Escape From The Darkness

Editor’s Note

Author’s Note

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Escape From The Darkness

Tales Of Muniamma: 2

Connie Griffith

Copyright © Connie Griffith 1989

First published 1989

Front cover design by Vic Mitchell

Illustrations by Juliet Baker

This story is the continuation of Child of Destiny,
the first in the Tales of Muniamma series.

Editor’s Note

This book was originally published in England, and the events in the book took place in South Africa where they speak British English. Thus, this book uses British spellings and quotation marks.

Author’s Note

Did you know there are Asian Indians in South Africa? There are. Today they total nearly one million. About seventy-five per cent of these people are Hindus. Their ancestors brought this religion with them from India when they came to South Africa in the late 1860s to work on the sugar cane farms.

In 1896 the Africa Evangelical fellowship (AEF) mission began work among this Hindu population. Most of the work has been with the labouring class who worship many gods. Today there are twenty-nine established churches among these people, and they have organised themselves into a denomination called the Evangelical Church in South Africa (ECSA).

My husband, Geoff, and I joined the American Council of the AEF in 1977, and we went to South Africa to work with the Indian people. They became our dearest friends. I believe the struggles and joys of their lives need to be told, and that is why I have written Child of Destiny and Escape From the Darkness. I hope that children will find here a story that is enjoyable to read and encourages them— like Muniamma—to seek after the ‘God who makes the sunrise’.

The incidents in the books, although told with fictitious characters, are based on true situations. As you read, please pray for the Hindus of South Africa, the missionaries working with them, and for the Christian Indian Church as they make a strong stand for Jesus Christ.

Chapter One

Muniamma woke early every morning—long before her grandmother, who slept next to her in the bed. In the thin light of dawn the leaves of the banana grove outside their shack traced patterns on the wall of their cramped bedroom. She lay as still as she could, not daring to move in case she woke Grandmother.

Her heart was heavy as she thought back over the past year. So much had happened.

The flood had started it, sweeping away her home, her brothers and her graceful mother. She ached whenever she remembered them. Sparky, her dog, was all she had left when she stood for the first time at the age of twelve in the doorway of the Isipingo hut. Now she was thirteen, and in a little while she must get up and help Grandmother sweep the Hindu shrine where the old woman worshipped.

Kali was Grandmother Poonamah’s goddess; she was a vengeful, fearful goddess. Every day Muni and Grandmother tried to please her, but every day the chill of fear squeezed harder round Muni’s heart. She did not want to pray to Kali. Not today. Not ever.

And her father—soon after Grandmother had brought her to Isipingo, the old woman had told her about the curse. Before Muni was born, her father had made a vow to Kali but had broken it. He had then run away and left them, so Muniamma was doubly cursed by Kali from birth. She would always feel that cold fear gripping her heart.

Or would she? Her heart lifted a little as she lay in the narrow bed and thought suddenly of her aunt. Aunt Sita, once a priestess who worshipped snakes, had come to the gardens where they worked and had spoken of Jesus. He was the Son of the Creator God, she said, and he loved them. Aunt Sita had given her the holy book of the Christians—a Bible, she called it; but Grandmother had taken it away and hidden it before she could read its wisdom, and now Kali lay in wait for her at the shrine.

But two weeks ago at Aunt Sita’s house she had met Sue and Lou Morton, twins from England; their brother Ken; and his Indian friend Raneesh—all Christians, all of them. And they had made her feel special; had made her feel as if she really mattered after all. She was only thirteen, an orphan, and she was cursed by Kali. Still, they cared about her.

Now two whole weeks had passed since the Christian festival of Easter at Aunt Sita’s house. Two long, hard weeks. Every day Grandmother prayed to Kali at the backyard shrine, and she always made Muniamma kneel with her.

‘I don’t feel well this morning, Ma. Can’t I stay in bed a little longer?’ Muni didn’t want to kneel before Kali, but this morning she was being honest when she said she felt sick.

‘No, you can’t stay in bed. Get up and say your prayers. We dare not be lazy. So far, Kali hasn’t taken revenge on us for being with the Christians, and I want to make sure she doesn’t.’

Muni slowly got up and dressed. She had no appetite.

‘You have to eat something, child, or you won’t be able to work.’ Muni noticed that Grandmother’s voice was beginning to sound worried.

‘Really, Ma, I’m not one bit hungry.’

Grandmother frowned. Walking over, she felt Muni’s forehead. Her frown lines deepened.

‘Before we go to work, I had better prepare a sour porridge offering for Kali.’

Muni knew how to make it; she had helped many times before. But this morning Muniamma flopped back onto the bed and watched Grandmother as she mixed the fermented corn meal and sour milk with spring onions.

Placing the mixture into a special bowl, Grandmother announced, ‘It’s ready. We’ll present this to Kali along with some holy water. I’m worried. Your skin is hot. We must make sure we do everything just right.’

Muni slowly followed Grandmother out of the door. She noticed that she had already swept the dirt and arranged fresh flowers on the shrine in front of Kali’s picture. Grandmother placed the special sour porridge offering onto the shelf, then knelt.

‘Get down here and pray, girl. Pray that Kali’s anger will turn away and not cause you to have this fever. Kneel!’

Muniamma fell to her knees. She felt as if all ten of Kali’s hands were reaching out to grab her. She looked up into the ugly face in the picture and honestly thought she saw Kali laugh.

‘She’s laughing, Ma!’

‘Who? Who’s laughing?’

‘Kali! She’s grinning at me. Look, can’t you see it?’

‘Hush, you stupid girl. Don’t you have any sense at all? Say your prayers, and then we must get to work.’

Muniamma continued to kneel, but she did not pray. Ever since she had heard the beautiful Easter story, she did not want to pray to the picture of Kali. Once again she thought about the little Bible Grandmother had hidden, and wished more than anything that she could find it.

Again her eyes were inevitably drawn to the ugly goddess. But this time what she saw made her fevered body turn ice cold. It looked as if real blood was coming out of Kali’s mouth and dripping down the picture. Drop after drop splashed onto the shelf around the bowl of sour porridge.

‘Look, Ma,’ Muni gasped. ‘Look at the blood that’s dripping out of the picture.’

‘What blood? There’s no blood. You’re full of foolishness this morning. You’re imagining things. Come on, it’s time to get to work.’

Grandmother got up and headed for Madame’s garden, mumbling under her breath all the way. Muniamma slowly followed.

Hour after hour they worked. It was strangely hot for the end of April. The South African winter was coming and Muni knew the nights would start getting colder. I hope it cools down tonight, she thought. Her mouth felt dry as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

Sparky was chasing cane rats and Muni could hear his bark in the distance. She looked around for Grandmother and saw her standing in Madame Van Niekerk’s side yard getting instructions for changes in the flower beds. They looked her way and Muni quickly bent over and pretended to be busy. But she couldn’t seem to concentrate on her work; her head throbbed.

‘This is it,’ Muniamma whimpered to the row of carrots. Her heart was pounding. ‘I just knew Kali was going to come after me. She’s trying to get me, I know it; I just know it.’ Muni’s whimper turned into an all out, heart-rending moan of utter despair. She shook her fevered head, trying to clear the vision of Kali’s ugly grin.

Anger towards her father, because of the terrible part he played in the curse, became overwhelming. It seemed to give her a spurt of energy. She got up, grabbed the heavy shovel and began wildly digging.

‘I hate you, I hate you,’ she vehemently declared with each stroke. ‘Why did you put this curse on me, you horrible man? Why? If I ever see you, I will... I will...’

The hole in Madame’s carrot patch was getting deeper, but Muniamma was past caring. Suddenly, in her fevered mind, she saw Kali’s hideous face in the pit. It scared her so much her arms froze in mid-air. Kali laughed, and Muni was certain she heard her taunt, ‘Yes? Just exactly what will you do to your father?’

Muni dropped the shovel and covered her eyes.

She sank to the ground and sat motionless for a long, long time. She could hardly breathe.

Eventually, Sparky’s incessant barking came to her ears. She looked up slowly; her dog was standing right in front of her. He barked several more times and then nuzzled his nose into her side.

Muniamma looked around. She could not see Grandmother or Madame anywhere. Then she cautiously crept over to the edge of the hole and looked down. Nothing was there but dirt. Nothing.

She whispered, ‘I’m going crazy, Sparky. I really think I’m going crazy.’

Sparky barked.

‘Hush, boy. I’ve got to get this cleaned up before Ma comes.’

Muni shovelled the dirt back into the hole and smoothed over the area the best she could. A number of carrots had been uprooted in her fit of anger, which she now tried to replant. As she worked, she asked herself the same question that Kali had: ‘What will I do if I see my father?’ Anger and hatred filled her whole body.

Then she remembered Vijay and the curse her wicked neighbours had put on her. The Christians had prayed for those people and even for the African witch-doctor. They asked God to forgive the very people who were responsible for the curse.

She turned around and frowned at her dog.

‘Oh, Sparky, how could they do that?’

Sparky barked and scampered off. Muniamma shook her head and continued making the garden area as presentable as possible.

Later that night, Muni lay in bed next to Grandmother. Grandmother was snoring but Muniamma did not have the strength to turn over to watch her lips.

Sparky was lying on the floor next to Muni’s side. He whined. She knew if she dropped her hand down to comfort him it would take too much effort to lift it.

She looked up at the corrugated ceiling and noticed the area which needed repair. It was raining and the roof had begun to leak. Grandmother had placed a bucket under the spot and Muni listened to the plopping sound of each drop. Tears rolled down her cheeks and soaked into the dingy sheet. Wind blew in under the aluminium door and around the ill-fitting windows. It was a cold night but she felt stifling hot. She wanted to kick off the covers but knew it would disturb Grandmother.

Besides, Muni thought woefully, I don’t even have the strength to do that. Another tear escaped.

Eventually Muniamma fell into a fitful sleep. All sorts of horrible visions tormented her fevered mind. She began perspiring. Soon the bed was drenched.

‘Wake up, girl! I do not want to call you again,’ Grandmother shouted. Pulling the covers off Muniamma, she shook her shoulder roughly. Muni turned over and moaned.

Grandmother screeched: ‘Spots, you’re covered in spots! I knew this was going to happen as soon as we came back from being with those Christians. Kali’s angry! She’s given you the measles!’

Muni’s whole body ached. She pulled herself up and let her feet dangle over the side of the bed. Her mouth was cotton-dry.

Nervously, Grandmother tried to help Muniamma stand.

‘Come on. Don’t stop now; get dressed. We must present more offerings. Maybe there is a chance we can still turn Kali’s anger away.’

Muniamma slowly stood. The room began to spin. She fell back onto the rumpled bed.

‘Get up...please!’ Muni could hear the pleading in Grandmother’s voice.

‘I’ll try, Ma.’

‘Good. You get dressed and I’ll prepare the holy area. We must show Kali our hard work and devotion.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

Grandmother hurried out of the house as Muni cautiously stood, leaning against the bed to steady herself.

‘When is this going to end?’ Muni sobbed to the four walls. Then suddenly she stopped and closed her eyes. ‘Oh, God of the Christians... if you are a God of love like the Morton twins said, then please come to my rescue. Please... please help me!’

After praying, Muni painfully pulled on an old dress and stumbled out of the front door.

Chapter Two

Muniamma tried to turn over the soil in Madame Van Niekerk’s flower beds. The ground was hard, but the real problem was within Muni; she was growing weaker and weaker. It had been five days since she had broken out with the measles. And every one of those five days Grandmother had made Muni work.

Sweat trickled down her bony back. She leaned on the handle of the shovel.

‘Ma, I can’t do any more. I’m sure I can’t.’ Muni looked over at Grandmother who was working by her side.

Grandmother noticed the swelling in Muni’s blotchy face, especially around the eyes. In fact, today they appeared almost swollen shut. Grandmother felt nervous and more concerned each day as she watched the illness rack Muni’s body. She wondered why Kali remained so angry. She thought about the many offerings she had given her goddess over the past five days. She had even given food right off their plates—food they should have eaten—food that spoiled as it sat untouched on the shelf of the shrine.

Grandmother thrust the spade into the ground.

‘I know, Muniamma, that you’re growing weaker. Maybe it would be okay if you stopped for a while and rested.’

‘Ma?’

‘Yes, child?’

‘Oh... oh, nothing.’ Muni sat down on a small pile of rocks that she and Grandmother had gathered. They had been instructed to arrange the rocks among the flowers.

‘Ma?’

‘What is it?’ Grandmother stopped working and looked again at Muni. There was no tone of irritation in her voice. Lately, strange and unfamiliar feelings had begun invading Ma’s heart toward her sick granddaughter. She now stood and looked down at the sad figure of Muni sitting on the rocks.

‘I have a question, Ma, a question that’s been bothering me for days.’ Muni kept fidgeting with the material of her old dress. ‘I’ve been afraid to ask it.’

‘Go ahead, child. You can ask me.’

Muniamma cleared her parched throat and squinted up at her grandmother.

What...what do you really think is going to happen to me?’

Grandmother quickly looked around to see if she could spot Madame Van Niekerk. She was nowhere in sight, so Grandmother sat down. ‘I don’t rightly know,’ she answered, ‘I really don’t.’

They both sat thoughtfully for a while, wrapped in their own misery. Eventually, it was Grandmother who broke the silence.

‘We’ve given Kali so many offerings, and we’ve said prayers every day. Well, really, I’ve prayed many times a day. But nothing is making her satisfied. Nothing.’

Muni quickly looked away. She did not want Grandmother to know she hadn’t been praying to Kali. She knew if Grandmother found out, the closeness they were beginning to feel towards one another would be gone. And that was something she just could not bear.

Still looking away, Muni blurted out, ‘Ma? Do you think I’m going blind?’

Grandmother moved uncomfortably.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes so red and swollen. I hear you moaning at night. I know you must be miserable.’

Muni quickly looked back at Grandmother. They reached out and held each other’s hands. Muni began to sob.

‘There, there, now, child,’ Grandmother said, gently. ‘This crying won’t help anything.’ Grandmother put her arm around Muni, and pulled her fevered head down to rest against her ample bosom. After a few moments, she said, ‘There is one more thing we could try. I’ve been meaning to mention it.’

‘What?’ Muni lifted her head, secretly hoping Grandmother was ready to allow the Christians to pray for healing.

‘Well, it’s something we would have to do at the Isipingo temple.’

Muni quickly lowered her eyes to keep Grandmother from seeing the look of shattered hope. She shivered and leaned back again into Grandmother’s embrace. The thought of going to that temple again was devastating.

‘I remember,’ Grandmother began, ‘when your father made his vow. He killed a goat to please Kali. Maybe this goddess is demanding blood from us.’

The horrible vision of blood dripping from Kali’s mouth flashed into Muni’s mind. She believed Grandmother was right— Kali did want blood: hers!

‘Don’t shiver so, child. We’ll do what we can. I want us to get to the temple somehow and take a few fowls, and maybe even a goat, for sacrifice. I’m hoping that when the priest cuts their throats the blood will satisfy Kali.

‘But the problem is,’ Grandmother continued, ‘how do we get there? You must be with me at the temple, but you’re too weak to walk all that way.’

Just then, Muniamma heard a voice. Someone was calling to them and it didn’t sound like Madame. Muni lifted her head to see who was coming. Everything looked blurred as she put her hands up to shade her burning eyes.

It was obvious that Grandmother had also heard. She mumbled disgustedly and got to her feet. She took a couple of steps, then yelled, ‘Get away, Sita. I told you the other day that Muniamma has measles. Just go and leave us alone. You made that long walk again for nothing!’

‘I didn’t walk, Poonamah. I came in the Mortons’ van. I told them about Muniamma and they want to help.’

‘Haven’t you all caused us enough problems?’

Muni got to her feet and stood in the rocks. She couldn’t believe it. The Mortons were here.

Aunt Sita walked over to Muni.

‘This is awful. Just look at her swollen face…and those eyes! Poonamah, this girl needs a doctor.’

Just then, Mrs Morton and the twins walked up. Sue and Lou ran over and stood next to Muni.

‘Oh, shame,’ Sue said. ‘Your poor face.’

‘I’m sorry you’re ill, Muni,’ Lou interrupted, hugging her. ‘We’ve come to see what we can do. We really want to help.’

Mrs Morton took one look at Muni’s eyes and turned to Grandmother.

‘Your granddaughter ought to be in a dark room,’ she said. ‘She definitely shouldn’t be out here working in the bright sunlight. The measles have affected her eyes and this brightness is making them worse.’

‘Please, Auntie,’ Sue said. She came over and stood next to Grandmother. ‘Please let Lou and me finish the work, and you take Muniamma into your house. Really, we want to help.’

Grandmother stood straight. She folded her arms across her chest. She had never seen such concern, and from white folks.

‘Well, I don’t know if that would be proper. You shouldn’t be doing our work.’

Aunt Sita butted in and took command.

‘Of course they should. Besides, Pastor Morton and Ken are back at your house fixing the roof. They may need to ask you exactly where it’s leaking.’

‘They’re doing what?’

‘Don’t worry, Poonamah,’ Mrs Morton chimed in. ‘My husband loves fixing things. When he heard Sita mention your leaky roof, why, there was no stopping him from coming right over to fix it.’

To everyone’s surprise, Madame Van Niekerk approached. No one had seen or heard her coming.

‘My goodness,’ Madame said. ‘Do we have visitors?’

‘Yes, I hope that’s all right,’ Grandmother stammered.

‘By all means.’

‘Hello,’ the twins’ mother said. ‘I’m Mary Morton. This is Sita, and these are my twin daughters, Sue and Lou.’

‘My gracious, welcome. And what can I do for you?’

Mary Morton took the lead.

‘Well, we are friends of Poonamah, and we heard that her granddaughter was not well. So we have come to visit.’

‘Not well? My goodness, I didn’t know the child was ill.’ She turned to look at Muni.

‘Gracious! What’s wrong with your eyes?’

Muniamma felt so embarrassed. Madame had never shown any interest in her before, and now she was positively gushy. And besides, Muniamma hated everyone gawking at her.

‘This young lady has the measles,’ Mrs Morton explained in her refined British accent. ‘We live in Isipingo. When we heard that Muniamma had the measles and was feeling quite ill we decided to drive up here to see her. We would like to take her to town to see a doctor.’

‘By all means! I should say so.’ Madame turned to Grandmother. ‘Now, you take some time and go with these kind people. No, no... I’ll hear no excuse.’

‘Yes, Madame.’

‘You take as much time as you need. This little rock garden can wait.’ Madame generously spread her arm toward the flower beds.

Mrs Morton took a step and reached out her hand to the South African lady.

‘Let me thank you. You are being so kind to give Poonamah and her granddaughter time away. We’ll be going now. It was lovely meeting you.’

‘Yes... lovely. You take my gardeners with you, and make sure this child gets the proper care.’ Madame Van Niekerk turned and headed toward her beautiful, spacious home.

About twenty minutes later Muni was being wrapped snugly in a fluffy blanket in the back seat of the Mortons’ van. She lay with her throbbing head on Lou’s lap.

Sue leaned over and gently rearranged the cool cloth on Muni’s forehead.

‘You’ll be all right now, Muniamma. It won’t be long and you’ll be back with us in Auntie’s house.’

Muni thankfully closed her eyes. Sparky was panting in the back of the van, and slobbering all over the windows.

‘You don’t want that filthy dog in your nice van,’ Grandmother said to Pastor Morton as he slid into the driver’s seat. ‘Just leave him here. He’ll be fine.’

Muniamma struggled to sit up. She was about to protest when Pastor Morton chuckled.

‘Don’t worry, Poonamah. We all want Sparky to come along. And I really don’t mind about the mess; it can be cleaned up. Right, Ken?’

‘Right, Dad.’ Ken playfully ruffled the dog’s thick fur.

Sparky barked and wagged his tail.

Muniamma laid back down and sighed. Lou gently brushed Muni’s oily hair away from her flushed face.

‘Just rest,’ Lou said quietly. ‘Everything is going to be just fine, you wait and see. Mum will make sure you get to a doctor. Besides, we’ve been praying for you. I know you’ll get better. I just know it.’

Muni sighed again. She knew Grandmother had no intention of taking her to the doctor; she was headed for the Isipingo temple. It wasn’t that Grandmother didn’t want Muni to get better—she did—but she had more faith in the Hindu priest than any old doctor.

