Strandpiel 2: The Naming.

How dual nationality works out for one proud user.

Currently embuggered by loads of ideas and very little time to commit to record because of the demands of a new job. LOTS of ideas for continuing old stories ("Many worlds", et c) and barely enough time to sketch them out for retrieval later. Building skeletons, basically.

A series of episodes and glimpses into the later life of a new character. Readers do appear to want to find out more about her. I'll try to put them into some sort of order. As time allows.

I was stumped as to what the first rite of passage of any new person would be called on the Discworld. "Christening" wouldn't cut it on a world without Christianity. "Baptism" might work but even that has specifically Christian associations. Judaism has the briss for boys and the zeved habat for girls. Briss ideally eight days after birth, the zeved habat appears to have no fixed date but is done as near to birth as possible; the child remains officially Nameless till the day. So that's Cenotians, then.

Then I had the bright idea of re-reading Carpe Jugulum and noted that Esmerelda Margaret Note Spelling of Lancre got her name conferred by The Reverend Mightily Oats at… The Naming.

So. The Naming it is, then. Or maybe in this unique case: Die Benaming, or Die Benamingheid.

Tidying and editing slightly.

We begin at Spa Lane, Ankh-Morpork. Some years previously. (1)

"I'm sorry, Johanna." Pieter van der Graaf said, taking her hand gently. "I do know how you feel about this, and I really do feel bad for you. But some things are out of even my hands. It has to be him. Even though the man is a pompous insensitive idiot. He's the only minister of the Church in Ankh-Morpork, for one thing."

Johanna nodded, grimly. She accepted the horrible reality. It had to be him. Even though the Reverend van Niedermaaer was somebody she placed in the Verkramp category of self-righteous, ultra-conservative, foaming-at-the-brain, borderline lunatic that her native country not only nurtured, but placed into positions of authority. He was a minister of the Kerrigian Reformed Church of the Great Gods Blind Io and Offler, which had approval as the State Religion of Rimwards Howondaland. Johanna had been birthed into this church as indeed had just about everybody else in her nation. It was really the only option for the Naming of her newborn daughter. Ponder had no religion as such. Johanna wished he did; it would have made it easier to defy convention and bypass the crushing weight of expectattion her nation and her family were forcing on her.

"You know how it works, Johanna." her uncle said. "It's our national religion. It's protected and promoted by law as state faith."

He paused and amended himself. Although a career diplomat, Pieter van der Graaf was also a honest man.

At least, a religion for white people. Van Niedermaaer was wished on me as Chaplain to the Embassy. By extension he's Pastor to our people in this city. And Bekki gets full citizenship by right of parentage. With all consequent rights. And obligations. Which means she pretty much has to be Named into the Kerrigian Church. It's expected. Therefore…"

Johanna sighed.

"I know, Uncle."

Pieter, her nation's Ambassador to Ankh-Morpork, gave her a consoling hug.

"Your parents are here, and they pretty much insist. Well, at least your mother absolutely insists. And I know my sister. When she insists, things happen. Your Aunt Friejda, too. At least your father thinks so long as somebody in a dog-collar does what he has to and blesses the child, he's easy. So long as he has the blessed decency to keep the ceremony short, so they can get down to wishing the child health and happiness over a big drink. Which in your father's mind is the real purpose of the event."

Pieter and Johanna shared a smile.

"And I'll be there sharing the bottle with him. Especially after everything else that happened." (2) her uncle added.

"I think I'll need a very big drink too, by then," Johanna agreed, ruefully.

The Naming was arranged and agreed. The disregarded parents sat to one side, as other people made the Arrangements. The Other People were principally mrs Agnetha Smith-Rhodes, grandmother of the child to be named, and Lady Friejda van der Graaf, wife of the Ambassador and great-aunt to the child. Other invited planners dutifully submitted their own contributions for consideration. Johanna, aware that she was merely the mother, sat back and considered the priest.

