trapped by the cruelest of circumstances beyond their control: the country in which they were born. Bower felt sick. What a stupid, fucked-up world, she thought, there was no merit, no compassion, no understanding, nothing any of them could do about this artificial distinction that could make the difference between life and death. That Alile ’s fate was arbitrary and whimsical was barbaric.
"You should go," said Alile in her distinct African accent. "You came here to help us with our mess. You have helped. You can do no more. You should go while you still can."
‘Our mess,’ there was another pronoun coming into play: you, we, our. Each pronoun revealed more about its speaker than Bower had ever realized before, although ‘our’ wasn't entirely accurate. Malawi may have been where Alile was born, but the problems the country was going through had nothing to do with her personally, and Bower understood that. Her heart went out to the brave, young nurse. Bower could see Alile was being kind, giving them an out. The reality was, these artificial designations of country and race held no bearing other than what man made of them. Bower felt like a heel taking the easy way out.
"There is too much suffering in this country," Alile continued. "You have done all you can. But it is we who must end it. You can go. You should go."
Kowalski was silent.
“I will arrange for the others to go on to Mozambique tomorrow,” Alile said.
“But what about you?” Bower asked.
“This is my country. If I leave then I am giving up on her. I cannot do that. If all the good people leave there will be no one left but the evil, and I cannot stand that thought.”
Bower was silent.
Kowalski went to say something, but Alile cut him off with one, sharp word.
"Go."
It wasn't a request, neither was it an order. It was a plea.
Kowalski stood up, rubbing his hands over his face, rubbing his fingers in his eyes as though he were clearing out grit.
"Promise me," Bower said, talking to Alile. "Promise me you will leave before it’s too late. Promise me you'll make a run for the border when the time comes."
"I promise."
Kowalski hugged Alile, which took the young lady by surprise. She held her hands away from his body so her bloodied gloves didn’t mar his clothing. Kowalski didn’t seem to care. His face was set like stone. Bower hugged the two of them, tears running down her cheeks.
After a couple of seconds, Kowalski pulled back. Bower stepped away as Kowalski took Alile by the shoulders saying, “With people like you, there is hope for Malawi.”
Alile nodded.
Bower felt her lower lip wavering as she went to say goodbye. The words never came. She leaned in and kissed Alile on each cheek.
“It is OK,” Alile said. “You have done more than could have been asked of you. Thank you. One day, Malawi will be free, and we will meet again.”
Bower acknowledged her without saying anything. Words felt cheap.
She and Kowalski stepped out into the twilight as the Hummer pulled up, parking in front of the truck. Walking down the stairs leading out of the station, Bower felt as though she was sinking deeper in despair with each downward step. She’d done all she could for Alile and the other staff and patients, and yet guilt gnawing at her heart condemned her for leaving them.
"This is shit," Kowalski said, turning to Bower as they walked toward the waiting soldiers. "Some bloody world we live in. Someone comes from another world to visit, and we abandon each other, we panic and abandon our sense of humanity. What did these aliens come to see? Mindless animals? Because that's all there is here, that's all they'll find."
Bower swallowed the lump in her throat.
The roar of the diesel engine sprung to life, breaking the moment. Bower climbed up in the cab of the truck trying not to cry. Kowalski got in the Hummer. It was only when Bower got seated she realized he'd not followed her. She could see him sitting in the rear of the Hummer
"You should go," said Alile in her distinct African accent. "You came here to help us with our mess. You have helped. You can do no more. You should go while you still can."
‘Our mess,’ there was another pronoun coming into play: you, we, our. Each pronoun revealed more about its speaker than Bower had ever realized before, although ‘our’ wasn't entirely accurate. Malawi may have been where Alile was born, but the problems the country was going through had nothing to do with her personally, and Bower understood that. Her heart went out to the brave, young nurse. Bower could see Alile was being kind, giving them an out. The reality was, these artificial designations of country and race held no bearing other than what man made of them. Bower felt like a heel taking the easy way out.
"There is too much suffering in this country," Alile continued. "You have done all you can. But it is we who must end it. You can go. You should go."
Kowalski was silent.
“I will arrange for the others to go on to Mozambique tomorrow,” Alile said.
“But what about you?” Bower asked.
“This is my country. If I leave then I am giving up on her. I cannot do that. If all the good people leave there will be no one left but the evil, and I cannot stand that thought.”
Bower was silent.
Kowalski went to say something, but Alile cut him off with one, sharp word.
"Go."
It wasn't a request, neither was it an order. It was a plea.
Kowalski stood up, rubbing his hands over his face, rubbing his fingers in his eyes as though he were clearing out grit.
"Promise me," Bower said, talking to Alile. "Promise me you will leave before it’s too late. Promise me you'll make a run for the border when the time comes."
"I promise."
Kowalski hugged Alile, which took the young lady by surprise. She held her hands away from his body so her bloodied gloves didn’t mar his clothing. Kowalski didn’t seem to care. His face was set like stone. Bower hugged the two of them, tears running down her cheeks.
After a couple of seconds, Kowalski pulled back. Bower stepped away as Kowalski took Alile by the shoulders saying, “With people like you, there is hope for Malawi.”
Alile nodded.
Bower felt her lower lip wavering as she went to say goodbye. The words never came. She leaned in and kissed Alile on each cheek.
“It is OK,” Alile said. “You have done more than could have been asked of you. Thank you. One day, Malawi will be free, and we will meet again.”
Bower acknowledged her without saying anything. Words felt cheap.
She and Kowalski stepped out into the twilight as the Hummer pulled up, parking in front of the truck. Walking down the stairs leading out of the station, Bower felt as though she was sinking deeper in despair with each downward step. She’d done all she could for Alile and the other staff and patients, and yet guilt gnawing at her heart condemned her for leaving them.
"This is shit," Kowalski said, turning to Bower as they walked toward the waiting soldiers. "Some bloody world we live in. Someone comes from another world to visit, and we abandon each other, we panic and abandon our sense of humanity. What did these aliens come to see? Mindless animals? Because that's all there is here, that's all they'll find."
Bower swallowed the lump in her throat.
The roar of the diesel engine sprung to life, breaking the moment. Bower climbed up in the cab of the truck trying not to cry. Kowalski got in the Hummer. It was only when Bower got seated she realized he'd not followed her. She could see him sitting in the rear of the Hummer
Similar Books