‘Oh, God,’ Muniamma silently prayed, ‘I think you sent Aunt Sita and the Mortons. But I’m scared about having to go with Ma to the temple. You know I don’t want to go. You know I don’t want to kneel before Kali. Oh, God, please help me.’

Muni reached down and pulled the blanket up over her face so that no one could see her cry.

Chapter Three

Muniamma moaned as she pulled the freshly-laundered sheet over her aching head. The morning sun streaming through the yellow floral curtains in Aunt Sita’s home made her swollen eyes burn.

‘There, there now, sleepy-head,’ Sue said, pleasantly. She gently pulled down the sheet and smiled at her sick friend. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

Muni moaned again. She did not want to talk— not to anyone. She felt awful.

Sue reached over to the end of the bed and picked up the folded blanket.

‘Don’t worry, Muniamma. When I’m ill I want to be left alone too. I simply hate it when someone tries to chitchat. So don’t mind me. I’m just going to hang this blanket up over the window so no light can come through. Mum says the room must be kept dark.’

Sue pushed a chair under the window and stood up on it with the blanket in her hands. She began draping it over the curtain rod.

‘It keeps slipping off’ she complained.

Lou came into the room with a tray.

‘Help!’ Sue called to her twin. ‘This blanket won’t stay up.’

Lou quickly set the tray down on the dresser.

‘I’ll go and get some pins or clothes pegs,’ she said, ‘something to hold it in place. Hey, is Muniamma awake?’

‘Yes.’

Lou walked over to the bed. Muni had turned onto her side and was facing the wall.

Touching Muni softly on the shoulder, Lou said, ‘I brought you some hot tea. It will help you feel better. Mum says you must drink; you must have lots of fluids.’

‘Hurry, Lou,’ Sue whispered loudly from the window. I can’t stand here all day holding this blanket.’

Lou turned and rushed from the room.

Muni did not want to be unfriendly, but she felt too miserable to see or talk to anyone... even the Morton twins.

Hours passed. It was sometime in the middle of the night when Muni awoke. The blanket was hanging at the window by a dozen clothes pegs. The tray was gone and so were Sue and Lou. A small night-light glowed somewhere from the opposite side of the room. But Muni saw none of this. Her eyes were swollen shut.

Early the next morning, Lou came in to see Muni. She sat on the edge of the bed holding a glass of water.

‘Please, Muniamma. Mum says you’re dehydrated. You have to drink.’

Lou gently lifted Muniamma’s head and put the glass to her lips.

‘Come on. Please try!’

Muni parted her chapped lips and let a little of the cool liquid slide in. It stayed in her mouth, but refused to go down.

‘Swallow. It won’t do you any good if you don’t swallow. Please, Muniamma.’

The pleading and concern in Lou’s voice surprised Muni. Lou was obviously worried. Muniamma tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t. Crusty stuff lined her lashes.

Sue came in and tiptoed over to the bed.

‘How is she this morning?’

‘Not good,’ Lou answered. ‘She can’t even open her eyes. Come on, Sue, you try and get Muniamma to drink.’ Lou handed the glass of water to her twin.

Just as Sue sat down next to Muni, her mother, Aunt Sita and Grandmother came into the room. Mrs Morton carried a bowl of warm salt water, a pile of cotton balls and several thick towels.

‘Poonamah, please let me do this,’ Mrs Morton pleaded. ‘You won’t allow us to take Muniamma to the doctor, and she needs care. We’re letting this go too long.’

Grandmother stood to her full height, which was still shorter than the missionary lady.

‘Explain again what you want to do.’

‘I want to wash your granddaughter’s eyes. I’ve boiled this water and put salt in it. Remember? You watched me. I want to dip the cotton balls into this water and gently rub them across Muniamma’s eyes. That’s all.’

‘Well... all right,’ Grandmother said, begrudgingly. ‘But I’m staying here to watch.’

Aunt Sita stepped next to Grandmother.

‘Of course you’re staying,’ she said. ‘We need your help. Let’s lift Muniamma’s head and put these towels underneath so the water won’t get all over the sheets.’

They carefully arranged the towels and helped Muni turn onto her side. Mrs Morton dipped the first cotton ball into the bowl and carefully moved it from one end of Muni’s eyelid to the other. Then she picked up another clean ball and did the same. With each stroke she used a clean fluffy piece of cotton.

Mary Morton finally stood up and straightened her back.

‘Doesn’t that eye look better? Now let’s turn Muniamma onto the other side and clean the left one.’

When they were finished, Mrs Morton looked at Grandmother.

‘I would like you to make your granddaughter drink. We’ll prop her up and you hold this glass of water to her lips. That’s it. Now say what you have to, but make her take a swallow—just a little at first.’

Grandmother tipped the glass and let a small amount of water fall into Muni’s mouth.

‘Swallow that, girl. Now!’

Muniamma tried to obey, but the liquid would not go down. It just stayed in her throat.

Grandmother poured a little more.

‘You drink this. Remember, you need your strength. I told you that I was taking you someplace, and I think we should go there today.’

Briefly, Muni wondered what Grandmother meant. Then she remembered. Grandmother was referring to the temple. She still wanted to take Muni to the temple and sacrifice the animals to Kali.

Muniamma gulped.

‘Oh, look!’ Sue said excitedly. ‘Muni swallowed.’ Sue leaned over and helped Grandmother pour another mouthful.

‘Not so fast,’ Mrs Morton chided. ‘That’s enough for now. But every hour we’ll do the same. We’ll clean Muniamma’s eyes and make sure she’s drinking. You girls clean up this mess, and then wash your hands.’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Just a minute, everyone,’ Aunt Sita interrupted. She walked over and faced Grandmother. ‘What did you mean? Your comment to Muniamma about taking her somewhere—it sounds like a threat. What’s going on?’

‘It’s none of your business, old woman,’ Grandmother retorted.

I believe it is my business,’ Aunt Sita said, trying to control her temper. ‘Why don’t you let us call the church elders to pray for Muniamma?’

‘No!’

‘Then where are you taking her?’

Muni held her breath. She did not want the Mortons to know about the temple, or Kali, or the curse. Muniamma tried to open her eyes. Through thin slits, she watched Grandmother’s and Sita’s stubborn shoulders square off as if for battle.

‘Like I said,’ Grandmother repeated, ‘mind your own business.’

‘I bet you’re taking this poor child to the temple. That’s it! You’re planning on taking Muniamma to see the priest because of the old curse that was put on her.’

‘Shut up!’ Grandmother yelled.

Mrs Morton walked over and stood between the two fighting women.

‘Ladies, please’. Can’t we talk about this later? You’re upsetting Muniamma.’

Huge tears started streaming down Muni’s hot cheeks.

They know. The twins know I’m cursed, she thought.

It was as if suddenly time stopped ticking. No one moved or said a word. Muni squinted at one face and then another. Each had a different expression, but strangely, love and tenderness shone through. She looked again to make sure she wasn’t imagining. It was true. Even Grandmother’s angry countenance became softened, and Muni was certain she saw tears in Aunt Sita’s eyes. And the twins—well, they just stared at her. They looked as if they wanted to rush toward her instead of away.

Muniamma took a slow, deep breath.

‘It’s all right, Ma.’ She closed her eyes and let her head drop back onto the pillow. ‘Really, it’s all right. Go ahead and tell the Mortons all about the curse.’

Aunt Sita took a step toward the bed.

‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she apologised to Muni. ‘My old stubborn nature gets the better of me at times. I didn’t mean to blurt out everything.’

Sue and Lou quickly laid down the towels, bowl and bag of dirty cotton balls, and hurried over to sit on the bed. Lou touched Muni on the arm. Sue did the same.

Mrs Morton placed a chair next to Grandmother.

‘All right,’ Grandmother said in a defeated voice, sitting down on the chair. ‘I will tell you about my son—Muniamma’s father. I will even tell you about the curse. But this isn’t going to change my mind. Tomorrow I’m taking Muniamma to the temple.’

Everyone listened as Grandmother talked about her son, Krish. She explained about their goddess, Kali, and the broken vow.

Muniamma’s eyes hurt, and she did not want anyone looking at her, so she turned over and buried her face in the pillow.

‘Oh, God,’ Muni prayed once again. ‘Please help these Christians understand. And somehow, please stop Grandmother from taking me to the temple.’

‘A goat?’ Mrs Morton’s loud question interrupted Muni’s prayer.

‘Yes,’ Grandmother explained impatiently, ‘a goat. Kali is angry and we must sacrifice a goat and fowl. We’re hoping their blood will satisfy our goddess and she’ll stop hurting Muniamma.’

I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,’ Mrs Morton quoted, clearly emphasising each word. ‘Jesus said that. He said that no one can come to God the Father but through him: Jesus. It’s not a goat. It’s not fowls. These things will never satisfy a holy God. It’s your sin, Poonamah. Your sin is separating you from God.’

‘My sin? What have I done that’s so bad? I took Muniamma into my home when she needed me. I’m not a sinner!’

Aunt Sita spoke up.

‘I’m a sinner,’ she admitted. ‘We all are. Even you are, Poonamah, if you would admit it. Sin is not just something you do. It is also what you don’t do... that you should do.’

Everyone was so intent on Grandmother and the conversation that they did not notice Muni. As inconspicuously as possible, Muni turned over and looked intently at Aunt Sita. She hung on to every word like a starving child who yearns for food.

‘I’m not explaining myself very well,’ Aunt Sita apologised.

Grandmother moved as if to get up, ending the conversation.

‘Before you leave,’ Aunt Sita said quickly, ‘I want to tell you my favourite Bible verse. It is John 3:16: “For God so loved the world...” ’ Aunt Sita paused. ‘Put your own name in there: “For God so loved Poonamah, that he gave his only begotten Son, that if Poonamah believes in him she should not perish, but have eternal life.” ’

Muniamma put her own name in the verse as Aunt Sita quoted. He loves me, she thought in total wonder. God really loves me!

Grandmother got abruptly to her feet.

‘I’ve been polite. I’ve listened. But my mind is made up. I’m still taking Muniamma to the temple.’

Chapter Four

The next morning, Muniamma huddled behind her grandmother as they left the security of Aunt Sita’s home. Ken Morton was playing with Sparky in the backyard, but neither one stopped long enough to notice.

Grandmother paused in front of Raneesh’s house and held out her hand to Muni.

‘Lean on me,’ she said. ‘It’s not much further to walk. I will buy a goat and a few fowls on the way.’

‘Hurry, Ma,’ Muni choked. She desperately hoped Raneesh wouldn’t see her. She had thought of him often in the last weeks and even daydreamed about their next meeting. But she didn’t want that meeting to be today! She knew she looked pathetic. ‘Please hurry,’ Muni pleaded.

Grandmother smiled, thinking Muniamma was anxious to get to the temple, anxious to pray to Kali, and especially anxious to be healed.

‘We’ll be there soon,’ Grandmother said. ‘We’ll show those Christians! We don’t need their prayers.’

Grandmother and Muni hurried on until they came to the temple. Just outside someone was selling goats, fowls and fruit. After bargaining, Grandmother purchased a sick-looking goat and three scrawny fowls. The frantic bleating of the goat as Grandmother led him by a rope, and the clucking of the chickens, announced their arrival at the temple entrance.

The old Hindu priest stepped out into the morning sun. He was shorter than Muni and painfully thin. At one time he must have been fat because now his skin looked baggy, as if someone had draped it over his bones. There was no lustre to his black hair and his skin looked ashen. He did not greet them.

‘We have come to offer to Kali this goat and these fowls,’ Grandmother explained. ‘Years ago my son made a vow to Kali that he did not keep. This is the result.’

Grandmother pointed to Muni’s swollen eyes and blotchy face.

The priest reached over and took the rope. He nodded to a man who was standing beside the door. The man came out, took the offerings, and headed around the side of the temple. Without a word, the strange-looking priest turned and walked back inside.

Grandmother removed her old, worn sandals and motioned for Muni to do the same. They followed the priest. Once again, when Muniamma’s bare feet hit that cold, concrete floor, it was nothing compared to the coldness she felt in her heart.

The priest lit foul-smelling camphor and placed it on a brass tray in front of a huge, brightly painted image of Kali. Muni stared up for one horrifying moment at that terrible figure. She shivered and reached for Grandmother’s hand.

The priest started chanting. His chant grew more and more intense as he circled around and around the image.

Grandmother knelt, pulling Muniamma with her. Bleary-eyed and scared, Muni looked into Grandmother’s face. She was earnestly chanting a prayer in Tamil.

Just then a man entered the main temple area from the back room, along with two women. The man carried a drum and began a slow, rhythmic beat which sent gooseflesh up and down Muniamma’s spine. The incense mixed with the smell of camphor was so sickening that Muni gagged. Her red, swollen eyes smarted.

The drummer and the two women began dancing around Kali’s image. Their feet flopped loudly on the hard floor. Muni reached over and grabbed Grandmother’s arm.

‘Look, Ma...’

Grandmother did not move.

‘Ma,’ Muni persisted, shaking her grandmother’s arm. ‘Look at that old woman dance.’

Grandmother blinked several times, then looked over at Muni.

‘What? What did you say?’

‘Look!’ Muni whispered. ‘That woman dancer only has one leg! She’s jumping up and down!’

‘Why, that just can’t be,’ Grandmother said in a hushed tone. ‘How can anyone jump and dance like that on one leg?’

The priest walked over to the one-legged dancer and loosened the old woman’s hair.

‘This will help free the spirit,’ he explained above the beat of the drum.

Her long, greasy hair whipped around in the air as the old woman danced faster and faster.

Finally she stopped. Her breathing came in great, jerky gulps. She fell to the floor shaking and groaning. The drummer immediately stopped, and the second dancer hurried out of the room. The old, one-legged woman screamed out, ‘Goinda! Goinda!’

The priest came up behind Muni and almost scared her to death. He reached over and put his thumb on her forehead. He dipped his thumb again into a bowl full of ash and did the same to Grandmother. Then he tied a circle of interwoven thread around Muniamma’s neck.

‘Goinda is another name for Kali,’ he explained calmly. ‘The goddess Kali has now entered this old woman’s body. She is possessed. Now we must go outside and sacrifice the animals.’

Muniamma and Grandmother quickly got to their feet and stepped back away from the possessed woman. The priest and drummer headed for the back door of the temple. The one-legged woman slithered out after them like a snake, her body moving on the ground in totally impossible positions.

When they were all outside, the priest anointed the goat and fowls with a red lead powder. He picked up a ritual sickle and daubed it with the same red spots.

‘This is to represent the blood of the goddess,’ he explained.

The priest lifted the sickle ready to cut the goat’s neck. The sun’s reflection off its edge flashed into Muniamma’s painful eyes. She covered them for a brief moment and bowed her head.

‘Oh, God of all creation,’ she prayed. ‘I am sure this does not please you.’

Muniamma remembered the Bible verse Mrs Morton had quoted just yesterday: ‘I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father but through me.’

‘It’s not the goat!’ Muni said out loud. ‘That goat will not take away my sin. Only God’s Son, Jesus, can do that.’

No one noticed or paid any attention to Muniamma. She turned her back on the whole ugly scene and bowed her head.

‘Oh, God,’ she wept into her hands. ‘I’m a sinner; I’m just a rotten sinner. Please take my sin away and make me clean.’

Then she remembered Aunt Sita’s favourite Bible verse about God’s love: ‘For God so loved Muniamma, that he gave his only Son...’

I believe! I believe!’ she cried. ‘You are the only One. There is no other. You can take my sin away. I believe!’

Joy flooded Muniamma’s heart. She had never ever felt this way before. She wanted to scream, ‘I’m free... I’m truly free! Free from Kali! Free from the curse!’

Grandmother grabbed Muniamma’s arm and spun her around.

‘Watch out!’ she warned. ‘That possessed woman is coming toward you!’

Muniamma stared at the slithering figure in the dirt. Her eyes were wild as she squirmed closer and closer.

Muni stood her ground. Strangely, she did not feel afraid. There was no doubt in her mind that she had the one, true, living God standing right there with her.

Grandmother stumbled back several steps, trying to get away.

To everyone’s surprise, the slithering figure stopped right in front of Muni. It looked as if she was trying to move closer, but couldn’t. Defeated, the possessed woman turned and wormed her way back to the darkness of the temple.

‘Now,’ the priest said. He came and stood in front of Grandmother. ‘If you want your granddaughter’s eyes to heal completely, you must go and collect gold. Bring it here tomorrow. I will exchange it for a gold nugget in the shape of an eyeball. I will then present the golden eyeball to Kali.’

‘I am a poor woman.’ Grandmother’s voice shook. ‘I have no jewellery.’ She knew neither the jewellery nor the gold nugget would be returned. The priest would keep it all.

‘If you do not bring the jewellery, the goddess will not heal this child’s eyes. You must do as Kali demands. I do not care how or where you get the gold, just as long as you bring it to me by tomorrow. Now go! And don’t come back unless you have it.’ The priest turned and walked into the temple.

‘Come, Ma,’ Muni said with a light heart. ‘Let’s go home to Aunt Sita’s.’

Chapter Five

‘What are we going to do?’ Grandmother asked, as she and Muniamma left the temple area. ‘How can our Hindu priest demand more than what we’ve already given?’

‘I don’t know, Ma,’ Muni said quietly, ‘but please don’t worry.’

Grandmother halted.

‘Don’t worry? You have the measles. Your eyes are affected. And now the priest demands jewellery so he can exchange it for a golden eyeball to satisfy our goddess.’

‘I know,’ Muniamma said slowly.

‘And you say, “Don’t worry”? You know we have no jewellery to bring to the priest. How are we ever going to pay what we owe? And if we don’t, how are your eyes ever going to heal?’

‘I don’t know, Ma.’

‘Listen. We simply must give jewellery to the priest so he will exchange it for that golden eyeball. If that’s what our goddess Kali demands, then that’s exactly what we’ll have to give.’

‘But, Ma, we don’t own any jewels. And besides, even if we did, how do we know it will be enough? What if the Hindu priest says Kali still wants more?’

Grandmother hung her head. Her shoulders sagged.

‘It’s a chance we’ll have to take. What else can we do?’

Muni fingered the multicoloured string that was still around her neck, the string that the priest had knotted and tied. Muniamma wanted to pull it off.

‘Well, we could have the missionaries call together the Christians,’ she suggested. ‘Maybe if the leaders of the church pray for me, my eyes will get better.’

Grandmother did not react as Muni had expected. Instead, she looked gently into Muniamma’s swollen eyes.

‘I’ve thought of doing that. I saw that young Christian girl’s legs and how they were healed. You know—Vijay, the girl at the church meeting. I just don’t know what to think or do.’

Muniamma remained silent. She watched as Grandmother struggled with the dilemma. They were standing together on a side street. No one was around. It was Tuesday morning and the neighbourhood children were in school. Somewhere, from one of the homes, a baby cried. A slight breeze brought the smell of slowly simmering curry.

Reaching down the front of her sari blouse, Grandmother pulled out a handkerchief. She wiped the perspiration from her face and neck. Muni noticed that the ash thumbprint on Ma’s forehead had become smeared—the thumbprint from the Hindu priest. Muniamma reached up and inconspicuously wiped her own forehead with the back of her hand, making sure every trace of ash was gone.

Physically, Muniamma felt terrible. Her eyes hurt, and once again they were beginning to swell shut. Her head ached. In fact, her entire body ached, but deep inside she felt strangely good and healthy. It was a new and unexpected feeling, and with it came comfort and strength.

‘Ma? What are you thinking?’ Muniamma came close to Grandmother and leaned against her arm.

‘Like I said, I don’t know what to think, child. I’ve given Kali everything, and now the priest says she’s demanding more. I honestly don’t know what to do.’ Grandmother looked into Muni’s tired, bloodshot eyes. ‘I must do as the priest says and bring jewellery.’

‘How? Where are you going to get it?’

Grandmother frowned deeply and shrugged her shoulders.

‘Please, Ma...’

‘No. No more talking. You must get back to Sita’s and into bed. You’ve had a hard morning.’ Grandmother shivered as she thought about the experience they had just come through at the Hindu temple with the old, one-legged dancer. She remembered how the possessed woman slithered toward them, coming especially close to Muniamma.

As they slowly began to walk the three blocks to Aunt and Uncle’s, Muni continued leaning on Grandmother for support.

‘You’ve done so much. I... I want you to know that I’m thankful.’

‘Nonsense, child. I’ve only done what any grandmother would do. You are my own flesh and blood.’

