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PAUL 6-b—in a bu LrUiinx. Dece.iio>i J>. iyc
Christmas Gift For Esteban
By
ESTHER MILLER PAYLER
It was daybreak in the Andes
mountains of Peru, when 14-
year-old Esteban slipped on his
faded poncho. His father and his
llamas were already at the sil
ver mine. His mother ladled
mush for Esteban and his sis
ter. “Vinca, after breakfast, hoe
the beans and potatoes on the
terraces. We want food for our
Christmas feast!”
“Esteban, you shear the al
pacas, so the wool can be sold
before the Feast.” Baby Carlos
on her hip, their mother trudg
ed to the mine sorting sheds.
After he ate, Esteban said to
'vinca: "When Cailo was back
from school he read to me. Wish
I could go to school too.”
“Callo and Luis have a rich
uncle in Lima! Where could you
get school money?” asked Vinca.
“Father Ernesto says for me to
save my money for school, when
I’m able to work in the mine.”
“He’s teaching you to read
and write,” reminded Vinca.
“That should make you happy.”
“Father must go to his other
church, too. He has little time
for me,” frowned Esteban.
Vinca took the hoe: “I must
work, or no Christmas feast.”
LUIS RETURNS
Esteban went to the stone en
closed yard to shear the alpacas.
“Lour fingers are nimble!” said
a voice behind him. Esteban
jumped at the words, for he
thought himself alone. He turn
ed.
“Luis!” he exclaimed joyfully.
Luis described his life in
Lima. Esteban said: “You have
a gay time! When do you stu
dy?”
Luis laughed. “I don’t go to
school. I’m supposed to work,
but I’m with fellows who help
themselves to other people’s
pockets.”
Esteban gasped.
“You’re quick! you could earn
lots picking pockets, especially
when the Christmas Eve crowds
are around the Cathedral.”
“That’s stealing!”
“Rich people have more’n
they need! Working in the
mines you’ll be old ’fore you
earn enough for school. With
me it wouldn’t be long.”
Before Esteban could answer
there was a sharp crack and a
roar. Esteban’s shears fell.
“Mine landslide!” he shouted .
Esteban and Vinca ran down
to the mine. Luis ran home mut
tering: “Why should I get hurt
too?”
Vinca sobbed: “Papa, Mama
and Carlos.” She made the sign
of the Cross.
“Hope we’re in time!” panted
Esteban, sweating.
“I see Mama and Carlos!”
gasped Vinca.
“Men are digging. If only
Papa’s out!”
Mama came running, sobbing:
“Papa and his llamas are buri
ed!”
Esteban began to dig. Vinca
and Mama prayed.
As men were brought into the
air, Esteban looked eagerly.
None was his father.
“There should be a doctor in
our village,” complained the
man next to Esteban. “Till Dr.
Manuel gets here from town,
many will.die unless some helps
Father Ernesto.”
Esteban’s shovel struck some
thing soft. He groped. “A llama
with a yellow tassel! One of
Papa’s llamas!
Vinca called: “Esteban quick!”
In spite of blood and dirt, Es
teban recognized Papa on the
ground. He felt warm, but was
n’t breathing. Following Father
Ernesto’s instructions, Esteban
gave artificial respiration. Ach
ing, Esteban felt he could not
keep up the pumping any long
er, but he did.
“Dr. Manuel!” All shouted.
The doctor rushed to Esteban’s
side. “Good work!” he said.
Then he poured something be
tween Papa’s lips.
Esteban worked on: “He’s
breathing!”
When Papa was all right, Es
teban worked with others. How
long he worked he did not know
until the priest said: “Rest.”
The doctor stayed all night,
sleeping a few hours in the
priest’s house. Esteban, curled
in his poncho at the foot of the
doctor’s bed, helped again at
dawn. Before the doctor left that
night, he gave instructions
about the care of the injured to
Father Ernesto and Esteban.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He gripped Esteban’s hand.
“You’ve healing fingers. You
should be a doctor!”