There was, she knew, a chapel at the Embassy. Recently the White Howondalandian community in the City had been allowed a small building off Gods Street – it had to be off Gods Street, religious space was at a premium and the smaller churches had to scramble for what they could get. It had inevitably been refurbished in the austere Kerrigian style that was almost mandated for kirks and chapels at Home. Religion at Home had no room for frippery or flounces, preferring a stark empty simplicity thought ideal for people to contemplate their Gods, without risk of distraction by worldly things. Naturally the Naming was to happen there. Johanna and Ponder had wanted to book one of the larger and more visually attractive side chapels at Small Gods for the Naming, but had been over-ruled by the committee of elder females who were supervising the Event.

Johanna sighed. She could have accepted this. But her nation's only church in the City was presided over by the Reverend Erasmus van Niedermaaer. Who she found hard to accept. But who had a thriving religious community, almost exclusively made up of expatriate Rimwards Howondalandians.(3) People went to his Octeday services because.. well, there was a feeling you had to. Partly because however tedious the Service, it was a reminder of Home, keeping up the old ways. A lurking dread that if you didn't attend, people would notice. That as it was the authorised and established state religion, somebody was there taking attendance and making careful notes as to who didn't show. Written notes. To be attached to files later, at the Bureau of State Security. Liutnant Verkramp, the BOSS sector head in Ankh-Morpork, was a dedicated communicant. And look on the bright side, it drew community together and the after-service social was something to look forward to. In summer, there might even be a social braai.

Johanna Smith-Rhodes had evaded attendance for a long time, pointing out that as a resident housemistress at the Assassins' Guild School, she had to set an example by taking her girls to compulsory Octeday Chapel at the School, and that also adequately met her own spiritual needs. But having married and moved out, relinquishing the resident pastoral role at Raven House, she had discovered she was now bereft of an excuse. Reluctantly, she had made the effort to attend and had discovered it was as utterly dreadful as she'd expected. She had made Ponder attend with her, pointing out he could only improve his understanding of Vondalaans and the more formal Kerrigian used for the liturgy. Ponder had sighed deeply and started attending with her. He had conceded that at least his understanding of his wife's first language was rapidly improving. But that priest, Johanna…

The Kerrigian Reformed Church of the Great Gods Blind Io and Offler, Die Kerrigisch Hervormde Kerk van die Groetegotts Io en Offler van Hovondalaand, was held to be heterodox by both the Ionian and the Offlerian establishments. In layman's terms, it managed to diverge from the accepted orthodox doctrines, whilst remaining a carefully measured theological judgement or two on the right side of being schismatic and heretical. The practical result of this, as High Priest Hughnon Ridcully once remarked in conversation with Johanna Smith-Rhodes, was that "Unfortunately, that bloody total arsehole of a priest of yours is still a brother-in-Io, just about, and much as I'd like to, I cannot turn him around and propel him out of the door of me Temple on the toecap of me boot, d'y'follow? I still have to show the bloody damned man the courtesies."

The Offlerian establishment felt much the same. Offler was a god of the Klatchian, or Howondalandian, continent (it depended which end of the continent you'd been born on), and the first emigrants from the Central Continent had taken the pragmatic point of view that they may as well combine the two and have one Kerk that venerated both Great Gods equally. Thus the Kerrigian Reformed Church managed to simultaneously be a fully paid up member of both congregations. As both the Ionians and the Offlerians benefitted from this in terms of bums-on-pews and more importantly in terms of cash-in-offertory-boxes, this was not an issue in itself. It was just held that time and distance had caused the daughter faith in the Colonies to, err, diverge a little in terms of doctrine, theology and pastoral practice. In some potentially worrying and embarrassing ways. (4) This business of being appointed as Established State Church, for instance.

To which the Elders of the Synod of the Kerrigian Reformed Church replied - yes, and your point is, exactly? Some of your churches don't believe trolls have souls to save. Some don't even admit dwarfs. You're divided about goblins. Vorbei, once you've sorted that one out, come back and raise the issue of our teaching on blecks and natives.

Johanna admitted that like so many other things, religion in her native Rimwards Howondaland went its own bloody-minded way, raising a variable number of fingers at the rest of the Disc and inviting it to go voetsaak if you don't like the way we do things here. It's our country, and listen, Morporkian, who won the bloody War of Independence anyway?