Muni wanted to stop and give Grandmother a big hug, but she knew better. This was the closest they had ever been, and Muniamma did not want anything to destroy this new feeling.

What will Ma do when she finds out I prayed to the Christian God and that it was Jesus who rescued me from the possessed dancer in the temple? And what will happen when Ma discovers I don’t ever want to pray to Kali again? Muniamma quickly shoved these disturbing thoughts far from her mind and leaned heavily on Grandmother’s arm.

Aunt and Uncle’s house was quiet when they arrived. Grandmother insisted that Muni get back into bed and stay in the darkened room to help her eyes. The Morton children were in school, and the missionary-pastor and his wife, Mrs Morton, were looking in another area of town for a house to rent. Earlier, Muniamma had heard them talking about the need to get settled into their own place.

‘You get some rest now,’ Grandmother said to Muni as she tucked her in. ‘I’m going to boil water and have it ready so I can wash your eyes when you wake up.’

A lump formed in Muniamma’s throat. She felt choked with emotion. Grandmother had never been so kind and gentle. How could she have ever thought that she was mean? She smiled in Grandmother’s direction but she had already hurried from the room.

Muniamma lay on her back and thankfully closed her eyes, allowing her whole body to relax. She thought over the past weeks and how every day her fear of the Hindu goddess, Kali, had increased. She remembered the terrifying visions and the horrible nightmares. She thought of the curse that had been put on her by her own father—the curse of Kali.

But then, this morning in the temple when the one-legged woman, possessed by Kali herself, wormed her way toward them, Muniamma had no fear.

‘What has changed?’ she wondered. ‘Why has Kali lost her power over me? Is it because Jesus answered my prayer in the temple and made that frightening woman turn and slither away? Could the Christian God be that much stronger than Kali?’

Just when Muniamma was about to drift into sleep, the bedroom door opened. She glanced over but no one was there. Thinking Grandmother had not shut the door tightly and somehow the wind had blown it open, she closed her painful eyes again. A noise. Then Muniamma heard strange movements in the room. She quickly opened her eyes and held her breath. A large figure was standing by the bureau. The room was dark because of the blanket that had been clothes-pegged to the curtain rod. Muniamma could not make out any features of the intruder. Her immediate thought was: ‘It’s Kali!’

Muni repeated the same prayer that she had said earlier in the temple, the prayer that had stopped the possessed woman and made her turn and head for the darkness of the temple.

If it worked once, it will work again, she thought. Silently Muniamma prayed, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to go. Go and leave me alone!’

But this time the figure did not turn and run. Instead, it bent over and stealthily opened the dresser drawers. Muniamma’s heart pounded. What’s Kali looking for? Why is she here? Why doesn’t Jesus chase her away when I pray?

Feeling like a miserable failure and more scared than ever before, Muniamma nervously pulled the covers up and buried her face. The mysterious figure left the dresser and walked over to the bed. Muni heard the footsteps coming closer. She shivered and squirmed further under the blanket.

‘Oh, God,’ she prayed to herself. ‘I’m scared... I’m scared! Help! Oh, please make Kali leave me alone. Please!’

Slowly the figure reached down and touched Muni’s head. With all her strength, Muniamma stifled a scream.

The hand withdrew and the frightening figure quietly left the room. Muni heard the door close. She remained under the covers, trying to regain control. Her tension gradually began to ease, and ever so cautiously she peeped over at the dresser. The drawer was still open. This was no vision— this was real.

Muniamma turned over onto her stomach, and, once again, pulled the covers over her head. She kept the blanket pulled taut by gripping the corners firmly with both fists.

I’m a failure, she thought dejectedly. How can the God of all creation love me? How can the Christian God possibly care? I’ve been stupid to think he would hear my cries for help.

Unexpectedly, a warm, settled peace invaded Muniamma’s rigid body. Gradually her tight muscles began to relax.

‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she repeated over and over. ‘I hope this feeling isn’t just my imagination.’ Soon Muniamma drifted into a restful sleep.

Chapter Six

It was almost four in the afternoon when Sue, one of the missionary twins, gently touched Muni’s shoulder.

‘Hey, Muniamma, wake up. We’ve come to wash your eyes.’

Slowly Muniamma turned over. Her head ached and her eyes were still swollen and crusty.

Sue sat on the edge of the bed and began arranging towels around Muni’s shoulders and under her head.

‘Lean over this way, Muniamma. That’s it.’

Lou handed the bowl of warm salt water to Sue and then brushed Muni’s hair away from her flushed face.

‘I think your eyes are beginning to get better. But honestly,’ Lou continued with a smile, ‘it must be really boring staying in this dark room all day.’

‘That’s true,’ Sue added. ‘I don’t know how you’re doing it.’ She dabbed another cotton ball across Muniamma’s eyelid.

Boring? My day has been anything but boring! Muniamma thought. She had been in the temple most of the morning with Grandmother. They had seen the dancers and given sacrifices to Kali. They had even watched the one-legged woman squirming and twisting. Muniamma shivered as she thought about it.

‘My goodness, Muni. You’re shivering. I’ll get you another blanket.’ Lou walked over to the chair beside the bureau and picked up an extra blanket. On the way back she bumped into the pulled-out drawer. ‘Ouch! Who left this open?’

‘Well, I...’ Muniamma nervously stammered, remembering the intruder who, just hours earlier, had scared her half to death; the intruder who had been rummaging through the drawer.

‘Come on,’ Sue giggled. ‘Admit it. You’ve been out of bed.’

‘Well, I...’

‘Hey, stop pressuring her,’ Lou said. ‘I’m sure it’s all right if Muniamma gets up once in a while and walks around the room.’

‘I’m only teasing!’

I know,’ Muniamma interrupted. ‘I... I was in bed a couple of hours ago and I saw someone standing over there at the bureau going through that drawer. Whoever it was... or whatever it was... well, it really scared me!’

The twins looked at each other. Sue raised her eyebrows.

‘No one was here today but you and your grandmother,’ she said. ‘The rest of us just got home a little while ago.’ Sue began cleaning Muniamma’s other eye. ‘Maybe it was your grandmother,’ she suggested.

‘No! It wasn’t Ma. She wouldn’t scare me like that!’

‘Okay... okay, it was just a suggestion. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ Sue put the tray on the floor with the bowl and pile of dirty cotton balls. She gathered together the towels and tossed them on the floor as well.

Lou touched Muni’s arm. ‘Hey, maybe it would be nice if you got up for a while and stretched your legs. Maybe even get out of this closed-in room.’

‘Maybe.’ Muni had thought earlier about telling the twins of her prayer to Jesus that morning in the temple. But right now she didn’t want to share a thing. They wouldn’t understand. They doubted her about the intruder, so they certainly would not believe how her prayer to Jesus had stopped the possessed woman.

Just then Grandmother, Aunt Sita and Mrs Morton came into the bedroom.

‘Let me see what kind of nurse you’ll make, Sue,’ Mrs Morton said. She leaned over and stared closely at Muniamma’s eyes. ‘They’re looking clean. Good job. Next time it will be your turn, Lou.’ She turned and smiled at the younger twin.

Sue got up so her mother could sit down on the edge of the bed. Mary Morton felt Muniamma’s forehead.

‘You’re still feverish. My goodness, you’re covered with so many blankets. Here, let’s take this top one off.’ As she did so, she noticed a coloured thread around Muniamma’s neck. ‘What’s this?’ she said.

‘I’m sure that wasn’t there this morning when I checked you.’

Muni pulled the sheet up under her chin. Grandmother stepped back slightly while Aunt Sita leaned over Mrs Morton’s shoulder.

‘What’s what?’ Sita asked.

‘What’s this?’ Mary Morton repeated. She pulled down the sheet and pointed at the thread.

Aunt Sita straightened up. She turned around and stared hard at Grandmother.

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ she demanded. ‘I take you and your sick granddaughter into my home, a Christian home, and the first thing you do is take Muniamma to the Hindu temple. I know that’s where you got that string. You’ve taken her to see the priest!’

Grandmother did not look the slightest bit ashamed.

‘Of course we’ve been to the temple. We went there this morning.’ Grandmother stepped forward, and with a haughty look she continued. ‘We offered sacrifices to Kali.’

‘Poonamah!’ Aunt Sita’s voice sounded angry and hurt. ‘Oh, Poonamah, how could you?’

Muniamma fingered the offending thread. She wanted to pull it off”. She wanted to scream, ‘I didn’t ... I didn’t pray to Kali.’

But just then Uncle poked his head into the room. ‘Excuse me. Vijay and her mother are here. They’re sitting in the lounge.’

‘Coming,’ Aunt Sita mumbled. ‘Ask them to stay. I’ll put the kettle on.’

Uncle left, and Aunt Sita shook her finger at Grandmother.

‘Don’t play the fool with me. We’ll talk about this later.’

Sita left and Grandmother followed. Sue and Lou stared at their mother in shocked surprise.

‘Wow!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘I’ve never seen Aunt Sita so upset. What going on around here? And what’s the meaning of the thread?’

‘I don’t know, girls.’ The missionary’s voice sounded sad. ‘But I do know you need to throw away this dirty bowl of water and wash your hands. Let’s all go and see what Vijay and her mother want. Why don’t you come with us, Muniamma? It will do you good.’

Mrs Morton helped Muni to get up and put on a borrowed robe. The twins hurried into the bathroom to wash. As they all came into the lounge they passed Grandmother standing in the doorway.

‘Come with us, Ma,’ Muni said. She reached out and hung onto Grandmother’s arm. Grandmother patted Muni’s hand as if they were fellow conspirators and they walked into the front room to join the others.

Pastor Morton, Aunt Sita and Uncle were sitting on the sofa, and Vijay and her mother sat in the chairs opposite.

‘We don’t have much to give,’ Vijay’s mother was saying, ‘but what little we have we want to give the Lord. Right, Vijay?’

‘That’s right. We have prayed a lot about this,’ Vijay said with a shy smile.

Pastor Morton moved uncomfortably. He scooted to the edge of the sofa and leaned over close to Vijay and her mother.

‘I don’t feel right about taking this money. We did not pray for the healing of Vijay’s legs so that you would give money.’

‘My goodness, Pastor Morton. We’re not giving this money to you, but to God. Our hearts tell us to give it... so that’s what we’re doing.’

Pastor Morton coughed.

‘All right. It is obvious you and your daughter have pure motives. If this is what God wants you to do, we accept.’

Vijay’s mother reached inside the folds of her sari and brought out a beautiful coin purse. She laid it on the coffee table. The purse was about the size of a large apple, and the outside was done in a very fine needlepoint pattern of blues and pinks. Its sides bulged, but the little gold clasp held it safely closed.

Pastor Morton reached out and reverently touched it. ‘I know this is the widow’s mite.’ His voice was full of emotion. ‘Your gift will go far in the Lord’s kingdom.’

Muniamma looked up into Grandmother’s face. She did not understand anything the missionary had said. What was the widow’s mite, and what kingdom? But Grandmother was not looking puzzled. Instead, to Muniamma’s astonishment, Grandmother wore a greedy grin.

Uncle picked up the purse.

‘I believe we should put this away in a safe place until tomorrow night’s prayer meeting. Then our church people can present it to the Lord and give praise together as one big family.’

‘Good idea,’ Pastor Morton agreed.

‘Here,’ Uncle continued, ‘put this in our secret place.’ He handed the purse to Sita.

‘I certainly will.’ Aunt Sita smiled. ‘And then I’ll be back with a tray of tea and biscuits.’

Later that night, Muniamma could not sleep. She lay alone in the clean single bed—a privilege she did not have at home—but disturbing thoughts crowded her mind. Uncle had finally agreed to allow her dog, Sparky, into the house, and he lay panting on the floor by the side of her bed. She reached down and lovingly ran her fingers through his fur.

‘Oh, Sparky, I’ve missed you so much. I can hear you playing outside, but I never get to see you or talk with you any more. What should I do, boy? Should I tell Ma I don’t want to go back to the temple? Should I take this thread off from around my neck? Oh, Sparky, if only you could answer me!’

Muniamma knew the thread was put on by the priest as a sign they had been to the temple and prayed. But for her, it held no healing power.

‘What am I to do?’ Muniamma said out loud to her dog. ‘I want to let Ma know I believe in Jesus, but I don’t want her to be mad at me. You’ve seen how it’s been. We’ve never got along before, not until just lately. I don’t want to ruin it. Oh, Sparky...’ Muniamma sighed.

Her friend barked.

‘Hush! Uncle will put you out. But Sparky, I know what I’m going to do.’ Muniamma turned over, sat up, and kicked off the covers. She fingered the thread that was still around her neck. ‘I want this off. Tomorrow I’m telling Ma I don’t want to pray to Kali ever again. I only want to pray to Jesus!’

Having made up her mind, Muniamma felt hungry. A glass of milk would be wonderful, she thought.

‘You stay here, boy. I’ll be right back.’ Muniamma got up and quietly left the room, heading for the kitchen.

As she was about to flip on the light, she heard a noise. Someone was in the kitchen, sneaking around in the dark.

Muniamma stepped back into the hall, her heart pounding.

‘Who’s there?’ she squeaked.

The noise stopped.

‘Who’s in the kitchen?’

Silence.

‘I... I know someone’s there.’ Muniamma wondered again if it was the spirit of the goddess, Kali. Her whole body trembled.

‘You came into my room this afternoon, didn’t you?’ Muniamma could not believe she was brave enough to be talking, especially when she was talking to what might be a spirit.

Muni swallowed and said, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ, get out of here and leave me alone.’

Whoever or whatever it was in the kitchen dropped something that made a loud noise. All her brave resolve was completely gone. She screamed, ran to her room, slammed the door and slid under the bed.

‘Leave me alone! Leave me alone!’ she screamed. Sparky began barking.

Aunt and Uncle rushed into her room.

‘Stop that, Sparky, or I’ll put you out,’ Uncle said. ‘Come up from under there, girl. What’s all this screaming?’

‘Now, now. Don’t be so harsh. She must have had a terrible nightmare. Calm down, Muniamma,’ Aunt Sita said gently. Reaching under the bed, she touched Muni’s trembling hands. ‘It’s all right. Everything’s going to be just fine. Come on up here and help us settle your dog.’

With Sita’s assistance, Muniamma got up and sat on the edge of the bed. Sita put her arm around Muniamma and held her close while Uncle reached down to comfort the dog.

‘Both of you need to calm down,’ Uncle said more gently.

Muniamma sobbed.

‘There’s someone sneaking around in the kitchen. I think it’s a spirit or something!’

‘There, there, now, child. You’ve been having a nightmare. No one is in the kitchen.’

‘I heard someone! Really! Someone was here in my room this afternoon, too.’

Sita and Uncle looked at each other and frowned. ‘I think you’re just scared and you’re letting your imagination run wild,’ Aunt Sita said. ‘But don’t worry your pretty little head. Uncle will go and check. He’ll make sure we’re all safe.’

After Uncle left, Aunt Sita cradled Muniamma snugly and began swaying back and forth, humming a tune.

Gradually Muniamma began to relax. It felt good to be lovingly hugged.

The humming turned into a little song: Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong. They are weak, but he is strong.’

The words were soothing. Aunt Sita kept singing the song over and over: ‘Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus love me. The Bible tells me so.’

Before long, Muniamma was gently tucked back into bed and Sparky quietly lay down on the floor beside his sleeping mistress.

Chapter Seven

Around nine the next morning, Muniamma awoke. The house was strangely quiet. Soon, Grandmother rushed into the bedroom.

‘Get up. Hurry! Aunt and Uncle just left with the Mortons to see a house they may want to rent. We don’t have much time!’

‘Why do I need to get dressed, Ma? Where are we going?’

‘No questions. Just hurry. I want to get this done as quickly as possible.’

Within a few minutes, Muniamma and her grandmother headed out of Aunt and Uncle’s front door. The neighbour lady, Raneesh’s mother, looked up from scrubbing her front steps and nodded to Grandmother. She barely took time to acknowledge the greeting.

Muniamma had not seen Raneesh since the day his parents had removed him from the church meeting. She had wanted to ask Sue and Lou how he was doing, but felt afraid they would tease her. Muni had enough to worry about, besides Grandmother finding out that Raneesh had come with them on the fishing trip. Anyway, her face was still puffy and her eyes red as a result of her terrible bout with measles. Muni couldn’t let Raneesh see her in such a state. She quickly turned her head in the opposite direction until they were well past his home.

‘Ma, where are we going?’

‘To the temple.’

‘Oh no! Not again! We were there just yesterday. Please don’t make me go!’

‘Nonsense.’ Reaching over, Grandmother held onto Muniamma’s arm. ‘I want to get this finished and be back to Sita’s as quickly as possible.’

‘But what are we going to do?’

‘No time for all these questions. Come!’ Muniamma wanted to pull her arm away and run. But she dared not. Why would they go to see the Hindu priest when they had no money or jewellery as he had demanded? It didn’t make sense.

‘It’s just around the corner now. We’re almost there,’ Grandmother said, as if she were announcing something good.

Muni tightened her jaw and slowed her step.

They walked up to the temple door and Grandmother took off her worn sandals, nodding to Muni to do the same. Grandmother then rang a bell which hung at the entrance.

The priest opened the heavy, ornate door ever so slightly and asked, ‘What is it?’

Grandmother bowed. ‘I have come again about my granddaughter’s eyes.’

‘Oh, it’s you! I told you yesterday not to return unless you brought with you jewellery to exchange for a gold eyeball. I told you that is what your goddess, Kali, demands.’

‘I know,’ Grandmother said.

Well?’

‘I have brought jewellery and some money.’

Muniamma gasped. ‘Ma?’

‘Hush!’ Grandmother would not look at Muni when she spoke.

‘Yes,’ she said, continuing to stare at the priest. Her voice became very determined. ‘Yes, I have brought these offerings so that Kali’s demands could be met.’

‘Very well... very well, indeed. Do come in and let me see what you have.’ The priest turned and headed into the darkness of the temple. Grandmother followed as Muni stayed behind.

“Come,’ she said. ‘I’m doing this for you, child.’

With bare feet, Muniamma stepped once more onto the cold concrete floor of the temple. Immediately, her senses became overpowered. The strong sweet incense, the poignant camphor odour, the flickering candles, the hundreds of brightly coloured images of Hindu gods and goddesses encircling the walls—she began to feel as if everything were crowding in and pushing her down, down, down. Muniamma quickly glanced around to see if she could spot the one-legged dancer from yesterday. The place was quiet and eerie. Her head began to throb.

‘What have you brought?’ the priest asked.

Grandmother reached into the folds of her sari and pulled out a white handkerchief. She spread out the lacy material and in its soft folds lay a gold watch, three rings and a delicate gold cross on a fine chain.

‘This is good, but not enough. It is not sufficient to exchange for the gold eyeball. I will weigh them out, but...’

‘I do have more, Grandmother interjected.

‘More?’ Muniamma said at the same time as the priest.

‘Yes... more.’ Grandmother’s voice sounded sad. ‘Please weigh this and tell me how much more I need to pay.’

The priest left with the jewellery, and Grandmother avoided Muni’s penetrating stare.

‘Where did you get all that, Ma? You didn’t! You wouldn’t!’ Muniamma clearly remembered admiring that beautiful cross necklace on Kathie, the eldest missionary daughter.

Grandmother continuing looking at the floor. ‘I’m doing it for you, child.’

‘No, Ma. No! I don’t want this. I’m sure my eyes are getting better. Being in a dark room has helped, and... all the sleep, and even the way you’ve been washing my eyes, but...wait! It’s not too late. We can take the jewellery back, and no one will ever know. It’s our secret, Ma. I’ll never tell.’

Just then the priest returned.

‘As I thought, he said, ‘we will need more to balance those scales. That gold eyeball is heavy. What else do you have?’

‘I have some money,’ Grandmother said in a strained voice. She held out her hand, and in it lay the beautiful pink and blue needle-point coin purse that Vijay and her mother had brought to Aunt and Uncle’s. It contained the money that was to be given to the Christian God that very night at the mid-week church service.

Muniamma’s mouth hung open. The throbbing in her head became absolute agony.

‘Please, Ma,’ she blurted out. ‘Please don’t give that money. It’s not ours!’

‘Hush, you ungrateful child!’ the priest demanded. ‘Your grandmother is fulfilling her duty. Let her be! Anyone can see she is distressed by your swollen eyes and blotchy face. One would think you didn’t want to get better by the way you’re carrying on.’

