CHAPTER 32

“I WOULD BE VERY honored if you would allow me to join the Ethiopian Red Cross,” Marco said, coming right to the point. Looking around him, he was surprised by the austerity of the small room: two straight backed chairs in front of a monastic style desk, a small copper lamp a desk calendar, and the holder for his silver pen. He wondered why he had assumed that this inner sanctum would be more luxurious and more in keeping with the power that the Keeper of the Pen actually wielded.

“I thought . . .”

“That I would serve with Italy? No,” Marco said, interrupting. “I am ashamed of my country. I have been working here for more than two years. This is just not right. As for me, I know enough of the language to make a substantial contribution. Or, at least I think I could. Let me go with one of the Red Cross units.”

Yifru studied the earnest young man in front of him. He remembered the train ride. He didn’t know him at all, but Ceseli did and he respected her judgment. Ethiopia would need doctors and she was not going to get nearly enough of the good volunteers such as Marco would be. Ethiopia would be privileged to have him serve in the Red Cross. “There is a unit from the British and the Swedish Red Crosses. You know, of course, that in keeping with the rule of the International Red Cross, the units treat soldiers from both sides equally. You’re ready to do that?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I accept your generous offer. It won’t be easy and it won’t be fun. The Ethiopian Red Cross will be serving in the Tigre, Ogaden, and Sidamo. Do you have a choice?”

Marco hesitated. He had already been in the Ogaden in the south. He remembered Ceseli’s vivid descriptions of Axum in the Tigre. “Tigre. If that’s possible.”

“There is a unit near Quoram. It will be under the supervision of a British doctor, but there are several small units near that one. He’s flying up there tomorrow.”

“Will there be room for me in the plane?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“I know it’s not going to change the course of history, but that’s what I’ve decided to do,” Marco smiled tenderly at Ceseli that evening. “I just finished a letter to my family. And I want to give you this,” he said, taking a leather book and handing it to her. “It’s the work I’ve been doing on epidemics. I’ll be too busy up there on more menial tasks. I’m calling it Marco’s bible,” he joked. “It contains everything I’ve been able to find about tropical diseases, but so far I haven’t been able to put it together. Some of this material tells of miracles that supposedly took place after some kind of emergency. Famine, for example.”

“May I read it?” she asked, taking the book.

“I’d be very happy if you would.”

“You’ll be working with the Red Cross?”

“In Tigre.”

“It’s beautiful up there. There’s no danger is there?”

“None at all. Red Cross hospitals are always considered neutral havens. So are their doctors. That’s part of the Geneva Convention. And Italy was one of the five founding members.”

“What will the Italians think?”

“I haven’t told them and I don’t think I will. There’s going to be a lot of suffering. I’m going to do what I can.”

“That’s very brave of you.”

“It’s what I need to do.”

“There’s no real danger? You’re sure?”

“Positive. I could get myself killed, as you know, just walking across the street. I don’t have to tell you that. A caparisoned mule, for example. But pamper me. Should anything happen. Send the book to my father in Florence.”

“I will.”

His brightly shining eyes looked back at her. “You’ll take care of yourself?”

“I will. I’m going to volunteer at the American hospital here in Addis.”

“You should get on the next train, you know that?”

“But you know I’m not going to do that.”

Marco looked at her knowing it was senseless to insist. “One more thing. Would you let me take that photo? The one with you and the Afar girl. I’d like to remember what I’m doing this for.”

“Yes,” she said, turning to the photo propped against the one of her father on the bureau. She turned back to him searching his eyes and trying to see how he felt.

“I’ll take good care of it and I’ll see you sooner than you think.”

“You know something, Marco. You look like an angel. I thought of that the first time I saw you sleeping on the train. A curly-headed Renaissance angel. Take care of that head of hair,” she said, as she tiptoed and kissed him on both cheeks. “Isn’t this the way the Italians do it?”

He looked at her, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “No. This is the way Italians do it,” he said, lifting up her face to him and then kissing her deeply. “Don’t forget it. Will you wait for me?”

“You know I will.”

“I love you, Ceseli. Take care of yourself. We’ll be together very soon.” He held her hand tightly before releasing it, then stood back from her. Tearing himself away, he pinched her elbow and was gone.

Turning from the door, she sat on her bed. She would miss him terribly. Being with him was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and also the most confusing. It had been wonderful talking with him, sharing their thoughts, confiding in him, making plans for the future. Now she was alone again. Her father was gone, and now Marco. Even though she understood completely his need to go, she felt so lonely, and so hurt and so starved. Completely deserted.