Free Bad Catholics by James Green Page A

into the air before she fell dead on the floor. As she recovered from the noise, Captain Nduma rose and, still holding his pistol, came around the desk. She tried to think of a prayer but nothing came, only the echoes of the terrible bang. He strode past Philomena and shouted at the sergeant, who left sullenly, then returned to the desk and sat down, putting his pistol back in its holster.
    Sister Philomena looked at the body on the floor. A dark red pool was forming under the young nun’s headwear, which was already blood-soaked. There was a hole between the bridge of her nose and her left eye, out of which a small amount of blood oozed.
    From the desk, Captain Nduma spoke calmly.
    â€˜Please, Sister, be seated again, everything is in order.’
    Philomena obeyed. Captain Nduma smiled and pulled his chair closer to the desk.
    â€˜I’m afraid my sergeant will now be more brutal than is essentially necessary. I had to tell him that if he ever points his weapon in my direction again it will be him I kill and not anyone standing between us. He does not take reprimands well.’
    As he spoke, the screams, closer now, began again. Philomena, lonely and afraid, sat staring at her hands in her lap.
    â€˜What will happen to me?’
    â€˜You will be killed, Sister. But don’t worry, that is all that will happen to you. You have my word. In fact,’ his voice became softer, ‘I will do it myself. You will feel nothing. I don’t make a mess of such things.’
    It was as if thanks were expected. ‘Are you taking the girls?’
    â€˜The men need them.’
    â€˜And what will happen to them?’
    â€˜What do you think?’
    â€˜But after, what will happen to them … after?’
    â€˜If we are in a position to sell them, we shall. If not, we will leave them at some village or other. If we are in the bush,’ and he shrugged, ‘we will kill them. It would not be an act of kindness to leave them in the bush alone, without resources.’
    â€˜Just like …’ she inclined her head towards the body.
    â€˜That was quite different. She was young and pretty and certainly a virgin. There might have been trouble sharing her out. Sometimes it is necessary for me to assert my authority by depriving my men of something they want. I knew I would have to kill her as soon as I saw her. She was kind enough to co-operate, however unknowingly. She was what the Sisters used to call “One of God’s good little acts”.’
    â€˜Sisters? What Sisters?’
    â€˜I was educated by Sisters like yourself until I was eleven, I have fond memories of them. They were among the few really kind people I have ever known. They gave me a good education, love, they even gave me their faith.’
    Philomena sat still and listened. Captain Nduma was disposed to talk. He seemed oblivious of the noises coming from outside the office. It was as if they were friends chatting together.
    â€˜Are you a Catholic?’ she asked him.
    â€˜Oh yes. Does that surprise you?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘I became a member of the Catholic Church when I was a small child and it played a very important part in my early life. Perhaps it will again, one day. The Sisters taught me about God’s love, His unconditional love. After I was eleven, I was taught by priests. But they taught me all about sin and another Christian God, an angry, vengeful God. The priests were very frightened of Him and they tried hard to pass on that fear. Their fear and guilt were their faith.’
    â€˜Did they succeed?’
    â€˜I might have become a priest or brother myself, but two things combined against that. The memory of the nuns’ God, and then there was the foolishness of it. I saw and have seen many cruel, even very wicked acts, but I never saw God’s hand perform them, always men’s hands, Sister, always the hands of men.’
    â€˜Your hands?’
    â€˜Yes,