‘Proceed,’ Grandmother simply said, and motioned with her head to the back room.

The priest clicked his tongue several times and glared disapprovingly at Muniamma before he left to count the money.

When the priest was gone, the room became heavy with silence. Grandmother and Muni did not move or speak. Muni could barely breath. She knew who had scared her while going through the bureau drawer, and who had been sneaking around in the kitchen the night before. It was Grandmother—stealing! Muniamma hung her head. Shame flooded over her in great engulfing waves.

Slowly, Grandmother moved over to stand in front of Kali’s image. Her fat feet could be heard shuffling on the bare floor. Somehow the ordinary sound brought Muniamma back to reality. She determined there and then that she would never bend her knee to Kali. Not now or ever. Any god or goddess who would push someone to such depths was not worthy of worship! She knew the priest would be enraged and Grandmother would be scared, but she wouldn’t bow down to that horrible goddess, she determined.

The priest returned, totally unaware of Muniamma’s resolve, and grinned as if he had eaten the most delicious steak and kidney pie. He was shorter man Muni and extremely skinny. His saffron-coloured robe made his skin look even more grey than it had yesterday. With a shrug, he handed the empty coin purse to Grandmother.

‘You have brought just enough. With your efforts you have purchased this.’ The priest opened his hand, and in his palm lay a shiny gold ball with a pupil thinly etched across its surface.

‘This will satisfy your goddess, Kali, and she will heal your granddaughter’s swollen eyes.’

Muniamma couldn’t help herself. She had planned not even to look at the priest, but she felt strangely drawn to that golden eyeball. It caught the flickering candle-light and shone. The eyeball rolled around several times in the priest’s hand. Grandmother and Muni stepped closer.

‘I knew you would be pleased.’ The priest looked from one to the other. ‘We must place this before Kali and plead with her to heal and take away the curse of the measles. Come!’

Muniamma’s legs felt like lead blocks, and she couldn’t move them. She just kept staring at the gold eyeball.

‘Come, I said,’ the priest grumbled. ‘Kali is a goddess of vengeance, and you certainly do not want her wrath on you any more than it already is.’

‘The child is frightened,’ Grandmother said as she put her hand on Muni’s shoulder. ‘Anyone can see she’s gone through too much these past weeks with the measles and all. Then yesterday when I brought the fowls and goat’—Grandmother paused and looked tenderly at Muni—‘well, that one-legged dancer would have scared anyone. And now this... the strange look of that eyeball.’

The priest huffed.

‘Come, child,’ Grandmother encouraged. ‘You must do this. You must bow down before Kali.’

‘No, Ma. I can’t!’

‘Come,’ Grandmother said more forcefully.

Muni looked up into her grandmother’s face. Huge tears welled up to make her bloodshot eyes look even more sore. Her little pointed chin trembled. Slowly, Muni shook her head.

‘I can’t, Ma. I just can’t bow down to Kali.’

‘What!’ The priest was furious.

Grandmother ignored the priest and kept staring into the determined face of her granddaughter. She did not understand Muniamma’s reasoning. She would have been shocked and extremely angry if she knew the real truth. Grandmother thought that Muniamma was simply too frightened and upset over using the stolen jewellery and money. She had no idea her granddaughter was turning her back on the Hindu way to follow the Christian God. Grandmother remembered that Muni had said something about Jesus Christ last night outside the kitchen. Maybe the child was just scared and mixed up.

‘I have seen this determined look before,’ Grandmother said as she faced the priest. ‘Remember, I told you about my son, this child’s father. He is the one responsible for the curse on this girl. He often wore that determined look too. Neither you nor I will change her mind. She’s like her father!’

Muniamma groaned. The sound was like a wounded animal.

I can’t be like my father, she thought. I hate him! I hate him! He’s the one who put the curse of Kali on me!

‘Well, this is not good,’ the priest huffed. ‘Such rebellion in your son and now your granddaughter should not be tolerated.’

Muniamma moaned again. She hated being compared with her father.

‘I beg of you,’ Grandmother said humbly, ‘please present this offering to Kali. I will say many prayers for my granddaughter.’

‘She is unworthy of such concern, but very well. You have paid the price.’

The priest walked over to Kali’s image and rang the little brass bell to make sure the goddess was awake. The prayer lamp was already burning, and so was incense. The priest laid the gold eyeball at Kali’s black painted feet. He bowed down and Grandmother fell to her knees, chanting prayers in Tamil. Muniamma turned her back.

Grandmother’s chanting droned on and on. Sometimes her pleas became intense and reached a high pitch, and at other times her voice became so low that it was almost inaudible.

Muniamma remained rigid. Her whole body ached, every muscle taut.

It seemed as if Grandmother had been praying for hours, but it was actually only about fifteen minutes. Finally she stopped, got up, and came over to Muni.

‘Let’s go outside into the sunlight and see how Kali has healed you. I want to see your face back to normal.’

The priest stood near.

‘You certainly don’t expect to see a change this fast, do you?’

‘Yes... yes, I definitely do.’

‘But...,’ The priest did not have time to argue because Muni and Grandmother were already out of the temple door.

‘Look!’ Grandmother yelled. ‘Her eyes are still” swollen and red.’ Grandmother stared accusingly at the bewildered priest. ‘There has been no change at all. None. In fact, I honestly think she’s looking worse!’

‘What did you expect? Your granddaughter wouldn’t even bow down. No...’ At this, the priest held up his hand to stop Grandmother’s words. ‘Sometimes these things don’t heal immediately. You go home and continue your prayers. Kali may still answer. She must be very angry with you two.’

‘Not as angry as I am with you,’ Grandmother retorted. ‘Am I to leave this temple again today empty-handed? I came here yesterday with fowls and a goat, and I left with nothing. Today I arrived with jewellery and money, and I still leave with nothing.’

‘Don’t lose heart, old woman. The ways of the gods are sometimes strange. Beware! Do not question them. Kali’s spirit may be here. If so, she will take revenge upon you just as surely as she has upon this cursed child.’

Grandmother gasped.

‘You had both better leave before you say anything more. This is certainly no place to spout your threats or expose your doubts.’

‘But...’

‘No buts. Leave!’

Grandmother’s heart was as empty as her hands when she turned to go. This time, however, Muniamma helped her. They walked arm-in-arm back to Aunt Sita’s. Neither said a word. Both of them were lost in their silent suffering.

Chapter Eight

As Muniamma and Grandmother neared Aunt and Uncle’s home, they stopped. An empty police car was parked in front, with Sparky sniffing around the tyres. Muni noticed Raneesh’s mother peeking out of her kitchen window.

‘What’s happening, Ma?’

‘Now, how would I know?’ Grandmother answered nervously.

‘Should we just keep walking or what?’

‘No. We must stop and go in. It would look suspicious if we didn’t. Just act normal. We’ll go in the back door because everyone will probably be in the lounge.’

Act normal? Muniamma thought. The police must have found out that Grandmother stole something. Muni couldn’t believe this was happening.

Grandmother quietly opened the kitchen door and bumped right into the back of a large policeman. Aunt and Uncle, Pastor and Mrs Morton, and two policemen were crowded into the small kitchen. Sita was in the process of describing the stolen coin purse.

‘Oh, there you are!’ Sita exclaimed in mid-sentence. ‘Bless the good Lord, you are both unharmed. We’ve been robbed!’

‘Robbed!’ Grandmother yelled. Even to Muniamma, Grandmother looked and sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Who would have done such a thing?’

‘That’s what we’re going to find out,’ the large man by the door said. ‘We cannot have this kind of thing happening in broad daylight. But don’t worry madam, we’ll get to the bottom of this.’

Muniamma shivered.

‘Yes,’ agreed the other. He was much smaller, and even in his dark blue uniform he looked dumpy. ‘We have questioned the Mortons and we know they are from England.’ He smiled approvingly at the missionaries. ‘And we have questioned the owners of the home. But now, what about you? Who are you?’

‘Oh, this is Poonamah,’ Sita interrupted, nodding her head toward Grandmother. ‘Years ago my sister married her son. She has come here for a few days until her granddaughter, Muniamma, gets better.’

‘You’re both staying here?’ the dumpy policeman asked.

‘Yes,’ Uncle answered for them. ‘Muniamma has had a terrible case of the measles and she’s beginning to recover. We invited them to stay for a few days.’

‘Well now, let me see,’ the dumpy policeman continued as he turned his attention away from Grandmother. ‘Where were we? So far we have a very nice blue and pink coin purse missing, but no one knows exactly how much money was in it. We have three rings unaccounted for and one watch.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Uncle said. ‘There may be more. We’ll have the Morton children go through their things when they get home from school.’

‘I’ve looked through their stuff, already,’ Mrs Morton added, ‘but they would know if something is missing more than I would.’

‘Good,’ the muscular policeman said as he stepped closer into the room. Muniamma lowered her eyes. She thought he looked totally intimidating. ‘We would like to ask you and your granddaughter a few questions, madam. And this time I want you to do the answering and not your relatives.’

‘Certainly!’

‘Is this really necessary?’ Uncle interjected.

‘Routine. It’s only routine,’ the policeman reassured him. But Muniamma did not feel reassured. She was getting more scared by the second.

‘First of all, did you see the coin purse?’

‘Of course! My granddaughter and I saw it last night when Vijay and her mother brought it.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, it was handed to Sita.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ Grandmother said, sounding decisive and looking extremely confident.

‘And what did Sita do with it?’ the questioner continued.

‘She was told by Uncle to put it in their secret place.’

‘Aha. And do you know where the secret place is?’

‘No.’

‘What about you, young lady? Do you know where the coin purse was hidden?’

Muniamma stared at the worn linoleum floor. She wanted to scream because she knew that the coin purse was now empty and nestled snugly down the front of Grandmother’s blouse. She knew that if she looked into the face of the stern policeman, her guilt would be obvious. She continued staring at the floor and shook her head back and forth.

‘Muniamma needs to get back into bed,’ Aunt Sita interrupted. ‘She’s not well at all.’

‘Yes, we can see that,’ the smaller policeman said. ‘But before she goes, there are a few more questions.’ He nodded for his partner to continue.

‘Where did you go this morning?’

‘We went to the Hindu temple,’ Grandmother answered.

‘Go on.’

‘We went to pray. We go to the temple every time we come to Isipingo.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘In the hills. We work for the Van Niekerks. We do their gardening.’

‘The Van Niekerks!’ both of the policemen said at the same time. They looked at each other in surprise.

‘This is a coincidence,’ the dumpy one said. ‘We wonder if you are talking about the same Van Niekerks that we met only yesterday. Do you work for the family that owns the large sugar cane farm?’

‘Yes.’ Grandmother looked genuinely alarmed. ‘Is something wrong with Madame?’

‘Your Madame’s fine, but there was a troublemaker on their property. He was an Indian man in his late forties, and he was bothering the Africans while they were working. This man kept inquiring about an old woman—an old Indian woman and her granddaughter.’

‘What?’ Grandmother’s calm exterior totally dissolved. ‘Go on! What happened? Who was he?’

‘The man was drunk,’ the muscular policeman answered. ‘We locked him up for the night, but we let him go around eight this morning. If this man is a relative of yours, you had better watch out. It sounds as if he is up to no good.’

‘This is ridiculous!’ Aunt Sita exclaimed. ‘You’re even scaring me! What in the world does this drunk man have to do with the robbery?’

‘Maybe nothing. But this does seem like more than a coincidence. Do you have a son, madam?’ The pudgy investigator turned to Grandmother.

‘Yes, but he’s in India. He left South Africa years ago.’

The policeman leaned against the refrigerator and tapped a page in his small black book with the tip of his pencil. The sound grated on Muniamma’s frazzled nerves.

‘By any chance,’ said the policeman, ‘your son’s name wouldn’t be Krish, would it?’

Grandmother fell back a full step and leaned against the table.

‘Yes... my son’s name is Krish.’

Muni, Aunt Sita, Uncle and the Mortons all stared at Grandmother.

‘Ma?’ Muni said, her voice sounding pitiful. ‘Ma, is my father in town? Has he come back?’

‘Nonsense, child!’

‘No, I don’t think that question is nonsense,’ the policeman by the refrigerator said as he wrote something in his notebook. ‘Krish, you say? Would that be spelled just as it sounds?’

‘Yes,’ Uncle answered. ‘If it’s really Krish, we’re in for a hard time. He’s a violent man!’

The pudgy policeman kept writing in his little black book. Finally he looked up and addressed Grandmother.

‘Please describe your son.’

‘How can I describe him? I haven’t seen him in years!’

‘How many?’

‘Well, the day Muniamma was born, he ran away. That was more than thirteen years ago.’

The policeman frowned at Muni.

‘Why did he run away the day his daughter was born?’

Muniamma held her breath. She did not want Grandmother to tell these two strangers about the vow her father had made to Kali or how he had broken it, bringing about the curse.

‘It’s a long story,’ Grandmother answered. ‘Besides, why would my son come back after all these years?’

‘I certainly can’t answer that,’ the policeman said as he put his notebook away in the top pocket of his uniform. ‘But this man at the Van Niekerks’ was asking about you. We thought it was simply the ramblings of a drunk man. This morning we release him, and an hour or two later we find out there has been a robbery at his relatives’ home.’

‘You’re not saying Krish robbed us, are you?’ Sita screeched.

‘No, we’re not saying that,’ the larger policeman answered. ‘We’re not even sure this is the same Krish, but we will find out.’

‘My goodness,’ Pastor Morton said, shaking his head. It was the first time he had said anything since Grandmother and Muni entered. ‘This is getting complicated. I am thankful we found a house to rent and we’ll be moving soon.’

Mary Morton nudged her husband.

‘Yes, it will be nice to get settled. We will give you our new address.’

The policemen nodded.

Grandmother put her hand over her breast. Muni felt certain she was touching the empty coin purse.

‘I am positive,’ said Grandmother, ‘that if you find this drunk man, and he is my son, you will discover he had nothing whatsoever to do with the robbery.’

‘Really?’

‘That’s right. My son wouldn’t steal!’

‘We’ll see,’ the muscular investigator said doubtfully. ‘Meanwhile, each of you be careful. We don’t want anything else to happen. Call us if you discover any further missing items, and give us a detailed description. Also, ask this Vijay girl and her mother exactly how much money was in that purse.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Uncle said.

After the police left, Aunt and Uncle and the Mortons wanted to continue talking about the robbery and the possibility of Krish’s involvement. Muniamma knew if she stood there for one more second she would burst into hysterical crying.

‘I have to go and lie down,’ she said to Grandmother.

‘Certainly. I’ll come with you.’

‘No. I... I would rather be alone.’

Grandmother stopped. Everyone in the kitchen heard. She wrung her sweaty hands and replied, ‘All right. You get some sleep now. We’ll talk about all of this later.’

Turning, Muniamma ran from the kitchen and down the hall.

‘I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to hear about stealing! I don’t want to ever see that man called Krish. I hate him...I hate him...I hate him!’ she yelled all the way to her room. Muniamma slammed the door and flung herself across the bed, pounding the mattress with clenched fists.

‘Ma’s a thief and Father’s a drunkard,’ she sobbed into her pillow. ‘What hope is there for me? What’s wrong with me? Why do I always cause such problems?’

‘Hush in there,’ Grandmother said from the bedroom door. ‘I will not tolerate another one of these outbursts. Control yourself!’

Muniamma stuffed a corner of the pillow into her mouth to stifle her sobs.

‘That’s better,’ Grandmother said. ‘Now get some sleep.’

Chapter Nine

The strong smell of garlic and ginger, frying on the stove, wafted into Muniamma’s room. She hadn’t slept. She couldn’t, not with so much to worry about. Aunt Sita was beginning the curry and this meant the Morton twins would be home from school soon. Muniamma bit down hard on the edge of the pillow she still held in her mouth. After hours of crying, her eyes were even more sore and swollen. Every muscle ached. But the worst pain of all was deep inside in her heart.

Every door in Aunt and Uncle’s home was made of metal. Grandmother opened the door to Muni’s room and stuck her head around the corner.

‘Get up, child. Wash your face and brush your hair. I want you looking presentable.’

‘What are we going to do? It’s the prayer meeting tonight.’

‘What of it?’ Grandmother said, stepping into the room and closing the door.

‘But, Ma! The jewellery... the money!’

‘Hush! You’re to keep silent about that. It’s our secret.’

‘Ma!’

‘Keep your voice down. We have bigger worries than a few coins.’ Grandmother kept wringing her hands. ‘What if the police are right, and Krish has returned? I can’t figure it out. What would he want after all these years?’

‘I’m scared!’

‘I know. I’m worried too. He’s been a no-good son. There has always been a bad streak in him.’ Grandmother stood silent, lost in memories. Finally she shook her head. ‘If he comes back and makes me lose my job at the Van Niekerks, I’ll…’

‘What will we do?’

‘There’s no more time to worry about it. Get dressed and look the best you can.’

‘Are you going to let the Christians pray for me?’

‘Maybe. Why not? We might as well try it.’

Muniamma’s heart began to race.

‘Of course. I’m not turning Christian,’ Grandmother said with disgust, ‘but why not let them pray?’

‘Yes, why not?’ Muniamma said. Her voice held a slight note of hope.

Later that evening, after dinner, the church people began arriving. Muni stood with the twins against the back wall in the lounge. Her eyes were terribly swollen and sore, and she desperately hoped that no one would stare. They watched as Kathie explained to everyone about the robbery and how her beautiful necklace, with the gold cross, was missing. The twins felt sorry for their sister because they knew how much the necklace meant to her.

‘That cross was a gift from her boyfriend,’ Lou explained to Muni. ‘He’s living in England.’

‘Where do you think that necklace is?’ Sue asked, enraged. ‘I hope it chokes the person who took it!’

Muniamma lowered her head. She realised the twins had not been told about her father and the possibility of him being the thief or they would not be talking so openly. She also saw visions of Grandmother being choked by the gold necklace.

‘Sue! What an awful thing to say.’ Lou looked upset. ‘You should be praying for the robber—not condemning him.’

‘Oh, it makes me so mad. If I ever get my hands on him!’

‘What will you do? Strangle him with the cross necklace?’ Lou asked.

‘Oh, forget it!’

‘Look,’ Lou said. ‘Here comes Raneesh.’

Muni glanced over toward the door. Raneesh was just as handsome as she remembered. His black wavy hair was shiny from coconut oil, and he wore a blue shirt which looked good against his light-brown skin. He glanced over and smiled broadly at Muni. His eyes had a light in them which warned her. Muniamma smiled back before lowering hers.

‘Did you see that?’ Sue teased. ‘He’s so cute. He’s still looking at you, Muniamma.’

‘Stop teasing,’ Lou said sympathetically. ‘Muni’s embarrassed.’

‘I look awful! I didn’t want him to see me looking like this.’

“Your face has seen better days,’ Sue giggled. ‘But honestly, besides your eyes and puffy face, the rest of you looks great.’

‘Raneesh seems to think so too.’ Lou said. ‘Here he comes.’

‘Good evening, Muniamma.’ He smiled at Muni and nodded to the twins. ‘Ken told me you were in town. Sorry to hear about the measles and your eyes.’

Muniamma nervously smiled.

‘I’m glad you stayed tonight for the prayer meeting. I was hoping you would be here.’

Sue nudged Muni.

‘Ken told me about the robbery,’ Raneesh continued. ‘Are you all right? Did they take anything of yours?’

Muni couldn’t answer. The feelings of embarrassment over her eyes, and shame because of stealing, were overwhelming.

‘We’re all shook up over it,’ Sue interjected. ‘The thief took Kathie’s gold cross!’

‘I heard,’ Raneesh said. ‘He also stole God’s money; money that Vijay and her mother were going to give.’

‘I know,’ Lou said sadly. ‘It’s awful. Hey, there’s Ken and Vijay sitting in the front. Why don’t we all go and join them before the meeting starts?’

Raneesh smiled at Muni on their way to the front.

The singing began, but Muniamma felt too nervous to sing along. Several people spoke about what God was doing in their lives. One was Vijay’s mother. She told about how she and Vijay were praying for the robber, and how she felt confident God would bring a ‘holy conviction’.

This made Muniamma even more nervous. Her conscience was bothering her, and she wondered if Grandmother’s was too. How could they ask these people to pray for her to be healed when they had stolen from them?

