Page 8 - Archangel

MacIain [Son of John, Johnson, Gaelic] had accompanied to Belfast
what remained of his friend in temporary escape from the waves of woe
in the central African genocide – one of the worst in recorded history.
Collins was a committed and brave doctor for the Atlanta, Georgia -
based international humanitarian aid organization Physicians for the
World (PFW). He had been suddenly stolen away by a Hutu militiaman’s
machete four weeks ago. And now Sean’s Scottish American public health
and disaster relief colleague stood coming apart at the seams in a sodden
Northern Ireland graveyard.
With images of Sean’s corpse in pieces robbing MacIain of sleep on the
three flights from Africa to Ireland, Skye arrived in bloody Belfast early
enough to sneak into the cemetery. Gouged with a harvest of fresh graves
from the ‘Troubles’, he wanted to privately mourn his friend who could
always temper his savage edge with a living, breathing belief in something
higher which defied death itself. Until now.
Standing in a Catholic graveyard, Skye thought it ironic that Collins
hailed from a country where people had killed each other over politics
disguised as service to God for decades. Belfast’s torrential gusher soaked
through to his bones, as Skye’s memory fast-forwarded through their years
of rewarding yet dangerous service on three continents. PFW is where
MacIain and Collins had met, evolved into a great public health team, and
helped save the lives of thousands through the secular aid organization.
As introduction and baptism by fire, PFW threw MacIain and Collins
into the ‘deep end’ of Sudan’s Hunger Triangle, where their friendship
was forged amidst strife and starvation which claimed a million souls.
They leaned on each other often in Africa, as Rwanda and its unfortunate
neighbors Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Tanzania bore
collective witness to merciless massacres rivaling World War II carnage. 1.5
million were dead and still counting. That death toll eventually included
MacIain’s Northern Irish colleague, who had paid to serve those in need
with his life.
And so it was that fellow disaster relief and development professional
Skye MacIain had ventured out of Africa with his best friend on earth
– now seven pounds of ash. Wiping his long, rain-soaked hair from his
eyes, he saw that the dug grave was overkill for a solitary urn, but so be
it. Cremation masked the fact of Sean’s dismemberment. Only God, the
Collins’ cooperative presiding parish priest, immediate family and Skye
knew that grisly fact. It would stay that way.

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