Page 52 - The Mending Season

me. Talking to strange men would get me in enough trouble, but talking to strange men about Jesus would have them yelling at me for days.“Ifyou need a Bible for religious studies then we’ll buy you one,” Mmamane Malebone told me. I pressed my lips together and put small clips in my hair.The church was nothing like I had imagined it would be. I thought it would be shabby, but in fact it was the grandest building in the township. The benches and floors were pol­ ished and looked new. There was an enormous cross behind the altar and the windows were large, their frames painted in beautiful warm colours.The priest started off with a sermon about disciples and Jesus but the topic went straight into leaders and followers and before we knew it he was talking about our country’s pres­ ent and future leaders. He spoke about people’s hopes for their children and the changes they looked forward to. (Mmamane Mabatho liked that a lot, and I think it was the reason we went back a few weeks later - Mmamane Malesedi said not tooverdo it.)The priest spoke about people’s rights and needs in thecontext of the Bible. He pointed to the great deeds of prophets and then went on to speak about the “prophets among us” and “those who may be called criminals for want­ ing the best for our people”. He was guarded and never too specific, but you knew who he was referring to. The congre­ gation nodded and sang fervently at different points.The singing was my favourite part. They clapped and played drums throughout the two-hour service. This, coupled with the priest’s sermon, felt like a composed, secret version of a toyi-toyi march.People stared at us and some smiled, but when they all went outside to speak to each other - which seemed to be just as big a part of the day as the sermon - no one came to say “hello”52