serve thee as long as she may live
and also find in every way
You are good and will forgive.
Oh we praise thee, faithful Father!
Guide us with our children further.
Then the organist came down and the dominee said: We and our children, and our foundlings, those whom we protect and take pity on, the heathens whom we save from damnation, are conceived and born in sin, the sprinkling with water shows the impurity of our souls. We must distrust ourselves and seek salvation outside ourselves.
The late-afternoon sun through the yellow glass catches the shiny edge of the font, it looks as if there’s no water in it, I hold Agaat’s hand tightly, feel her strain backwards as Dominee’s voice becomes progressively deeper and heavier. Thought he might have kept it a bit shorter, it’s only Agaat after all. But perhaps I was the one who had to hear it all one more time. Old Groenewald stands there with his hands crossed over his crotch, nods his head, twirls his thumbs over each other. Real old actor.
We must crucify our old selves and live in fear of God. If sometimes through weakness we stumble into sin, we must not doubt the mercy of God or remain wallowing in sin.
Then first a prayer. Close your eyes, I whisper to Agaat, I peep at the elder who’s rocking forward and back and gulping back the sleepiness. Therefore we pray thee to show mercy also to this thine adopted child and to initiate her through the Holy Ghost into Jesus Christ thine son so that through the baptism she may be buried with Him in death and may be resurrected with Him in the new life. Grant that she will shoulder her cross cheerfully in the service of her guardians and her masters, follow Christ daily and adhere to Him in sincere faith, firm hope and ardent love, until eventually she will meekly leave this life that inevitably issues in death for your sake and so that she may on the last day appear fearlessly before the judgement seat of Christ thine Son.
Open your eyes, now you must answer yes to all the questions, I whisper to Agaat. So Dominee peers at Agaat from under his eyebrows. Do you believe in the only true God who created heaven and earth and everything in it out of nothing? Do you believe that nothing in heaven or on the earth happens without His Divine Will? Do you acknowledge that by nature you are wholly incapable of any good and inclined to all evil? Do you profess that through faith you receive forgiveness of your sins in His blood?
Agaat utters just one little peep on an in-breath. I squeeze her in the neck so that she should say yes nicely. But no! She takes the handle of the bellows, she squeezes out a little bit of wind, pffft, hey you! I have to nudge her. The organist catches my eye, suppresses a smile. Then I have to prod her in the back to make her step forward. Come, the Dominee beckons, pushing up his gown a little over his right hand, Agaat pulls back, I take her by both her shoulders and steer her to the front, because by now I can feel she’s preparing to run away, I prod her until she’s standing properly. A cloud moves over the sun, the church goes dark, I feel superstitious, as if the mark of Ham is falling on me as well, hold your head forward, I say, I pull the bonnet backwards, I pinch her in the neck so that she can keep her head up straight, because she keeps on pulling it in as if she’s scared she’ll be slapped.
Agaat Lourier, I baptise you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. He sprinkles water on Agaat’s forehead three times. I can feel her stiffen in my grasp, strain back with her head, eyes tightly shut as if it the water were corrosive.
Then another prayer with Dominee’s hand on Agaat’s head. I grip her by the neck so that she can’t pull away. Feel her veins pulsing under my thumbs. Grant that she will live in all justice under our only Teacher, King and High Priest and courageously do battle against and vanquish sin, the devil and all his cohorts and that she will honour and praise the only true God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost for ever and ever. Amen.
Then the organist goes up into gallery again, we few sing for Agaat.
Jesus takes our little children
To himself with a heart of love;
No one ever shall us hinder
That we freely to him move.
Jesus hears our weakest prayer
Wherever on earth we roam.
Day or night, we know he’s there
And we’ll never walk alone.
Jesus Lord so far above us
Leads us on, his willing band,
And we know that he will love us:
He himself has ta’en our hand.
Praise the Lord, in all etern’ty!
Hallelujah! Amen!
The organist had to play loud chords to make up for our meagre sound. A. looks up with staring eyes at the organist up there in the organ cage in front of the mirror amongst the bundle of pipes thick and thin. They’re flutes, I whisper in her ear, they sound like harps and trumpets. Listen well, it’s the voice of the angels of the Lord, they’re calling you to his flock.
Go in peace, says the dominee, and lifts his arms for the blessing. Agaat starts back from the wide black sleeves of the gown.
Then there was only the baptism register to be signed. The stamp already stuck to the certificate. The light had to be switched on in the stuffy side-room because it was already thick twilight. Agaat stands chin on the chest and goes pfft-pfft with the bellows. You see, I say, it didn’t hurt at all. She can now be put through her catechism later in the mission church and become a full member there, says Dominee. Old Groenewald solemnly rummages in his trouser pocket, produces a toffee for A. The elder gives her five rand. For your piggy bank, he says. There’s a whole cake waiting at home, I say, if anybody would like to come over tonight. Thank heavens nobody accepted the invitation. We’d had drama enough for one day, really not in the mood for everybody’s comments and Jak’s attitude.
The organist left the church with us. In the old days, she says to Agaat, they had to produce wind for the organ to play, with a bellows like yours, only a big one. She fiddles around in her bosom, emerges with a lace handkerchief, holds it in front of Agaat’s nose. Smell, it’s got a nice smell, it’s for you so that you can remember your christening. What does one say? I had to prod again. Agaat just moves her lips slightly. I can’t hear, I say, you’re acting really sheepish today. You look a bit pale around the gills, says the verger, eat your toffee so that you can liven up. Never mind, says the organist, it’s over now, must be mighty strange for such a poor little hotnot, where did you find her?
I was bitterly relieved to drive away from there at last.
She didn’t want to eat her evening meal. Had to make the fire that I’d promised her, in the fireplace, she remained sitting there while we ate. Heard her every now and again blowing with the bellows. Went to sleep right there in a little heap. When I picked her up to put her to bed, she opened her eyes. Out of the blue. Straight-out breath, own wind, loud and clear, full sentence: Where is the cross I have to shoulder? Jak heard it. Just you wait, it won’t be long now, he sneered. What in God’s name can he mean by that? Nowadays he looks at me with such an expression of revulsion.
Took her a slice of orange cake and tea to her room. She looks at me with wide eyes while she’s eating it. Full of questions. I’m quite surprised at how much of it she’s remembered. What’s the judgement seat? Why the blood? It’s a fine time to get your voice back, I say, you disgraced me very nicely there in front of the people. Am I bad? she asks, no I say, your name is Good, but you’re inclined to evil like all of us. Why? Because we’re sinful creatures. Is Même also sinful? she asks, so what does Même’s name mean then?