Date: Fri, 22 Dec 2000 23:54:52 -0000
From: Kathy Lind <lindkathy@hotmail.com>
Subject: revelations

From lindkathy@hotmail.com

By an East African nun on a study tour in Northern Italy.

Revelations

The records room was adjacent to Mother Superior's office. Rows of filing
cabinets, a few new and made of grey-painted steel, some ancient and made
of dark timber cut and scratched by the years.

Sister's search through the nunnery's old records was long and fruitful .
Some in English, some in modern Italian. Some in an old Italian dialect
called Iversi, and even some in Latin. Sister had pages of notes, spiral
bound in secretarial notebooks, and the notes themselves were a jumbles
of perhaps disconnected facts, dates, names and events. Who knows if they
could ever be put together in a coherent history of the Order before she
returned to Zhonga.

The last cabinet marked with something similar to the word "Propagatione"
in the old dialect, contained notes on the nuns, some in open files,
others in sealed envelopes. Some of the larger, important-looking fawn
envelopes were sealed with deep red wax. The drawers were arranged into
sections dividing those nuns who were now in heavenly glory, those who
were professed and working in or near the convent, and those who were
novitiates or candidates.

Sister smiled to herself as she thought about the possibility of God
having his own set of filing cabinets - listing the praises and the sins
of people on Earth. Sister raised her eyebrows at the thought of her own
filing cabinet Up There!

The file on O was near the front of Cabinet O-T. The girl had intrigued
her. So devoted to the spiritual life, so hard working around the
convent, always cheerful, a strong girl who's peaceful smile was on a
body which quivered with joy on the soft red bedspread in the guest room.

Under the electric table lamp with its off-white muslin shade, Sister
unfolded the O's file. There on a small pile of paper was her life, and
Sister slowly worked through the Italian, taking notes. The papers began
with a priest-signed birth note, certifying that O was born of a milk
carter and his bride, an olive picker. There were no birthmarks, the
christening was attended by the village, and the local school had taught
her well, even through her examination results were not outstanding.

But then several pages later, there was a flurry of notes. O had "become
a woman", as it was so obliquely put, at the age of five years and 10
months. The medical records were obscure, even a little confused, but
quite definite on the point which had obviously caused quite a stir in
the valley.

Now in Africa, where most girls came of age around 10, such an "young"
occasion was venerated. When it happened so early in life to a local
Zhonga girl it was the duty of the local Tsho doctor to take her to
paramount chief's kraal where the wise men would gaze at her tuft of
'intoh', then after days a purification, she would be ceremonially
deflowered. Then she would become something like a living saint, or one
anointed by the Life-Giver in the Clouds. Sometimes they became a local
Queen.

And in Italy, where most girls came of age around 11, O had, according to
the records, been bundled off to the convent. Perhaps to hide her from
sin. The holy fathers down at the valley churches would be terrified of
sin. They might not know just what sin exactly was, but they would be
still terrified of it. Perhaps sin was anything scary.

So with O, after entering the convent as a helper to the candle-maker,
her records became skimpy again. However in small, often pencilled
entries at regular intervals, it was noted that O had "become close" to a
succession of nuns. The term was never explained.

Sister smiled as she worked out that O had been cared for at first by
what might be called the lowest ranked nun, and from there she had been
moved higher up the pecking order. An this was probably natural, thought
Sister, as the convent, despite it spiritual "levelness" had displayed an
intense hierarchical system. That was nothing unusual in convents
everywhere.

And at each notation marking the end of what was called a "learning
cycle" with each successive nun, there were phrases covering spiritual
attainment, and physical attainment. The 'physical' comments were in
obscure Latin, but they were always a little more excited than the
spiritual notes.

So that was where O had gained her sexual experience! A minor book of
revelations, was that file for O.

Sister returned the file to its cabinet drawer, switched off the lamp,
locked the carved door to the records room, and returned to her place in
the convent's guest room.

In the twilight O's outline was just visible by the window. "I took the
liberty," O said softly.

"I was hoping you would come," Sister answered, nuzzling O's ear.

They stood together, looking out over the valley as the last of the sun's
glow faded away. Framed in the window were rows of olive trees, and
framed in valley was the tiny Orsa river, a swaying, soft yellow ribbon
that was taking the color of soft gold from the setting sun.

O stood in front of Sister, her arms up high holding the window frame.
Her shirt rose with her arms, her midriff showing to the valley below.
Sister's hands clasped the young girl's body, so young, so experienced,
so soft, so willing. A one-time child, perhaps now an fair-haired
encyclopaedia of all those night murmurings in the nunnery.

The underside of the breast's warmed to Sister's touch. A fingertip touch
raised the nipples. Another fingertip slid around the lower womanly hair
that had arrived so young.

The sun slid away. The river lost its gold. The green olive trees faded
to black. A button was freed. A skirt dropped to the floor. And O opened
her soul to the touch of the night air.

(ends)