“I want to be a doctor,” Es
teban answered knowing now
that he did. “But how?”
“Our Lord will find a way!”
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Daily Luis coaxed Esteban to
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go. to Lima with him.
“No,” Esteban was torn be
tween wanting money fast so
he could study, knowing he was
needed at home and not want
ing to steal.
Luis repeated: “We must be
in Lima for Christmas.” Finally
he threatened: “You must go
with me! You know my secret!”
“I won’t tell. Papa’s hurt. I
couldn’t run away at Christ
mas!”
Luis towered over him. “You
’ll go or you won’t live until
Christmas!”
Esteban dragged up the path
toward home. Luis is bigger, he
thought. Pie’ll force me to go.
I want to be a doctor but
where’ll the money come from?
Maybe I should go with Luis
and learn to steal.
THE REWARD
As he passed the house of the
mine superintendent, the man
called: “Esteban, come in.”
“You’ve done good work for
us, Esteban. Here’s your re-
reward.” The superintendent
gave him a bag of money.
“I didn’t do it alone. I only
helped Father Ernesto.”
“We gave his share to the
Church. This is yours,” replied
the superintendent. “Until your
father can drive again, you can
take his place for the same mon
ey. When we need first aid
you’ll be handy.”
Esteban breathed, “Thank
you. I’ll try.”
Starting up the path Esteban
remembered Luis. What would
the priest, mine superintendent
and his parents think if he ran
away now? But how could he
keep from going with the bully,
Luis?
Esteban thought he heard
someone following. The path
was dark. He shivered: No use
trying, he thought. I couldn’t be
a doctor. There’s not enough
money for that.
Suddenty a shower of stones
clattere but Esteban saw no one.
Somethnig heavy hit him. Este
ban fought, clutching the money
bag. Then all went black.
Esteban did not know how
long he lay on the lonely path.
When he came to, the moon
was bright. Esteban groaned.
His money was gone and with it
all his hopes.
“Help!” the cry came from be
low.
Esteban felt dizzy. Maybe the
robber fell into the canyon!
He struggled to his feet. Again
the cry came, “Help!”
I’m weak! Why should I go?
But turning, Esteban follow
ed the sound of the voice. “I’m
coming,” he cried. “Keep calling,
so I can find you!”
Finaly he stumbled over Luis.
“You got my money bag!”
“Help me, please,” whined
Luis .
Esteban felt like running. “I
can’t walk!” cursed Luis.
Tearing a limb from a shrub,
Esteban bound it to Luis’ leg
with his poncho. “Lean on me,”
he urged, staggering. “It’s not
far to Father Ernesto’s.” Luis
fainted. Pushing and pulling
Esteban reached the yard and
called.
Dr. Manuel was there. He
helped the priest get Luis into
bed. Luis opened his eyes, star
ing around.
“Esteban saved your life,”
said the doctor.
“I’m sorry I took your money,
Esteban. Father, I must con
fess,” whispered Luis.
Esteban felt like a weight was
lifted.
Dr. Manuel smiled. “With this
money as a start, you can go to
school.”
“But how?” asked Esteban.
“After your father’s better,”
the doctor replied, “you can
stay with me and help for your
board. When you’re a doctor you
can take care of the village and
mining camp and I won’t have
to drag my old bones up there
anymore.”
“But Doctor, why should you
help me?”
“You’ve earned it. You can’t
refuse to take a Christmas gift
for you, your family and me,”
the Doctor chuckled.
“I must be dreaming,” said
Esteban smiling at last.
“No, Dr. Esteban,” said Fa
ther Ernesto. “I told you the
Lord would provide.”
“He has,” sighed Esteban
blissfully, “and given me my
best Christmas gift.”
OKINAWAN CHRISTMAS
By Sisler Mary Immaculaia,
F.M.S.I.
