CHAPTER 37
AS THE WAR PROGRESSED, there was bad news every day. Ceseli was feeling more and more useless and depressed, and there was no recent news of Marco. She had been volunteering at the hospital and she was learning a lot. She knew how to suture and other basic first aid measures. That was helpful, but it wasn’t the war. What could she do to help? She wondered when she had begun to think like this and pinpointed it to the tanks. She had reviewed several options at length before making her decision.
She walked out of the small office where she had been working for the last five months. She liked the work and being able to consult the emperor’s personal library was adding enormously to her study. She had also photographed and made rubbings of all the coins in the collection including the thirty rare ones she had found at Axum. She had not found out why the obelisks fell.
She read and reread Marco’s last letter.
The pain I feel for these people is unbearable. I am so ashamed of being Italian. It is not only the wounds from battle that I am treating, but the horrifying pain brought on by the mustard gas. The Italian bombers come daily and spray not only the armies, but also the local villages. Worst still, they spray the fields so the people can’t eat, and the lakes so they can’t drink. All the people of Ethiopia have become victims. I treated one old man who looked liked someone had tried to skin him alive. He had only giant red cauldrons as eyes. So many of my patients are children.
I miss you so much, Ceseli. So, so much.
She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket. As she walked toward Yifru’s office she reviewed her plans and still finding them acceptable, knocked on his door. He raised his eyes and smiled as she entered.
“This is a pleasant surprise. How is the work going?”
“It’s fine. Everything is fine. I’d like to talk to you,” she said, taking the seat in front of him. “Yifru. I want to go to Dessie with the Emperor’s hospital unit.”
“Do you know what it will be like?” he asked.
“I’ve given it a great deal of thought. I don’t have a great deal of training, but I can help and goodness knows you do need that. You won’t regret letting me go.”
He looked at her for a long time before speaking, knowing that he needed to find some convincing argument that would dissuade her.
“Ceseli,” he started to say, “do you have any idea of what you’d be getting yourself into? This is not what women do.”
“Lots of Ethiopian women follow their men to war. And women are nurses.”
“Yes of course they do; but they are Ethiopian. This is their war.”
“I’m very committed to this. I know you have the power to say no, but I’m hoping you won’t use it.”
“You’d be in constant danger.”
“I can’t just sit around doing nothing. This means a lot to me. I care deeply about what will happen. I want to help.”
He looked into her supplicating eyes. “I’d need to assign someone to take care of you.”
“No you won’t. I know the language and there’s lots I can do at the hospital up there. And I know I wouldn’t be the only white person there. There are several other nurses and plenty of journalists. That’s not an excuse either.”
“That’s true, but I don’t feel responsible for them. I would for you.”
“Yifru, it’s something I very much need to do.”
Yifru studied her. He couldn’t help remembering Debra. He’d known Ceseli for months. I’ve been taking her for granted, he thought, like someone you see every day and never really look at. Yifru looked at her now knowing that part of her desire to go must be connected to Marco. But the truth at hand was that Ceseli could be of help. Did he have the luxury of using her? Was she expendable? Not to him she wasn’t, but could he put his feelings before hers?
“On one condition. No, actually two. If it gets very bad, you will obey my orders. I will evacuate you.”
She pondered this for a moment. “That’s perfectly acceptable. And the second?”
“I want Warren Rutherford’s permission.”
“Warren Rutherford is my godfather.”
“I know that. And the highest ranking American in Ethiopia. I know the emperor would want to know that he’s not going against Rutherford’s private wishes.”
“If I get his permission, when can I leave?”
“With the emperor’s honor guard. That will be soon. There is an American mission hospital in Dessie run by the Seventh-Day Adventists. My nephew, Yohannes, is with the guard. You know him, don’t you?”
“He flew us to Axum.”
“He would be flying now if we had any planes worth flying. I will tell him to take care of you on the trip.”
