Accident

                                                               Lino Leitão

(Accident first appeared in THE MASSACHUSETTS REVIEW in 1988, and was later republished in Short Story International, issue 86.)

I was sitting opposite her in the bus that goes from Dorval to downtown. My head was buried in the Gazette, absorbing the editorial column on Free Trade. I lifted my head to ponder the points the editorial had made. If Free Trade were to become an issue in the coming election, how would I cast my vote? As I was trying to make up my mind, I saw her staring at me. She smiled, as if she had known me before. She was glowing with a smile of recognition. There was no doubt in my mind now that she had known me somewhere. But where? Free Trade was blown away from my mind. I racked my brains. 

She gently tapped me on my knees and said:
"Don't you know me?"
Her voice did it. It swept the fog away from my mind. I saw her now as vividly as I had known her sixteen years ago in Uganda. How the years have gone by! 

"Nancy Price, aren't you?" I bubbled.
Her face was wreathed in smiles. She nodded. 
"That's me, alright."
"You've changed."
"Who hasn't? Look at you! You've gone all gray."
"Growing old."
"We all are."

The bus went on stopping at its usual stops. We talked of those old good days. We had a lot to talk about. The bus came to its terminal and we got down. I invited her to MacDonald's for coffee and hamburger.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm in a hurry. I have to be in time for the interview. Looking for a job, you know!"
"I don't have a job, either."
"You too!"
"I'm on my way to see my counselor at the Employment Center."
Nancy Price smiled cynically.
"Here is my number," She said as she was going to catch the other bus.
"Let us get together sometime."

I became nostalgic. Nancy Price triggered off memories of Uganda in me. As I watched her disappearing into the crowd, snow started coming down. It's going to be a storm, I thought. I had enough time on me and a few dollars in my pocket, more than enough to buy me a coffee and a hamburger. Coming in McDonald's, I brought my order and sat at the table looking at the brewing snowstorm. My thoughts went to sunny Uganda and Nancy Price.

Nancy Price had come to the Immaculate Conception College of Namirembe when Obote's Government was overthrown in a coup de tat by Idi Amin. Who doesn't know him? He had become internationally famous as an abhorrent dictator of Uganda. But in the very beginning of his regime the people of Uganda greeted him as their hero. Many Uganda intellectuals praised Amin's regime, but never dreaming that he would be a disaster to their country. Nancy Price was also an ardent admirer of Idi Amin then.

Immaculate Conception College was a boarding school. White nuns were in charge of this Catholic institution. It was a girls' college; the daughters of Uganda officials and daughters of other Uganda personages studied here. 

The teachers were nuns and lay women-teachers brought in from England. John Kiwanuka, a Muganda and I (I am from India) were the only males who taught in this college. Mother  Veronica, the principal of the college, was Irish and had  reputation as an able administrator. In the staff meetings, she discussed her administrative strategies and elicited fresh administrative ideas from her staff. Though there was no formal student body in the college at that time, she had Prefects, but nominated through the counsel of her staff. Nancy Price, now a member of staff of Immaculate Conception College, voiced her opinion in one of the staff meetings. She argued that the nomination of Prefects was not yet all a democratic process.

She was young at that time; she couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Tall, slender, raven black hair, not cut but held in a knot above the nape of her neck, in pony-tail fashion. She was very attractive. She was an American, a white girl, but her skin now had taken a brownish hue, enhancing her sex appeal. Her blue eyes flickered as she talked and she made a kind of impact on the assembly. From John Kiwanuka's looks, I knew he was fascinated by her. Other members of the staff, including myself, didn't say much but observed a kind of respectable silence for Mother Veronica. Mother Veronica considered herself a democrat; with a serene smile and her blue eyes twinkling, rejected Nancy's arguments. She stated not to Nancy in particular but to the staff at large that to serve the people one must know the ins and outs of the people, know the mind and soul of the people. She knew the mind and soul of the Ugandans. She had served in Uganda for many years. She pointed out that she was training the best brains, the future ladies of Uganda, not riff-raff but girls with potential for leadership, chosen of course by her brilliant staff. According to her observation, the nomination of Prefects worked towards the smooth running of the institution. That was what was wanted, not any fanciful ideas, which in the end, served only to mess up things. Because she was in a hurry, she said, she had to bring the meeting to close. Nancy had no chance to refute her. As Mother Veronica was leaving, she gave a sharp look at Nancy and then a beatific smile.

page 2  3