Aiding, Not Abetting

I was in the study at the Manor, doing some research for a commissioned article, when Irving advised me that my visitor had arrived.

"Father Martin?"

"The very person."

"Good. Show him in. Oh, and Henri has some tea and scones ready. If you could be so kind...."

"T'is said. T'is done."

Irving left. The scones were a bonus, but a previous visit had made clear the good Father thought them marvellous. He was right. And while I am not who is usually kind to Divines, I make an exception with Father Martin. After all, he has come to see the value of my little group of atheistic nuns, the Little Sisters of Poverty and Pain, and wards off the Bishop, who would disband the group in a heartbeat.

Irving reappeared with Father Martin in tow.

I rose and greeted him.

"Father. Always a pleasure."

"Likewise, My Lady. I trust all goes well?"

"As well as can be expected." At that point my thigh began to throb where a Libyan bullet had been extracted, but there was no need to bring this to Father Martin's attention. "Now, what brings you to the Manor? Have the Little Sisters done something untoward?"

"Not at all. No this is something quite different. The Church is very concerned about the famine in the Horn of Africa, and is mounting an aid campaign to help. The situation is desperate, and in need of --"

"Stop right there, Father," I interrupted.

"But --"

"Just listen for a minute. You should know that I have been in Ethiopia and Somalia. Right now, the area comprises one-third lunatic thugs who have no understanding of the Qu'ran, one-third devout Muslims who do, and the remainder are women and children who are starving to death. Too often, aid does not reach those for whom it is intended, but rather goes to purchase AK 47's, RPG's and other like weaponry. Is that how you want to see any funds you might raise used?"

"Well, no. Of course not. But the famine does not have a religious cause, but a natural one, a drought --"

"To be sure. But, Father, I should like to draw something to your attention." I rummaged on my desk for a moment, then said, "Ah, here it is. Father, are you familiar at all with the work of Dr. Amartya Sen?"

"Er...no"

Dr. Sen is an economist currently at Harvard, and a Nobel Prize winner. In his text, Development As Freedom, we read the following statement: 'No famine has ever taken place in the history of the world in a functioning democracy.' That, Father, outlines the goal to aim for."

Father Martin fell silent as he thought over Dr. Sen's words.

At that point Irving entered bearing tea and the scones. Father Martin visibly brightened, and after several sips of tea -- and four scones -- hesitantly asked, "Then just how should we be helping?"

"Well, what I have done is to fund the purchase of three steel-plated armoured vehicles and donated them to Oxfam. These vehicles laugh a Islamist-run road block to scorn. Thus aid is picked up in Mogadishu, barrels through these road blocks and then reaches the UN camps with their goods intact."

"But they could be shot at --"

"I have also supplied some colleagues -- well, never mind about that. The point is to make aid arrival as certain as possible. In this regard, I would suggest that you continue your campaign, but ensure that funds are sent to outfits like Oxfam or Medicins Sans Frontieres. Keep Holy Mother Church out of it. Islam is in a stage where it has trouble recognizing that there are many paths to salvation."

"You mean, many paths to God."

"No, I am not talking about imaginary friends, comforting as those friends may be. But nice try, Father."

"Oh, I always try. Goes with the territory. And now I must be off, although perhaps one more scone...and I won't forget Dr. Sen's words."

Nor should we all. The sentiment, of course, has been stated before.

Lest we forget.