Page 107 of Sisters Under The Rising Sun
‘We’ve just had the hardest conversation I’ve ever had with anyone. Poor Nesta had to say out loud that some of us are going to die, and die soon, and that we need to prepare.’
‘That must have been awful,’ Norah sympathises. ‘But you’re right. We’ve just been at the hospital and Jean told us there are several women there who they fear they can no longer save.’
‘Inchi, Inchi, wait!’ Ah Fat calls, hurrying towards them.
‘Oh, no. I really do not need him right now,’ Mrs Hinch says, before turning to Ah Fat and yelling, ‘Unless you have good news for me, please go away.’
‘Inchi, I have these for you,’ he blurts, handing her two long machete-like knives.
Mrs Hinch snatches them from him, turning her back and walking away. Norah and Audrey hurry after her.
‘I can’t say what I am tempted to do with these two weapons in my hands, but I am thinking it,’ Mrs Hinch says, a small smile crossing her face.
‘We would do it for you, Mrs Hinch, you just have to say the word,’ Audrey assures her.
‘Well, thank you. However, we’ve been given them for another use.’
‘What are they for?’ Norah asks.
‘These are what we have been given to dig graves,’ Nesta replies. ‘You don’t have to say it, they are totally impractical, but they are all Seki will give us. We’ve also asked for some timber to make crosses.’
Audrey and Norah exchange a look.
‘Why don’t you give them to us and we’ll look after the cemetery preparation. We will get others to help, but it will be our responsibility. Is that all right with you?’ Norah says.
Mrs Hinch stops in her tracks, looking from one woman to the other. ‘Are you sure? I don’t know if this is a short- or long-term thing. It’s a lot to offer and a lot for me to ask.’
‘Let us make it one less thing for you to worry about,’ Audrey says.
For a moment, Mrs Hinch’s legendary demeanour falters, her voice quivering as she hands each of the women a machete. ‘Thank you. You both have given so much to the women in this camp with your voices and now, now you are doing this.’
Within days, three women are dead and Audrey and Norah have dug shallow graves in an area just outside the camp where wildflowers flourish. Seki has been true to his word and provided some wood for the women to carve small crosses.
Norah and Audrey are perched on small wooden stools in front of a raging firepit. They suffer the heat of the flames as they each hold a rusted screwdriver in the fire, before they burn the names of the dead women into the crosses. While time-consuming and exhausting, they nevertheless cherish this last act they can perform for the unfortunate women who have succumbed to disease. At the gravesite, Mother Laurentia and Sister Catherina conduct the services, and flowers are placed lovingly on the graves.
Mrs Hinch calls a meeting with Margaret, Mother Laurentia and Nesta.
‘It is Christmas Day tomorrow; I have been told there will be some pork to go with our rice. By pork, I am to understand that two baby piglets will be given to us to prepare and cook.’
‘Please … please don’t tell me we have to k-kill them first?’ Mother Laurentia stammers.
‘I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure. However, if they come to us alive, I will have no problem dealing with them. Too many of us are too ill and too hungry to be squeamish right now. Am I right, Sister James?’
‘You are, and I’ll help you if needed,’ Nesta answers.
‘What weneedis for the strongest amongst us to spend the morning getting the fires ready, plenty of firewood, as I expect it will take some time to roast a whole animal.’
Once all three kitchens have been stocked with firewood, the cooking pits are lit and soon are blazing. It is well into the morning before three soldiers arrive – two with the piglets (thankfully already dead) and the other a sack of rice. Placing the carcasses on the table, they draw their bayonets and remove the legs from the animals, before taking them away.
‘Oh, well, we’ll just have to make do with legless pigs,’ Mrs Hinch says as she rolls her sleeves up to help prepare the meat for cooking.
The sun has set when the women and children leave their huts to eat. The mood is subdued, as yet more internees are dying, and Christmas isn’t celebrated this year with handmade gifts. The women have brought their own chairs from the living blocks and now sit in the clearing in the middle of the camp, as they eagerly await the arrival of food. The smell of roast pork is the only topic of conversation.
Margaret calls on a few members of her original choir, who move with her to the centre of the gathering.
‘I know we all think there is nothing to sing about, nothing joyous about this day for any of us. I am certainly not going to preach, the time for that has long past. However, if no one objects, might we sing a carol or two while we wait for our food?’
No one objects; in fact, small smiles appear around the table, but it’s the children who look most excited.