She sighed again and wondered if the Morporkians had been right about the Boor thing. It had began, she suspected, as a snidey and deliberate mis-spelling of the word Boer. The two words were pronounced virtually the same way. Her Boer people had heard about this. Then thy'd shrugged, raised a metaphorical finger or two towards Ankh-Morpork, and started using the word with pride to describe themselves. Boer and Boor were used virtually interchangeably. Almost as a badge of pride. It summed her Volk up. Ever since what Ankh-Morpork persisted in calling The Boor War, which her Volk proudly called The War of Independence.

And now a new daughter had been born to the Boer volk – albeit several thousand miles away from Home – and because of this she had to deal with the biggest Boor of all. Who was, despite all her inclinations and wishes, booked to preside over her official Naming.

Johanna reflected that the Naming had already been done, on the memorable night of Bekki's birth, in a manner that involved closest family and a couple of dear family friends, and that was a million times more important and significant. Wasn't it? But it still had to be done officially. Under the auspices of the State Church. After which, Uncle Pieter had confirmed, Bekki's status as a full citizen of Rimwards Howondaland would be Official, and her birth could be registered, and the Birth Certificate issued. Vetinari had got in first, unsurprisingly. Johanna had received a personal letter of congratulations, confirming Bekki's status by birth and father as a full subject of Ankh-Morpork and subject to all the rights and obligations thereof. Signed by the Patrician himself, and you could not get a more emphatic statement of nationality than that. She wondered if Vetinari had some long-term objective in mind, and wondered what sort of things her adult daughter might end up doing for a living in twenty years time. And who for.

All in good time...

She considered the Reverend Erasmus van Niedermaaer. She shuddered slightly. The man even looked like a well-fed rat, or at least some species of higher rodent in a dog-collar. Smug, oily, self-righteous, proclaiming from the pulpit about the Io and Offler-given superiority of the white race, the unquestionable and Gods-ordained requirement for separation of the races, but do not get me wrong, brethren and sisters, we are called by the Gods to be stewards of the peoples and to treat the blacks kindly and with correct paternal guidance in their Gods-ordained role as servants and labourers, that they might find their own place in the world and be righteous in the sight of the Gods, for they are also created by the Gods and are their children…

Ponder winced at this too. As he remarked, somehow the pastor's being reasonable and understanding was ten times worse than if he'd been openly abusive and derogatory about black people. The fact he was trying conscientiously to be kind to them and to make allowances... Johanna thought this was one of the finer and more adorable things about Ponder. He too did not like the idea of this man being priest to their family and his having any sort of role, however small, in the upbringing of their daughter. But they were stuck with him, it seemed. Politics, expediency and good citizenship dictated this. Again she wondered if there was any way around this.

And now he, the obnoxious priest, was sitting here in her actual living room, primly nursing a cup of tea, smoothly going over the details of the Naming with those who would have roles to play on the day. As many of them were not Howondalandian, the discussion was in Morporkian, as a courtesy. Johanna, who as merely the mother of the child was sidelined, carried on watching the people and their body language to read what it told her. Blessing the maid, standing dutifully away from the group ready to refresh teacups, her body language conveying that she wished she was somewhere else. Johanna understood this. At least she's black. Invisible till needed. A mobile part of the furniture in the eyes of a lot of people here.

Her parents. Who'd arrived on the Night and were showing no inclination to go home again. They can't. Father was involved on the Night and he's a witness at the trial. Till then I'm stuck with them. At least Father is impatient and clearly struggling to treat the man with due courtesy. And Mother was brought up to be dutiful and respectful to ministers of religion. But she has frowned slightly.

Uncle Pieter and Aunt Friejda. Uncle has the look on his face. It is clearly saying "Put up with this, Johanna. Try not to make any waves. If you can." Meanwhile my aunt is filled with pride and importance and determined to make this a family day to remember. She is giving that ridiculous little priest unforced respect and attention. But this is demanded of her in her position.