‘Muniamma,’ Raneesh whispered. ‘Pastor Morton is talking to you.’

Muni looked up, startled.

Raneesh nodded to the front where Pastor Morton stood.

‘I’m asking you to come up here in front,’ the missionary explained. ‘Your grandmother has requested prayer. We desire to pray to God and ask him to heal your eyes. That’s right, young lady, just come up here and stand by me. There’s no need for you to be shy. You’re with friends.’

Raneesh helped Muni to her feet.

‘Before I ask the elders to join me, I have a few questions,’ the twin’s father continued. ‘I believe it is of vital importance to know what you are thinking. If you have come here tonight to “try out” God, well, I don’t believe that is good.’

Muniamma had been staring nervously at the floor. It was just as if Pastor Morton had overheard Grandmother’s comment in the bedroom. Muni glanced towards the back of the crowd to see if she could spot Grandmother. She was standing in the kitchen doorway with Aunt Sita. She avoided Muni’s desperate stare.

‘Do you believe in God?’ the pastor asked.

Muniamma swallowed nervously.

‘Yes, yes I do,’ she answered in a low voice.

‘I don’t mean just any god. I mean, do you believe in the God of creation and his Son, Jesus Christ?’

At first Muniamma was too afraid to answer. She felt totally alone. But all of a sudden a presence filled her and she looked up and said confidently, ‘Yes, I do believe in the God of the Christians.’

Even Pastor Morton looked surprised. He knew that she and Grandmother worshipped Kali.

‘I am not trying to embarrass you, Muniamma. Honestly. I just believe we need to know where you are, spiritually. Maybe if I rephrase my question, it would help. Let me ask it this way. To whom do you pray?’

Again Muniamma looked towards Grandmother, but she was looking down.

‘Well, I... lately I’ve been praying to the Christian God.’

‘Really? When did you start this?’

‘I don’t remember exactly.’ But I know for sure that I prayed to him yesterday in the temple.’

“In the temple!’ the missionary’s voice sounded horrified. ‘Do you mean you prayed to God in the Hindu temple?’

‘Yes,’ Muniamma continued, no longer feeling afraid. ‘Yesterday, Ma and I went to the temple with a goat and three fowls. Ma wanted to give these offerings so my eyes would get better. She prayed to the goddess, Kali.’

Grandmother cleared her throat. Muniamma looked lovingly at Grandmother and continued, ‘Ma has always prayed to Kali, and so have I since I’ve lived with her. Well, until yesterday.’

No one moved or said a word. Muniamma felt a compulsion to continue.

‘We were in the temple, and the priest killed the goat and the fowls.’ Muni took a deep breath. ‘Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the God who makes the sun rise, and as I saw the sun’s reflection on the knife which the priest held, I prayed to the God of the sunrise— the Christian God.’

Uncle came forward, visibly upset.

‘We do not want to cause problems between Poonamah and her granddaughter. This is not our purpose. We were simply going to pray for healing as Poonamah asked.’

‘My gracious!’ Sita exclaimed from the kitchen doorway. ‘I do apologise for this embarrassment. We had no intention of…’

Grandmother interrupted.

‘I am sure you had every intention of causing problems. This is just like you, Sita. You’ve turned my granddaughter against me!’ The look on Grandmother’s face was awful.

‘No one has turned me against you.’ Muniamma left the front and walked around the shocked audience to stand beside Grandmother. ‘I’m not against you, Ma, not for one minute. You took me in. You’ve taken good care of me. We need each other now more than ever before.’ Muniamma was thinking of the stolen money and the possible return of her father.

‘Well, then, what’s all this rubbish about you praying to the Christian God? You are a Hindu. You pray to Kali!’

‘Not any more. I was afraid to let you know, but when Mr Morton asked me that question... I couldn’t lie.’ Muni fingered the multicoloured string that was still around her neck. ‘I want this string removed, Ma. I don’t believe in the Hindu way. I want to follow the only true God. I’m a Christian.’

‘You ungrateful, horrible girl! I’ve never heard such disrespect. This is the result of being with these people. We’re leaving!’

‘Please, Ma....’

‘So, now you’re even going to try to argue with me,’ Grandmother said sarcastically. ‘Come with me, girl. We’re going home!’

Tears filled Muniamma’s swollen eyes. It was obvious that she was distressed. People moved uncomfortably on the hard church benches, not knowing what to do.

‘Surely you can stay the night,’ Aunt Sita said. ‘Uncle will drive you home in the morning.’

‘No. We’re leaving now!’ Grandmother turned to Muni. ‘Get going!’

As Muniamma walked toward the door, one after another gasped.

‘Look,’ someone said. ‘Look what just happened to her eyes! It’s a miracle! Muniamma’s been healed!’

Chapter Ten

‘Poonamah, can’t you see what the good Lord has done? He has healed Muniamma’s eyes!’ Aunt Sita had moved up to the front door as if she were going to try and stop them from leaving.

Grandmother glared. ‘Move aside!’

Sita took Muniamma’s face between her work-worn hands and smiled. Then she gently moved her index finger around Muni’s eyes. ‘The blotchy look is gone, and all the swelling—and now, just look at these beautiful, clear eyes.’

‘Nonsense!’

‘But Poonamah, surely you can see this for yourself. Your granddaughter has been healed!’

‘It cannot be. You hadn’t even prayed to your God yet.’ Grandmother turned and glanced at Pastor Morton.

‘That’s true,’ the missionary said. ‘But the fact is, the living God heals whom he wills, when he wills.’

Grandmother frowned and shook her head. Nothing made sense. There had been no sacrifice or offerings, no incense, no bells. Besides, no one had even pleaded for healing. Grandmother put her hand over her bosom to feel for the empty coin purse. She had stolen from this God; he certainly would not be interested in helping them.

‘You are trying to play the fool with me,’ Grandmother said. ‘This God of yours has no intention of helping us. Why would he? You have somehow played an awful trick on me and my granddaughter.’

Aunt Sita let go of Muni’s face and stepped back. Muniamma quickly glanced over to where Sue and Lou had been sitting. They were now standing—as was everyone—and Ken and Raneesh stood near them. Raneesh smiled and nodded ever so slightly. Muniamma realised his look was one of complete understanding. Beyond a doubt, Raneesh was her friend.

Sparky barked and scratched at the front door. He had become restless with so many people coming and going, so earlier in the evening Uncle had put him out. Grandmother opened the door slightly and Sparky pushed in around Grandmother and Sita and jumped up at Muni.

‘Take that dog and start walking,’ Grandmother ordered. ‘I want to put as much distance as I can between us and these Christians.’

Muniamma could not believe it. How could Grandmother be so blind? Couldn’t she honestly accept that God had done a miracle?

Uncle stepped forward.

‘There is really no need for you to walk in the dark. If Krish is out there, there may be trouble. Muniamma, you and your dog get in the back of the van. Poonamah and I will ride in the front. Go on. Your grandmother is in a hurry and your duty is to obey.’

Grandmother stood straight and lifted her chin.

‘I’m glad someone here honours my position.’

***

It was late. Uncle had dropped them at their little hut on the Van Niekerks’ property about two hours earlier. Grandmother was now sound asleep, snoring loudly.

‘How can she sleep after all that has happened?’ Muni wondered.

Reaching down, Muniamma laid her hand on Sparky’s back. He was lying on the floor by her side of the narrow bed. She realised how much she had missed her dog while at Aunt and Uncle’s. She had felt so ill that she had hardly noticed him.

Grandmother’s snores became louder. Muni smiled. ‘Yes, I have even missed this!’

As she had been doing all evening, Muniamma reverently touched the smooth skin of her cheeks, forehead, and around her eyes. The wonder of God’s healing power brought a stillness she had never experienced before.

‘It’s wonderful, Sparky,’ she whispered. ‘This Christian God is... is... well, he’s so forgiving. Even after we stole money, he did not hold it against us. God knew how my heart wanted him; how I have longed for him. I believe he knows all about me and he cares. The living God really cares!’

Grandmother stopped snoring, but Muniamma did not notice.

Muni could hear her dog’s tail slapping on the floor as he wagged it.

‘You are a faithful friend, Sparky. Oh, yes, you are.’ She rubbed him harder. ‘I’m getting other friends, but you will always be my special friend.’

Sparky whined.

‘Shush. Be quiet,’ she scolded gently. ‘Tomorrow we will show Ma just how nice Christians can be. She is bound to notice and probably will want to become a Christian too... maybe even before this next Sunday.’

Soon Muniamma fell asleep, but it was a long time before Grandmother began to snore again.

***

Muniamma woke up to the most dreadful sounds. Grandmother was screaming while Sparky growled, barked and whined, all at the same time. Muni had never heard her dog sound so pathetic. Scrambling out of bed, Muni ran to the door. She was certain that Krish had come and somehow Grandmother and Sparky were fighting him. She cowered behind the door, her entire body quivering.

Finally she heard Grandmother yell, ‘Go on, get out of my sight, you filthy dog!’

Sparky yelped.

‘Is it wise to talk to my father in such a manner?’ she thought nervously. Muniamma held her breath and forced herself to open the door. All she could see, at first glance, was Grandmother. Krish was nowhere in sight.

Then Muni stopped in horror. Grandmother had a long pair of scissors in her hand and black fur covered the shears, her arms, and even up onto her face. Muni glanced at the ground. Black curly hair was scattered everywhere.

‘What’s happened, Ma?’

‘Can’t you see? You claim the Christian God healed you, and now you can’t even see out of those eyes!’

‘My eyes are healed, Ma. But where is my father?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Krish isn’t here. You’re letting your imagination run wild. No one’s been here but me and that dog of yours.’

‘What have you done? Where is Sparky?’ Muni watched as the wind played with the clumps of fur and lifted strands of curly hair into the sky. Muniamma’s heart pounded. ‘Sparky! Where are you, Sparky?’

He whined from somewhere in the banana grove. Muniamma ran frantically. She wore only her thin old night gown and no slippers. Scrambling up the small hill to the grove, she saw Sparky lying under a bush. His long fur had been cut off in great handfuls. The skin was exposed around his neck, and he had obviously been hurt. His whine was pitiful.

‘Ma, how could you?’ Muniamma screamed. She turned and saw Grandmother coming up the hill toward her. ‘How could you do this to my dog?’

‘Oh, it was easy.’ Muniamma noticed a new hardness in Grandmother’s expression. ‘It was not the slightest bit difficult. I can and I will do worse than this if you do not turn from your foolish notion.’

‘My what?’ Muni cried as she ran over to Sparky and fell down on the ground beside him. She gently kissed the top of his head, right between his woeful eyes. Sparky did not look up. He simply closed his eyes and let his head droop.

‘My what?’ Grandmother mimicked. ‘You know exactly what I am talking about. You give up this nonsense about being a Christian, do you hear me? Give it up!’

‘But, Ma...’ Muni hugged Sparky and cried into his bare skin. Then she straightened up and finally stood to her full height. ‘I... I don’t think I can give it up.’

Grandmother clenched her jaw. This was not the response she expected.

Muniamma looked down at her faithful friend.

‘I c—can’t believe you did this to Sparky,’ she stammered. ‘You know how m—much I love him!’ Tears flowed from her eyes, eyes that were no longer swollen, eyes that had been miraculously healed. ‘But, Ma, I believe in the living God. I cannot turn my back on him.’

Grandmother stepped close and struck Muniamma across the face. It was the first time she had ever hit her.

‘You can and you will forget this God.’ Grandmother’s voice sounded menacing. ‘Get dressed and go to the garden. You will have nothing to eat, nothing, until you turn from this God! Get out of my sight!’

Grandmother shoved Muniamma, causing her to stumble down the hill. Sparky growled and snarled, and Grandmother walked over and kicked him hard in the side. Sparky yelped as he got up and limped after Muni.

‘Why, the nerve of that stubborn child! How dare she say last night that I might become a Christian!’ Grandmother spat in the dirt. ‘I’m an Indian. I’m a Hindu. I was born a Hindu, and I will die a Hindu. The Christian God is for white people.’

But twinges of shame and remorse began to plague Grandmother as she watched Muni and her half-shaved dog go into the hut. These were new feelings and she did not like them.

I tell you,’ she said to the sky, ‘this God of the Christians will have to speak to me in Tamil before I will ever believe.’ Grandmother continued shaking her fists with anger. ‘Do you hear me! You will have to talk to me in Tamil!’

Grandmother spat for the second time and turned towards the garden.

Chapter Eleven

The moment Muniamma and Sparky got inside the house, Muni slammed the door and fell on the floor.

‘I can’t take this,’ she sobbed. ‘I just can’t take any more!’

Nuzzling his nose into the crook of her arm, Sparky tried to get close to Muniamma’s face.

‘Oh, Sparky,’ Muni wailed, then she buried her head in her arms and bawled. Sparky kepi nuzzling until Muniamma reached up and put her arm around his neck. She drew him down next to her, and they lay together, face to face.

‘I’m so mad, boy. I feel like hitting her,’ Muni said. ‘How could she do this to you? How could Ma cut off your beautiful coat of fur?’ Muni gently touched the exposed skin around her dog’s neck. ‘Oh, Sparky, I’m so sorry this happened. I know it’s me she’s mad at, not you.’

Sparky leaned against her arm. He did not whine or thrash about. Instead, he closed his trusting eyes and sighed. Unexpectedly, a phrase from Aunt Sita’s song came to Muni: ‘They are weak but he is strong.’

‘It’s true!’ Muniamma prayed out loud. ‘I am weak. I told Ma I could never turn my back on you, but now I’m not so sure. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do. I want to trust you, but it is so hard; so very, very hard.’

The next line of Sita’s song came to her mind. It was so clear that Muniamma could almost hear Aunt Sita’s voice: ‘Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.’

‘Does the Bible really say that?’ she wondered. ‘If only I could find the little Bible Ma hid, and read it for myself. How can a loving God give me a father like Krish? How could my mother and brothers die in that flash flood? Why have I lived my whole life under the curse of Kali, if Jesus loves me so much?’

Sickening doubts invaded Muniamma’s mind.

‘Oh, God, honestly I want to trust you,’ Muni prayed, ‘but the first thing that happens to me after I tell everyone I believe in you, is my dog gets shaved! You know how much I love Sparky. How could you let this happen to him?’

Sparky must have been having a nightmare because his feet began thrashing wildly. Muni hugged him tightly, but one of Sparky’s paws hit her across the eye. It smarted. She rubbed it with the back of her hand, and as she did she remembered: ‘God healed my eyes; that’s the first thing that happened after I believed.’ Gratefulness enveloped her. A feeling of awe, like a holy stillness, flowed through her entire body. Muniamma stared at Sparky and rubbed him lovingly. He opened his eyes and stretched.

‘I don’t understand why this had to happen to you, boy. But for some reason I know God cares. Let’s get going; we have gardening to do.’

All day Muniamma worked without a bite of food and without complaint. That night seemed extra long as she struggled with her worries and doubts, but eventually she managed to get to sleep.

Early on Friday morning, Muniamma slipped out of bed and knelt. Grandmother was nowhere in sight.

‘Oh, God of all creation,’ Muni prayed. ‘I just want to remind you that I’m here, waiting. You know it’s Friday, the day Ma and I have always prayed and given offerings to Kali. I’m not going to do that this morning; I’m going straight to the garden to work. I hope Ma doesn’t hit me. And God, I’m really getting hungry!’

Muniamma quickly dressed. As she and Sparky approached the Van Niekerks’ garden, Grandmother was standing with her hands on her fat hips. Sparky cowered.

‘What took you so long?’

‘I’m sorry, Ma. I tried to hurry.’ And then in a quieter voice she added, ‘I was praying.’

Grandmother moved as though she was about to strike, but stopped.

‘Humph! I haven’t said prayers to Kali this morning, and it’s Friday. You stay here and work. I’m going to sweep the holy area and give offerings. I have no idea what Kali is going to do to you, you wicked, disobedient child. You can count on it— Kali’s wrath will be dreadful!’

With this warning, “Grandmother turned and headed down the hill toward their home. As she went, she pulled her old jersey tighter around her stooped shoulders.

Muni shivered in the cold morning breeze and whispered, ‘Oh, Ma, you are going to a god that cannot help you.’

Grandmother continued down the knoll until she came to her little backyard shrine. The golden marigolds, which used to line the sides of the house, were long gone, so Grandmother rearranged the plastic flowers in the vase which stood on the shelf of the altar. She knew the shelf would have to be dusted, and the frame which held the picture of Kali cleaned, but first the whole area needed to be swept. There was an irritating feeling of loneliness as Grandmother picked up the bundle of branches to begin the task. With each stroke, dust rose into the air.

‘Stop sweeping and go to church.’ The words were said in perfect Tamil, but in a quiet, authoritative tone.

Grandmother stopped.

‘Who’s there? Who’s talking? Muniamma! Are you playing some trick on me?’

Grandmother stood still and listened. Then she thought, ‘It can’t be Muniamma because she doesn’t know how to speak such perfect Tamil. Who could sound like this? And why would someone tell me, a Hindu, to go to church?’

Grandmother shook her head with disgust. How could she possibly let her imagination get so out of control?

‘This is ridiculous,’ she thought. Grasping her makeshift broom, she continued sweeping, but this time not so vigorously.

‘Stop sweeping and go to church.’

There it was again! Cold, prickly gooseflesh broke out all over Grandmother’s body. The voice was real! It sounded as if it came from right beside her.

Grandmother swung around.

‘Krish? Come out here where I can see you. I know we’ve had our differences, but don’t scare me like this!’

Silence. Grandmother breathlessly waited.

‘It can’t be my son,’ she reasoned. ‘I just know it isn’t. This voice I hear is kind and gentle, not like Krish’s. True, it’s been years since I’ve heard or seen Krish, but I’m certain this one who is speaking is not my son.’

Grandmother threw down the broom and stumbled over to the backyard tap to splash cold water over her face. Then she stood as straight and tall as she could and looked around.

‘Who’s here?’ she asked in a shaky voice. ‘Is it you, Sita? It doesn’t sound like you, but you are the only one who would tell me to go to church. Maybe Uncle! Is it you?’

Grandmother waited. Finally she began frantically searching in the house and all around the yard. She even went up to the banana grove and looked down to the garden. Muniamma was bent over, working. Absolutely no one was around, and yet Grandmother knew beyond a doubt that someone had spoken.

With pounding heart and palms sweating, Grandmother walked back to where she had been sweeping. Her hands shook.

‘No one is here, but someone is talking,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Whoever you are, show yourself. I don’t like this— I don’t like it one little bit!’

Grandmother reached down to pick up the broom. Sweat dripped down her face and collected on the few coarse whiskers that dotted her double chin. As soon as her hand grasped the bundle, Grandmother heard the voice for the third time.

‘Stop sweeping and go to church.’

Gradually, the truth began to dawn on her. She remembered how she had shook her fists at the heavens saying, ‘This God of the Christians will have to speak to me in Tamil before I will ever believe!’

In great fear, Grandmother dropped the broom and fell to the ground, covering her head with both hands.

‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ Grandmother moaned over and over trembling. This God may strike me dead, she thought. She took large handfuls of dirt and flung them into the air and over her bowed head.

Minutes passed into hours, but Grandmother remained prostrate. It was as if someone had slammed on the brakes of time to allow a long parade to pass— the parade of her life. She could see snatches from her childhood right up to the present. Grandmother hated what she saw. It was all there: her failure with Krish, the years of fear and worship of Kali, her stubbornness with Sita, and her utter meanness to Muniamma.

‘Oh, God of the Christians,’ she finally whispered in a hoarse voice. Her tears were soaking into the ground. ‘I’ve been such a fool! I now know who you are; you are the living God! A God who speaks Tamil!’ A groan from the centre of Grandmother’s being welled up inside, threatening to burst her wide open with its force.

Sita’s message, which she had shared throughout the months, began making sense—words about Jesus, his death, his coming to life. It was as if Grandmother’s heart and mind had been wrapped tightly with a thick, black sari and now all of a sudden the darkness had been snatched away. Grandmother pulled herself up to a kneeling position.

‘Please, please forgive me, Lord!’

A complete calm invaded Grandmother. For a long time she stayed kneeling, awed by the unexpected peace.

Finally she looked up at her Hindu shrine where the picture of Kali sat. For the first time in her whole life, she felt no fear. She got to her feet and walked over to stand in front of Kali’s frightening figure.

