The Cross

The Agades Cross a symbol of the Tauregs of the Sahara is adopted as their marriage symbol by Colleen and Dan causing trouble with Colleen's family.

                    

A white T-shirt pulled over her bikini top, Colleen and her father, Paul, sat by the backyard pool sipping long glasses of lemon- flavoured Ice Tea. Watching Dan sitting by the pool with her brother, John; Colleen asked her father; “what do you think of him Dad?”

Paul Hagan, gray-haired, thin narrow face frowned at the thought of his son in law. A veteran of the Royal Canadian Air Force Paul’s father Sam, had opened a small bakery in 1946. Paul had built upon it. He was now President of Hagan Wholesales Bakery, serving the Hamilton and Niagara Districts. He also served as a patron of youth basketball, and as a member of Saint Patrick’s Catholic Church where her wedding would soon be held.  “He’ll never be a businessman.”

“That’s not fair, Dad. He never wanted to be one.”

Paul nodded. “I know dear. I didn’t mean it as a criticism; just as a statement of fact. Personally I like him.”

               ***

When he and Julie had seen Colleen at Pearson Airport they had noticed her pulling a wheeled piece of blue hand luggage. She was waving and smiling at them. Trailing behind her, pushing a luggage cart, had been Dan. During the past three days that seemed to be Dan’s customary place, following behind Colleen.

Colleen ran towards them. Paul noticed that around her neck she wore a small golden cross. That pleased him. Drawing closer however he noticed that it was not a Christian cross.   Golden filigree topped a three pointed cross dangling from Colleen’s neck by a gold chain.

Parents and daughter embraced and kissed. Dan, arriving with the luggage was introduced by a beaming Colleen.

On the way to the parking lot Paul asked her about the cross. “Beautiful piece of work. Is that by the missionaries?”

 Colleen looked down at the pendant. “Dan gave it to me last Christmas. I don’t dare wear it in Kano. It’s an Agadez Cross, made by the Tauregs in the desert. Lovely isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“I’ll wear it on my wedding.”

Paul nodded, and wondered what Father Ryan would say.  “Could be French Missionary influence.”

“I have no idea Dad. Dan?”

Dan looked up from the baggage cart. “Yeah?”

“The Agadez Cross. Do you know where the design comes from?”

“I’m not sure. I was told it’s very ancient; pre-Islamic, pre-Christian. I read that it might even descend from the Carthaginians.”

“The same people who fought the Romans?” asked Paul.

“Yes sir; Hannibal and the elephants; the same. Apparently fathers hand them down to their sons as symbols of their attainting manhood.”

Colleen beamed. “He’s so smart, Dad.”

***

 

 Paul leaned forward. “I know that Dan loves you. I know that he will do his best to keep my little girl safe. He’s a little odd at times but that’s okay. We all have our eccentricities. On the whole you did well.” He looked over at Dan. “You know, I met men like him during the war. Quiet, shy, they keep to themselves. Never say much but there’s an inner toughness to them. Men like that, no one notices until we need them.” He turned back to Colleen “A year in Northern Nigeria and you two are going back for more.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. I hope my grandchildren inherit that ability.”

Colleen smiled and kissed his forehead. “Thank you Dad. You’re tough too. You did go through the war.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, I know. So you still have one more year in Nigeria?”

“Yes. In August we’ll spend three weeks in England. Dan has relatives there. We’ll do some sightseeing.  Then back to Kano. We should be back here next July.”

“For good?”

“I think so. I should be expecting by then.”

“Hope so. Your mother and I would like to see children in this house again. You know we  drove up to Thunder Bay and met his parents.”

“I know. You wrote us.”

He nodded. “Nice people. You’ll like them.  You know, I have contacts with the Board of Education. They’re always on the lookout for new talent Maybe you two can leave copies of your resumes with me.  By the way,” He tapped the back of her right hand. “You’re pretty tough too, in your own way.”

Colleen smiled. “I never thought I was terribly tough.”

“You are. You just didn’t know it. Dan helped to bring it out but it was always there. I have to thank him for that.”

***

Saint Patrick’s Church on King Street, East Hamilton a rather shabby working class district, an area Paul had once called home would be the site of Colleen’s wedding. He had been married there.  He still attended mass there. He would have his daughter married there.

Father Ryan would preside over the ceremony. He and Paul had been friends since boyhood. He had baptized Colleen, given her first communion and had confirmed her. Presiding over her marriage seemed both logical and inevitable. When Paul had expressed doubt over her being married by a magistrate in Kano, the old priest had shrugged it off. “She is only respecting local law Paul. No harm in it.  Rest assured; they are legally wed.”

“But in the eyes of God . . . ?”

