrick chuckled, eyeing his son's disgusted face in the rear mirror.
"But Tim," Shelagh said, turning around to face the boy, "this song is a classic. I, I will be queen. And you, you will be king," she sang for him, chuckling while altering the lyrics as to fit their genders.
Timothy wrinkled his nose and Patrick laughed at his two passengers. "Tim detests my taste in music and I am afraid even you won't convince him otherwise."
Shelagh laughed and said: "I am sorry, Tim, I was just teasing."
The boy still looked annoyed but Patrick smiled pleased. She certainly knew how to handle his son.
When Patrick reached the exit of KCMC compound, Timothy said: "Dad, can we have some ice cream at that small garden restaurant down the road?"
Patrick checked his watch: "Well, I don't see why not. It's still a while until dinner time, so you won't spoil your appetite." Then he looked at Shelagh and said: "That is if Shelagh does not have any other appointments? I am sorry, I should have asked you first, but would you like to have ice cream with us?"
Shelagh blushed again. She was already nervous sitting next to Dr Turner in his car, even though she could not understand why exactly. She felt her heart rate increase thinking about spending some time with the doctor and his dear son in private and immediately felt a pang of guilt nagging at her. Technically, this was still her work time and she was not supposed to spend it at some café. But, well, wasn't Dr Turner a colleague?
She smiled shyly and replied: "Yes, I'd like to."
Patrick grinned. "Well then, it's decided."