Cousin Julian. He has to be here as he is Family and has consented to be Bekki's official Godsfather. I want him to be. I cannot think of a better man. But he clearly thinks much of this is nonsense. And he represents his father, Uncle Charles Smith-Rhodes. Who might as well be sitting here himself. As the silly and toxic little priest knows. Uncle Charles is not a man to be disregarded. Nor is Julian.

Johanna reached across and took her husband's hand. She smiled at him reassuringly. Poor Ponder. Still finding his feet among people of a different culture, with different ideas of what is important, who in the main speak a different language which he is still learning, and intimidated by my father, although Father does really like him. How can I make this work for him?

And others...

Irena Politek was present and making a point of treating the priest with absolutely correct and impeccable courtesy. Johanna thought she knew why. The Kerrigian Reformed Church still held to the old doctrine that had prevailed in Sto Kerrig centuries ago when the emigrants had left to colonise Howondaland. Witches are an abomination in the eyes of the God Blind Io and shall not be permitted to dwell among you, nor shall a woman discovered Witch be permitted to live.

Ionianism in the Central Continent had abandoned this doctrine a long time ago. It had persisted in Howondaland. If there were witches in her native country, they were operating clandestinely. White witches, anyway. Johanna smiled slightly. One of the lesser duties of the Bureau of State Security at Home was witch-finding. They had to enforce that law too. It was written into Law at home – which was also carried over from the old laws of Sto Kerrig that the emigrants had taken with them.

And right now, the Reverend van Niedermaaer was raising objections to the idea of allowing a Witch into his Kerk. And indeed of permitting one to be a Godsmother. Irena was being as pointedly polite as a Witch can be. Johanna was surprised the priest was not heeding the warning signs. Ag, how long has he been in this City? And still alive?

"Eish, man!" her father burst out. "This should not be up for discussion! Irena was there on that night. She brought me to this place, quickly, where I was needed. I thank her for that. She got Johanna to the hospital. She attended at the birth and helped our grand-daughter into this world. The child is even named after her and will carry the name Irena. She is a friend to our family, and I do not abandon my family's friends. She is Johanna's chosen Godsmother. Dominie, I am not a man to gainsay a minister of the Kerk. But I say to you. Irena will be there on the day to be Godsmother to this child!"

Be told, Johanna thought. Father is nearly shouting at you. And Mother is nodding her agreement. Do not argue this further with my parents.

"I over-rule you." Uncle Pieter said to the priest, with calm authority. "You were appointed Chaplain to my Embassy. I am Ambassador. Officer Politek will be present as Godsmother. I would not normally over-rule an Embassy staff member in their area of expertise except in great need. But, Chaplain, consider that Ankh-Morpork has no laws against witchcraft. Your Kerk is outside the Embassy and not covered by our laws. Local law and customs therefore apply. Johanna and Ponder have every right to nominate anyone they see fit as Godsparents. And as Ambassador I also have to consider that Officer Politek, de facto, in the course of her employment by the government of Ankh-Morpork, represents the City. Are you really going to say that Lord Vetinari's personal representative cannot attend the naming ceremony of a child who is also a subject of Ankh-Morpork? Are you?"

After a moment of reflection, this was reluctantly accepted, but under protest.

"Noted." said the ambassador, curtly. "Moving on? I trust you have no objection to the daughter of an eminent Bishop of the Church of Blind Io being the other Godsmother?"

Miss Alice Band smiled at the priest, managing to convey sincerity and encouragement and sympathy to a member of the Church conducting a tough bit of pastoral work. Coincidentally, she reached down to adjust the set of her sword-hilt. It seemed like an incidental thing.

"The daughter of High Archbishop Band is completely acceptable, sir." The priest said.

"Pleased to hear it!" Alice said, affably. "Oh, and my father never made it to High Archbishop. You've overpromoted him there."

"Speaking of representatives of the City." another invitee said. She had an air of brisk efficiency about her and also conveyed a certain inability to tolerate idiots for very long. "Or at least of its Guilds. And though I appreciate the hospitality here, we really need to wrap this up quickly as Alice and I have got to be back at the School soon to resume classes. No, m'dear. You stand back. I'll pour the tea. Take a break. Thank you. Oh, and here's something for your trouble."

