Casual church

Although there were Large Dutch Reformed churches in every big, small or tiny dorp in the country, finding a church of English origin, was much more difficult.  Not that I saw my parents go to church that much when we lived on the farm.  My mother however, managed to get a church to send us very nice pictures with biblical tracts on the back.  As a small child, I would line them up and gaze at them for long periods of time, wondering what this young boy had done that was so bad, so as to cause his father to want to stab him with a knife.

A roving minister came once and spent the night with us, in order to  baptise me in the morning.  For dinner that night, my mother cooked a guinea fowl my father had shot a few days before.  It turned out to be as tough as old boots, and had the minister chewing his way through it, and spitting out bits of buckshot ever so often, and saying politely "I haven't tasted game for years".  My guess is, that after that meal, he wouldn't want to taste it again and for many years to come.

I can only remember going to church a couple of times when I was a child, in the little town closest to where we lived.  Yet another roving minister had arrived to conduct the service.  Being very small and rather bored, I fell asleep, only to awaken when a large bowl with money in it was offered to me.  With no hesitation, I dipped my fingers in and helped myself to a couple of shiny coins.  My father who hated having his kids do anything wrong, pinched me on my arm and sternly told me to put them back immediately.  He then stuck his hand into the top breast pocket of his jacket to extract the folded, crisp, one pound note he had carefully placed there.  This he did with great aplomb, slapping it down in the middle of the big bowl.  All eyes were on the bowl, as Mr Hobson the sidesman reviewed my father's offering.  A couple of used bioscope tickets.  My mother who had a wonderful sense of humour, said she saw Mr Hobson's eyes grow as big as saucers and she imagined him saying to himself "Hobson, do you see what I see?"

My father who hated looking foolish, blushed crimson and quickly exchanged the bioscope tickets for the pound note.  Personally, I think it served him right for pinching me!