Agaat - Marlene van Niekerk [267]
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?
Milla, Kamilla, I’ve never yet wondered about it myself.
It’s the name of a white flower my mother gave to me, I said for want of a better answer. She looks at me as if she doesn’t believe me. Little children like you shouldn’t be bothering their heads with such difficult questions, I say, but I can see she’s not satisfied.
My neck is sore, she complains when I blow out her candle. That’s from pulling