Blessing the maid said "Dankie, baas-lady... thank you, madam.", as she received a cash tip. Gratefuly, she stood back.

Joan Sanderson-Reeves smiled affably at the Howondalandians present, some of whom who seemed consternated that a white woman had not only thanked a black servant, she'd actually given her a cash tip.

"Noblesse oblige, you see." she said. "Not sure how you do these things in Howondaland, but over here, it's expected. Another cup, reverend? Let me pour…"

As Joan refreshed the minister's teacup, taking care to offer to do the same for anyone else who needed a refill, and adding a new cup for herself, she explained that the Guild of Assassins also had a clear interest here, given that Bekki's birth added a new member to the Guild's wider family and that the Guild felt strongly that this should be acknowledged, as in time it would be for the children recently born to the Comptesse de Lapoignard and Doctor Bellamy, who happen to be near-neighbours of Johanna.

"Is that how you like it, reverend? Sugar? Two? Let me… Anyway. As a member of the Dark Council, I was asked to pop by today to make the case for an acknowledgement to be made during the Service that young Rebecka is also by birth a member of our Guild family and the Guild will be keeping an eye on her as she grows. Who knows, she might well come to us later at the Guild School for her education, and we should make it clear at the start she's one of the Family…"

Joan expanded smoothly on this theme for a while. The nod and the slight smile she shared with Johanna went un-noticed.

"Well, we'll just have to get somebody to stand in." Johanna said. "Eish. Shame. I really hope he recovers quickly."

Uncle Pieter looked grave. There were barely two days to go before the day. And the city's only White Howondalandian minister of religion had been admitted to the Lady Sybil with severe stomach and gut problems. He would recover with no ill effects, Doctor Lawn had said, but was in no fit state to lead any sort of religious service. Not this Octeday, anyway.

"Who, I wonder? Van Niedermaaer might have been a dof, but he is the only priest of our Kerk in this city. Never mind. In the circumstances it cannot be helped. A stand-in priest to perform the Naming will be acceptable in emergency."

Mustrum Ridcully had dropped round for a drink. He would also be present at the Naming, representing the University. He'd heard about Joan Sanderson-Reeves expressing a wish for the Assassins to have a say. And, as he pointed out, Professor Stibbons was University and a wizard. Rebecka is one of our wider family too.

"Pity m'brother can't do it." he said, reflectively. "But I'm sure he can find you a good man in your time of need. His personal choice, mind you."

Johanna nodded. Emphatically. Ridcully's eyes twinkled at her. An outside observer might have suspected conspiracy if he's been looking closely.

"The personal recommendation of the High Priest of Blind Io." Pieter said. "That would be very acceptable."

Johanna smiled. It would cause a diplomatic row if High Priest Ridcully's selection of priest to perform her daughter's Naming was turned down. And Uncle Pieter was fine-tuned to avoiding diplomatic rows.

Pieter wondered, just for a second. It seemed too coincidental… but no. Probably just happenstance. Although Joan Sanderson-Reeves had taken over pouring the tea, everybody had been drinking from the same pot. With the same milk-jug. There was no way the cups or the sugar could have been tainted. All he'd seen her do was pour the tea. And nobody else had gone down with anything. It probably really had been one of those things.

"But the service still has to be at the Kerk." Pieter said.

"Of course, Uncle." Johanna said. "That's understood."

From the Ankh-Morpork Times. Friday's late edition.

Fire at a church in Gods Street! Divine comment on the doctrines? Or human criticism of their pastoral practice? Watch investigating!

A serious fire broke out today at the local premises of the Kerrigian Reformed Church of Rimwards Howondaland. At about five this evening, flames were seen to erupt in the roof-space of the Kerk, established to represent the spiritual needs of the White Howondalandian community in our City.

The alarm was raised by two students at the Assassins' Guild School who were visiting the Church, who bravely ascertained the extent of the fire then evacuated the building when they realised it was beyond their ability to deal with.

