Chapter Four - Reminiscing

Father Thomas grasped his seat as the car leapt over pot holes and ruts in the road.

"Whoa there! Steady on!" he shouted, his head nearly hitting the roof of the car, "are you trying to kill us both? What were you in a past life, a stunt driver?"

Father Simon slowed down, grinning widely.

"Close enough," he replied, "a rally driver."

"It figures."

Thomas turned to Simon.

"I never asked how you found God."

"That was easy." came the reply, "I was involved in a headlong collision."

Thomas gasped.

"Oh no no, not on the track. Oh no! It was a gang of joyriders, out for kicks."

He shook his head sorrowfully.

"They were barely of legal age, yet they managed to steal a car and go for a drive."

Thomas scrutinising his face. The scars were there, although they'd faded to a silver colour now.

"It was touch and go for a while," Simon continued, "I lost a lot of blood, and my legs had been shattered."

"Shocking!"

Simon laughed then, causing Thomas to look at him quizzically.

"I guess you're wondering how I can find something so amusing from such a tragedy."

"I am actually."

"It's my sense of humour. I never lost that at all. And also the fact that I always have trouble when passing through security gates."

Thomas, not quite understanding, smiled nonetheless.
Simon chuckled.

"I've got metal pins in my legs," he explained, "for a while, I couldn't walk, but my determination pulled through. It's really hilarious going through those alarmed security gates though. I often crack a few jokes with the security staff whenever the alarms go off! It's quite funny, really."

Thomas marvelled at Simon's bravery and good humour.
How he wished he'd been like that, facing adversity with a broad grin instead of running and hiding.

The vegetation cleared and the airport came into view.
It was a stark contrast to the relatively untouched villages he'd visited.

The concrete and steel building stuck out like a sore thumb, hideous in it's structure, but suitable nonetheless in it's practicality.

A couple of planes screamed overhead and the rhythmic thwock thwock of a helicopter buzzed past.

Apart from that, it was fairly quiet.

Simon pulled into the car park and they both got out.
As Simon took out the suitcase, Thomas glanced around.

A slight breeze rustled at the palm trees making a hissing noise.

Boy, he was really going to miss this place.

They stood at the front entrance, slightly uncomfortable in each other's presence.


"Take care of little Muhana," Thomas said, eventually, "she may look cute, but boy, is she a handful. She has a habit of playing amongst the cacti if you don't watch her."

He sighed wistfully.

"She takes after her father....speaking of which, that young boy needs a little guidance. He's got a roving eye, even though he's married. He just needs to be steered in the right direction."

"Don't worry Father Thomas," soothed Simon, "they're all going to be alright. You'll see."

Thomas nodded, unsure, a worried look on his face.

"Don't worry," he assured him, "as soon as Jumbahan learns how to read and write, I'll make sure she sends you a goodwill letter."

Thomas' eyes opened wide.

"How did.....?"

"She told me herself."

Thomas chuckled.

"She's a sneaky one," he said, "I always caught her following me on several occasions and trying her hardest to conceal herself behind one of the banana trees."

"Ah yes, she asked me how you knew she was there. She thought you were the eyes and ears of God himself and he'd whispered in your ear."

Thomas leaned in close.

"Let her believe that," he whispered, "but between you and me, it was her footprints in the sand that was the giveaway."

"Oh, you wicked man!" sniggered Simon.

Thomas glanced at his watch and patted his pocket.

"Oh well," he said, sighing deeply, "I guess it's time to go."

They embraced, albeit a little awkwardly, tears glistening in Father Thomas' eyes.

"Safe journey dear brother," said Simon, his grin faltering slightly, "may God be with you."

"May God be with you too, brother," came the heavy reply, "take care of everybody and tell them I'll be thinking of them."

"I will."



Simon stood and watched as Thomas carried his suitcase into the airport and checked in.

It was better this way.

He couldn't abide long, sad goodbyes.

Besides, he had a flock of villagers awaiting for his words of wisdom.
Easing himself into the battered old car, he pulled out of the car park and drove off, back into the dense vegetation. Back to the village.

Meanwhile, for Father Thomas, time seemed to rush along at an alarming speed.

Before he knew it, he was boarding the plane and getting settled into his seat.
He glanced out of the window, he felt low and sorrowful.


He wasn't alone on the flight, however. There was a smattering of people travelling along with him. Some, on business trips, were using this airport to transfer flights, others were simply family, coming back home from their visits.

During the long flight, they chatted to each other.
It was all basically small talk, but still, it was soothing to Father Thomas' ear, and it kept his mind occupied.



But sooner or later, that plane would be hitting tarmac and he'd be stepping out into yet another new life.

He was afraid, nervous, apprehensive.

But curious all the same.