“From the moment she had met Ciarán, there was never any possibility that her life would be spent in Kishagi. He had opened her up to worlds beyond. And her favorite place in his house was the study where he kept his shelves and shelves of books.

Wambui was different to the rest of them. Somehow, she was more solid than they were. Her future was already decided. She would spend her life in Kishagi, marry Irungu, have children to keep her in her old age. Already, at the age of sixteen, she had it mapped out before her. The greatest ambition she had in the world was for a stone house like this one and like Shiku’s father's house beside it.

Where had it gone so wrong for them all? Shiku found tears burning her eyes for her friend Wambui, carrier of a disease that had already claimed her child’s life and threatened to destroy her life, and that of her husband, Irungu. If this decimation continued much longer, this place would become a village of children and old people with nobody in between. Shiku was glad she had got out in time. She was glad of the advantage that her education gave her in understanding and protecting herself from AIDS. And Father Ciarán had been vociferous in his fight to educate people against the epidemic. He was brave. Outspoken. Generous. And Shiku had loved him.” 

Excerpted from The Man with No Skin © Copyright 2005 by Órfhlaith Ni Chonaill. Reprinted with permission by Dialogue Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.