Miss Mariella Smith-Rhodes (13) was visiting her Kerk for what she described as "a need for quiet spiritual reflection and a need to express thanks to the Gods following my two recent brushes with death". She was also taking the opportunity to repay her friend Miss Rivka ben-Divorah Bechstein (14), (who very kindly took time recently to give her friend a tour of the Cenotian Temple on Gods Street), to explain how religion is practiced in Rimwards Howondaland. These two brave and plucky girls, so recently embroiled in a desperate life-or-death fight against villains (as readers of the Times know) were alone in the Kerk and smelled smoke whilst making their devotions to their Gods.

They hastily evacuated the burning Kerk and alerted golems, who proceeded to put the blaze out. Fire damage was insignificant, although greater damage was caused when one Golem, who was stamping out the fire, inadvertently fell through the rafters and into the nave. There was no damage to the Golem but the Kerk will now be out of commission for some weeks whilst repairs are carried out.

Captain Angua von Überwald investigated on behalf of the Watch. She exlianed to the Times that following many inflammatory sermons on race relations preached by the resident minister, the Reverend Erasmus van Niedermaaer, the possibility cannot be ruled out that, perhaps, members of the city's Black Howondalandian community might have responded with inflammatory criticism of their own. Indeed, the Reverend van Niedermaaer has been warned by the Watch on several prior occasions that he should be more conciliatory on the issue of racial relations.

Captain von Überwald emphasised that arson has now been conclusively ruled out and the fire, as far as can be ascertained, was caused by an improperly extinguished candle. She also gave credit to Miss Smith-Rhodes and Miss ben-Divorah for their brave and prompt actions. As indeed does the Times.

From the Ankh-Morpork Times. Sunday edition.

Extra: a charitable benefactor in Rimwards Howondaland, the noted man of business and philanthropist Mr Charles Smith-Rhodes, has expressed sorrow and concern that the only White Howondalandian Church in the City is out of action through fire. Speaking through his son Julian, a member of the diplomatic community at their nation's Embassy, he is prepared to advance five thousand dollars as a contribution towards rebuilding the Kerk. He also expressed a hope that the naming ceremony for his grand-niece, the daughter of eminent residents Professor Ponder Stibbons and Doctor Johanna Smith-Rhodes, will still go ahead as planned, and that he is absolutely sure and certain that suitable premises and an acceptable stand-in priest can be found at short notice to preside.

Correction: Miss Rivka ben-Divorah (14), who was present at the fire at the Kerrigian Kerk and who helped raise the alarm on detecting it, has asked us to make it absolutely clear that she was merely visiting the Kerk as a guest and at no time did she ever actually pray or make religious observance. We accept that our article made this erroneous and fallacious assumption, and are happy to accept that miss ben-Divorah, as a practicing Cenotian, rigorously observes her own Faith at the Cenotian Temple on Gods Street, and nowhere else. As her faith dictates and expects of her. We apologise for any embarrassment caused. Print this one in full. I get a feeling about this young lady. I'd far rather not have her graduate from the AGS in a few years with any bad feeling towards the Times. WdW.

The Temple of Small Gods, Ankh-Morpork, Octeday:

The presiding priest smiled benevolently at his congregation. He was leading a service in three languages – Vondalaans, Morporkian and liturgical Kerrigian – and speaking all three faultlessly, although none was his first language.

Johanna Smith-Rhodes smiled a very satisfied smile. And Bekki, in her arms today, was behaving herself flawlessly. She'd got a priest and a location of her own choosing. Perfect. Although it had taken a little arranging. She shared a knowing smile with her sister Mariella, who had helped out a lot. And she really appreciated the officiating priest. Uncle Pieter had breathed in deeply. But as he understood, he could not object, for diplomatic reasons, to an officiating minister who had the personal approval of High Priest Ridcully himself.

"In the all-seeing eyes of the Great God Blind Io." The priest continued, in a strong confident baritone voice. He looked down to the order of service and smiled slightly. He appreciated irony too.

