Mistress of the Game

The lovely couple stood at the front of the church with the baby in their arms as the priest preached about blessings and how one thing that seems wrong can sometimes lead to something that is… so very right. How one person can lay his life down for so many. How one must guard life jealously because of its fleeting nature. Everyone in the audience, their friends, family, well-wishers, as well as potential enemies listened intently. The message was for everyone and because of this, there were nods and ums and ohs all through the lovely church in Oakville.

  Philip Arthur-Beck had beaten AIDS, or so it seemed. Although he had not regained his former vigor, he was the picture of increasingly good health. He wore a cream coloured suit with a baby blue shirt and dark blue tie. Beside him, looking resplendent in African costume was his lovely wife Sarah. She had tied her hair with a piece of traditional cloth and wore large hoop earrings that framed her oval face and gave her an air of superior elegance. In the first row sat Margaret and Peter Ankrah who had been in Canada since the end of January. Although the crisis in Ghana seemed to have calmed down, they still had a tough time leaving the country. They were sitting next to Aunty Ceci and Uncle Ola who had just received their permanent residence status and were now settling down to life in the Greater Toronto area. Around the middle of the room, Sarah smiled at her best friends: Ayo, Margarethe and Jane, all donned out in their Sunday best and looking very proud of their friend. Uncle Ebo had flown in all the way from Ghana and was seated on the last but one row, crossing and uncrossing his legs so many times that those sitting next to him shifted to give him more room to do his thing. Sarah’s brother Joseph had also flown in with his wife Mary; Sarah’s immediate family were all present. On Philip’s side, his mother had made the long trip to Ontario from Calgary where she lived close to one of his sisters. She was walking with a cane but had made every effort to see the grandchild she thought she’d never see. She sat on the front row, on the left side of the church beside Philip’s sister Bessie who also lived on the West Coast. Some of his friends from church were also there as were his teacher friends from the school he’d taught at.

  “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered today, to bless a little child who has been born to Philip and Sarah Arthur Beck. Children are a blessing from God and at times like this, we are reminded of our responsibilities as parents. As the word of God says, ‘Parents, love your children, do not despise them’. Today, this congregation is here to support Philip and Sarah, as they together raise this beautiful baby in the fear and beauty of the Lord Jesus Christ.”

  The priest reached over to take the baby from Sarah who handed him over reluctantly.

  “What is the child’s name?”

  Philip and Sarah looked at each other and smiled.

  “Jason Arthur-Beck,” they both said.

  Baby Jason shifted and twisted in the priest’s arms. Everyone was smiling. He was small, having been born prematurely at six months. He had spent the last three months in intensive care at the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto and everyday had been a miracle. Even to Margaret, who made sure that she and baby Jason had some alone time even under the prying eyes of the excellent nurses.

  “Jason Arthur-Beck, I bless you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. May you grow up to know the difference between wrong and right, may you be selfless in your human ambition, may you seek to love without seeking anything in return and in your quest to make meaning in your world, may you touch many hearts. In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen. Shall we all stand and sing Hymn 244 – O Perfect Love.”

  Margaret was beaming; she was now the grandmother she’d always dreamed she could be. She had to admit that being a mother was very exhilarating too: you get to raise your child, watch her mature, help her in her time of need and occasionally, just occasionally, offer something a little bit more than help to prod the natural order of things along. Margaret was a good mother. She’d told herself this many, many times. There was no one on earth who could make her feel guilty. Absolutely no-one.

  Yeh de nam na eyi nam. You’ve got to use fish to catch fish.