Afterwards, she’d sat, surrounded by children, rocking a three-month-old baby, Mena, in her arms, listening to the sabar music of the Serer people, under the blackest, starriest sky she’d ever seen.

Brigid had never been so happy. Now at last she felt she had a vocation. This was where she was meant to be, and this was the work she was meant to be doing, she thought, cooing at the baby in her arms, thrilled when Mena’s little face broke into a huge smile. How she loved working with babies. They satisfied every maternal bone in her body, and when she finally handed her back to her mother, Brigid kissed them both in gratitude.

Gratitude was her overwhelming emotion, every day. How her life had changed. Now she was driving the jeep, careering along the dusty trails from village to village. Driving made her feel as free as a bird, like a goddess in her chariot charging into the unknown.

The regimens of convent life were no longer imposed on her. Goretti was sister-in-charge, but the older nun wasn’t the slightest bit interested in hierarchy. Her prime concern was to be out among the people, doing ‘The Work’, as she called it.

Brigid was in awe of her. It was only since she’d come to live in Africa that she truly realized what amazing work these women, these nuns she was sharing her life with, did with such generosity and ability. Their whole focus was on empowering the people, especially the women, to reach their potential. Getting an education was a goal for them, and she thought guiltily back to her own schooldays and the way she and her friends had moaned about studying, not realizing what a privilege it was to be educated.

She was the one being educated by these beautiful people, not the other way around, Brigid acknowledged; ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, God, for bringing me to this wonderful country.’ For the first time since she’d entered, Brigid truly felt like she was a real nun. Slipping under the cover to lie on the mat on the floor, she fell asleep before she’d even time to say her prayers.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

IMELDA

Imelda Dunne was fit to be tied. From the moment Brigid had gone to Dublin to join the convent, with a fine fat dowry, Imelda had known that she was doomed. For that she would never forgive her sister. Her aspiration to carry on in secondary school and take her Leaving Certificate exams had come to nought. Her brother’s education was deemed more important than hers, and because John was bright and hardworking there were high hopes he would get a scholarship to agricultural college after his Inter Cert.