"Let us now pray for Louis van Baalsteufel, President of the Republic of Rimwards Howondaland, that he continues to guide and govern the nation wisely and well, with concern for all its peoples, and leads Howondaland to prosperity, and peace with all its neighbours."

Johana noted the emphasis on "all its peoples" and "peace with its neighbours" and smiled widely. Noting the effect on the congregation. Who were mainly, like her, White Howondalandian.

"And now we move to the singing of the National Anthem." the priest said. He nodded to the organist. There was some hesitation in the congregation who seemed, to a man and a woman, uncertain of what to do next. Then Pieter van der Graaf was the first to stand. He was closely followed by Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes. And Julian Smith-Rhodes.

And the priest, seemingly unaware of the incongruity and perhaps the enormity of what he was doing, sang the first line of the Anthem in a rich and carrying singing voice. His people were renowned for their singing voices.

"Uit die blou van onse Hemel, uit de diepte van ons see…"

Johanna stood and sang. This was mandatory. She reflected that the Reverend van Niedermaaer usually insisted on all four verses. But people were singing.

"Oor ons ewige gebergtes, waar die kranse antwoord gee!"

They sang all four verses. Then the priest expounded a sermon on the lines about Kinders van Hovondalaand, noting that they were here today to celebrate the birth of a new child to Howondaland, one who although she had been born several thousand miles away in Ankh-Morpork was nevertheless a child of Howondaland though right of parentage and thus had a rich and long Howondalandian heritage. And therefore in these circumstances he was going to take the opportunity to talk about who qualified as a child of Howondaland, a son or daughter of that continent, which, as a son of Howondaland himself, he had the right to do…

And Rebecka Monika Irena Smith-Rhodes-Stibbons was duly Named in the eyes of all present. Uncle Pieter nodded to a clerk from the Embassy, and the birth certificate was duly completed and signed and handed to the parents. Bekki was now a Citizen.

Barbarossa Smith-Rhodes was the first to acknowledge the priest after the service. He offered his hand to Canon Clement Ineffibl, Ionian priest and Chaplain to the Guild of Assassins. And a lesser son of the Paramount King of the Zulu Empire. White Howondaland's hereditary enemy.

"A fine performance, Dominie." he said, using the respectful term for a minister of the Kerk. This was not lost on other people watching. A black priest was a foreign concept to many White Howondalandians.

"I'd be pleased if you took a drink with me."

"Menheer Smith-Rhodes. I should be honoured."

"Although, jislaik, I'd like to know how my daughter fixed this." Barbarossa added.

Clement looked over to her. She was engaged, as the proud mother after a Naming, in showing off her daughter to interested and attentive people. He smiled slightly.

"She is a very resourceful woman, menheer. And you have known her for longer than I have."

"True, by the Gods!" He clapped Clement on the shoulder. "I hear you have a sister called Ruth? Impressive young woman. I like her. She fought for my family, and that makes her okay in my eyes. Might get to like you, too. Now let's see about that drink, hey? Far rather drink with you people than fight you!"

There will be more. Damn, this got too long and timed out. Watch this tale for the next part. I've plotted out a LOT a lot of story during downtime at work… I've yet to get to the Witches At The Naming, for instance. They will have words to say. Definitely. Then we can get to Bekki at intervals as she grows up and goes into a Profession. And at least one of her sisters.

(1) note for readers: this bit of the tale follows on more or less immediately from events related in Hypermesis Gravidarum and the Discworld Tarot short The King of Swords.

(2) A callback to my tale Hyperemesis Gravidarum, which describes events leading up to the birth of Bekki and the action of the night of her birth. It was a busy night.

(3) You might think only White Howondalandians would be interested or would want (or have to) to attend a strict-rule Church. Or Kerk. But this was Ankh-Morpork. Some Morporkians were interested because it was different and novel. Some for fairly innocent reasons - there were people who like Ponder Stibbons had married White Howondalandians. Some people who were learning the language and who wanted to assimilate. Some Assassin students who were doing the optional Saturday morning courses in Vondalaans language and culture, for instance. Others who were full-square behind the idea that Black Howondalandians were uppity buggers who needed to know their place, and that these Vondalaanders had some bloody sound ideas. But you got that sort of mentality anywhere. you also got discreet but suitably inclined people from the Palace Secretariat and the Cable Street Particulars, who paid special attention to the sermon being preached. And the God of the Month club had given it a go too. Just once.

