This story is inspired by the greatest famine of the century in Ethiopia from 1983 to 1985. About 7.75 million, or close to one-fifth or 20% of its total population of 40 million were affected. About 300,000 to 1.2 million died, by broad estimates, 2.5 million displaced, 400,000 refugees fled, and close to 200,000 children were orphaned. (Wikipedia.)
eastwind journals
‘True Tales’ Series – Volume 50
June 6, 2024 – Archives tr502
By Bernie V. Lopez, eastwindreplyctr@gmail.com
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At the office of the United Nations Commission on Human Rights (UNCHR) in New York, Jacqui, senior refugee specialist, consults her boss Frederick.
Frederick – Tell me one good reason why you have to go, Jacqui.
Jacqui – There is a huge food crisis. I know Ethiopia like the back of my hand. I can help solve the crisis. This is special for me, Frederick.
Frederick – You have tons of work here. Sorry, you can’t go. There’s nothing for you in Ethiopia.
Jacqui – Yes, there is. It’s close to my heart. This is what I live for.
Frederick – Not good enough.
Jacqui – You know I am a field person. This desk job is worse than jail. I am bored to death.
Frederick – No.
Jacqui – I’ll die if don’t go, Frederick. Please, I beg you.
Frederick – No, and that’s final.
Jacqui – Then I resign. I can’t stand it anymore.
Frederick – Be reasonable, Jacqui. I need you.
From those last three words, Jacqui knows she has the upper hand. She quickly storms out of the room. But outside, she walks slowly, hoping to hear him holler for her to come back. Silence. After ten paces, her heart sinks. Tears roll down her cheek. She cannot resign. This job is her last card before alcoholism.
Frederick – (Screaming) Jacqui, get your ass back here!
Jacqui gives a soft scream, and wipes her tears before she re-enters the room.
Frederick – Okay, you win. Fifteen days, that’s all. (She hugs him tight). Get off me.
Jacqui – I love you.
Frederick – Get out of here before I change my mind.
Arriving at Addis Ababa, she is met at the airport by David, UN veteran in charge of the massive food programme. He is feeding a staggering 850,000 who are dying of hunger.
Davide – Ms. Jacquiline Durmont?
Jacqui – Just call me Jacqui.
David – Thank God you’re here. We need a trouble shooter badly. We go straight to the refugee camp on my jeep. Hey, you look so happy and excited.
Jacqui – I am, I am.
David – This is not the place to be happy. About 4,000 die every day, about one half percent of the entire camp. More than half of them are children below four. Are you still happy?
Jacqui – Okay, okay, I’m now sad. Why are you so hostile?
She gets her cellphone out of her pocket.) Frederick, I got a problem here. You know my problem? (she hands the phone to David) … he wants to talk to you.
David – (On the phone) Yes sir … yes sir … yes sir …right away sir …. (Hands the phone back to Jacqui). Sorry. It’s the place. After two weeks, it gets into your system.
Jacqui – We don’t need softies here. You want me to recommend your transfer?
David – Nope. I will die for this job. Nothing is more exciting for me.
Jacqui – Same here. So let;s die.
David – We go to the refugee camp. You’re quite a legend around here. Colonel Umba idolizes you, Ms. Durmont.
Jacqui, – Name is Jacqui.
Cutting across the vast desert, the jeep churns a cloud of dust. All around, they see people trudging along the direction of the camp. Jacqui sees something.
Jacqui – (Screaming.) Stop, stop.
David – We can’t stop here, Jacqui. Protocol. There is a rule. No stops. High-rank UNCHR personnel unescorted by security, goes straight to camp. It’s dangerous out here, Jacqui.
Jacqui suddenly shifts the gear to neutral, and as the jeep slows down, she jumps out, falling to the ground. She picks herself up and runs towards what seems to be a pillow on the ground. It is an abandoned baby in the last stage of malnutrition. Jacqui shoos off the flies in the baby’s eyes, carries her back to the jeep.
Jacqui – Remember, David, protocol is a man-made bullshit created by administration people who have no field experience.
David – It is still protocol. I can’t violate protocol.
Jacqui – David, why are you here?
David – To help people in need. That’s pretty obvious.
Jacqui – You better make up your mind, help people or follow stupid protocols. Because at a certain point when they contradict each other, you have to make a choice. If we did not stop, protocol would have killed this baby. One small advice, David. The heart, your wanting to help people, has primacy over the mind, your wanting to obey protocol. Make sure this baby makes it. If she doesn’t, I will make sure you don’t make it.
They reach the camp. Jacqui hands the baby to a nurse and gives instructions. A convoy of seven ten-wheeler trucks full of sacks of grain arrives, churning up a cloud of dust, triggering a commotion among hungry refugees.
