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Chapter 19 - Broken

Ahahahaaaaah!!! Noooooo!!! Please!!!  Whore!!!  Bitch!!! The sounds from the abyss. Louder, harsher, more desperate with every cry... the devil’s song.   Bang! Slap!   The blows rain down, growing in force. I hear a kind of weeping I have never heard before. It is the cry of one staring death in the face. The corridor stretches ever longer, the lamp shrinking, retreating into the distance. Sweat pours down my temples, trickling. And then I hear it too, on the opposite side of my room: the wail of a final torment. Faint, but unmistakable. My Mwinda. I press my ear to the wall to catch it better. “No… begging… don’t… please!!!” “Shht! It’s only a game… we’re just having a bit of fun…”  “No!!! Please!!! No!!!” I cannot bear it any longer. I cannot endure. I fling the door open with violence. There is no turning back now. What I see staggers me. Yes, I knew what was happening, but nothing prepared me for the shock of finding Louis, trousers round his ankles, ab...
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Chapter 17 - My Dear Marieke

Wednesday, 27 February 1895

My dear Marieke,

Life is a hard ordeal, and I once thought that the hardest part of it would be the vast distance that separates us. Yet, impossible as it may seem, the absence of you is a small thing compared with what I am about to confide. I pray that God grants me the strength, for this letter will not be easy to write in a way you can fully understand.

When I embarked upon this venture, I was so full of good intentions. You will remember how the very prospect drew me in, filling me with a joy almost childlike. I have always had faith in the purpose of my work in this land and have given the best of myself to carry it out. Never have I surrendered in the face of hardship, as I am convinced that only by overcoming obstacles may we attain divine glory and merit our place in Paradise. Even now, I have no thought of giving in, though I cannot put into words the difficulties I endure. Even if I found the right words, I could not tell you everything as there are things you are better not to know. The Congo makes me suffer, and not merely because of its deadly climate or the flies and mosquitoes that ceaselessly devour me by day and by night. The true suffering lies in realising that at the very gates of Hell, man reveals himself weak indeed, stripped of all the reason that God in His infinite wisdom bestowed upon him.

I beg you, however, not to worry for me. I am now convinced that God has chosen me for a particularly burdensome mission, and so you should rejoice that He has granted me this opportunity. Yet I need your support and your prayers to help me endure these, the darkest days of my life.

Please go to Father Van Den Broeck at the Church of St. Charles Borromeo and give him two francs for my penance.

With love,
 Jan

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