The Lutheran Pioneer St. Louis — 1931, Sheet 137

Transcription machine transcription, uncorrected

⤓ Download .txt · copy text

THE LUTHERAN PIONEER.

A Little Syrian Maid.

A woman missionary of the American Presby-
terian Church tells this interesting story of a little
Syrian maid: —

“Since the war we have had orphans of all de-
grees of poverty and destitution. I could tell a
long story about them, but I want to confine myself
to telling about one small child named Fatmeh.

“She was a little Mohammedan about seven
years of age, living with her grandmother in a small
village, one of many -places investigated by Captain
8. D. Jessup’s relief workers. Her stepmother was
living in Beirut, and her father was supposed to be
dead. She was a little thing with a large head,
dark complexion, bright black eyes, and good teeth.
She was so sweet, refined, and lovable that Betty
Byerly chose her for one of her special friends,
though Betty is three or four years younger. She
was a happy child, with her new dress and under-
wear, her beloved apron, and her new cap, all made
at Captain Jessup’s Industrial Works. Her shoes
from America and her kindergarten life completed
her happiness.

“One day word came that some one wished to
see me, and going down-stairs, I found a nice-
looking young man, well dressed and intelligent.
He was Fatmeh’s father. He had been a runaway
soldier before the armistice and had twice been
brought into Beirut with hands bound. Twice he
had escaped, no doubt, by bribing his captors, who,
like many other soldiers, helped to feed themselves
during the starvation times by accepting presents to
allow drafted men to remain in hiding. When the
‘Turks fled before the advancing arms of the British
forces under General Allenby, this young shoemaker,
among hundreds of men, came out of hiding and
took up his trade again. He thought at first that

Village Mission-Church in Syria.

Mission-Hospital in Syria.

his little daughter had died of starvation, but some
one told him he would find her with us. I sent
for Fatmeh, and they fell into each other’s arms
and wept.

“Then the father said, <I have come to take you
home with me.’ ‘But I don’t wish to go? ‘What!
You do not wish to go with me? ‘No, I wish to
stay and get knowledge.’ ‘But I will put you into
a school in Beirut.’ ‘I wish to learn about God?
‘But we will teach you about God.

“Finally I intervened in behalf of the chagrined
parent, telling the girl that, as her father had come
for her, she would have to go with him. He told
her he would give her anything. What would she
like? ‘A pair of stockings.” ‘Yes, and a pair of
shoes.’ ‘No, the Americans gave me shoes.’

“T told her she might keep her new shoes, her
new clothes, and even her precious apron, and yes,
she was to get her little Arabic primer when she
said good-by to her teacher. I gave her a paper to
show that she was not a runaway, but had permis-
sion to leave, and to bespeak her a place in some
mission-school in Beirut. And so she left, much
to our sorrow.

“Several weeks after, though, the father reap-
peared with little Fatmeh, and a much-perplexed
father he was. He said he thought the only way
to get rid of the little devil in her was to bring
her back. She had tried once to run away and
was so dissatisfied, begging him to bring her back
to us, that he had finally done so. He had taken
her to his little’ home village instead of directly to
Beirut, and I suppose the clean, orderly life in ’
our orphanage, with the kindergarten songs and
games, had unfitted her for the unkempt, ill-bred,
and ragged children of her old home.

“J was really glad to take her back, another
little ‘brand,’ as it were, even though she was not
then destitute and had a father who could feed
and clothe her.”