CHAPTER 41

THERE WERE MANY WAR correspondents in Dessie camped out in the grounds of the Advent Hospital. Ceseli did not know them well, but she did know some of them on a first name basis. Harold Anderson was with the Herald Tribune, Granger Walker with The New York Times, Scott Ludlow, the Associated Press; David Park Jennings, The Times of London; and Jacques La Housette, the French Agence Havas.

It seemed only logical to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, as there would be no bombing that night. Ceseli was happy that there were two other nurses. One was from Sweden, the other from Great Britain. It made her feel less alone.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Walker asked, putting his head into the small room where they kept hospital supplies.

“Of course I am,” she answered. “Who got us the chicken?”

“I think it was a gift from the emperor. It is certainly cooked like an Ethiopian chicken,” he laughed. “I guess we’re all getting used to wot.”

“That’s for sure.” She smiled.

She liked Walker with his keen sense of humor, ruddy complexion, red hair and freckles. He’s probably in his early forties, she thought, but looked like a plump cherub.

After dinner she decided to detour to her room by way of Yifru’s office and she found him there, as she was sure she would. I really have to wonder if this man ever sleeps, she thought, and if so, where.

“Yifru. I have an idea.”

“I’m sure you do,” he smiled indulgently, “but the answer is no.”

“You haven’t even heard it.”

“Ceseli, unless you consider me more of a moron than you let on—”

“I do not consider you a moron,” she interrupted.

“Good. That testifies to your good judgment,” he smiled. “Okay. You are not going to celebrate Timkat in Axum. I will send you back to Addis, but I will not risk your life, or that of any of my men, to go to Axum. Not even your mule. I hope that gets my point across.”

“But . . .”

“There are no buts. Against my better judgment, I agreed to have you come with the hospital unit. We are very grateful for all your work. You’ve been more help than I could have imagined.” He paused. “And I’ll make you a promise. If we win this war, I will have you taken into the Holy of Holies to see the Ark for yourself.”

“Really?”

“I promise, and I’m a good promiser.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I keep my promises.”

“It’s a quaint way of putting it,” she smiled, “but I get the meaning, and I accept.”

“Good,” he smiled again, concealing his mirth.

“You are very generous to me, Yifru. Thank you.”

“I knew you were celebrating your Christmas and there is reason to celebrate. Sir Hoare has been forced to retire. The English people were appalled at his proposal. It seems they generally hate Mussolini. Hoare has been replaced by Sir Anthony Eden. Eden has not only been an excellent diplomat at the League, but a good friend to Ethiopia.”

“He didn’t do too well on the Zeila port deal!”

“Nobody could have succeeded. He tried to find a peaceful solution. We are grateful to him for that.”

“Well, I’m glad Hoare was kicked out. Serves him right. Good Night, and thank you for your promise. Let’s see if you are a good promiser.”

“I am. Don’t worry. I am.” He smiled to himself as she left.