Free Night Calypso by Lawrence Scott

all fours, with the stumps of hands. Some of the more adventurous propelled themselves along on pieces of board and galvanise, tobogganing themselves over the grit and gravel of the paths from the huts. A dangerous journey. More adventurous boys made box carts, and their journey to the clinic or school was likeplay. While the descent could be exciting for the young, the ascent back for the elderly was very hard work.
    â€˜There is a spirit in these people,’ Sister Thérèse added.
    â€˜See these people, Doc, they not go take anything, you know. Not any more.’ Jonah came and stood beneath the verandah. ‘Morning, Sister. Things go have to change. Come and talk to them.’
    â€˜I’ve just done my rounds of the wards, Jonah. That’s my pulpit. That’s where I give my sermons on hygiene. Where I talk about nourishment.’
    â€˜Each of we, go do we own thing, Doc.’
    Vincent relented and left Sister Thérèse to her meditation, and walked over to the almond tree with Jonah. He looked at his patients, or at the people, as Krishna Singh addressed them.
    â€˜People of El Caracol.’ Those with tuberculoid leprosy were the least disfigured. They carried noticeable blemishes on their skin, both on their hands and faces where the skin had died. But there was no major external disfigurement. But there were those poor wretches who were covered with nodules, whose features had caved in to give them that proverbial lion-face look, with their flattened noses, the absence of eyebrows, foreheads and cheekbones which had thickened. This was
Lepromatus
Leprosy.
    Vincent had discovered, from his examinations and observation, that these patients had little control of their facial muscles, and that it was often difficult to tell the difference between a smile and a grimace. Joy and sadness presented themselves with ambiguity.
    Vincent stood with Jonah and listened to Krishna Singh putting the case for better conditions. ‘He should’ve been a lawyer.’ Jonah leant over Vincent. ‘His father dead. They ent have enough money save to send him to London. He have to support his mother and sisters.’
    During applause, Jonah carried on with the story of Singh. ‘He make Exhibition Class, try for School Certificate, get a training as apprentice pharmacist. The best job they give him is here.’ Vincent looked at Singh anew. ‘Law was his first ambition. But now is people. We people,’ Jonah concluded.
    Vincent looked back at Sister Thérèse. She was still on theverandah, looking on, distracted from her meditations, caught by Krishna Singh’s speeches. He noticed that Theo was standing by her side.
    â€˜Jonah, make certain Singh keeps this thing under control. I don’t want my patients risking their health for his revolution.’ The crowd under the almond tree had doubled in numbers since yesterday. Word was spreading.
    â€˜Trust them.’ Jonah pointed at the crowd.
    Â 
    Vincent paused on the verandah. Sister Thérèse looked up and smiled. He stood at the balustrade and gazed out to sea. Theo and himself watched Ti-Jean swing his way on his crutches into the yard to hear the old fellas under the almond tree. ‘I play football, you know.’ Vincent was astonished at Theo’s spontaneous remark.
    â€˜Good.’
    Theo jumped down from the verandah and ran over to join Ti-Jean. Then he saw the girl Christiana join them.
    â€˜They’re doing well.’ Sister Thérèse was looking over to where Ti-Jean and Theo stood at the edge of the crowd.
    â€˜Yes, Ti-Jean’s learnt about his illness. He’s active in his recovery. We can see the signs in the body. It’s different with the mind.’
    â€˜The mind?’
    It was out before he had time to think whether it was the right thing or not. ‘Theo. Something is not right.’ Vincent told Sister Thérèse about the nocturnal