The Word Cloud

She sat still, her heart beating so hard she could feel its heaviness and urgent pumping surges. She had been trained for exactly this situation but her mind was blank. The sudden, unwelcome silence was dreamlike, seemingly offering peace prior to a fatal finish.

Popular with most of her contacts, and regarded as very attractive by many of her male colleagues, Maria was the sort of person it was nice to know. She was just less than medium height and kept a tight control of her physique. Her trim, physically fit body was the result of sensible dieting and daily physical exercise linked with an occasional pampering massage. She was forty-five years old but looked almost ten years younger.

The dreamlike state induced by the sudden quietness lasted only for a couple of seconds before her mind snapped back to reality; her reflexes kicked in and she regained a degree of control. She was perspiring now, concerned more about the others than herself, such was her heightened sense of duty and dedication. Her hair felt cold and damp; short, brunette hair centrally parted. It would have looked severe if it hadn’t been for the way the tips carried a gentle curl.

She glanced at the four refugee children sitting behind her. Although fluent in Afrikaans and French she did not speak their tribal Swahili and could not warn them. They were quiet, not speaking, looking at her questioningly in the silence, not yet afraid. Perhaps it was her eyes that momentarily calmed them.

Her eyes were perhaps her most striking feature; the colour of the cloudless blue sky but touched with a pretty grey. Several potential suitors had looked longingly into those eyes but she had always laughed them away. She was too fond of her job to become entangled in a serious romantic attachment. She relished responsibility and cared passionately about life in all its forms. Her peers admired her professionalism and dedication and regarded her as a born leader.

Now every aspect of that leadership quality was needed. She sensed the children’s agitation forming behind her and she spoke to them in her native Afrikaans, using words they did not know but words expressed so gently that they soothed as would a lullaby.

Captain Maria Sugden’s eyes took on a steely glint as she picked out the line of a rough track in the endless African svelte and put the six-seater aeroplane, with its now defunct single engine, into a silent downwards glide.

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That was fifteen years ago.

Extract from the Cape Town Argus newspaper:

 ‘This afternoon Captain Maria Sugden (retd.) is to be honoured at a public ceremony in the city of Cape Town. Many people owe a debt of gratitude to this remarkable woman. For years she has been involved in attempts to reduce human suffering and hundreds of people have been touched by her courage and gentle, caring professionalism.

Four students from her adventurous past have also been invited to ……….