‘Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, who art infinitely good, and I firmly resolve with the help of Thy Grace never to offend Thee again,’ she murmured, heavy-hearted.

Was it her ego that was causing her such doubts, radical thought and angst? Keelin agonized, returning to her pew to begin her penance.

True, subduing the ego was the greatest struggle in Holy Orders. If Brigid could do it, surely she could, Keelin assured herself, beginning the first of her five rosaries.

*

‘Sister Michael, I’m afraid we expect you to wear a veil and white habit here in Nigeria,’ the Mistress of Novices, Mère Benedict, said firmly after Keelin followed her fellow novices from the convent church after Lauds.

It was her first morning in the convent in Ikorodu, a city in Lagos, where the Order had a primary and secondary school on a large, enclosed compound. Keelin had come to church wearing a patterned green and gold cotton shirtdress. She’d never worn a veil, not as a postulant, and not in the six months she’d spent in the novitiate in Dublin.

She’d been sent to Ikorodu to teach in the primary school while continuing her novitiate. And when the Boeing 707 had taken off from Heathrow to Lagos she couldn’t have been more excited. This was what she’d entered for.

Keelin had spoken to nuns who had worked in Nigeria and read up on the country she was going to. As in Ireland before colonization, when the Brehon Laws gave a woman the right to retain all land, flocks and household goods she brought to the marriage, in what was quite a matriarchal society, women in Nigeria had traditionally played a major role in social and economic activities, wielding considerable power and even becoming tribal chiefs. Colonization had altered gender relationships and eroded that power. Keelin was determined to empower her young female charges and be a champion of women’s rights.

Now she was being told to wear the veil by her Superior. That was a bit disheartening, she thought, dismayed. ‘I haven’t worn a veil or a habit since I entered, Mère,’ she said politely.

‘My dear, you’re in Africa now, we do things differently here. It’s a requirement of this convent that you wear the habit. We expect it of every nun, indigenous or not.’ Mère Benedict smiled sweetly but her voice was firm, and her brown eyes steely.

‘Very well, Mère,’ Keelin acquiesced politely.

‘A word of advice, Sister. I and many of my colleagues do not agree with the liberal regime that is running rampant through religious orders. We still abide by the rules and regulations set by Rome and endorsed by our last Chapter, a year ago. If you remember this, you will settle in quicker. Go to the Almoner to get a habit,’ Mère Benedict instructed.