‘All my life you have held me bound. I have been your slave. I have done your bidding.’ Grandmother took a deep breath. ‘But no longer. From this moment on, I serve the living God!’

Grandmother did something that a few hours earlier would have shocked her to death. She picked up the picture of Kali and stared at the black woman with the ten ugly heads.

‘I don’t understand how, but I am no longer afraid of you. My fear is finally gone!’ With great force, Grandmother slammed the picture against the shelf. Glass flew everywhere. She dropped the frame and turned her back. She knew with her whole being that she was not only turning her back on the Hindu shrine and the shattered picture of Kali, but she was truly turning from her old ways and facing the new.

A smile creased her wrinkled face.

‘I must tell Muniamma,’ Grandmother said out loud, her voice quivering with emotion. ‘I must hurry and tell my grandchild that the Christian God speaks Tamil!’

Chapter Twelve

Muniamma had been working in the garden for hours. She knew it was early afternoon, and yet Grandmother had not returned from saying prayers. Muni thought of going to the house to see if Grandmother was all right, but decided to remain and work.

Sparky lay by the edge of the garden. He had scarcely budged all morning.

‘I feel like moping with you,’ Muniamma said as she sat down for a few minutes. Even through her old brown jersey, the air felt nippy. She lovingly touched Sparky’s short stubby fur. ‘You must be chilled to the bone, you poor boy! I still have a hard time believing Ma did this to you.’

Muniamma took from her pocket a long carrot she had put there earlier in the day. Wiping the dirt off as best she could, she began munching. If Ma sees me eating, she’ll kill me, Muni thought, and quickly glanced around.

Just then she saw Grandmother coming toward her at a fast pace. With dishevelled hair and a mud-streaked face, her appearance was enough to put the fright into anyone.

Muni dropped the carrot and jumped to her feet. Sparky scurried away, and Muni thought of running with him. Then she heard Grandmother yelling, ‘God talks Tamil. I tell you, child, the Christian God talks Tamil!’

Grandmother hurried over and grabbed Muni by the shoulders.

‘Did you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying? The Christian God talked to me in perfect Tamil!’

Muniamma shivered and stepped back. She felt certain that Grandmother had gone completely mad.

Grandmother fell to her knees and bent over until her forehead touched the ground. Groans uttered forth, wrenched from her very soul.

‘What are you doing, Ma?’

There was no answer, only sobs.

Cautiously, Muniamma stepped closer. She could hear Grandmother repeating questions in Tamil.

‘Who am I that you should talk to me? Oh, God of the Christians, why me?’

‘Ma?’

Slowly Grandmother lifted her head. Tears mingled with the mud on her face.

‘He talked with me, child. Oh, the wonder! The God of creation speaks Tamil!’

‘What?’

‘You’ve been right, Muniamma. You’ve been so right about God.’

Muni was stunned. It was obvious something traumatic had happened.

‘Start from the beginning, Ma. Please sit down and tell me what you’re talking about.’

Grandmother did. She told how she had shaken her fists at the heavens and declared that God would have to talk to her in Tamil before she would believe. Then she explained about the voice and how it had told her to stop sweeping and go to church. She knew someone was speaking, but no one was around; she had searched. Finally, Grandmother said that after the third time she fell on her face and remained for hours in the presence of the living God.

‘During those hours, all the songs and words about Jesus began making sense. I feel awful about the way I’ve been treating you.’

‘Ma, you’ve become a Christian!’

‘Yes, I guess that’s what you can call me. But, I’m an Indian Christian. Did I tell you about how God speaks perfect Tamil?’

‘Yes, Ma, you mentioned it.’ Muniamma smiled. It was hard to believe this conversation was really happening. ‘And Ma, is it all right now if I cut this string off from around my neck?’ Muni touched the multicoloured string the priest had tied.

‘Definitely! Then I’ll get you something to eat. And after that, we have to finish our work.’ Grandmother reached over and gently touched Muniamma’s arm.

Sparky growled.

They both turned and stared at Muni’s pathetic-looking dog. He growled again at Grandmother.

‘I shouldn’t have done such an awful thing. Just look at that hair. It will be a long time before it grows back. I don’t know how to make it up to you.’ Grandmother took a step towards Sparky. He barked furiously and came at her with bared teeth.

‘Stop!’ Muniamma screamed and lunged at her dog. ‘Stop it, Sparky!’

Grandmother stumbled backwards.

Muniamma grabbed her dog and held him against his will.

‘Calm down, boy. No more of this!’ Muni looked up at Grandmother.

Sparky pulled out of Muni’s arms and ran off into the cane fields.

‘It will be a long time before that dog will even let me near him,’ Grandmother said in a shaky voice. ‘Come, you need something to eat.’

After a simple meal of cabbage curry and rice, Grandmother and Muni continued working in Madame Van Niekerk’s flower beds. Both were quiet and reserved as they marvelled over what had just transpired. Every so often Muniamma felt around her neck to make sure the offending string was really gone. To her it seemed a symbol of freedom.

It was late in the afternoon when Grandmother finally stopped working and stretched.

‘We have done what Madame told us to do. Let’s go home.’ There was grave determination in the way she spoke. ‘I have some unfinished business at our backyard shrine.’

Muniamma immediately thought of the shrine and the shattered picture of Kali she had seen earlier when they went to eat. She hadn’t asked about it and Grandmother did not offer to explain.

Muni stayed to put away the garden tools and then hurried home. Grandmother was already there, standing in front of the shrine with an old rusty hammer in her hand.

‘Come here, child. We are going to take this down, piece by piece.’

‘Really?’

‘And then we’re going to pile the wood together and burn it. I’ve had time to think this afternoon while working. I’ve always been a public Hindu. Everyone who knows me knows that I’m a Hindu. Well, now I want to be a public Christian.’

‘Oh, Ma, I’m so happy!’

‘It won’t be easy for us. I don’t expect it to be. If Krish has really come back, this stand of ours will only anger him.’

‘It’s okay, Ma. Everything is going to be wonderful. Nothing can hurt us now.’

‘Nonsense, child. Of course we can get hurt.’ Grandmother’s tone was loving, but firm. ‘Don’t you see? God let his Son be put to death. He didn’t stop it. And remember Vijay? I’m sure her sores really hurt.’

‘Yes, Ma, but…’

‘No buts. We will make our stand knowing that it may cost us dearly.’ Grandmother lifted the hammer above her head and took a deep breath. With all her strength she swung her arms forward and the hammer crashed through the shelf of her shrine. The vase of flowers fell over, and the brass bowl, containing Kali’s milk offering, flipped, with milk spreading everywhere.

‘Aren’t you even a little afraid?’ Muni whispered.

‘That’s what amazes me! For the first time in my life I have no fear. This goddess has held me like a prisoner. Kali has held all of us bound for too long! Come, Muniamma. Help me put an end to all this.’

Together they worked until the wood was thrown into a heap, and all the brass trays, bowls and prayer lamps were tossed into another.

‘Go into the house, Muniamma, and get the box of matches. We’re going to burn this lot. And bring out that string we cut off earlier from your neck. We’ll burn it too.’

Muniamma beamed.

‘And bring out a large plastic packet for all this brass. We’ll take it to church with us on Sunday and have the Christians help decide what to do with it. I want everything we used in the worship of Kali to be out of our home—even out of our yard!’

Moments later, Grandmother and Muni watched as the multicoloured string burned and the picture of Kali ignited and quickly turned to ash. Smoke rose into the air as fire licked along the dry wood of the old shrine. Grandmother connected a hose to the backyard tap and held it ready in case the fire got out of control. Arm in arm they stood. Even Sparky stopped barking and lay in silence at a distance. It was a solemn moment and no one spoke.

Finally Grandmother looked lovingly into the sky.

‘I know you see us, God. If you have a mouth to speak, then you also have eyes that see. My granddaughter and I understand so little, we...’

‘What’s going on here?’ The voice belonged to Mr Van Niekerk, their boss. He was visibly distraught as he scrambled out of his car with Madame Van Niekerk, and hurried over to the fire.

‘I knew I smelt smoke. What’s the meaning of this?’ Mr Van Niekerk spread his hands toward the bonfire.

‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to cause problems. My granddaughter and I just destroyed our Hindu shrine. I wanted to burn it.’

‘Burn it?’ Mr Van Niekerk screamed. ‘That’s stupid! What if the fire spread? Don’t you realise what damage it could do?’

‘Poonamah has a hose,’ Madame Van Niekerk said. ‘Please dear, calm down.’

‘Calm down? This is the most irresponsible, idiotic thing any worker of ours has ever done!’ Mr Van Niekerk grabbed the hose and wet down the last remaining bit of fire. ‘You Indians have strange ways,’ he said with disgust. ‘No more of this kind of thing, do you hear? If you or your granddaughter do anything foolish like this again, you’ll be fired!’

‘Yes, sir.’

He kicked the ashes and spread them out. As he and Madame walked back to their Mercedes, Muni could hear her boss continue grumbling.

It was the first time Muniamma had seen Mr Van Niekerk up close. He had large jowls which swung when he talked, and his wiry brown moustache stuck out in all directions.

‘What right does he have to come here and ruin our time?’ Muniamma complained.

‘He has all the right in the world, child. He’s the owner.’

‘Well, I don’t like him!’

‘Like him or not, we are fortunate he didn’t throw us out. He could have, you know.’

‘And Madame didn’t even notice that I’m better.

The last time she saw me my face looked awful and my eyes were swollen shut. She didn’t even look my way.’

‘Don’t let it spoil the meaning of this night.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

Later, Muniamma lay in bed with Sparky on the floor next to her. Pulling the wool blanket up under her chin, she turned onto her side, facing Grandmother. It was cold, and her nightgown was too thin to give much warmth. The kerosene lamp burned low and they remained in silence for a long time. Muni thought of reaching over and touching Grandmother, but felt too shy.

‘I’ve wronged you,’ Grandmother finally said, breaking the silence.

Muni grasped her hand. ‘It’s all right. Honestly!’

Grandmother let out a deep sigh.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to get out your little Bible; the one Aunt Sita gave you for your thirteenth birthday, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well, I hid it under the front step. Tomorrow we’ll dig it up and I want you to read to me.’

‘I would love that!’

Grandmother got up and turned off the lamp.

‘Go to sleep now.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

Muniamma turned over onto her tummy and dropped her arm down to rest on Sparky’s back.

Oh, Sparky, she thought as she rubbed him. All the bad stuff’s behind us. Your hair will grow back, I know it will. Ma’s changed, and she’s so sorry for what she did. Everything is going to be great from this moment on. What could possibly hurt us now?

Sparky yawned and stretched.

‘Goodnight, boy,’ Muni whispered. ‘Tomorrow’s a brand new start.’

Chapter Thirteen

Sparky leaned across the bed and licked Muniamma right on the lips. She opened her eyes and smiled. Sparky excitedly licked her all over the face, even up onto her eyelids. He had never been allowed to play so freely in the house, and his whole hind end wiggled with excitement.

Grandmother was standing by the old wood stove, stirring the hot mealie meal.

‘Morning,’ Grandmother greeted.

‘Good morning, Ma.’ Muni sat up.

For a moment, they looked at each other. A feeling of togetherness, a sense of being on the same side, flowed between them. Grandmother quickly glanced away, not knowing how to handle these new emotions.

‘Come and have some porridge.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

Grandmother placed two bowls on the small table and turned around to put the kettle on the stove for tea.

Muni got out of bed and picked up her tattered robe.

‘I’ll be right back.’ She hurried out of the door to their backyard toilet. When she finished, she ran to the tap and splashed cold water over her hands and face. She looked over at the pile of ash where their shrine used to stand. For the first time in almost a year, she felt hope—not just a ray, but a whole flood of priceless hope.

The early morning sun shone off the red tiled roof of the Van Niekerks’ home.

‘Nothing is going to upset me today,’ she said with resolve, and she straightened her shoulders. Then she looked down toward the ocean and the town of Isipingo. ‘This is going to be a beautiful day! I’m not going to worry about anything, not even my father.’

‘Oh, God,’ she prayed with bowed head, ‘you are so good!’ She briefly wondered if she should be talking to God in English or in Tamil. ‘I don’t know, but for some reason I believe you know every language. I want to hum and eat with Ma. Thank you... oh, thank you, God!’

The kettle had just begun to whistle when Muniamma entered.

‘Put the tea on to steep before you sit down.’

‘Yes, Ma.’

‘After you finish eating, get dressed and then we’ll uncover your Bible. It’s been a long time since you’ve read. Do you think you’ll remember how?’

Muniamma smiled and sat down. ‘I’ll remember.’

Grandmother opened a can of sweetened condensed milk and poured a small amount into their cups. She took the lid off the pot to stir the tea leaves, making sure the brew was strong. After more steeping, Grandmother poured the tea and they sat back and enjoyed it. Neither spoke. Words would have ruined the moment. They sipped in silence.

After they had finished their second cup, Grandmother said quietly, ‘When you’re dressed, meet me outside by the front step.’

While she cleared away the breakfast dishes, Muni dashed about, hurrying as fast as she could. Finally she plaited her hair so it hung neatly in one, long, thick braid.

Grandmother had already gone outside, and Muni quickly followed. Grandmother stood with the rusty hammer in one hand and an old shovel at her feet.

‘It’s been months since I buried your Bible; it was on your birthday. Which reminds me, you’ll be fourteen soon.’

Muniamma stood tall and took a deep breath. She walked over close to Grandmother.

‘I was angry that day,’ Grandmother explained. ‘Oh, I was furious with Sita for giving you the Christian book. But even more than that, I was scared. I felt certain Kali would somehow destroy us because our relatives had turned Christian and because we had the Bible hidden here. Since then, I often thought of digging the Bible up and getting rid of it, especially when you got so ill with the measles. But something always stopped me; mostly my fear.’

‘Do you think the Bible is ruined because it’s been in the ground for such a long time?’

‘No. I wrapped it carefully in a small towel and put it in a cake tin which had a tight lid.’

First Grandmother took the hammer and loosened the nails on the wood of the step. Then she placed the hammer under the loosened plank and lifted. Muniamma helped. The whole top of the step wrenched free and they placed the board on the ground. Then Grandmother took the shovel.

‘Can I do it for you, Ma?’

‘No. I buried it. I want to dig it up by myself.’

Grandmother unearthed several shovelfuls before she hit the tin. ‘There it is!’

She dropped the shovel and they fell to their knees. Grandmother dug around the tin with her hands to clear the area of dirt and finally lifted it out.

‘This is it,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Here, you take it. It’s yours.’

With great excitement, Muniamma grasped the tin.

‘Please, Ma, can we go up into the banana grove? I’ve always liked that spot.’

Grandmother smiled. ‘How fitting. That’s where you were when I grabbed this Bible from you. Yes, let’s go there and read.’

Together they walked the short distance to the grove. Sparky was lying under a banana bush.

‘We’ll join you,’ Muni said as they approached.

Sparky got to his feet and circled distrustfully around Grandmother several times.

‘It’s okay, boy,’ Muni encouraged, but Sparky ran off toward the garden.

Muniamma watched her friend go and then turned to Grandmother.

‘He’s just jumpy, Ma. He’ll get better.’ Muni chose a spot and sat down. Grandmother sat close.

Muniamma lifted the lid and took out her towel-wrapped Bible. For a moment she held it and looked over at Grandmother. Grandmother smiled and nodded.

With great care, Muniamma unwrapped her long-awaited gift and lovingly stared at the little black book. Reverently, she touched the smooth leather cover and finally pressed the Bible to her chest.

‘So often I thought of finding this. I looked all around for it.’

‘I know.’

‘Oh, Ma...’

‘Read. Just open it and read to me. Since yesterday when God told me to stop sweeping, I have not heard his voice. He’s here—my head and my heart tell me—but I want to hear him talk to me in Tamil. I want to hear his voice again!’

Muniamma opened the book and gulped.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Ma, it’s in Tamil!’

‘Well, what did you expect?’

‘At school we always talked English, but we did have a class in Tamil. Our teacher thought all of us Indians should learn to speak in our own language. I can’t read in Tamil; well, hardly.’

‘Try... please try! I want to hear God talk to me in my own tongue.’

The pleading tone in Grandmother’s voice made Muni turn, and at random she picked a place to begin. Slowly, she read out loud, ‘Professing to be wise, they became fools.’

Grandmother moaned. ‘That’s me. I’ve always believed I was right. Read on.’

‘And exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.’

Muni looked up, and they stared at one another in amazement.

‘That’s exactly what we did,’ Grandmother said with conviction. ‘We served Kali. Some people worship and serve monkeys, and others pray to snakes. I have heard that some people don’t worship creatures but instead they worship themselves.’

They thought of Raneesh’s parents who worshipped Hanuman, the monkey god, and then remembered how Sita used to serve snakes.

‘Read... read!’

‘They worshipped and served the creature rather than the Creator.’

‘Enough! My heart is weighed down; it hurts within my chest. Oh, how we have turned from our Creator!’ Tears began to roll down Grandmother’s face.

Muni had never seen her grandmother in such a state. Quickly, she thumbed through her Bible to find another section, something to help bring a little comfort.

‘Here, Ma, listen. “Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me.”‘

Grandmother wiped her eyes with the end of her sari and leaned closer.

‘I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through me... If you ask anything in my name, I will do it. If you love me, you will keep my commandments... Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful.’

On and on Muniamma read. Hours passed. Grandmother never tired. Muni hated to admit it, but she wanted to stand and stretch and take a short break. But every time she stopped, Grandmother said, ‘Come on, keep reading!’

Around midday, Madame Van Niekerk walked through the garden and up to the banana grove.

‘Hello,’ she said.

They both stared at her dumbfounded. ‘What’s wrong?’ Grandmother asked as she quickly got to her feet.

‘Nothing is wrong. I didn’t mean to startle you so. I just wanted to see if you are all right after last night’s ordeal.’

‘Yes...yes, we’re fine. I probably should have asked about starting the fire. I hope Mr Van Niekerk isn’t still upset.’

‘No harm done,’ Madame said with reserve. ‘But I couldn’t sleep. You said something that really puzzles me. You said you burnt your Hindu shrine. I might have misunderstood, but I thought that’s what you said.’

For the first time, Madame turned and looked at Muni and then down at the Bible. She looked surprised.

‘I don’t understand what is going on around here.’

‘It’s simple,’ Grandmother said with a smile. ‘Let me tell you what’s happened. It might be hard for you to believe, but everything I’m going to tell you is true.’

As Grandmother and Madame Van Niekerk walked away, Muniamma settled back and leaned against Sparky.

“I was right, boy. This is a perfect day!’

Chapter Fourteen

‘Hurry, Muniamma, I want to be early so we’ll have time to talk to Sita and Uncle before the church service.’

‘Coming, Ma.’ Muni had stopped for a few minutes to rest her arms. She was carrying the large plastic bag which held two beautiful brass trays, two prayer lamps, a number of brass bowls, and one frame which used to hold the picture of Kali. The bag was heavy—Grandmother had double-wrapped it before they left.

Sparky still seemed cautious of Grandmother and mostly kept his distance. This morning he darted around her as she walked, and then came back to circle around Muni.

‘Calm down, boy. We’ll be in town soon and I don’t want you running off.’

Sparky barked.

‘You always look as if you understand just what I’m saying! Come boy, let’s catch up with Ma so we can all walk into Isipingo together. This is going to be another perfect day, I can just feel it!’

As they approached town, Muniamma lifted her shoulders and walked tall. Her load no longer seemed heavy. Grandmother and Muni walked side by side, and Sparky trailed behind.

Soon they neared the Hindu temple. Muni looked over at the entrance. All was quiet.

The old priest must be somewhere inside, she thought.

Muniamma felt like laughing with joy.

‘We are not visiting you today,’ she wanted to say. ‘We don’t ever have to see you again.’

Grandmother must have been thinking similar thoughts because they looked at each other and speeded up. Words were unnecessary. They understood. Freedom from the temple had come.

On Aunt and Uncle’s street, several people were standing outside their homes. They looked in the direction of Grandmother and Muniamma, then hurried inside. A few houses later, two ladies stood gossiping on the front step. One pointed.

‘That’s them,’ she whispered, but her voice carried.

‘What’s going on, Ma? Why are they pointing at us?’

I don’t know. But I don’t like it.’

Muniamma glanced over at Raneesh’s home and saw the curtains move.

‘Ma, I think people are looking at us.’

Grandmother did not answer, but she hurried up the front step and knocked on Sita’s door.

