Star of Light (8 page)

“I do not know her,” he said gravely. “She is not one of the children from our village.”

He followed the nurse downstairs in silence, and
she came to the door and let him out. He stepped into the street, looked up into her face, and took hold of the hand that had been so kind to Kinza.

“You are good,” he said simply. “Your food is good; your teaching is good; your heart is good. May God have mercy on your ancestors!”

Then he bounded away down the street and disappeared into the darkness.

Hamid Learns a Lesson for Life

H
amid kept his job at the doughnut shop. He worked hard, and his master was usually quite kind to him, giving him his breakfast and his coin regularly. The coin he spent on lunch, and the nurse provided him with his supper. He slept with Ayashi just inside the mosque, and as long as the sun shone and the weather kept warm, he was happy. There was always plenty to do. The boys helped with the harvesting and picked olives. On hot days they went bathing in the rocky stream that flowed from the spring in the mountain and washed all their dirt away.

Five days a week, they went to the house of the English nurse. Hamid knew many stories about Jesus now. He knew that He was not a saint at all, but the Son of God who had come down into this world. He
knew that the lame and the blind had come to Jesus, and He had healed them. Hamid wished that he also had lived then, for he would have carried Kinza to Him, and her eyes would have been opened. He knew that Jesus had died with His arms stretched out in welcome on a cross, and He had been placed in a rock tomb. He had come to life again and left the tomb. Then He had been seen in a beautiful garden.

He knew, too, that Jesus had gone back to heaven, the City of Light, and was still alive, and that the living Spirit of Jesus was willing to come into the hearts of people to make them good.

Summer turned into autumn, and the nights became colder and longer. There were no more tourists in the hotel now, so there were no cars to watch and no luggage to carry. The boys often begged for money or scraps at rich people’s houses. Life became hard and uncertain. The only comfort that could really be depended on was supper at the house of the English nurse.

She lit a charcoal fire for them these nights and let them in early. They would troop across her hall, leaving a trail of black footprints on the tiles, their rags dripping. Then they would huddle around the glowing coals to warm their blue fingers, and gradually their teeth would stop chattering.

Clothes were a great problem. The wind and rain pierced and rotted their rags, and Hamid wondered just how much longer his flimsy summer gown would hold together. He did not know what he would do when it finally fell to pieces. Some of his friends had
begged or stolen sacks, but Hamid had not been so lucky.

Kinza, on the other hand, had no clothes problem. She always went shopping with the English nurse, and Hamid often saw her waddling across the market on legs that had grown amazingly fat and sturdy during the past two months. Over her clean gown she wore a red woolly jersey and a little brown cloak. She had rubber shoes on her feet and a woolly hood over her dark curls. She looked the picture of health and happiness, and Hamid, edging up as close as possible, felt very proud of her.

The rain was pouring down one night when the children splashed their way up the cobbles and hammered on the door of their refuge. They shook themselves on the step like wet little dogs and surged forward toward the fire, puffing and blowing and sniffing. The English nurse felt especially sorry for them, for she thought she had never seen them look so wretched and sad. Yet they lifted their merry, cheeky faces to her and their dark eyes were still bright. She marveled at their courage.

But there was one well-known little figure missing, and this was the second night he had not turned up—an undersized shrimp of a boy who had come regularly for months.

“Where is Abd-el-Khader?” the nurse asked.

“He can’t come,” replied one child in a careless voice. “His rags fell right to pieces, and he hasn’t a father. He has nothing to wear at all, and he must stay at home till his mother can save enough to buy a sugar sack.”

No one seemed to care or seemed surprised, and the evening passed as usual. But when supper was finished the nurse turned to Hamid, who always lingered to the last. “Do you know where Abd-el-Khader lives?” she asked.

Hamid nodded. “Up at the top of the town by the prickly-pear hedges,” he replied, “but the path is like a muddy river. You could not go there tonight.”

“I think I could,” said the nurse, “and if you would like to earn a little money, you can take me there.”

Hamid nodded enthusiastically. He liked Abd-el-Khader. He waited at the bottom of the stairs while the nurse went upstairs to sort out some old clothes, and while he waited, his bright eyes roamed around the house. He had never been left alone before, and he found it very interesting. He poked his nose into the room on the left and found himself in a little kitchen. On one shelf stood a china bowl of eggs, just low enough for him to help himself.

Hamid hesitated. He could not count, but perhaps the nurse could and would notice if he took two. On the other hand, raw eggs sucked through a little hole in the top were delicious, and Hamid had not tasted one for a long time. He decided it was worth the risk. If he waited outside the door, the nurse would never see in the darkness. Even if she noticed later, she would not be able to prove it was him.

