In Search of the Blue Tiger (20 page)

This man has a voice that makes me feel safe. I settle in my seat to listen.

Brother Pearson is a kindly man, born into the Truth seven decades ago. As a youngster, he realised his destiny was to work for Jehovah rather than Mammon. He became a Temporary Pioneer at sixteen, committing himself to seventy-five hours a month of Ministry work. By seventeen he was a Special Pioneer, knocking on doors noon and night, offering the gift of everlasting life. To his amazement and sadness this offer was mostly rejected in a trice. Doors were closed on his face, the householder hardly giving a thought to the pearl being cast before them. Sometimes there was cursing, sometimes a lively debate. Rarest of all, exquisite because of its rarity, was the soul with an open heart. These he would go back to on a ‘Return Visit', as he would write on the street-maps of the territory he was covering. Once a year, or so, he would achieve a Bible Study. This was his greatest joy. To watch a Worldling, though he never liked the term, embrace, accept and revel in the gems of the Truth. At the age of nineteen he married Anita, another Special Pioneer. They had held hands before the wedding night, losing their virginity in a fumble of Camberwick eiderdown and an unexpected amount of fluids.

In the year before their first son was born the couple achieved their ambition to be Missionaries. Two years previous they had been accepted by the Bethlem, where they underwent special training in the Bible and an intensive course in Spanish. It was a year totally devoted to Jehovah, a year of cardboard shacks and the barrios of Bogota. But they have been long back amongst the North Sea winds, the smell of mackerel, and the enduring certainty of the Second Coming, settling down to their family lives: she as mother and wife of four children; he as Elder in the congregation, Special Pioneer and town window cleaner.

The man who is speaking has kind eyes. The same kind eyes as Mrs April. From the front row I can see the way his face and eyes smile when he speaks. Thin lines appear on his face: the script of his soul. I like the colour of his tie. It's pastel blue with light pink shading. His suit is creamy-coloured and he has a bright red rose in his buttonhole. I think it is his heart. He is talking about children. Saying things about how precious they are, gifts from Jehovah, to be nurtured and shaped. Every now and then he refers to the Bible, accompanied by the sound of turning pages as everyone focuses on their books. I join in by staring at the scab on my knee.

‘It is not easy bringing up children,' says Brother Pearson, pausing, casting a glance around the audience. ‘I can see by the nods this is not only my experience.' There is a titter amongst the Brothers and Sisters. ‘Sister Pearson and I have brought up four children. With love. With effort. With kindness and discipline. But most importantly, with the guidance for living, laid down for us by Jehovah God through his inspired scriptures.

‘Which parent has not had heartache and difficulty in nurturing their loved ones? Why, not all went well for the original couple. But don't take my word for it – let's turn to God's Word. Genesis, chapter four.'

Another rustle of pages, another close-up of the scab.

‘Let us read verses one through nine,' continues Brother Pearson, smoothing down the page of the Bible on the lectern before him.

‘And Adam knew Eve his wife; and she conceived, and bore Cain, and said, I have gotten a man from the Lord. And she again bore his brother, Abel. And Abel was a keeper of sheep, but Cain was a tiller of the ground. And in the process of time it came to pass that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an offering unto the Lord. And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his offering. But unto Cain and his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth, and his countenance fell. And the Lord said unto Cain, Why art thou wroth? And why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? And if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door. And unto thee shall be his desire, and thou shalt rule over him. And Cain talked with Abel his brother: and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother and slew him. And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother's keeper?'

I had forgotten about the big white sheet on the wall. So when the collective Bibles close and I look up, I'm surprised to see a picture filling the screen. The slide shows two small, bedraggled children, a boy and a girl. Their clothes are ragged; they have no shoes. They stand in a muddy street, in front of a makeshift hut. One of them has a cigarette in his mouth. I want them to hold each other, but they stand apart.

‘All families have problems,' says Brother Pearson. ‘The very first family in the Bible had terrible problems, problems which led to murder and deceit. And it is the same through all generations. Just look at these two children in the picture,' he says, pointing to the screen. ‘Nearly two thousand years later and families are still rent asunder. As some of you know, Sister Anita and I spent a blissful year witnessing in Colombia. Sadly, street children like these were everywhere. Abandoned, directionless, thrust into a dangerous and violent world. Stripped of their innocence, denied the fun and wonder of being a child.'

Not so much the filthy, torn clothes, the blackened feet, but the look on their faces, that's what I see. Dull, flat, tired. Like war veterans who have witnessed enough, too much. Worn out and worn through. Two small children staring down at me from the screen. They know I know. The look in their eyes sends an arrow to the hollow place inside me. These are my brothers and sisters.

‘If we love and protect our children,' implores Brother Pearson, ‘guide them justly and fairly, nurture their hopes, embrace their fears, show them the way of the Truth, then the paradise Jehovah promises us will be here on earth…'

The slide has changed. I can barely believe what I am seeing. I am transfixed. I no longer hear the voice from the stage, am no longer aware of my surroundings. There, filling the screen, is a drawing of a small boy, kneeling beside a tiger, hugging the huge cat's neck. The tiger is lying in the long, lush grass. Above, in the tree-tops, exotic birds nest. Brightly coloured butterflies float by. In the background adults are carrying huge platters of sumptuous fruits. They wear crisp white clothes and smile happily. Nestled in a hill-top is a beautiful house, surrounded by a wonderland of plants and flowers. Then I realise the boy is me. He has short, parted hair, flat to his head. His face is peppered with freckles. He loves the tiger and the tiger loves him. He doesn't need the adults coming up the hill with the feast. The tiger will protect him and give him all the nourishment he needs.