Uncle looked out of the window. They could hear him yell, ‘It’s Poonamah and Muni. Hurry, and let them in.’

Aunt Sita opened the door, and with a flushed face she greeted them.

‘What a surprise! You are the last people we expected to see. Hurry. Let’s close the door.’

They stepped inside. Pastor and Mrs Morton were there, and it sounded as if the Morton children were in the kitchen.

‘What’s all this mystery?’ Grandmother demanded. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Krish was here last night,’ Aunt Sita said, and then looked over at Muni. ‘Maybe I should talk to you in private, Poonamah.’

‘No,’ Uncle interrupted. ‘You put the kettle on for tea; there’s time before the service. Then we’re going to sit down and talk calmly. And we’re going to tell both of them what’s happening.’

In Muniamma’s nervousness she dropped the large plastic bag, and when it hit the floor a brass prayer lamp fell out and rolled along the linoleum. Everyone stopped. Even Aunt Sita, who was going into the kitchen, turned.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why did you bring that into our home?’

‘Don’t be so...so jumpy!’ It was obvious Grandmother had not liked the accusing tone in Sita’s voice.

‘Now, ladies,’ Uncle interrupted. ‘You go and get that tea.’ Sita did not like her husband’s assertiveness, but nevertheless she turned and went into the kitchen.

‘And Poonamah,’ Uncle continued, ‘you know we are a Christian family and we have turned our home over for God’s work. We don’t want that prayer lamp here, especially right now because our church people will be coming soon for the Sunday worship service.’

Grandmother turned and looked angrily at Muni.

‘Can you believe this? We come here to Isipingo and get whispered about and pointed at. We hear Krish has returned, but all they worry about is this prayer lamp!’

Muniamma felt desperately disappointed about the way the conversation was going. She plopped down onto the sofa and buried her face in the cushion. Her whole peaceful world was once again falling apart.

Sue and Lou came from the kitchen and ran over and hugged her.

‘What’s the matter with Muniamma?’ Sue asked her father.

‘She’s upset. You two girls go and get dressed for church.’

‘Can Muniamma come with us?’ Lou asked.

‘No,’ Mrs Morton said. ‘You two get going, and tell Ken to hurry up.’

The Morton twins left, but Muni kept crying. Sita came in and put the tray on the coffee table.

‘Come on, Poonamah, sit down next to your granddaughter and let’s have a talk. You need to hear about Krish and his plans, but first explain why you brought your prayer lamp and that other stuff’

Grandmother stiffened.

‘Don’t take offence,’ Uncle interrupted. ‘Tell us why you’ve come.’

‘Well, I did have some wonderful news. We walked all the way here this morning to tell you. We thought you would be excited to see us. But...’

Muniamma lifted her head from the sofa, earnestness straining her expression.

‘Please, Ma. Oh, please tell them!’

‘Well... I wanted to tell you in detail what’s happened to me, but I guess I could hurry through it. Besides, I’m anxious to hear about Krish.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ Uncle said. ‘There will be time for you to be filled in on everything later. Let’s hear what you have to say.’

Muniamma sat up while Grandmother told them about hearing God’s voice. The more Grandmother talked, the more dramatically expressive she became. She got caught up in the thrill of the past few days, and no one wanted to stop her. Aunt and Uncle and the Mortons were totally enthralled.

‘Oh, Poonamah,’ Aunt Sita exclaimed, jumping to her feet. ‘I almost ruined everything by my temper. When I saw that prayer lamp gliding across our floor, my whole body turned hot.’

‘You and I have always gone at each other. But I understand. You never dreamt I would become a Christian and bring my things here to your church to be destroyed.’

‘No, I never believed it possible.’ Sita sounded ashamed of herself. ‘But I did pray every day that this would happen.’

‘Now tell us about Krish,’ Grandmother requested. ‘What’s my son up to? What trouble is he trying to cause after all these years?’

Both Aunt Sita and Uncle looked at Muniamma. Their sad countenance put new alarm into her.

‘What’s the matter?’ Muni’s voice was barely-audible.

‘Well,’ Sita started, ‘we certainly don’t know all the particulars, but Krish has come back here to South Africa to start some sort of business. The police were here last night asking about him. They were the same ones that are doing the investigation about the stolen money and jewellery. Remember?’

Grandmother lowered her eyes. ‘Yes, we remember.’

‘Anyway, after the police left, Krish came. He claims he had nothing whatsoever to do with the robbery. But somehow he has come into enough money to buy an old building on the other side of town. He’s going into business with another man.’

Uncle interrupted. ‘Krish said that he’s found a partner who will give him the money to buy the building.’

Grandmother looked undisturbed, but her voice betrayed her.

‘What kind of business is my son planning on starting?’

Uncle looked tenderly at Muni. ‘We believe he is going to open an illegal drinking place. He said he promised his fat partner a young bride if he would put up the money for the business.’

‘What does he mean by that? What young bride?’

Uncle moved uncomfortably. ‘He means... Muniamma!’

For Muni, the whole room began to spin. Grandmother reached out and put her arm around her.

‘Krish can’t do this!’ she protested. ‘He can’t marry off his daughter like that!’

‘He says he can. And he says he’s still her father and legally he can do anything he wants with her. He has seen things like this done among his friends in India.’

‘But we’re not in India!’ Grandmother’s voice screeched. ‘What right does he have to come back here after nearly fourteen years and claim his daughter?’

Muniamma was filled with hot hatred for this father she had never seen; this man who was responsible for putting the curse of Kali upon her. And now he returned after all these years and expected her to marry some filthy old fat man.

‘Oh, Ma, please save me! I don’t want to marry anybody. I don’t want to see my father. Oh, Ma,’ Muni cried in desperation. ‘I hate him! I hate him!’

‘Now now, child,’ said Grandmother trying to comfort her. ‘We’ll work something out. Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.’

‘Can you really stop him?’

‘Of course I can!’

‘And remember,’ Pastor Morton interjected, ‘you are both in the kingdom of God. He will surely intervene on your behalf.’

Muniamma could not understand what Pastor Morton said, but it sounded encouraging.

Someone knocked on their front door and everyone jumped. Uncle got up and opened it. The first of the church people had arrived. Sita cleared away the tea, and the men began bringing in the benches and pushing back the furniture.

Muni sat still, completely stunned. Even when Pastor Morton and Uncle shoved the sofa back against the wall, Muniamma stayed where she was. She did not budge.

Before long, Sue and Lou came and took her with them to sit on the floor under the window where a lot of the other young people were sitting. The room became crowded. There were lots of new faces, but Muniamma did not notice. The hatred for her father was threatening to engulf her totally. She wondered what she would do if she saw him. I’ll jump on him and claw his eyes, she thought. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me.

Everyone was singing, but the words and tune were lost to Muniamma. She continued struggling with the most vicious emotions she had ever experienced. She had gone through a lot in her short life, but nothing compared to the turmoil that now raged in her young heart.

Pastor Morton must have called Grandmother forward to make a public declaration of her new faith, because she was now standing in front, saying, ‘I tell you, God speaks Tamil!’ Muni wasn’t even certain how long Grandmother had been telling her story.

Then suddenly Grandmother did something that made Muniamma sink even lower into despair. She reached into her sari blouse and pulled out the little, empty coin purse.

Vijay and her mother gasped.

‘That’s the stolen purse!’ the mother exclaimed. ‘That’s the purse that was taken with all of God’s money.’

There was a strange scuffling noise under the window where Muni was sitting. She heard it, but no one else seemed to pay any attention. All eyes were on Grandmother.

‘I’m the one who took your money,’ Grandmother admitted. ‘I took it, and some jewellery.’

Kathie put her hand up to her neck where she used to wear her beautiful cross necklace.

‘Yes,’ Grandmother continued. ‘I took all I could find. I was desperate. The priest demanded money and gold jewellery in exchange for a golden eyeball. He said Kali would not heal Muniamma’s eyes without it. I’m your thief.’

Again, that noise from outside, below the open window. Someone laughed. Sparky began barking, and Muni could hear her dog chasing someone away. Sparky continued barking wildly.

A horrifying thought struck Muni: What if that was Father and he heard Ma’s confession?

‘Somehow I’ll make it up to you,’ Grandmother promised the surprised audience. ‘I don’t know how, but I will.’

Vijay and her mother hurried forward and put their arms around Grandmother.

‘We forgive you. It’s all right.’

Even Kathie went forward and hugged Grandmother. Everyone crowded around the new believer. Tears flowed everywhere, except from Muniamma. She was past crying. She sat in a stupor on the floor.

Chapter Fifteen

‘Hey, everybody, look at Muniamma,’ Sue said. ‘I’ve been trying to talk to her, and all she does is sit and stare. What’s wrong?’

The church people turned their attention away from Grandmother and hurried to Muni’s side.

‘She’s in shock,’ someone said. ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing before.’

‘Pick her up,’ Aunt Sita said to Uncle, ‘and put her into bed.’

Grandmother came near, and with a nervous catch in her voice she said, ‘Leave her be. Let me tend to her.’ She sat on the floor next to her granddaughter and pulled her close until Muni’s head rested on her bosom. ‘Everybody clear back and give this child room to breathe.’

‘That’s right,’ Pastor Morton said authoritatively, waving his hands to direct everyone back. ‘We should all be praying. It’s obvious this young lady is going through a battle. Let’s not stand around chatting idly. We need to be on our knees before God.’

Grandmother swayed back and forth with Muni in her arms while the Christians prayed. She watched as one after another thanked God and humbly asked him to intervene somehow. After a few prayers, Grandmother interrupted. ‘I think I know what might help. Ken, hurry and get Sparky. He’s outside.’

Ken rushed out in a panic. He hated the blank stare in Muni’s eyes and felt a great relief to have something to do.

‘Here boy,’ Ken yelled, then whistled.

Sparky came running. He and Ken had become friends on their last visit.

‘What in the world happened to your fur? Who cut it like this?’ Ken exclaimed in surprise. ‘Oh, well hurry boy, come with me.’

As soon as Ken directed the dog inside, Sparky cowered against Ken’s leg, away from the crowd.

‘Come here,’ Grandmother said.

Sparky barked.

‘Help him, Ken. He won’t come near me. That’s it. Push him close enough to see Muniamma.’

Ken leaned over and whispered softly into Sparky’s ear while guiding him to Grandmother’s side. When Sparky saw Muni he began whining and pressed his body against her arm.

Grandmother remained silent. She stopped swaying and sat still. Everyone continued praying.

Again Sparky barked, and with his front paws he leaned up onto Grandmother and began licking Muni on the face. He licked, then whined, then licked some more.

Gradually, ever so slowly, Muniamma began to move.

‘That’s it, girl,’ Grandmother encouraged. ‘There’s no need for you to be so frightened—not any more. I’m here with you, and we’re praying to the living God.’

Sparky barked and pushed his nose harder into Muniamma’s face. His breath smelt foul from some garbage he had been eating.

‘Stop,’ Muni said slowly, and rubbed her nose to clear it of the awful smell.

Grandmother sighed with relief.

Muni looked up at Grandmother and then at Sparky.

‘Wh—what happened? Did…did I faint?’

‘It was more than that,’ Sue said excitedly. ‘You just sat there, staring. It was really weird!’

‘Sue!’ Mrs Morton said sharply. ‘Let’s just be thankful Muniamma is all right.’

Suddenly Muni remembered what had frightened her.

‘Ma! Someone was listening to you. I mean, someone was outside that window. When you said you were the thief, the person laughed and ran away. Oh no, what if it was my father?’

Grandmother sat up sharply.

‘Why would Krish be sneaking around like that? Stop your fretting. I told you I’d work something out.’ She stood and helped Muni to her feet. ‘You shouldn’t worry so. You’re not going to have to marry Krish’s partner.’

Just then a loud knock came on the front door. Uncle went to open it. There stood Krish with the two investigators on either side. Uncle stepped back.

‘We were just finishing our church service,’ he said. ‘Can we help you?’

Grandmother gasped and Muni clung to her arm. Sparky barked wildly at Krish.

‘Hush that dog,’ the muscular investigator said, irritably. ‘I can’t hear myself think.’

Ken pulled Sparky into the kitchen and quickly gave him water and a bowl of food.

Meanwhile, Muni kept staring at the man in the centre who she knew had to be her father. He was tall and thin and very, very dark. The white part of his eyes looked a sickly yellow, and his upper lip curled into an ugly snarl as he glared at Muni and then over at Grandmother.

‘So here we are,’ he said, ‘together after all these years. Isn’t this cosy.’

His sarcasm increased Muniamma’s hatred.

‘I come back to South Africa, innocently, to claim my own daughter, and I find she’s living with my ma. Then, to my utter surprise, I discover my ma’s a thief!’

‘What?’ the muscular policeman said. ‘Do you mean to tell us you are turning in your own mother? When you came to the headquarters you said nothing about the thief being your mother!’

‘Well, what difference does that make? It just proves she’s not a good influence on my daughter. That skinny girl there is mine. I want her, and I want her to stay away from my ma.’

The smaller policeman stepped over next to Grandmother.

‘We’re not here to get involved in your family squabbles. You and your son will have to work this out. But we are here about the robbery. May I please see what you’re holding behind your back?’

Nervously, Grandmother opened her clenched fist and in her palm lay the incriminating coin purse.

‘There, you see!’ Krish said with a smirk. ‘I told you so. I heard her with my own ears.’

‘Did you take the money?’ The policeman looked as if he hoped she would deny it.

Grandmother looked from one uniformed man to the other, and then around at the room crowded with Christians. She stood to her full height.

‘Yes. Yes, I took the money.’

‘Then you’re going to have to come with us, madam.’

‘No!’ Muniamma screamed. ‘No! you can’t take her. Go away! Just go away!’

‘Step aside, miss. This woman is under arrest.’

Krish grinned.

‘Oh, you awful man!’ Muniamma screamed hysterically at her father. ‘How dare you come back here after all these years and take Ma away from me! How can you do this?’ Muniamma took a step toward her father, but Grandmother grabbed her.

Sue and Lou rushed to Muni’s side and stood close. They were too frightened to speak.

‘Please, miss, step aside,’ the short, dumpy policeman insisted. ‘I hate to take your grandmother, but the evidence is right here.’

‘Please!’ Aunt Sita said, looking totally distraught. ‘My goodness, can’t we work something out?’

‘Yes, please!’ interjected Uncle. ‘Don’t take Poonamah like this.’

Pastor Morton stepped forward.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘If there are no charges, this case will be dismissed, right? I mean, you really won’t even have a case, and then this woman could go free.’

‘Well, that would be most irregular. But if you people don’t want to press charges, there is nothing we can do.’

‘We don’t.’ It was Vijay and her mother. ‘We don’t want Poonamah to go to jail. We forgive her.’

‘Forgive!’ Krish said with disgust. ‘Who would forgive a thief?’

‘We do,’ Kathie said nervously. She was touching her neck as she spoke.

The two policemen shook their heads and looked at each other in relief. The shorter one let go of Grandmother’s arm and threw up his hands.

‘That’s it. Case closed,’ he said. ‘Without the charges, you’re free.’

‘And as for you,’ the muscular policeman said as he pointed straight into Krish’s face, ‘any man who would turn in his own mother is not to be trusted. We’re going to watch you, and we’re going to watch you close. In my book, you’re nothing but a stinking rat!’

After the two men in uniform left, Krish looked around at the church people and then glared hard at the ashen faces of his mother and daughter. They didn’t look like a group of people who had just won a victory, but he felt certain they must be feeling pretty smug.

‘You think you’ve won,’ he said, ‘but you haven’t. The battle has just begun.’

Grandmother gave Muni an authoritative nudge toward Sita and Uncle. Aunt Sita took charge and made Muniamma sit down on the sofa. Uncle stood behind and laid his hands on Muni’s tense shoulders.

Grandmother took the few steps that separated her from her son. She stood close.

‘I can’t believe it’s you, Krish. After all these years you come back into our lives. How could you? I don’t understand; I just don’t understand any of this.’

For a moment, the hurt in Grandmother’s voice erased his arrogant expression.

‘What have I done or what has your daughter ever done to deserve such treatment?’

Krish stepped back.

‘Please, son, just leave us. Your return after all these years has been harder than you’ll ever know. This is the first time you’ve even seen your daughter, and look at how you’ve acted. You haven’t even asked about your wife or your sons. They’re dead! They died in a flash flood almost two years ago!’

Krish stumbled backwards.

With resignation in her voice, Grandmother continued. ‘Why don’t you go back to India and leave us alone?’

Krish backed up against the door. The physical contact appeared to snap something in Krish’s temperament, and he stood up straight and laughed.

‘Ha, and leave my daughter with a bunch of Christians? You’ve got to be joking! I heard what you did to the picture of Kali and your shrine. Well, no Hindu does that and gets away with it.’ He laughed again, and the sound sent new chills throughout Muniamma’s quivering body.

Krish looked over at Aunt Sita and Uncle.

‘I’ve spent the last two days at your neighbours’. That’s correct, I’ve been right next door. You have some interesting people there, all except for their son, Raneesh. Well, his parents worship Hanuman, the monkey god. They say this god gives a person wisdom when starting a new business.’ Krish grinned again but this time right at Muni. ‘Well, I’m going into business with a new partner.’

Muniamma’s whole body went weak. She began trembling. Krish continued with a smirk.

‘I’ve decided to devote myself to their god, Hanuman. I’m going to fast and pray to him. My partner and I want wisdom in our new venture.’ He laughed, and the hollow sound was evil.

Grandmother strained forward.

‘Listen, Krish, don’t do this. It is a dangerous game you’re playing. Don’t take these Hindu gods lightly. Don’t play the fool; you won’t get away with it.’

‘What is this? Warnings from my Christian mother?’

‘Yes,’ Grandmother said sadly. ‘If you play around with things you don’t know, you’re going to get hurt.’

‘Who’s playing? I’m serious! I’ve never listened to you before in my life, and I’m not going to start now. No, I’ve made my plans. I’ve promised my partner he could have my daughter for his bride, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen. You can’t stop me! And if this god, Hanuman, can help me in my plans, all the better.’

‘I’m not going to marry anybody!’ Muniamma cried.

‘Hush, child,’ Grandmother said. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not going to have to marry.’

‘She’s no child. She’s a young woman, and she’s certainly old enough to be married.’ Krish glanced out of the window. ‘If you look out there, you’ll see the new groom. He’s standing, talking to the boy, Raneesh.’

Everyone crowded to the window and door to look. There on the neighbour’s lawn stood a man in his early forties who had such a large belly that it hung out over his belt. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, and he wore a gold medallion which hung in the hairiest chest Muniamma had ever seen. Raneesh was obviously upset by whatever the man was saying.

Krish gestured toward Muniamma and jeered, ‘Behold, daughter—your husband! You’re going to marry that man because I need his money. I want this new business venture to succeed more than anything in the whole world.’ With that, Krish marched out of the door, leaving behind a stunned silence.

Chapter Sixteen

It was Sue who finally broke the hovering silence. ‘Oh, Muniamma, what are you going to do?’

Muni did not answer; she just kept staring out of the window at the fat man in Raneesh’s yard. The man suddenly turned and said something to Krish, and they both disappeared into the neighbour’s house. Raneesh thrust his hands into the pockets of his light jacket and kicked at the lawn as he walked around.

‘I think he’s praying,’ Lou whispered. ‘Oh, Muni, this is awful! What’s going to happen next?’

‘When things look the darkest, the light is about to shine,’ interjected Mrs Morton. ‘Don’t lose heart, girls. We need to be thankful for what God has done. Just think, both Muni and Poonamah are Christians.’

Uncle cleared his throat loudly. ‘Our missionary wife is right. What are we all doing crowded in here, whispering as if we’ve done something wrong?’

Aunt Sita stood. ‘Poonamah came to us this morning with a question. She wanted to know how to get rid of her brass prayer lamps and all the other things she used in the worship of the goddess, Kali. I think we should give her some suggestions.’

Muniamma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It sounded as though everyone was totally ignoring her father’s threats. Why would Aunt Sita even care about the old prayer lamps at a time like this?

Mr Singh, the man who often led the Christians in song, stepped forward and looked around the room.

‘I believe Sita is right,’ he said. ‘We need to give our new sister some suggestions about how to make her stand as a believer.’

Muniamma felt like screaming: ‘Who cares about making a Christian stand! What’s going to happen to me?’

