The Visiter
She was sick,very sick and nothing short of an operation by the best brain surgeon in the country would save her. With the tumor only getting bigger by the day and raising the necessary cash beyond impossible for the likes of them - the poorest of the poor in a country near the bottom of the list of impoverished nations. Their last throw of the dice, the fifth letter pleading for help from their estranged sister in NZ unanswered, they now resigned themselves to holding vigil over the little one until god chose the moment to take her into his loving arms.
It is here, engaged in this obligatory vigil that that we find them at the little one's bedside, if one could call it a bedside, really nothing more than a few cheap and dirty clothes heaped up to raise her off the the damp and rotting floor timbers. Mother, Father, Sister, two Aunts and one Uncle, all silently cursing the name of the absent one who had taken away their last hope and berating themselves even more for believing that leopard would ever change her spots, given her past record for dismissing most monetary requests and only returning home twice in the last ten years, her money belt never taken off in their presence.
Nobody of any consequence ever came to this part of town. With disease and death the only commodities in abundance, not even relatives from other parts paid anything but fleeting visits. It is not hard for one to imagine the facial expressions shown by those present, (a mixture of fear and confusion with a degree of anger for good measure), at the announcement by one of the Aunt's that a well dressed gentleman was asking for an audience. Nothing of this nature had occurred before for any of them to gage what it could mean.
With reluctance on the part of both parties this well dressed stranger gained admittance. It took a good minute before those engaged in the vigil broke free of their zombie like state and the father gestured for the mystery guest to be seated on the overturned wooden crate.
It was not hard to notice that he was used to this crude, though mostly friendly hospitality and that he was not a stranger to visiting this or similar parts of town as he showed no sign or gave any suggestion that he looked down on them or their surroundings. Ignoring the state of the room and being sensitive to their need to continue with the vigil he got straight to the reason for his visit.
He was under instructions (how he hated these words) from their sister in NZ, and had been for the last ten years, to keep an eye on them all and should a dire need for funds arise then they should be forthcoming from an account she had set up a few moths after she started earning regular money in NZ. In his opinion this was just such a dire need and the account along with proceeds from her Life Insurance would fully fund the operation and cover the cost of moving her and the rest of the family to a more suitable establishment.
Putting our imagination to work again it is not hard for us to see a different set of facial expressions appear in those present. Fear, confusion and anger plus the hatred shown when previously cursing the absent sister being replaced with guilt and shame along with a great sadness which expressed itself even in their bodily postures as the significance of the news slowly sunk in. Joy and relief would take their own time to decide whether to appear as facial expressions especially as the next words from this stranger, this well dressed gentleman put an end to any doubt regarding the fate of a sister, now unable to give them any sign of forgiveness in this world.
The words "Sarah was the victim of a hit and run last month and she did not regain consciousness" hung heavy not just on the hearts of those hearing the news but also on the heart of the one giving it. Oh for the day when he could afford not to be under instructions.
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