SILVER WOODS ESTATE, PRETORIA / 16.30
REEVA Steenkamp stands before the altar of the Reeva Steenkamp Loves Jesus In His Mightiness Ministry, and asks: “Do we know what Christ said about forgiveness?”
Alongside her, Judge Thokozile Masipa blinks away an autumnal sunbeam. “We do, Reeva! We do! Jesus said, if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” “Praised be Jesus,” says Reeva. “Hallelujah!” says Judge Masipa. Together, the two women sing “O Jesus I Have Promised”. The hymn echoes through the vastness of the Reeva Steenkamp Loves Jesus In His Mightiness Ministry, bouncing off walls and drifting up to the roof beams. There are only a few worshippers in the pews this morning, and they sing along as best they can.
“My foes are ever near me, around me and within. But, Jesus, draw thou nearer, and shield my soul from sin.”
A high note shrieks through a broken speaker. In the pews, a Mevrou Neyman irritably recalls talking with Pastor Pistorius about the sound system, and even offering to contribute financially towards its repair. “If Reeva wills it,” said the Pastor, his face a perfect surgical replica of the Bladed One. The Pastor then waddled away on his stumps, one of the more popular surgical procedures offered by the Ministry’s in-house Augmentation Provider.
“The speakers are still broken,” thinks Mev. Neyman, as she rubs her own perfectly rounded stumps, “because nothing gets fixed around here anymore.”
During the Days Before the Fall, Silver Woods Estate was where rich people lived in comfort. “Then,” as the Ministry’s literature explained, “gunshots rang out in the dark of a night meant for Lovers, thus precipitating the End of Days. Now, all around us is Dust.” Silver Woods was evacuated after the riots of ’27, and the Ministry’s altar built on the footprint of the home in which Reeva breathed her last.
Mev. Neyman turns to note two more Reevas crossing themselves before the chunk of Original Cricket Bat kept within the Ministry’s reliquary. They make their way to the replica bathroom in the apse, and take turns to sit on the toilet seat and speak a few words with the Lord.
Once, thinks Mev. Neyman, Pastor Pistorius believed that every man and woman in South Africa would wish to look like a participant in the Oscar/Reeva saga.
Reeva’s slaughter, preached the Pastor, was iconic, Biblical. She was murdered by a man in the Devil’s grip, and aren’t we all just Satan’s playthings, who must turn to Jesus in order to be saved?
At first there was a flood of worshippers, then a trickle. Yes, there were still Sundays when the Ministry was full of Oscars and Reevas and Judge Masipas, but it was hard work gathering this flock. In these days of trouble, people only want to look like contemporary fallen celebrities. Lord knows that all things of importance end up in the dump, thinks Mev. Neyman.
“O guide me, call me, draw me, uphold me to the end,” sing Reeva and Judge Masipa, “and then in heaven receive me, my Saviour and my Friend.”
“Praised be Jesus,” yells Mev. Neyman.
Reeva smiles beatifically. So does Reeva, and Reeva.
“Praised be Jesus,” they say, as one.