Jacqui – Where is your security force?
David – The colonel said I don’t need one.
Jacqui – Do you realize if there is a riot, we can get killed. Get me the colonel on the phone.
She hands her cellphone to David. He calls the colonel and gives the cellphone back to Jacqui.
Jacqui – (To the colonel on the phone) We need security here at the camp, colonel. My name is Jacqui Durmont, UNCHR.
Colonel Umba – (voice over) Ah, THE Jackie Durmont. You’re a legend around here. Do you know, your writings have moved me to tears? You are one son of a bitch of a woman.
Jacqui – Correction – daughter, not son. Cut the crap, colonel.
Col. Umba – We can talk about your request over dinner tonight? I pick you up at the UNCHR office?
Jacqui – Can you send security right away? We may have a riot here.
Col. Umba – Sure thing, mam, right away. (He shouts orders to an aide.) They will be there in an hour.
Jacqui – Thirty minutes. Don’t mess with me, colonel. And I want you here right now.
Col. Umba – Alright, alright. Tell me about your days in Tunisia over dinner.
Jacqui – Pick me up at the UNCHR office at eight. (She clicks off the cellphone.)
David – I like your style. Swap security for a dinner date. Really nice, Jacqui.
Jacqui – You want me to call off the date?
David – No, no. We need security urgently.
Jacqui – I know. That’s why I will be the martyr, dinner with this boring macho colonel.
David – You know him?
Jacqui – I was here as a journalist a few years back. He’s been eyeing my ass.
Refugees are crowding the lead truck. There is a commotion. A near riot situation is emerging.
Jacqui – We have to get to the lead truck. You push, I follow.
The two penetrate the screaming mob. In ten minutes, they make it through, going up the truck. Jacqui’s sleeve is torn. She raises her hand to quiet the mob down in vain. The noise instead intensifies. Jacqui grabs a megaphone and speaks in perfect Amharic, the predominant native dialect. She is ignored by the hungry crowd.
Jacqui – I was here a year ago. I learned this lullaby a mother taught me before she died. Her baby died of malnutrition in my arms ten minutes after she died.
No reaction from the mob. They push and shove. The situation is getting violent. Jacqui starts to sing. There is a sudden quiet and calm as the lullaby echoes across the hearts of these desert people. At the end of the song, a deafening roar of applause.
Jacqui – The security force will be here in a few minutes. If they are here, and we have not formed a line, all of you will be pushed back and will be the last to be served. I need five of your leaders to form the lines. Five lines please.
A dozen raise their hands. Jacqui selects the five leaders. They start to move.
Jacqui – Okay, those at the back, move back. Mothers with children at the front. Move, move. The men, stay behind please.
Jacqui sings another song. Some women join her. The lullaby echoes across the desert. In ten short minutes, a near-riot mob turns into a quiet disciplined crowd. Five long lines are formed, women in front, men at the back.
In another ten minutes, a convoy of three trucks of soldiers arrive, rifles on hand as they alight from the trucks. Colonel Umba approaches Jacqui.
Col. Umba – Hello, Jacqui. This is impossible. How did you do it?
Jacqui – Simple, colonel. Just touch their hearts.
Col. Umba – Just touch the hearts of a violent mob? Are you kidding? Impossible. (Jacqui starts to sing the lullaby again. The colonel sings with her. After the song.) You are an amazing woman. I bow to you.
Jacqui – Big blunder, Colonel. You cannot see the urgency of a security force? I ought to report you.
Col. Umba – Sorry, my mistake. Let’s discuss over the dinner tonight.
Jacqui – On one condition. I want your commander to monitor the food distribution 24/7. And tell David here if there is a problem. One more thing. I want lobsters for dinner.
Col. Umba – There are no lobsters in the desert.
Jacqui – Steak then. No camel steak tho. Cow steak. Okay?
Col. Umba – No problem. Your wish is my command, my queen.
Jacqui – Remember, colonel. Never let your mind take over. Always let your heart take charge, for the heart has wisdom the mind is blind to.
Col. Umba – Yes, my queen.
They board the jeepney and fade into the red sunset. The dust gives an orange glow.
Share the link to this article = https://eastwindjournals.com/2024/06/06/woman-power-the-lullaby-singer-vol-50/
More Inspirational Articles – eastwindjournals.com.
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Author’s Credentials. Blogger – ex-Columnist (Inquirer) – Healing Ministry – ex-Professor (Ateneo University) – Documentary Producer-Director (freelance, ex-ABS-CBN, ex-TVS Tokyo) – ex-Broadcaster (Radio Veritas) – Facebook “Bernie V. Lopez Eastwind” / Pages “Eastwind Journeys and Journals” and “Mary Queen of Peace”.
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