(Missionary at Vista Maria,
Naha, Okinawa, Ryltyu
Islands)
If you wind your way back
to Bethleherp and study the
First Christmas, you will realize
that Christmas is giving — God,
our Father, gave to us His Most
Precious Son, and ever since
that Gift, we commemorate His
Birthday by giving to others.
In mission countries, our duty
is to announce to pagans the
good tidings of His coming, and
of His bringing “peace on earth
to men of good will,” and
one of our immediate duties of
the season is to illustrate Christ
mas by giving to the sick poor
who surround us.
NOTHING WASTED
At Christmastime, “let no-
thing be wasted” is in our
thoughts as we sort out the ex
pendables donated by American
Catholic families. Used clothing
is most abundant, and since our
territory includes roughly 800,-
000 Okinawans, we could use al
most that many outfits — our
pleasure is sorting out Ameri
can clothes to match Okinawan
families.
One Doctor and his family
mailed us a check to buy new
clothes for one family, and what
a joy to watch the children un
pack the assortment and make
rapid change from rags to new
sweaters, warm packets.
Another group of Catholic wo
men, the Miraculous Medal So
dality, gave us gaily wrapped
packages containing a Good
Health Kit, (towel, washcloth,
soap, toothbrush and paste) —
a big hit with fastidious little
girls. But what a surprise for us
the following Sunday at Mass
to behold one of our catechu
mens, an eight-year-old, walking
reverently up the center aisle
in front of God and everybody
with the brand new washcloth
arranged artistically on her
head!
Also in the good health cate
gory, someone gave us six cans
of a cleaner for false teeth. We
were puzzled as to who would
be happy to receive such an un
usual gift until we remembered
Mrs. Omine, one of the first
Okinawans to visit our Dispen
sary when we opened our Mis
sion here, more than four years
ago. We had baptized two of her
dving infants, and now on
Christmas Eve, the two tiny Ok
inawan saints had helped bring
their mother to Baptism. When
she came afterwards to thank us
for helping her to become a
Catholic we noticed a gleaming
new set of false teeth. She was
delighted with her gift and
without a doubt she’s the only
Okinawan with a Polident,
smile.
WILLING MARTYRS
In addition to used clothing,
we received an overwhelming
supply of used toys, which ne
cessitated a standing order in
the Dispensary that any child
who underwent the terrors of
an injection would receive a toy;
we never before had such will
ing martyrs, such silent injec
tions. Towards the end of
Christmas week there was only
one doll left in the toybox. How
ever, four-year-old Junko Nak
amura didn’t complain when she
noticed the doll had only one
arm; she hugged it closer, re
alizing that it was an “excep-
tionl” dolly. What a happy smile
next day when she brought the
doll to show our staff how cle
verly her mother had fashioned
and installed with remarkable
surgery a new arm exactly
matching the other arm.
Our catechism classes also
benefited by Christmas giving.
Little Yoichi, normally very
well behaved, brought his new
pop-gun to class on the Sunday
after Christmas. Just when I
was giving fullest attention to
the little girls’ section, Yoichi
whipped out the gun and
“make-believe” killed us all.
For that brave action, he had
the honor of being the first Ok
inawan to donate a gun to our
Sisterhood.
HEAVY SMOKER?
Our bedridden home patients
were by no means neglected. A
generous group had given us 300
pounds of rice, two cases of
powdered milk, apples, candy
and nuts. We divided everything
according to family census and
brought the Christmas spirit to
more than 50 families.
Captain R. asked if there
wasn’t something else they
could get for us; she was slight
ly taken aback when Sister ask
ed for cigarettes, quickly ex
plaining that we wanted to give
them: to our friendly obassans
(grandmothers) to brighten the
holiday for them. They just love
American cigarettes, t h e y’d
“walk a mile for any brand,”
and we don’t have to worry
about them becoming chain
smokers. Only last week we
were Questioning a 75-year-old
at the Dispensary and the Doc
tor asked “Do you smoke?”
“Yes,” was her panic-stricken
reply, “should I stop because of
my health?” “How much do you
smoke?” probed the Doctor
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