No, the lying minister is not one of the corrupt ANC clowns in government – that’s not news – I’m referring to the padre who officiated at my wedding.
Many years ago – my then girlfriend decided to make an honest man of me – she convinced me to ask her for her hand in marriage. In a moment of weakness, I did the evil deed. Not THE evil deed, you understand (in those days, doing the evil deed when you were not married, was frowned upon by society), I just did what she asked – I formally proposed.
I then went the whole hog: Begged my future in-laws to allow me to marry their daughter, conveyed the news to my parents, bought a suit, told my friends, and contacted a minister. And that was when the problems started.
My wife was a member of the Nederduitse Gereformeerde Kerk (NGK), or Dutch Reformed Church; as they were known in Beschaafd Nederlands, oftewel Hoog Hollands.
The NGK minister was called “Dominee.” He was a serious, pompous old coot, who looked me up and down, and then, in a voice like Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments after he received the Stone Tablets, asked: “Is jy aangeneem en voorgestel as ‘n lid van die gemeente, Boet?”
For you atheists and disbelievers out there, it means something like: “Have you been initiated into the NGK Club, bro?”
Now let me tell you this: No one is ever going to circumnavigate me, like they do to those poor defenceless Jewish boys in the Bible! I did boxing as a sport in school! This was going to be one helluva fight between the Dominee and me.
Luckily, my wife came to the rescue (protecting her own interests, as well as my jewels), and explained that I first had to study the Bible according to the NGK doctrine: Blacks and moffies were bad; the Nats were good; soccer was bad; rugby was good; Dominee knows best, and God always does exactly what Dominee tells Him to do.)
In the end, I decided that the club fees (collection money) were a bit too steep for my liking. I then approached a Methodist Padre with no scruples. Don’t get me wrong – he had plenty of scruples – but I had none.
The hardest thing about the whole preparation for the wedding ceremony was memorising the wedding vows. And what a passion killer it was too! Here I was thinking of our honeymoon (and doing the evil deed at last!), while reciting horrible words such as: “Do you take this ..., worse, poorer, sickness, and death.”
Be that as it may, at some stage I distinctly heard him say: “You (meaning the two of us) shall be one.”
Finally, after listening to the Scruple Man for what seemed like hours, I was allowed to kiss my bride. Legally. It was nice. We were married at last.
The years went by in a flash. As in the Bible (where Abraham knew Sarah), I knew my wife, and we started begatting.
First, we begat a daughter. Then we begat a son. Our daughter begot married and begat a daughter of her own. My son also begot married and also begat a daughter.
Somewhere, with all the begatting going on, the wife I decided we had begotten enough children. I decided to take stock of my offspring – a family census so to speak. Not counting my son-in-law and daughter-in-law (which I did not begat), we were six. (Me, the wife, son, daughter, and two granddaughters.)
Tomorrow night we shall be together; all six of us. I can think of nothing better in this world than having them all around, and over me. What a blessing!
The minister lied when he said we shall be one.
I’m so glad he did!
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL!
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