In Spite of Lions by Pike Scarlette

Author:Pike Scarlette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar Fort Publishing
Published: 2017-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

In the morning, I arose a teacher. I felt empowered and ready for the challenge. Although life had left me bereft of several things, it had given me a good education. I washed my face and dampened my hair. I dressed in my clean, yet plain, yellow dress with no adornments. I took a few moments with my reflection to get my short hair to look slightly feminine. I was still lost on how to dress it or make it presentable at this length.

I stepped outside to the sun only just rising. The cool shadows of the night were being drawn into its rays, unable to remain while light shone. Although the heat during the day was turning unbearable, the mornings and evenings of Kolobeng were deliciously refreshing. I had not noticed immediately the presence of David. He stood to the rising sun with his eyes closed, his arms limp at his sides. He sensed my presence and opened his eyes.

“How often have I beheld, in still mornings, scenes the very essence of beauty, and all bathed in a quiet air of delicious warmth. Before the heat of the day has become intense, this forms pictures that can never be forgotten.”

After a boyish grin, he donned his hat and moved inside. I tried to see what he saw. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. Then I heard Mary preparing breakfast in her lean-to. I finished my breath and went to help her in serving the porridge.

David practically inhaled his breakfast, several pieces attaching themselves to his growing mustache, and rushed out the door with a plan to dig some canals in the Kolobeng for their small garden. Mebalwe had volunteered to help him.

Mary kissed him goodbye while I sat with Robert and Agnes at the table. Agnes still needed occasional help with her spoon. Mary watched David trot away and sighed. Then she spoke almost to herself.

“It grieves one to think of a man so eminently fitted for linguistic preaching, being bound to spend his days in manual labor.” She shook her head and then turned to me and my confused expression. “In other missions, the Society will provide an artisan for the work of building, digging, or general repairs and craft. Yet, there is no money for the employment of craftsmen, so he has to do what is necessary with unskilled assistance.”

I had never seen Mary envious before. And envious of what? Nothing for herself. She wanted someone to help her husband so he could save souls more effectively. It made me hope that the five thousand pounds I had contributed would somehow reach our mission.

“And yet he seems happy,” I tried to comfort her. “He does not seemed begrudged to dig canals while he preaches.”

“No,” she agreed. “We are the working clergy and make no mistake! David will always prefer poverty and mission service to riches and ease. It’s his choice.”

Breakfast was eaten and cleaned quickly and soon we were gathering our things to go to school.

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