I climb into the picture. The sun is warm on my face. I can hear the men and women singing as they make their way up the gently rising path. There is a stream bubbling somewhere in the distance. The birds fly down from the trees, a butterfly lands on my arm. Most of all, the tiger is by me. I sense and smell his presence, wallow in the softness of his fur, listen to the subtle rise and fall of his breathing.

The picture changes. I am back in my seat. Next to me is Carp. Ahead of me, Brother Pearson. Behind him on the screen, a blown-up cover of the most recent
Watchtower
magazine.

‘My message to you,' concludes Brother Pearson, ‘my message from God's Word, is that children are a gift. Each is rare. We parents are but trusted servants given the privileged task of overseeing their growing, to gently guide them through the trials, the challenges, but, most of all, the joy and the wonder, the sheer bliss, of childhood.'

The audience applauds. Brother Pearson bows his head slightly, smiling the smile that makes me feel warm and well inside.

As he comes down from the stage I feel compelled to speak to him. I stand up, waiting for him to come past our aisle. All around me people are getting up, chatting and putting on their coats.

‘Brother,' I say, aware Perch and Carp turn and stare at me as I speak.

‘Yes, young man?' he replies, standing close to me.

‘The picture … the picture you showed,' I say quickly, trying to get it all out while my nerve holds. ‘The tiger and the boy. Is it really true? Will they play with each other in paradise, will people and animals be peaceful and happy with each other?'

He smiles again. ‘Yes, yes, indeed. It is all there in the scriptures. Paradise will be on earth, Jesus will reign for a thousand years and all the animals will be at one with man.'

‘Tigers and boys?' I ask.

‘Yes,' he says. ‘Tigers and boys.'

Music is playing. Carp tugs on my sleeve, handing me a hymn book, pointing to number twenty-five.

‘We're Jehovah's Witnesses,' I sing along with the congregation, with gusto, with conviction.

‘We stand out for righteousness,
our's is the God of true prophecy.
What he foretells comes to be.'

Across the road, Barney Butcherhook can hear the sound of singing coming from the picture house. The shop is shut. His mother is upstairs, washing her apron in the bath. He takes the tiny heart, plucked from the blackbird he tormented in the wood, and places it in the mouth of the pig's head resting centre-stage in the shop window. Inside the picture house we continue singing, oblivious to the outside world.

‘But let's go on,
bravely press forth,
advancing truth be our light.
Thus says Jehovah,
I'll comfort and save you,
triumph for truth and for right.'

My Bible study will help me change from being a Worldling to being in the Truth as one of Jehovah's people. It is like changing from one thing to another. Perch and Carp tell me I will be reborn. I hope I can be a blue tiger, but I haven't asked them that yet. Then, one thousand years later, we will be tested again, by Satan, the Fallen One. Satan is a demon and Perch and Carp tell me to look out for signs of demons in Tidetown. I'm learning so many things from them. They think I might be a demon myself. They say I may be possessed and that all my family, all the House of the Doomed and Damned, may be involved in Demonism. They say all the were-animals are devils. And I must avoid them and give myself to Jehovah. Only Mrs April is good and kind: I must witness to her. I need to pray to Jehovah.

Dear Jehovah,

Help me to find a way to save Mrs April from Mr Fishcutter, whatever form of were-animal or demon he is. I will, like your own son, sacrifice myself if needs be. Not on a cross, because no one else can do this, even Peter went upside-down when he was crucified, so as not to be too much like Jesus. Though the Twins tell me it was a stake and not a cross, which is a pagan symbol the Roman Catholics allowed so everyone would be a Catholic. They did this (hung Christians on a stake with their hands above their heads) so the blood would drain down and the vital organs would stretch to the ground. This was so the soldiers could pierce their side, like Jesus' wound in his ribs, not just for Thomas to poke his finger in, but also to make sure he was dead. Like in the film I once saw: not so much the vinegar on the stick as the spear. What a mess!! Anyway, not like that, but any other sort of sacrifice you decide.

In Jesus Christ's name,

Amen.

The Bible Study is so good. It is makes sense now. It was hard reading it to myself in the cellar. Now I will grow in the Truth. For my homework the Twins have given me a list of all the places where the word ‘sacrifice' appears in the Bible. Before next Thursday I'm to look them up, read them all and prepare a two-minute talk. This is what Perch and Carp say happens at the Kingdom Hall on Wednesday at something called Ministerial School. Brothers and Sisters, for we are all Brothers and Sisters, take it in turns to talk about a topic. Though I'm nowhere near being a Brother, Perch and Carp say it will be good practice for when I am, and we can practice when we're together.

Notes for practising talking and being a Brother:

Obeying is better than sacrificing (1 Samuel 15:22)