'Congregation, God has gathered us here... on this holy Sunday of March 21 in the year 1666 to be his witnesses. Minister de Voogd's voice cleaved through the small church. 'The sacrament of baptism that brings us together as a congregation today... that of a baby...an innocent creation is a joyous event.' He lowered his tone until he was barely audible. His eyes moved across the benches and paused on the distinguished officer of the VOC, his wife, and their child's godparents, gathered around the baptismal font.
'Jacob Huyssor and Janniken Duyssink,' he said, extending his hands to the couple. The radiant mother handed over the little bundle, dressed in a long white gown of lace and satin ribbon, to the minister. The child's face creased, and she began to cry in his clumsy grip. 'Jacomina, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit.' He was at the end of his ritual. 'Go ahead and shine the light of the Almighty wherever you find yourself in this world of sinners.' With the baby still in his arms, he approached the rest of the witnesses around the baptismal font. 'Jan Anthonij Haemste, Paul du Bois and Catherine Bel, will you support Jacomina's parents in their duty to bring her up as a Christian, and help her fight valiantly under the banner of Christ in an attempt to eradicate the wickedness and sin of this world?'
'With the help of God, we will,' the godparents responded.
He turned to the congregation who had turned up in their best Sunday clothes. Their faces radiated peace and inner fulfillment not uncommon to an auspicious occasion such as a baptism. Heads were nodding. Very few managed to remain dry-eyed.
'We welcome and accept little Jacomina, this beautiful newcomer to Christianity. Today she is one of us. From this moment on, she fights with us against the devil, and all evil, under the banner of God.' Satisfied, the baby lay in his arms, and for a few seconds a veil of bliss descended over the picture of pure innocence on the altar. 'Congregation, do you promise to support the parents in their quest to bring little Jacomina up as a worthy Christian in the house of the Lord?'
'With the help of God, we promise,' they responded.
'It's our duty. That is what God expects of us. He was silent for a while, looking over the church before he continued with renewed seriousness. 'Be his light. Show His infinite love, and extend his mercy to all, just as He shows His infinite love and selflessness to us every day. Carefully, he handed the baby to her parents, picked up the Bible and held it up. 'Be his hands and his feet. Flood his earth with never-ending love.
His eyes wandered to the few benches to his right, hidden from the sight of the congregation where Susanna watched on as the baptism of Jacomina came to a close.
'Susanna of Bengal, come forward,' he said, and waved his hand in her direction to approach the altar. She pressed the bundle tighter against her bosom when the plumed hats burnt into her.
'Come on, come forward,' he spurred her on.
She froze halfway to the alter, stared at the white faces and walked with measured steps to the front in the silence that had descended on the church.
An uneasiness had replaced the warm, tender mood. A discomfort was gaining momentum with every step of her bare feet. When she reached the font in her shapeless dress and loose apron the atmosphere was so hostile that it moved the mother to press the baby tighter.
De Voogd motioned her to hand over the infant. He removed the blanket that covered the face. The eyes, green as spring on the ocean were wide open in the dark face. His hair was straight and dark as his mother's. De Voogd swallowed.
'Andries van de Caep, I baptise you-'
There was a commotion at the entrance. A man in black, clutching a Bible in his hand, rushed towards the font.
'Minister de Voogd, stop this immediately.' He pulled his face at the baby in the Minister's arms. 'This is a violation of the baptismal sacrament-'
'Excuse me... What? Who are you?' stuttered Johannes de Voogd, staring in disbelief at the red face blazing with irritation and built-up emotion.
'It's ungodly... Unheard of to baptise gentiles, ungodly!'
'Who gives you the right to barge into my church and make such ungodly utterances--' de Voogd, said raising his voice to the elderly man in front of him.
'It's a contamination of the house of God! I am Philippus Baldeus and I object. How dare you baptise the half breed of an unbaptised convict slave?' The bewildered slave's eyes were pinned on the screaming baby in the arms of the preacher. He turned to the minister again. "I forbid you to continue this profanity. The church forbids the baptism of pagans. You are polluting the sacrament of baptism. Stop it, now!'