(4) The history of the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa, for instance. It remained in communion with the greater brotherhood of Protestant denominations around the world whilst causing angst over its doctrines regarding, for instance, the status of people who did not benefit from white skins, and concerning its extremely close associations with the white minority government of South Africa in apartheid days. If South Africa was otherwise embargoed and isolated in the world over apartheid, the argument went, then why was its state Church still given full membership of, for instance, the World Council of Churches? To which the WCC and governing councils of Protestant and Lutheran churches said, well, err, they're clearly Christian, the theology is sound, and if you accept Lutheran and Calvinist bodies as brothers in Christ, then the Calvinist doctrine of predestination apples, and, errr, you can't fault the logic that nothing is more predestined than the race and ethnicity you get born with and err, whilst their application of the theology is questionable, you can't throw them out for that or else all Calvinist churches are heretical, which means we end up excommunicating all of Holland, Switzerland – where the money is - and half of Germany as well as South Africa… errr….

(13) There is no note 13. The Ankh-Morpork Times, quoted here, has a strange fascination with putting peoples' ages in brackets after their names. There appears to be no way of preventing this. Mariella shrugged about it. She was thirteen,yes. No big deal. At least trhey hadn't bitched it this time by making out she was (130). She was happy with that.

(14) Refer to note (13) above.

Notes Dump:

Somewhere in a sea roughly halfway between two continents, the one of the tale being currently written and the semi-glimpsed one of future tales yet to be committed to paper, where isolated ideas are given lifebelts and a signal rocket against being rescued in future. Did I mention I am reading Nelson Mandela's biography "Long Walk To Freedom" and gathering information on what life was like for the other half of South Africa? Useful background for when I come to write Black Howondaland.

From Tvtropes – got to remind myself of the context but I thought this was worth noting as an Agatean concept…. All that copied over was "this is denoted as "隠れ巨乳". note literally "hidden big breast"" We shall find out.

The current SA national anthem – an old song and not just in SA, apparently. It is, or has been, a national anthem for quite a few African nations.

Nkosi sikelel' Afrika
Maluphakanyisw' uphondo lwayo,
Yizwa imithandazo yethu,
Nkosi sikelela, thina lusapho lwayo.

Morena boloka setjhaba sa heso,
O fedise dintwa le matshwenyeho,
O se boloke, O se boloke setjhaba sa heso,
Setjhaba sa South Afrika - South Afrika.

Uit die blou van onse hemel,
Uit die diepte van ons see,
Oor ons ewige gebergtes,
Waar die kranse antwoord gee,

Read more: National Anthem - South Africa Anthem Text Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Lord, bless Africa
May her spirit rise high up
Hear thou our prayers
Lord bless us, Lord bless us.

Lord, bless Africa
May her spirit rise high up
Hear thou our prayers
Lord bless us
Your family.

Chorus

Descend, O Spirit
Descend, O Holy Spirit
Lord bless us
Your family.

It even has Afrikaans lyrics:

Seën ons Here God, seën Afrika

Laat haar mag tot in die hemel reik
Hoor ons as ons in gebede vra
Seën ons, in Afrika
Kinders van Afrika
Hou u hand, o Heer, oor Afrika
Lei ons tot by eenheid en begrip
Hoor ons as ons U om vrede vra
Seën ons, in Afrika
Kinders van Afrika

Chorus

Daal neer, o Gees, Heilige Gees
Daal neer, o Gees, Heilige Gees
Kom woon in ons,
lei ons, o Heilige Gees
Seën ons Here God, seën Afrika
Neem dan nou die boosheid van ons weg
Maak ons van ons sondelewe vry
Seën ons, in Afrika
Kinders van Afrika