Ceseli was so overjoyed she grabbed his hand on the desk, smiling. “You don’t know what this means to me. You won’t regret this, Yifru. I promise.”
“I pray to God you’re right.” Yifru bent over and took from his side desk drawer a Luger pistol.
“German?”
“The only ones we could get,” he said as he fished around for a box of bullets.
Ceseli wondered whether she could ask and decided in the affirmative. “Guns from Hitler?”
“Yes, and on very favorable terms.”
“The piano crates?” she asked, now understanding.
“Rifles and ammunition.”
“Ingenious,” she smiled, holding the heavy pistol. “But why would Hitler want to sell arms to Ethiopia?”
“He didn’t whisper in my ear, but if I were to guess, I would have to think that if Mussolini’s army was involved in a protracted war in Ethiopia, he, Hitler, would have a more open hand in Europe. Austria and Czechoslovakia I should say.” Yifru smiled at her, “But that is my supposition. You’ll need to learn how to use it,” he added, nodding at the pistol.
“I know how to use it. My father taught me.”
Minister Warren Rutherford stood up as soon as she walked into his office. Ceseli was not surprised by his agitations, but neither did she intend to be dissuaded. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek.
“Ceseli, I will not permit this,” Rutherford said, holding both her hands. “For all the friendship I had for your father, I will not send you up there to die.”
“I’m not going up there to be killed.”
“I can forbid this, you know. I am the American Minister.”
“But I hope you won’t,” she said, still holding his hands.
“You’re about the age of my daughter. You don’t have to be Joan of Arc.”
“I’m not thinking of Joan of Arc and I’ll be as safe as the emperor.” Ceseli said, determined not to get sidetracked.
“That is certainly not saying much.”
Ceseli turned as Standish entered the room. She turned back to the friendly, but stoic American Minister she had come to know and respect. She felt sure that her admiration for him would not be diminished. “I’m sorry if you don’t approve. I probably would not either. But my father always taught me to make my own decisions. To follow my head. But, when necessary, to follow my heart. This is very important for me.” She looked at him. And then at Standish.
Rutherford turned to Standish. “I forbid it. You agree with me don’t you, Standish?”
“If I could do it myself, I would,” Standish answered. “But there’s a condition I think you should hear about. If Yifru tells her to return, he will see to it she gets back to Addis.”
“How, pray tell, can he guarantee that?” Rutherford asked, looking from one of them to the other. “As this war progresses, the emperor himself will become the prey. He already is.”
Standish looked at Ceseli. “I will,” Standish said.
“Uncle Warren,” Ceseli spoke quietly, “if Daddy could tell you what he thought, you know what he would say.”
“I do know that, Ceseli, my dear. I know very well.”
After a prolonged discussion at dinner, Ceseli walked back down the dark path to her tukul. She lit a candle and sat undecided as to what to do next. Then she got up picked up a pad of paper and sat down at the small table.
November 23, 1935
Dear Sotzy,
Everything is not fine in Ethiopia. I’m sure you are keeping up with the events even better than I am. It is so hard to find out what is going on in the rest of the world. I have been volunteering at the hospital as I’ve told you, but somehow it’s not really like being part of the war. Everything is happening a long way away.
I need to tell you something, and I have no doubts on how you will accept this. My work at the hospital is dandy. You know, Sotzy, that’s the best expression I can find for it. Almost as if I’m spending my time dividing the right socks from the left ones. So I have decided to volunteer with the Emperor’s Hospital unit. Guess what? They said yes. Or Yifru said yes and he’s the only one who counts. Except the emperor of course, who would never be involved in such a humble decision.
Warren Rutherford is not pleased, but he has not forbidden me. So I’m going to leave Addis in five days’ time.
I know you will understand me, and you know how much your love and opinion mean to me, Sotzy. However, I’m sure that it will be quite some time before you will get any letters from me. I’ll write when I can. Just believe in me. Happy Thanksgiving!
My love to you always.
Mrs. Frances Sheraton
290 Park Avenue
New York, NY