The next day after appropriate clearances, Joe was driven to the orphanage, an old rambling building on a country road several miles out of the city. Joe was pleased to notice that the spacious grounds were neatly kept.
As he rang the front door bell, the thought came to him for the first time – what if they don’t speak English?
The door was opened by a smiling middle-aged nun.
“Hello Sister. I’m Father Joe, a chaplain at the Base.”
“Welcome, Father.” Joe breathed a silent prayer. Thank God, she speaks English!
“I’ve come about a little girl.” He proceeded to give her the main details.
“Come in, Father. I’m Sister Ambrosia. It’s our prioress you need to see – Sister Miguel. I’ll get her for you.”
A tall, much younger, nun soon joined him.
“Sister Miguel,” she smiled as she extended her hand. “Sister Ambrosia has told me the story of the little girl. We are full to brimming but we never turn anyone away. Of course we will look after her. What is her name?”
“I have no idea,” Joe answered.
“If she has been separated from her family, more than likely she will not know her name. What do you call her?”
Joe thought. “Actually I don’t give her a name – just little mate!”
“What is your mother’s name?”
“Mary.”
“Then Mary she’ll be with us. Come now and I’ll show you around.”
He was first taken to the dining hall where – he guessed about one hundred – boys and girls aged – again he guessed from three years to teenage – were happily and noisily enjoying a sparse meal. She’ll settle in here for the present, Joe thought, as he looked around. For the future – no, we can’t go there right now, he soon told himself.
Sister Miguel then led Joe through an open walkway to the next building. How much longer can that stay erect, thought Joe, as they entered.
“Sister, how much longer can this building remain standing?” He voiced his thoughts.
“I know,” she answered. “But we have nothing else. And who is going to help us? Our congregation has no money. Sometimes we have to beg for the sparse food we have. But you know – Jesus said ‘suffer the little children…’”
“Yes, Sister. I agree. But we have to be practical. This building will not last much longer.”
“We can only live in the present, Father. And the present is what we have now – this.” She gesticulated toward the building. “Come in and see it for yourself.”
The small entrance foyer led into what appeared to be a massive shed. Just like the shearing shed at home, thought Joe. He soon came back to earth as he moved into the room, a massive room crowded with beds.
“Is this the only sleeping quarter?” Joe asked in amazement.
“Yes,” she answered with a smile. “It’s all we have. The curtained off areas each end are Sisters’ sleeping quarters. There are six of us.” Joe looked, again in amazement, at the two small areas she had indicated.
“How do you manage so much with so few?” Joe asked, noting the cleanliness of the area.
“We have great help from the villagers,” she answered. “Without that, it would be humanly impossible to keep going.”
They moved through the large sleeping area into a small room beyond, in which cupboards were stacked on both sides.
“Clothes, towels, sheets, anything given to us… She shrugged in answering the unspoken question.
Through a door they were on another walkway to what turned out to be the bath/shower/toilet block, at the back of which was a large furnace which, Joe guessed, provided the luxury of occasional hot water.
“Schooling has to be in the open,” she added.
“How can you give care to these kids and look after them in conditions like this? The kids are clean, the place is clean. But no one should be expected to do so much with so little.”
“I cannot answer that, Father. I know this is primitive, but without it most of these kids would be dead, starving or worse!”
“And what about you and your Sisters,” Joe asked. “Don’t you ever think what’s the point or want to leave?”
“Many times,” she smiled. “But we still stay – and hope for a better future for these children.”
On returning to the Base, Joe headed for the hospital.
“You’re becoming part of the place,” the sister smiled at him.
“Good or bad?” he laughed.
After arrangements were finalized for Mary’s move to the orphanage the next day, the nurse asked Joe, “Would you like to see Mary before you go?”
“Just a look,” he answered.
From the door he noticed she was still playing with the doll, was talking to it, smiling at it.
“She’ll be okay,” the nurse assured Joe. “She’s quite a social little girl. And yes – I can feel your question – she can keep the doll!”
Joe returned to his quarters, exhausted, but trying to find answers to questions that refused to go away.