‘Go on.’

‘Let me see; once it started raining too much, and the water rose high and he feared for everything, so he saved it by putting everything in seven days and seven nights into a big boat which was built under the care of a man called Moses who we call the good shepherd who sailed that boat into a promised land. Later Maria and Joseph gave birth to Jesus.’

‘Is that all?’

‘That’s as far as holy Father Ramsy got. He tells a bit each Sunday.’

Isaiah noticed with despair that he had forgotten about his hand and that the row had gone crooked again. He crawled back on his hands and knees to the point where the row went crooked. The young one followed him on the other side of the fence.

‘Where is God?’

‘Everywhere. Mostly inside there.’ Isaiah indicated the church.

‘What does he want?’

The old man thought about this for a time. ‘For people to be good. You know. To stop stealing, and killing and robbing.’

‘Why’s he want that?’

‘Because it’s a sin.’

‘What’s a sin?’

‘Robbing, stealing and killing.’

‘What happens if you do that?’

‘Kwe! Lord Jesus Cries will punish you. You done those things?’

‘What do you mean punish?’

‘Give you hell.’

‘Kill you.’

‘Maybe.’

The young man went away after that and Isaiah thought he was gone for good. But he came back a few minutes later.

‘When do they sing again?’

‘Tonight. I ring the bell tonight at ten minutes before seven. Why don’t you come?’

‘Me?’

‘Come man and join in the singing.’

‘Me!’

‘I’m telling you anybody can come. It’s the House of God. I ring His bell. Will you come?’

‘Yes.’

‘Listen tonight, you hear. Listen for me. I will call you to believe in God.’

His body felt unnaturally light. Walking was no longer the weight of his legs coming down on the hard, resistant earth; but a sensation of drifting as if the shimmering noonday heat was running in the streets and carrying him along with it. A warm wind came scuffling around the corners with clouds of dust. He had passed beyond even feeling the sting as the grains of sand whipped into his flesh. He only closed his eyes, but not tightly, just dropped the lids, and then the wind passed right through him, blowing away his thoughts before he had time to recognize them. The illusion of moving without touching the ground was even greater when he opened his eyes again; the buoyancy was spreading beyond himself. There was no longer any weight to the baby he was carrying, wrapped up in his coat. Other people crossed his range of vision in a seemingly effortless motion. Looking up, he thought he saw rooftops lifting off the walls and drifting away into the white sky. Another wind swept through him and he closed his eyes.

Miriam Ngidi was on her knees behind a large zinc washtub when she saw him coming down the street. For the few seconds that it took him to reach the gate, she stopped her washing and waited, resting on her outstretched arms which were up to their elbows in the bluish grey water. When Tsotsi walked into the yard she got to her feet and flicked the soapsuds off her arms. She knew what he carried wrapped up in his coat. ‘The baby?’