‘Listen,’ Mr Singh continued. ‘When I was a Hindu I used a very large, flat rock in my yard for worship. Everyone knew that was my special place. I even laid offerings out on that rock and every day I prayed there. Well, when I became a Christian I knew that if I did not do something to that rock my neighbours would never believe a word I said about the Christian way.

‘One day I called on several of you men’—Mr Singh pointed around the room at Uncle and others — ‘and you came and helped me pick up that rock and put it in the back of Uncle’s truck. We took it down to the ocean. Remember how hard it was to carry that huge rock out onto the pier and throw it in?’

There were a few nods.

‘I needed you. Just doing it together helped. I wasn’t alone in my stand for God.’

‘What are you suggesting, Mr Singh?’ Grandmother asked.

‘I believe we should all walk with you through town and out to the ocean. You destroyed your shrine and Kali’s picture by burning it, but it wasn’t very public. I believe you need to make a public stand as a Christian right here in the town of Isipingo by taking these brass items and throwing them into the sea.’

‘Do you feel that’s wise?’ Uncle asked. He was still standing behind Muni with his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed them gently. ‘Don’t get me wrong, but you all heard what just went on here. Poonamah’s son, Krish, is back in town and he has some very evil plans. Do you think it’s wise that Poonamah and Muni go public with their decision to become Christians at a time like this?’

A long discussion followed with people expressing differing opinions and sharing personal experiences, but Muniamma no longer listened. She covered her face with her hands as an overpowering hatred for her father filled her heart. That hatred also spread to include the horrid man with the medallion.

As she sat and wallowed in anger and self-pity, a vision of her tall, slim mother appeared unexpectedly before her eyes. The old familiar knot in Muni’s stomach tightened.

‘How could my beautiful mother ever love such a man?’ she asked herself. She felt nauseated at the thought of her kind, gentle mother with that snarling man. And how could a father hate his daughter so much? Muni clenched at her stomach as she thought of her father’s partner.

Lou reached over and put her arm around Muni’s hunched shoulders.

‘It’s going to work out,’ she said, reassuringly. ‘You’re not going to have to marry that man, I’m sure you’re not.’

The encouraging words did not even register.

During a lull in the discussion, Grandmother spoke out confidently. ‘I made my decision two days ago, on Friday, after God spoke to me in Tamil. And then yesterday, when my granddaughter read the Bible, I knew I had to become a public Christian. I appreciate your concern for us, but I believe now is the time. I want to go to the sea and throw in these brass lamps and all the rest of the things. Isn’t that right, Muniamma?’

Muni remained silent. She hadn’t even heard.

‘Muniamma?’ Grandmother repeated loudly.

Sue nudged her.

Muni looked up and frowned. ‘What?’

‘We’re ready to be public Christians, right?’

‘I... er... I don’t know.’

‘Well, we are. We…’ Grandmother did not finish because of the loud commotion outside. The eerie sound of shrieks pierced the air.

‘Look,’ someone yelled from the window, ‘it’s Krish and his partner. They’re jumping around and scratching themselves like monkeys! And all that noise is coming from them!’

‘Oh no,’ Grandmother exclaimed. ‘That’s exactly what I feared.’ She hurried to the door and others followed. ‘They’re under the control of a bad spirit. I told Krish not to play the fool with things he knows nothing about! Won’t he ever listen to me?’

The Christians rushed outdoors to watch as the two men continued crouching, jumping and shrieking. The shrill sound brought neighbours, and a large crowd soon gathered. ‘What’s going on?’ a man from across the street yelled. ‘What’s wrong with them? They’re acting and sounding like monkeys!’

Raneesh’s father yelled back, extremely upset.

‘We’ve never seen anything like this. They were praying to Hanuman when all of a sudden they started doing weird things. They’ve just about ruined our house, breaking everything in sight.’

Muniamma couldn’t believe the drastic change she saw in her father. The snarl had been replaced by an idiotic grin. The fat man that was to be her husband wore the same ridiculous expression. His large belly flopped up and down as he jumped around, and the medallion kept hitting him in the face, but he did not seem to notice. Sweat issued from his large pores, soaking into his tight-fitting clothes.

Muniamma screwed up her face in total repulsion. Aunt Sita and Grandmother looked at each other and then back at the two possessed men.

Pastor Morton admitted, ‘Never in my whole life have I seen anything compared to this. Oh God,’ he prayed out loud, ‘take over, take control. Your power is great. There is no one beside you.’

Krish jumped over to a tree and hung by his hands on a low branch. His partner joined him, crouching at the trunk. They both became suddenly silent and still. The screeching and scratching ceased. As everyone gaped in their direction the two men fell to the ground and their bodies stiffened out.

‘Pray,’ Uncle whispered to the Christians. ‘Pray as never before. This could turn into a victory.’

Muni was standing next to Grandmother, and could hear her pleading with God in Tamil for the life of her son. Muniamma wanted to cover her ears to shut out the sound. Then she heard others praying for the life of the fat man. Muniamma felt like screaming, ‘Let them die! This man who says he’s my father deserves to die. And don’t pray for that fat partner!’

The years of frustration, turmoil and hatred reached their peak. Muniamma stared at the two men paralysed in a death-grip, and all she could think about was how desperately she wanted them to die.

The neighbours gathered in close, and Raneesh’s father sent someone to the temple to bring the priest.

The church people also came near and crowded around the two men. Muniamma held back.

‘Die...die...die!’ she repeated over and over to herself. Her mouth was moving and there was an intent expression on her face, so everyone assumed she was deep in prayer for the soul of her father and his partner.

‘I’m glad you’re praying, Muniamma,’ Raneesh said. He stood near with his hand on her arm. ‘Don’t worry, they’re still alive. I want you to know I think you’re wonderful. No other girl would care for a father who has treated her so badly. And to think you’re even concerned about that man your father has chosen for your husband. I’ve never known anyone as kind as you!’

‘Oh,’ Muniamma gasped.

‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.’

Sparky ran over and leaned against her. The feel of his prickly fur on her bare leg and the warmth of Raneesh’s hand began to touch her bitter soul.

‘I’m not what you think,’ she admitted.

‘Yes, you are! I’ve been watching you. Remember, I was at the meeting when God healed your eyes. I heard your testimony. You’ve been absolutely wonderful!’

‘I haven’t, Raneesh. I’m awful.’

‘I want you to know that I’ve been praying for you since the day we went fishing. I know this must be dreadful to see your father like this, but God is able to answer your prayers.’

Muniamma couldn’t say anything. She looked up into his handsome face and thought, ‘I wonder how you would feel if you knew the truth; if you knew how I had just been wishing that both of them would die.’

They were interrupted when the man who had gone to the temple for help returned.

‘The priest won’t come,’ he yelled as he got out of his car. ‘He says he wants money and I didn’t have any with me.’

Raneesh’s mother cried, ‘What are we going to do? We can’t leave these men in our yard all passed out. Who knows what’s going to happen to them!’

‘Why don’t we ask the Christians to pray?’ Raneesh suggested. ‘They won’t ask for any money, and they’re standing all around, right here.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ Raneesh’s father said anxiously. ‘Did you Christians hear that? My son thinks you should pray for these men. I understand one of them is a relative.’ He looked at Grandmother and then at Muni. ‘Would you please pray to your god? Maybe he can help.’

Muniamma’s heart pounded. What was she to do?

Chapter Seventeen

‘I can see my granddaughter is at a loss for words.’ Grandmother stepped over next to Muni. ‘We are new Christians and have never prayed in public’

The neighbours began whispering. An old toothless woman in the crowd spat on the ground.

‘Christians!’ she said, disgustedly. The rest of the neighbours mumbled in agreement.

Grandmother turned and faced the hostile group, then looked down at the still form of her wayward son. Her shoulders sagged.

Raneesh gently squeezed Muniamma’s arm before he stepped over next to his father who was standing by the sweaty body of the fat partner.

‘Good grief, stop your grumbling!’ Raneesh’s father said irritably to his Hindu neighbours. ‘I’ve asked these Christians to pray to their god because our priest wouldn’t come. Let’s at least give them a chance.’ He nodded to the group of huddled Christians.

Uncle stepped forward and nervously cleared his throat. He and Mr Singh bent down and touched Krish, as others had done, to try to wake him. Then they shook Krish, but to no avail.

‘Let’s gather around,’ Uncle said tensely to the church people. ‘Poonamah and Muni, would you please join us? We want to form a circle around these men and get down on our knees and pray. Reach out your hands and touch them.’

The Christians did as Uncle had suggested, all except for Muniamma. She didn’t move. She didn’t want to join the circle. She didn’t want to pray. But above all, she absolutely did not want to touch her father or the repulsive partner.

‘Come, child,’ Grandmother whispered. ‘Don’t stand back like this. Join us and pray.’

Muniamma stared at the ground, but stood firm.

A few of the neighbours began snickering.

‘She’s had a horrible shock,’ Aunt Sita said as she rose and hurried to Muni’s side. ‘This poor girl has seen her father for the first time today, and look at the spectacle he made of himself Aunt Sita flung her arm dramatically towards the two rigid bodies.’

‘She just needs to be helped,’ said Aunt Sita and she proceeded to assist Muniamma over to the circle and onto her knees. Muni was placed right between Grandmother and Sita and directly at the head of Krish. The sweaty fat man lay within arm’s reach.

‘This morning in church,’ Uncle began haltingly, ‘Pastor Morton talked about Peter and how he stepped out of the boat to walk toward Jesus. Peter was doing fine until he looked around. When he saw the wind and the high waves he became afraid. Peter began to doubt as soon as he took his eyes off Jesus. He then began to sink.’

Muniamma felt certain Uncle was talking directly to her. It seemed as if he was telling her she was like Peter. Muni stared blindly at the face of her father who was lying in front of her.

‘Listen,’ Uncle continued with renewed courage. ‘Now is the time to look at Jesus. Stop staring at other people!’

Muniamma jerked her head up and looked at Uncle. She was right; Uncle had been directing his talk to her. He smiled understandingly and raised his eyebrows.

‘When Peter began to sink, he cried out to Jesus and Jesus was there. He had been there all the time.’ Uncle nodded again and purposefully held Muniamma’s gaze. ‘Remember what Jesus said to Peter: “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”’

The words began to touch the coldness surrounding Muniamma’s heart, and tears stung her eyes.

Pastor Morton added, ‘Little is much, when God is in it.’

Muni glanced suspiciously at the missionary to see if he too was speaking to her, but Pastor Morton had his eyes closed.

Grandmother reverently pulled the end of her sari over her head.

‘Oh, God,’ she began to pray in Tamil. The neighbours moved in close to catch every word. ‘You know I have little. I don’t want to be like the man who doubted and looked away. I want to look at Jesus and believe.’

“Little is much, when God is in it,’ the missionary repeated, softly. ‘When we agree on earth about something, our heavenly Father will hear and he will answer.’

Muniamma looked around the circle. Sue and Lou were praying fervently. Ken was kneeling next to Kathie, and then Vijay and her mother, and the circle continued around with one church member after another. All were praying in earnest.

Then she looked over at Raneesh who had remained standing. He left his father and squeezed in beside Ken to join the Christians. Then Raneesh did something that made the lump in Muniamma’s throat almost choke her. He reached out his hand and laid it on the fat man’s sweat-drenched shirt. Others joined him, and one after another reached out in love.

Muniamma’s heart pounded violently. She looked down at the expressionless face of Krish and then over at his partner. Neither moved. They both remained as though they were in the grip of death.

Muni could hear Grandmother saying a prayer: ‘You healed my granddaughter’s eyes, you talked to me in Tamil, and you have forgiven me for so much. I know you can heal my son and his partner. I should not be afraid; you are my God. I don’t want you to ever have to ask of me, “Why did you doubt?”’

The words shouted into Muniamma’s soul, melting a few more strands of resistance. Grandmother kept repeating her prayer over and over, and each time the words cut deeply.

Sparky came up panting from behind Muni and stood between her and Grandmother. He stretched forward and sniffed at Krish, growling. Grabbing him by his cropped hair, Muni pulled him back, and for a moment she buried her face in his fur. The tension in her aching body began to ease.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered softly, faltering. ‘I’m so afraid. I want to believe this will all work out. Please, oh, please help me, God!’ Tears escaped and trickled down her soft cheeks, soaking into Sparky’s fur.

Immediately a surprised but satisfied sigh rose from the circle. Muni looked up. The neighbours strained forward. Krish had opened his eyes, and he was staring blindly at Muni. It was obvious her father’s eyes held no recognition. He did not even stir.

Muniamma held her breath. She had the strangest feeling that God had been waiting just for this moment. Her stiff-necked attitude began to bend. She leaned forward with Sparky in her arms and looked closely into her father’s face.

‘How can I bear this?’ she asked silently.’ Then she looked over at the obnoxious form of her would-be husband. She didn’t even know his name. ‘How could any girl marry such a man?’ she continued. ‘Oh God; I’m so afraid!’

The words, ‘Don’t be afraid, only believe’, came to her mind. They were as plain as if someone had said them out loud.

Leaving behind the last of her resentment, Muniamma set Sparky aside and reached out to touch her father with quivering hands. The immediate absence of hatred and bitterness shocked her. She grabbed his hand and prayed out loud, ‘Oh God, please touch him!’

Instantly Krish jerked his hand away and sat up. He glared at Muni and then at Grandmother. It was obvious that recognition had now returned.

A chorus of thanksgiving rose from the circle, and at the same time the baffled crowd stepped back.

Krish’s partner began to move sluggishly, as if every motion was painful. With Raneesh’s help he sat up and stared stupidly around.

‘I... I don’t know what’s going on.’ He turned and looked at Krish. ‘This is weird. I want out! Get yourself a new partner!’ He struggled to his feet and stumbled away into the crowd as fast as he could.

Krish spoke for the first time. He glared fiercely around the circle and then at Grandmother. Finally, he glared right into Muniamma’s dilated eyes. ‘You think you’ve won, but you haven’t!’ His lip curled in disgust.

In spite of his words, an unexpected calm settled over Muniamma. She looked at Grandmother, Aunt and Uncle, the Mortons, and finally over at Raneesh. Raneesh’s eyes smiled gently.

Muniamma looked back at Krish and said confidently, ‘Father, for me the battle is finally over.’

Chapter Eighteen

A nervous silence settled over the crowd.

Grandmother took a determined step toward her brave granddaughter. Then she reached out and held Muniamma’s hand. Together they stood. Close. Finally, Grandmother turned and looked directly at Krish. She spoke gently but with grave conviction.

‘Son, you were most fortunate just now. You were in great danger. If it wasn’t for the power of God…’

‘Rubbish! Don’t be a fool. I was in no danger. I had everything under control all the time.’

Grandmother looked sad. ‘You haven’t changed, Krish. You’re just the same.’

‘You’re right. I haven’t changed… so you had better get used to me. And don’t think for a minute that you’ve seen the last of me or my partner... especially you, young lady.’ Krish pointed at Muni.

Muniamma’s knees gave way, but Grandmother firmly held on to her. She looked into her granddaughter’s hurt eyes and then back at her haughty son. Slowly, a look of dogged determination spread throughout her face. She stood straight.

‘Son you are invited to come with us... and you too,’ Grandmother said, turning to the stunned crowd. ‘We are going down to the sea to throw away a few things we brought with us from home. Everything we used in the worship of Kali we are tossing into the ocean.’

‘What!’ Krish screamed in outrage. An ugly uproar came from the Hindu neighbours. ‘You can’t. I won’t allow it,’ Krish demanded.

‘I want you to know,’ Grandmother continued steadily, ‘that you are also invited to stay and watch both Muniamma and me be baptised.’

‘Baptised!’ Krish exclaimed, and the crowd seemed disgusted.

‘Come,’ Grandmother said to Aunt Sita, Uncle, the Mortons and the rest of the surprised Christians. ‘Let’s get ready for this baptism.’

Krish yelled more threats and abuse as they turned and stepped inside Aunt and Uncle’s home, but to Muniamma her father’s foul words had once again lost their sting. For the moment, fear had gone.

An hour later, Grandmother and Muni stood in front of the other Christians on the long fishing pier. Pastor Morton and Uncle stood with them. The rest of the Christians crowded into a semicircle with Sue and Lou in the front row alongside Aunt Sita, Vijay and her mother.

Ken and Raneesh watched from halfway down the pier with Raneesh’s parents. His parents had been visibly shaken by the events of the day and did not want to stand with the curious crowd on the shore, nor with the Christians at the end of the dock. Raneesh looked happy and openly smiled at Muniamma. At first Muni felt self-conscious and was going to look away, but to her great surprise she smiled back. Raneesh beamed. Sue and Lou giggled until Mrs Morton stared at them sternly.

‘We are gathered here because Sister Poonamah and her granddaughter, Muniamma, have requested it,’ Pastor Morton said. ‘Today we have watched the power of God defeat the power of darkness. Yes, today we have seen God’s mighty hand.’

Muni could hear several Christians exclaim ‘Amen!’ ‘Praise the Lord!’

‘Let us sing before our two new believers throw away the items they used in their old way of worship. Mr Singh, will you please come forward and lead us in the chorus, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus”.’

As the words rang out, Muniamma watched the hammering waves. They seemed to carry the song to the gathering crowd of Hindus along the shore. Muni spotted her father off to the left of the crowd, standing alone. She felt the old, nervous knot in her stomach tighten. She felt desperately disappointed because she had thought the battle was over and that these awful feelings were something of the past. She hated these ups and downs—one minute brave and strong and the next, weak and scared.

Muniamma quickly glanced over at Grandmother. The end of her sari was pulled over her bowed head. She was praying in Tamil and her face looked completely peaceful.

The song continued: ‘... and the things of earth will grow strangely dim…’ Muniamma let the words sink in. It was like discovering an important clue to a mystery—as long as she kept her eyes on Jesus, she did not have to worry.

‘I don’t know what tomorrow will bring,’ Muniamma silently prayed. She kept staring at the angry face of her father. ‘But please, Jesus, I want to live for you.’

The painful knot in the pit of her stomach began to ease. Just then she saw Sparky dart around the crowd and head straight for the pier. The song had finished and everyone’s attention was immediately drawn to the sound of Sparky’s paws on the dock. He began barking wildly. Muniamma’s heart warmed at the sight of him. He scrambled right up to her and wiggled so hard that his hind end looked as if it would come around and hit him square in the face.

Muniamma threw her arms around her dog and buried her wet cheeks in his neck. Everyone watched the tender scene. Finally, Uncle bent over and touched Muni gently on the top of her head. ‘Now girl, that’s enough. Stand up. It is time we got on with the reason we’re here.’

Muniamma stood tall between her grandmother and Uncle. Sparky eventually settled down at her feet. He began licking Muni’s toes while Uncle lovingly put his arm around her thin shoulders.

Grandmother said loudly so everyone could hear, even the people on the shore, ‘As most of you know, I have been a worshipper of Kali all my life. Many of you have seen me at the temple doing my duty as a Hindu. Well, two days ago something wonderful happened to me. The true and living God, the God of the Christians, spoke to me in Tamil.’

Snickering could be heard from the shore, but Grandmother did not stop. ‘I didn’t believe it at first, either. I thought someone was playing the fool with me.’ Grandmother looked sideways at Aunt Sita. ‘Anyway, it is true. It really happened. I know the God of the Christians is real; he is alive and he loves us Hindus.’

Grandmother stopped and took a deep breath. Everyone waited.

‘I knew immediately what I needed to do,’ she continued. ‘My granddaughter and I took the picture of Kali out of its frame and we burnt it, then we destroyed our whole shrine.’

Angry abuses and a weird noise, suspiciously like wailing, ushered from the crowd on the shore. Several picked up rocks and hurled them out toward the pier. Others nervously slipped away. A few remained.

Grandmother said loudly above the commotion: ‘We have been public Hindus... now we want to be public Christians.’ Then Grandmother picked up the large plastic sack which contained the picture frame, brass trays and bowls, and prayer lamps. ‘We want to throw this into the sea,’ she said lifting it up. ‘We want our home completely clear of all signs of idol worship. We now serve the true and living God.’

Together, Grandmother and Muniamma threw the big black sack into the sea. As it sank, Muniamma’s spirit soared. She knew the curse had truly been lifted and suddenly she felt alive, vibrantly alive.

‘I love you, Jesus... I love you, Jesus,’ she cried out loud. ‘Only you could do this miracle!’