“I would have thought, Mrs. Turner, that without the hustle and bustle of Poplar your husband would have an easier time of it arriving at clinic on time.” Phyllis Crane impatiently folded her glasses and slipped them into her pocket.
“It’s not as if there’s a terrible crush of patients, is there?” Barbara piped in. “I’m sure Doctor Turner will be along any time now.” In the weeks since their arrival in South Africa, Barbara’s spine had stiffened, particularly around Nurse Crane. No one was sure if it was meant to impress the formidable older woman, or to spite her.
“Doctor Turner wanted to speak with Timothy’s teacher this morning. He’ll be along shortly.” Shelagh held back a sigh and turned back to organizing the vaccines it seemed they wouldn’t be administering yet again. The warm sense of accomplishment brought back from Thembe’s delivery had all but faded as yet another clinic was ignored by the community.
“How is Timothy finding school here,” Sister Julienne asked in the bored silence.
“Oh, you know Timothy,” Shelagh rallied. He thinks the world of Utitshala, and he’s made a very firm friend in Steven. I know it was an imposition on all of you to bring the children along, but it’s been so very educational for Timothy.”
“The broader the minds of our youth, the better we will all be,” Nurse Crane interjected. “The world is changing quicker than we grown-ups can keep up. It’ll be up to them to blaze the trails!”
“Indeed, Nurse Crane,” Sister Julienne responded quietly. Her eyes travelled around the small group. “One can only hope that like Timothy, they will work hard to understand the new without rejecting all of the old ways, as well.”
“I, for one, am grateful the children came along, Shelagh. Angela and her monkey friend have become quite a source of entertainment for us all!” Trixie flounced over to the intake table next to Barbara. “I hardly even miss the Coronation Street.”
Barbara sparked up. “You should come out with me this afternoon, Trixie. Tom is working with Fred and Jacob Arends to plot out the pipeline from the new well, and I thought I would bring them a bit of a tea. You know, to keep their spirits up.”
As Trixie made to cry off, Barbara added. “I think Tom mentioned Mr. Makepeace might be coming out to help read the plans.”
Suddenly fascinated by the pile of empty patient cards in front of her, Trixie’s voice was cool. “I suppose I could. It might give me a chance to take one of the horses out for a ride. I’m feeling a bit restless, I must admit.”
“I think we all are, if we’re quite honest,” Nurse Crane admitted. “We haven’t made much of an impact in the weeks since we’ve arrived.”
“I think we may have been going about it all wrong, Nurse Crane.” All heads turned as Patrick swanned in through the double doors that opened onto the yard. “We’ve been expecting the community to come to us because it’s the most efficient use of time and services. We thought they would accept our way of doing things, when it’s really quite foreign to them.” He approached his wife’s table. “You were right, Shelagh. They have good reason to be wary of strangers, especially white strangers. Very little good has come from Colonials, so, of course they’ve turned inward, even at the expense of their own health.
He paused and looked about the clinic. “We have to earn their trust. When we first arrived, I didn’t think it was possible, especially after we met Sergeant DuPlessis and saw what sort of authority we were dealing with, but Shelagh’s midwife call yesterday has given me hope. If we can make some sort of connection, build a sort of bridge between us, then perhaps we can prove to the community that we really are here to help.”
“But how, Doctor? We’ve gone out into their homes, we’ve explained how a clinic here at the Mission will help everyone. We can’t make them trust us.” Sister Julienne’s voice betrayed her discouragement.
“No, we can’t, Sister. What we can do is show them who we are as people. Shelagh, when did you feel you had gained Thembe’s trust last night?”
As she looked in her husband’s face, Shelagh felt her heart begin to pound. His eyes glittered with excitement and purpose. “When she knew I had a little girl waiting for me at home.” She took a deep breath and told the group, “Thembe would have done whatever her grandmother told her, but when she knew I was a mother as well, she gave me her trust.”
“Exactly. You made a connection with those women, Shelagh, one that showed them you were more like them than they knew. Apartheid has kept people so locked away from each other that they’ve forgotten that basically, we’re all the same. Same hopes and fears, same loves and dreams.
“What we need to do is work at building on what Shelagh started. We need to show our own humanity. When we do, we’ll finally reach them.” His hand reached out and took hers. “After clinic, Timothy and I are bringing Utitshala out to the shantytown to meet with Stephen Obi’s father. I think I may have a way to get Fred some help with that well, but for now, let’s come up with a plan to get people to trust us.”
“I think you may get an earlier start on your plan than you thought, Doctor Turner,” announced Sister Winifred. “We’ve got company.”
Ahead in the near distance, a growing number of women, children running about their feet, strolled towards the Mission hospital.
“What on earth–” Trixie exclaimed. Her face grew determined. “All right, doctor. Let’s put your theory to the test!”
As the women gathered closer, the yard filled with their friendly chatter. Shelagh and Patrick exchanged a look, and after a gentle squeeze, released each other’s hand to take a place by the tables.
Nurse Crane’s voice rose above the rest, and in minutes, the clinic was in full swing. Nonnatuns relied on old habits and skills and soon not only were inoculations being administered, but minor ailments and childish illnesses were sorted as well.
Shelagh gazed out over the crowd. The women seemed so different in some ways to the women they were used to seeing in Poplar, their clothes lighter and rougher than the woolies so often seen in England, the shaped felt hats of the local milliner replaced by intricate headwraps, even the rhythm and tone of their language sounding the same in the large group. She smiled as she overheard Sister Winifred trying bravely to replicate the sounds necessary for her patient’s name.
Myra Fitzsimmons’ truck pulled in through the gates, and the medic jumped down. “I’ve brought you a visitor,” she called over to Shelagh as she came round and opened the passenger door.
Umakhulu climbed down from the truck, then reached in to take a large bundle of cloth from her granddaughter before the doctor helped the young woman out.
“Thembe!” Shelagh cried. “You should be home resting!”
“Life in the kraal doesn’t provide much chance for bedrest, Nurse Turner,” Doctor Fitzsimmons noted dryly. “Thembe was prepared to walk the mile and a half to come and thank you herself. I was lucky to get her to agree to ride back with me.”
Thembe reached out and grasped Shelagh’s hands tightly. “Nurse Umhlobo, I owe you so much. My daughter is safe and with her family, and I must thank you.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Shelagh scoffed gently.
“There is no nonsense, Nurse Umhlobo,” Umkhulu chided. “You have helped our family and now we must help you.”
“Umkhulu is the reason why these women have all come to our clinic,” Myra explained. “It’s no small thing that she used her influence to convince them we can help. She’s the single best hope we have to make this clinic a success.”
A warm glow of pride shown in Shelagh’s face. “Thank you for letting me into your home, Thembe. Here,” she coaxed as she placed her arm about the young woman’s shoulders. “Let’s get you sat down and we can have Doctor take a good look at this beauty.”
My Little Yellowbird 