Dave Walters

The book 'It's God's wish' includes a novelette with this same title, which relates the troubled relationship of the protagonist who is a French Catholic priest with a couple of American missionaries

Dave Walters

IT'S GOD'S WISH

An excerpt

The orange sphere of the setting sun glowed above the western golden hill tops, sneaking time and again between the broad leaves of the tick trees, which separated the hotel from the horizon line; a crimson sunset so typical to this part of the world, was in mid setting.

Father Felix Desirade parked his light bike at the narrow parking place at the feet of the balcony of the village's sole hotel. He climbed the stairs that led to the hotel's entrance ponderously, and uttered a sigh of relief as he reached the balcony's plain. He crossed the entrance of the small restaurant and reviewed with a comprehensive gaze the restaurant's empty hall.

A typical African music filled the air, and at the bar near the entrance stood a young African, listening to the local radio station.

'Are there any guests today Francois?' Father Desirad asked him while advancing towards the bar.

The young African nodded his head from side to side, and a shade of a smile appeared on his face as he asked: 'Pastis?'

'No thanks, a local lager beer please,' Desirade hastened to answer, and turned his face away from the mocking smile on the young African face. He rushed out to the balcony and sat at one of the tables that were next to the parapet. He watched the dying sun and glanced time and again at the road below the hill, on which the hotel is situated.

Every time when his lot of frustration reached an unbearable peak, he used to visit the hotel at about this hour of day; to watch the setting of the sun, and to exchange a few words with one of the village's residents that could afford a visit at the hotel's bar and happened by.

In this forlorn village lived his church congregation, he was the spiritual father of this miserable village residents, which expanded on both sides of the road beneath the village sole hotel.

He was sent from France to strengthen the influence of Christianity in this part of Africa some eight years ago. He did not entertain illusions concerning his future, this mission was in fact the last chapter of his life; a kind of exile, which he was forced to accept.

At the end of his first year mission most of his congregation members left him, and his church that was no more than an African hut, which was a bit bigger compared to an ordinary hut was empty and deserted even on Sundays.

At the beginning of his second year he almost lost his mind out of desperation, each time he was assaulted with fears of his seniors in France, and the shame that this state of helplessness brought him.

He used to visit the huts of those few he was still able to convince to come and listen to his preaches, not before he begged them and promised them paradise or threatened them with the Day of Judgment. But the few that he managed to return to his church after so many efforts on his part have deserted him again and again.

A slight trail of dust rose above the dirt road that climbs from the village to the hotel, and a clattering noise of a bike's engine was heard louder and louder as the bike was getting nearer.

Thank God someone is coming at last, Father Desirade thought relieved, watching the moving bike getting bigger and bigger and the ever increasing dust trail in its wake. When the bike reached the feet of the hotel's staircase, Father Desirade raised his arm and moved it towards the stranger in an inviting sign no matter whom he is, provided he will sit with him and pull him out from his stiffening loneliness.

'Hello Dave,' father Desirade called out cheerfully perceiving the handsome young man that has just switched off his bike's engine, and parked it at the hotel narrow parking space.

David Walters smiled back to him while mounting the hotel's staircase that led to the hotel broad balcony, having reached his friend he shook warmly hands with him and they both sat down opposite each other.

This handsome young man was twenty two years old; he was slim, tall and the fair forelock that fell on his brow above two blue intelligent eyes intensified his charismatic appearance.

'I wouldn't have been surprised if your forefathers were French Huguenots that were discriminated in France and had to immigrate to the new world.' Father Desirade declared with enthusiasm caused by the appearance of that good looking young American

'My forefathers were Welshmen and they arrived at the new world with the Mayflower.' Dave replied him with an amused smile. 'It was checked and verified.'

'So help me you should have been born a Frenchman.' Desirade declared despite the slight disappointment his guest caused him.

'Francois,' father Desirade raised his voice turning to the young African that stood in the entrance watching the newcomer several minutes already.

'Do fetch us cold beer we're thirsty.'

'And who's going to pay?' The young barman asked with impudence.

'Don't you worry my son,' father Desirade answered him pulling a few bank notes from his coat's inner pocket.

 Haim Kadman 2012 �" all rights reserved.

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