Roots_ The Saga of an American Family - Alex Haley [208]
Kunta could tell that none of them had planned whatever they were doing. It was just happening as they felt it—the way his own people danced to the spirits back at home, acting out what they felt inside. As the shouting and the twitching began to subside, it occurred to Kunta that this was the way the dancings in Juffure had ended—seemingly in exhaustion. And he could see that in some way, these people, too, seemed to be both spent and at peace with themselves.
Then, one after another, they began to get up from the ground and shout out to the others:
“My back pained me so bad till I talked to my Lawd. He say to me, ‘You stan’ up straight,’ an’ I ain’t hurt since.”
“Didn’t meet my Lawd Jesus till He saved my soul, an’ now I puts my love for Him up against anybody’s!”
There were others. Then, finally, one of the old men led a prayer, and when it was over everybody shouted “A-MEN!” and began to sing loudly and with tremendous spirit: “I got shoes, you got shoes, all Gawd’s chilluns got shoes! When-uh gits to Heab’m, gon’ put on mah shoes, gon’ walk all ovah Gawd’s Heab’m! Heab’m! Ev’body tellin’ ’bout Heab’m ain’t gwine dere! Heab’m! Heab’m! I’m gon’ walk all ovah Gawd’s Heab’m!”
As they sang the song, they had gotten up from the ground, one by one, and began to walk very slowly, following the gray-haired preacher, down from the knoll and across the meadow. By the time the song ended, they had reached the banks of a pond on the other side, where the preacher turned to face them, flanked by the other three elders, and held up his arms.
“An’ now, brothers an’ sisters, de time is come fo’ yo’ sinners what ain’t been cleansed to wash away yo’ sins in de River JORDAN!”
“O yeah!” shouted a woman on the bank.
“It’s time to squench out de fires o’ Hell in de holy waters o’ de Promise LAN’!”
“Say it!” came another shout.
“All dose ready to dive down fo’ dey almighty soul an’ rise up ag’in wid de Lawd, remain standin’. Res’ o’ you what done been baptize or ain’t ready fo’ Jesus yet, seddown!”
As Kunta watched in astonishment, all but twelve or fifteen of them sat down. While the others lined up at the water’s edge, the preacher and the strongest of the four elders marched right into the pond, stopping and turning when they were immersed up to their hips.
Addressing himself to the teen-age girl who was first in line, the preacher spoke. “Is you ready, chile?” She nodded. “Den come ahead!”
Grasping both of her arms, the two remaining elders led her into the pond, stumbling, to meet the others in the middle. Placing his right hand on the girl’s forehead while the biggest elder grabbed her shoulders with both hands from behind and the other two men tightened their grip on her arms, the preacher said, “O Lawd, let dis chile be wash clean,” and then he pushed her backward while the man behind pulled her shoulders back and down until she was completely under water.
As the bubbles rose to the surface and her limbs began to thrash the water, they turned their gaze heavenward and held on tight. Soon she started kicking wildly and heaving her body violently; it was all they could do to hold her under. “ALMOST!” the preacher shouted, over the churning commotion beneath his arms. “NOW!” They pulled her upward from the water, gasping for breath, spewing water, struggling frantically as they half carried her back to shore—and into the arms of her waiting mother.
Then they turned to the next in line—a boy in his early twenties who stood staring at them, too terrified to move. They practically had to drag him in. Kunta watched with his mouth open wider as each person—next a middle-aged man, then another young girl around twelve, then an elderly woman who could barely walk—were led one by one into the pond and