So he took an egg in each hand, slipped out into the street, and stood waiting in the dark. Soon the nurse appeared with a bundle and a key, and, what Hamid had not bargained for, a powerful flashlight.

“Come along,” said the nurse, turning on her
flashlight. “Walk with me and we can both walk in the light.”

But to the nurse’s surprise, Hamid did not wish to walk in the light. He seemed to be taking great care to keep out of the the beam, slinking along the gutters, shuffling against the wall. It was very dark and very muddy, and once or twice he slipped, clutching his precious eggs tightly in both hands.

“Why won’t you walk with me in the middle of the road?” asked the nurse, puzzled. “You will fall if you run along in the gutter like that.”

“I’m all right,” muttered Hamid rather miserably. He was not enjoying himself at all. He was so afraid of that broad beam of light, and the eggs somehow did not seem worth it. He wished he could get rid of them, and yet at the same time he wanted to hold on to them.

It was pitch black away from the light, and when they started climbing the steep back alleys Hamid could not see where he was going at all. Suddenly his foot caught on an unexpected step, and he fell headlong on his face. He gave a sharp cry of shock and pain, and the nurse, who was a little ahead, turned around quickly and shone the light full onto him.

She saw him struggle to his feet, his gown covered with black mud and yellow egg yolk. She saw his hands clasping the smashed shells and his grazed knees streaming with blood, and she understood at once what had happened. He would have scuttled away from her, but she took hold of him quickly, and he burst into frightened tears. He had no idea what she would do. She might fetch the police and
put him in prison, or she might beat him in the street. Whatever she did or did not do, he felt sure she would never have him in her house again. Never again would he enter that place of warmth and light. He would be shut out, and it was all his own fault.

Then through his sobs he heard the voice of the nurse speaking quietly to him. “Come along,” she said. “You’ve cut your knees badly. We’ll go home and bandage them up, and then you can show me the way again afterward.” She kept tight hold of him, and they walked home in silence, except for Hamid’s sniffs. When they got there, she locked the door on the inside.

Still silent and ashamed, Hamid washed his hands under the tap, and then the nurse sat him down and bathed his black knees till the cuts and grazes were quite clean. She put ointment and bandages on them, then she took a good look at him. He sat slumped in a sorry little heap covered with mud and raw egg. The only clean parts about him were the little tracks on his cheeks made by his tears.

Still without speaking, she went upstairs where she kept a bundle of old clothes, and she came back with a clean shirt and a grey woolly sweater that had been mended many times. Then she fetched more warm water and soap and scrubbed him clean. Next she dressed him in his new clothes and sat down beside him.

He looked up at her, marveling, for it was his very first experience of someone returning good for evil, and he could not understand it. Instead of prison and a beating, he had been given medicine and clean, beautiful clothes.

“Hamid,” said the nurse beside him, “you fell over and hurt yourself because you would not walk in the light with me. You were afraid to walk in the light because you had stolen my eggs.”

There was no answer.

“You don’t deserve ever to come here again,” went on the nurse, “but they were my eggs and I paid for them, so I’m going to forgive you—only you must promise never to steal anything out of my house again.”

Hamid nodded.

“And remember,” said the nurse, speaking very slowly, “you could not walk in the light with me because of what you had done wrong. Jesus says He is the Light of the World. You must ask Him to forgive you for what you did tonight and then you must walk beside Him in His light every day until you get to heaven. He will make you feel clean inside, just as I made you feel clean outside when I washed away the mud and egg.”

Hamid looked down at his clean clothes and bandages, and understood. His eggs, which had seemed so precious, were gone, but he did not want them anymore. He had been forgiven and washed and made clean. He had been brought back into the warmth and shelter of the nurse’s home. They were going out again into the dark to find Abd-el-Khader’s house, but it would be quite different now. He would walk close beside the nurse. He would not stumble, and he would not be afraid of the light any longer, because he no longer had anything to hide. They would walk guided by the flashlight’s bright, steady beam.
It would be a treat.

Half an hour later, having finished their task, they returned to the house. The wind roared against the rocks behind the town, and the rain beat up the streets in cold gusts. Hamid said good-bye on the step.

“But where are you going to sleep?” asked the nurse doubtfully.

“In the mosque,” answered the little boy.

“Have you any blankets there?”

“No.”

“Isn’t it very cold?”

“Tonight I shall be warm in my new sweater.”

“Well, you can come in tonight and sleep on the floor. The fire is still burning.”

So she left him lying comfortably on the mat, covered with a blanket, staring into the glow of the dying charcoal and thinking over the events of the evening. He had learned something that night that he would never forget all his life. Sitting up suddenly, he held out his hands and whispered the words of a simple hymn he had learned by heart, asking God to give him a clean heart, forgive the bad things he had done, and lead him to heaven.

Christmas