“They wanted to be married in front of their families. So it takes a few months? The circumstances were unusual. God can wait.”   He slotted the wedding for Saturday, at twelve a.m. 16 July 1983.

***

Paul was rather lax in many things but not in his Catholic faith.  Anywhere else he would not object to her wearing the cross, but in a church service, in a Holy Sacrament? When he saw her fitting it over her wedding dress, he felt that he had to draw a line. Backed by Julie he told her at supper. “You’ll have to leave it at home, Colleen. I’m sorry.

Colleen touched the cross. “Dad . . .”

“We can’t have a pagan object in a Christian church. I’m sorry love.”

Colleen looked at Julie. “Mom . . .”

“Your father’s right, dear. Leave it at home.”

Dan who had remained quiet through dinner, touched his wife’s right arm. He then looked at Paul and Julie.

“No.”

Paul turned to him, “Dan . . .”

“No cross. No wedding. No disrespect intended sir, but we are already wed. We don’t need the second wedding. The cross stays.”

John, while supporting his parents had no wish to antagonize Colleen.  “ Suppose we have Father Ryan decide? He is the expert after all.

 

***

Father Ryan called from watching a football game listened as Paul explained the problem.”

“It is a pagan object, isn’t it father?” He pointed at the cross.

The priest turned towards Colleen.

“May I borrow your pendant Colleen?” asked Father Ryan. “I don’t think I had a good look at it.”

Colleen placed her right hand over the cross.

“It’s alright lass.” With a smile he added, “I won’t steal it.”

 Colleen looked at Dan who nodded. Reluctantly she handed it over to the priest.

Father Ryan peered at it through his spectacles. “You bought it in Kano, Dan?”

“Yes. The Swiss Gold Shop.  I paid sixty nairas; maybe one hundred and fifty dollars Canadian. I don’t really know. It’s eighteen karat gold.”

The priest continued to examine it; from the filigree work at the top to the tips of its three points. “Nice work. You have a good eye Dan, but why didn’t you just buy engagement rings?”

“There were none. It’s not a habit among the Hausa.”

“So you bought this instead?”

“Yes. We both fell in love with it when we saw it. I guess it’s our engagement ring. The clerk said that the design and tradition was pre-Christian. Honestly we didn’t care one way or the other. We just wanted something to show how we felt towards one another.”

“I see.”  Father Ryan carefully folded the chain around the cross and handed it back to Colleen.  He sat back in his chair. Looking up he glanced at the crucifix on the wall.

“Ever seen the movie Spartacus, Paul?”

“Yeah, great film. I love that scene were all the slaves start shouting. “He deepened his voice. “I’m Spartacus.”

Colleen rolled her eyes and looked away. Dan made a small smile.

Julie nudged Paul.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good movie. Why?”

“At the end of the film Spartacus died crucified on the cross. Not once in the film was it treated as a Christian symbol or his death as a Christian death.  That’s because at that time it wasn’t. In Christ’s time the cross represented everything that was brutal about Roman rule. Not until centuries after Christ’s crucifixion did it become a sacred object. Do you know what made it a sacred object? It was the love that worshipers had for Christ.  Without that it was just two ugly pieces of wood.”

He looked at Dan and Colleen. “We’ll never know all of what you two went through during the past year. I imagine it was difficult, dangerous and different from anything we’ve known here. You survived, but more than that, you triumphed. Your love was that triumph.”

He turned towards Paul and Julie. “That cross may not reflect our beliefs, true, but it does reflect their love. Objects aren’t made sacred by their content. They are made sacred by the love that we give them.” He smiled at Colleen. “Colleen, I would be honoured if you were to wear it in the church.”

Reviews

[Alira]

This is such a cute story with a beautiful ending. I love the message that an object is made sacred by the importance of the role it has in one’s life, what it means to them as opposed to what it is “supposed” to mean. Of course, there are exceptions to this idea, but overall I like the thought of it here. The characters are endearing and I can tell you put a lot of thought into them. There are areas, however, where there should be punctuation that is not present. Contrary to what some believe, it does make a big difference in the reader’s experience. There are also lines of dialogue here that are missing quotations, and there are some quotations in the wrong places, places where there is no dialogue. These things are distracting and cheapen the impact of what is otherwise a heartwarming and interesting story. There are also some lines of dialogue themselves that could be polished, less on the nose. But that’s just my opinion. Overall, I like a nice positive story (unless there is a dark twist that I am missing, I’d have to go back and see lol). I’m going to give it a high rating because I don’t really like rating a person’s writing on a number scale. I don’t think numbers can reflect the value of a piece of writing. Keep writing and I hope you do polish some things in the story. I really liked it.