At age 10, the Adventist church in my community had its annual summer 'crusade' under a huge tent in an open lot. It was a festive occasion as always. Apart from the regular preaching, admonishing, Bible studies, and altar calls, there were quizzes, film shows, prizes, etc. Vendors selling miscellaneous goods swarmed the grounds, and people milled about meeting and greeting.

At the time, it was quite fashionable to be baptised, so you find that some people were baptised as many as three times, once per year. I got jealous, but never broached the topic to Mama, she being of another faith. She visited the crusade, nevertheless.

One night, an elderly Adventist woman nudged me in the side, encouraging me to go under the water. This was what I needed. That little push, and my mind was made up. Moreover, every baptismal candidate would get a pictorial Bible, a towel and a little carrier bag. I, too, wanted these 'gifts'. So,I put my name on the list for the following Sunday's baptism.

like a hungry mule

All day Sunday, I was nervous because I knew what I was going to do was not going to go down well with certain people. But, I am as stubborn as a hungry mule. I packed a little bag with my change of clothing, and was the first to leave the house. I didn't even eat dinner. My stomach was filled with uneasy excitement.

By the time some of my family members reached the tent, I was already seated among the candidates at the front of the church. I looked around for their faces, until I spotted Mama's. I turned away quickly. My belly bottom was now very weak. Yet, I must be baptised. So when Mama found herself on a bench behind me, I ignored her. I heard her whispering, "Bwoy, mi say come yah, go home, bwoy."

I was determined, and I was not going to turn back, so she whispered "Oxy! Oxy!" agitatedly until she was blue. I was glad when my name was called, just as she was about to pull my bag of clothes from me.

I walked briskly to the baptismal platform as the congregation sang "take me to the water to be baptised". I refused to look in Mama's direction as I mounted the steps of the old fridge come baptismal pool. A deacon assisted me into the chest-high water. After a brief pronouncement, the pastor dunked me into the Dettol-wreaking water, and a feeling of joy overwhelmed me, despite the burning sensation in my nostrils. The bag, the towel and the Bible were almost mine.

I was removed from the pool by a woman, who wrapped a huge towel around me. As I was about to descend the steps, I saw Mama standing akimbo and shaking at the foot of the steps. My bag of clothes was now at her feet. I released myself from the woman and jumped to the ground from the side of the steps.

Mama made at me, but I was too swift. I ran through an opening, into the open lot and up the road towards home in my wet clothes. As I sprinted, I saw the bag, the towel and the Bible fast disappearing and I was now filled with unspeakable dread and anger.

waiting for judgement

Back home, I lodged myself under the bed. There, I waited for the judgement to come. After about 30 minutes, they arrived. Some were laughing, others were admonishing as they searched for me. Someone kneeled beside the bed with a lamp, pushed the sheet up, and saw my eyes. She shouted, "Mama si him yah, deh hide unda de bed!"

Mama stormed into the room. As they attempted to lift the bed from over me, she exclaimed, "That damn brute, gi mi de belt, bout yuh go baptise behind mi back, an fi mek matters worse, right after dat ole Jezebel! Mi an yuh tinite!"

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