De Voogd handed the baby to the bewildered Susanna who grabbed the infant with eager hands and began to soothe him. The young minister, rattled, turned to Commander Wagenaer seated in the front bench.
Wagenaer stood up and cleared his throat. 'Ladies and Gentlemen, respected members, family and friends gathered here in the holy house of the Almighty...' His gaze wandered from the older man to the slave and the crying baby and paused on the face of the red face of de Voogd. 'In the light of the inconsistency of this thorny matter, it is my modest decision that we rest with the opinion of the Honourable Baldeus until we had time to gather more clarity on the baptism of our Colony's slave children.'
Baldeus nodded, turned around and stormed out, followed by the majority of the congregation.
De Voogd ended the service as the church ran empty. He looked at Susanna who had turned around and left the church while the Commander spoke to De Voogd.
'It does not make sense, Commander. The church's baptismal records reflect that last year another convict slave, Catrijn baptised not one, but two slave children belonging to the Company, Petronella and Anthony. Why the objection to the baptism of this slave's son?' he said as he moved the baptismal font to the side.
'I have no clue what prompted this rebellion today but I am calling an immediate meeting of the Council to find the answers you need.'
'There is something wrong. The church cannot baptise one child and turn away another. I will not stand for such double standards when it comes to children. We cannot punish this child for our sins.'
'I will sort it out before the end of the day.' The Commander was not frazzled.
'I am only here until Petrus Wachtendorp arrives in November. This matter must be prioritised before his arrival. It is important to settle the congregation.'
'I will take it up with the Council of Policy today still.'
De Voogd sat down in one of the benches, head between his hands. When he was more composed he closed the doors behind him and made his way to his quarters. Once there, he plucked off his collar and flung it on the table, and drafted a letter to the church in the Netherlands.
Commander Wagenaer hurried to the Fort and made arrangements to convene a meeting of the Council of Policy.
Susanna left the church with her baby. On her bare feet she walked back to the slave quarters where she strapped Andries to her back. She resumed her Sunday chores, pretending not to hear the questions or remarks of her fellow slaves.
Maria blocked her way. 'They say you are cursed because of the Hottentot man.'
'I do not care what they say. Andries is innocent.'
'Do not lose hope. I have a good feeling about the young Minister. His heart is in the right place.'
'His heart is not strong enough to fight these demons.'
'Susanna?'
'Yes?'
'Who is the father of Andries?'
'Does it matter? I am not immune to the reach of the men who come here. Or those who profit from this brothel.'
'Do you remember when you arrived here?'
'As if it was yesterday. I survived eight winters.'
'Now you have a child. A son, after eight years.' She smirked. 'Angela is already on her third...'
'Krotoa gave me a mixture of plants and herbs... Now she is on the island and I am here and I have a son. His father is of no importance. Any one of them could have fathered him.'
'Are you at peace with that?'
'He received life from my body. I am his father and mother. The love I feel for him makes this life bearable and I will endure anything to make life better for him.'
Maria was quiet for a long time before she spoke. 'When you came here you opened my eyes. To many things. What you endured at the hands of Commander van Riebeeck... what Misssus B had those men do to you. Everybody talked about it. Long after the lanterns went out. You are on everybody's lips, Susanna. Slaves respect you because your life is a reflection. It mirrors everything that is wrong with our lives as slaves... Not all of us are as strong as you.'
'I am not strong... I pray. Every day. I will die if I ever bring a daughter into this world...'
'See? You think ahead. Unlike me, I trusted in the goodwill of the Commander until that night...' She wiped away a tear. 'Said I caused him grave embarrassment. I was reserved for an official that night. He was so angry. He swore at me. Had me beaten...His wife.... She said I was a useless... a disgrace. Cursed me. Said I will be passed on from one owner to the next for the rest of my life...that I will die a slave.'
'He sold you to make a profit. Just like he sold Angela, Catrijn, Lijsbeth, Cornelia and all the other slaves in his household. Do not allow him into your head. You have a right to love and our lives have worth, despite their chains. Do not blame yourself for their shame. It is theirs.'
***
'As the Council of Policy we are here to reflect on yesterday's events, the baptism of the half-breed infant of the convict slave, Susanna of Bengal.'
