She prided herself on her cleanliness. When she became a nun she was assigned to the kitchen because she was such a meticulous cook.
The nuns lived simply. Their diet was fish and rice which they ate at every meal. And the fish was always fresh and good tasting and the rice pure and white. She washed all trace of residue from the grains by rinsing them in three waters.
But still the nuns grew sick with beri beri. The French said it was an infectious disease, so the sick nuns were kept in isolated quarters and all humane measures were taken to prevent contact with them. But still the nuns grew sick.
And what was strange was that the monks at the neighboring monastery lived lives comparable to the nuns but did not get beri beri.
``The contagion is not among them,'' the French said.
The kitchen nun did not believe in contagion. She went to the monastery and asked to see the kitchen.
The kitchen monks were a cheerful lot. They were throwing a fish from one to another and jeering when it hit the floor when she entered. She caught the fish herself and flung it at the best looking monk just for the fun of it.
The kitchen was a mess. It smelled of old fish remnants. She longed to scour the cooking pots and scrub the floors and tables. But she was there to learn.
The monks cleaned the fish and flung the entrails out the window for the rats, cats and seagulls. They simmered the fish lightly much as she did.
One thing was different.
When they cooked the rice they just flung it directly into boiling water without washing it.
It seemed a small likelihood that such a thing could make a difference, but she decided to try not washing the rice for a period of months. Three? Six?
In a month she noticed something. Her own lassitude, her own joint and muscle pains were almost gone. She found herself jumping rope in the courtyard with the local children as she had done when she first came to the convent. Was something different?
A wave of energy swept the convent. Only the sickest nuns did not improve.
Perhaps it was not the rice. Perhaps the disease had run its course.
Perhaps she should start washing the rice again - at least picking out the mouse shit which she knew the monks did not do - .
She decided against it.
And the nuns thanked God for their salvation.