One of the Commander's councilors jumped up. 'Is Baldeus right? Because if that redneck is indeed right, then we have been wrong all these years. Quite a few slave children of that bunch of idol worshippers in the slave house have been baptised.'
'Councilor, we will behave like civilised Christians!'
The arguments continued for many hours. Posters, letters and legal guidelines were passed to and fro over and over again as the baptism of the convict's slave overshadowed their agenda. Commander Wagenaer repeatedly calmed the spirits and restored order when the arguments got heated and threatened to get out of control. Eventually, they reached a point where he could summarise the gains of the various arguments.
'Okay, we got to the end of our meeting and this Council must incorporate all that was said into one, concise resolution. It is my considered view that we have exhausted discussion on this matter. All sides have been heard and taken into account. Many ministers have previously stipulated that they had the express approval of the church's headquarters, the Classis in Amsterdam, to baptise these children. There is also widespread agreement that our baptismal policy rests on the biblical example of our patriarch, Abraham, who baptised his household slaves and that baptism, more than anything else, is the doorway to Christianity. Even if the fathers of slave children are known, the baptismal record will refer to him as one unknown Christian. Are we agreed.' When they nodded he turned to the clerk. 'Is the resolution ready?
'It is," replied the clerk, and handed the resolution over to him.
He turned to the written page in front of him. This Council, having regard to the writing of the Governor-General of Batavia dated January 25 in the year 1664, resolved to uphold the present practice, which has been followed since the establishment of the halfway station here at the Cape of Good Hope.' He remained silent, looking over the faces of his Council before reading on. 'Slave children, including the one of the one-eared slave, shall be baptised until such time as we receive further instructions from Batavia.'
The following Sunday, in the same coarse dress, Susanna took her seat in the church service presided over by Minister de Voogd. Noiseless, with her scruffy, bare feet and her baby boy tight to her chest, she walked towards the altar, once again. After he was baptised she was intercepted.
'Susanna?'
It was the preacher. 'I must talk.'
'I must get back to my duties.'
'It is in order. I requested permission from the lodge.' He walked back into the church. She followed him. She untied the child from her back and put him on her lap. 'Tell me about yourself.'
Unsettled she turned in her seat. She clutched the fingers of her son. Instinctively they curled around hers.
'I am a Company slave. Serving a life sentence for my thieving ways.' She looked down on her son's face. He was sleeping. His cheeks were flushed. She opened the blanket.
'How did you lose that ear?'
Susanna pressed against the headscarf around the missing ear. 'The court said I stole from my owner... I confessed and it was chopped off. In Batavia.'
'Hm.' He let her lift her son. When he lay across her breast he spoke. 'What did you steal?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing?'
'Nothing.'
'Why did you confess if you were innocent?'
'If I did not confess...'
'They would have tortured you until you did.'
'Yes.'
'What happened? Why did your owners accuse you of thievery?'
She looked straight at him. 'I have a child. I do not want trouble with-'
'What we speak remain between us. I promise.'
'I do not wish to talk about the past.'
'Why not, Susanna?'
'It hurts.'
'That is why we are here. I can offer you something different. Something that will take the hurt away.'
She looked up. A frown etched between her brows. She pressed her son tighter. 'I cannot talk ill of my masters.'
'If you did not steal and you know in your heart you are not speaking ill of anyone, I am asking you once again. Why did your owners accuse you of thievery?'
'I could not take it... The owner...' She broke down. When she composed herself she continued. 'I ran. Was caught. And accused of thievery and running away.'
'Hm. I believe you. And so does God. I want to baptise you. But to do that you must become a Christian. Only God can free you from the shame and guilt you carry around. Are you willing to try?'
'Can your God free me and send me home?'
'Becoming a Christian is the first step. God will not let you suffer more than you can bear.'
'Where are you and your God when the sailors ravage us in the lodge?'
'That is not the work of my God.'
'Why must I become a Christian before your God free me and send me home?'
'To hear his voice. He will become your father, and you will never be afraid. Or alone. Ever.'
She did not answer. Instead she got up and made her way to the door. Once outside she walked back to the slave house with her baby and resumed her Sunday tasks.