Ray told us that his three children were waiting for me at church, and when we arrived I was immediately mobbed. Little Anita, age 3, who speaks no English, had me bend down close to her so she could say, "Good morning, Grandmother." What a heart-melting moment. Goodluck, age 9, bounced around and wanted to take photos with my camera, so I have a some interesting compositions of arms and legs. Priscilla, who will be 12 this week, greeted me and then went to stand with some of her cousins and act more grown up, though she kept looking at me and grinning. They have all grown a lot since I last saw them in 2012.
The first service (7:00 to 8:30) was not yet over, so we had a chance to people watch as others gathered in the area in front of the church waiting to enter for the second service. When the congregation began to exit, the choir came out first and then stood to one side, still singing, as the rest of the people exited. It was a nice touch at the ending of the service. Then, the people who had come for the second service, (9:00 to 10:30) began to enter. Ray led John and me clear up toward the front, but I stopped him at the third row, so we were not in the front row. The congregation has been constructing this church for three years now, and though the basic structure is complete, they still do not have the lighting and pews they want eventually. So, we sat in white plastic lawn chairs under light bulbs on wires strung across the sanctuary. John estimated that the sanctuary could hold about 1000, but there weren't that many at the second service, which is smaller than the first, so there were some empty chairs in the side sections. Still, it was an impressive assembly.
Unless one goes to a Pentacostal or maybe a Mennonite church in Africa, the service will be much more liturgical than most Protestant services at home--except for Anglican or some Lutheran services--with a lot of sung responses and even prayers. So, even though we could understand very little of the Swahili, we could enjoy the singing, and especially the music of the three different choirs. The largest choir was composed of bibis (grandmothers), and they sang more traditional church hymns and had a director. The other two groups were smaller and much young. They did traditional African steps and sang contemporary music with a much more distinctive African rhythm and style.
All of the groups filled the sanctuary without any electronic amplification and had a far richer sound than most American church choirs do. Africans take singing seriously and sing with their whole selves in a manner we generally don't even attempt. Little Anita had soon decided that she wanted to sit on my lap during church, so I had the pleasure of her closeness and could watch her as she sang the words of the responses. Obviously, one does not have to be able to read to participate in the service.
The tricky part of any African church service I have attended is the offering. This morning, a couple of white-robed women set up three difference fabric bags--two green and one tan --on a metal frame at the front of the sanctuary. Then as one of the choirs sang, the entire congregation walked forward by rows, starting from the back and put their offerings in the bags. I had no idea which bag was for what purpose, so when it was our row's turn to go forward, I watched where Anita put her little coin and put my offering into the same bag. However, then the women put out another sort of yellowish bag, but I wasn't prepared for another offering and had no more money with me. Fortunately, John was still solvent, so I held onto his arm with one hand and onto Anita with the other, and we marched by and made a second drop.
But, wait, there was more! A large group of people, maybe 30 to 40, gathered up near the alter, but since they didn't kneel for communion, I had no idea what was going on. The pastor talked to them and touched the heads of two of them, but there was no water involved, so I knew it couldn't be a baptism. The group dispersed and as they walked back toward their seats, they all put yet another offering into yet another bag. A few other people stood up and went forward to add to this offering bag, as well. It was all a mystery to me until later in the day, when Maso, the proprietor here at Kundayo, explained that a family had asked for a blessing and that their whole extended family or clan gathered with them and then gave a special offering. I also found out that for the first offering, the green bags were for tithes and the yellow one for other general offerings. The second one-bag offering was for the congregation's contribution to the diocese. I can't imagine any church in Spokane where the members would be willing to walk forward and give their offerings in front of the entire congregation--or give more than once.
And, there was more to come. Just as in 2012 when we were at a Masai church and someone brought a sheep into the church as a gift of thanksgiving, so too this morning several women had placed small bags of things up at the alter. These bags were brought out after all had left the sanctuary and then auctioned off. So, anyone who could not bring an offering of money could bring eggs, vegetables, or fruit and also contribute to the church. The auctioning went too fast for me to follow, or I would have tried to buy the eggs, as they would certainly have been fresher than the ones John bought at the little store down the road. Those floated pretty freely.
We didn't get home until after 11:00, and as Ray dropped us off back here at Kundayo, the children all waved and yelled good-bye. ( Honora, Ray's wife, had gone to the first service, so I didn't get to see her this morning.) John and both remarked that we enjoyed this morning church service far more than the ones at home. The rapt attention of the congregation, the full-hearted participation in singing and liturgy, and the generous giving showed a zeal and dedication that I rarely see at home. John commented that in comparison, our Presbyterian service seems more like a committee meeting. Next Sunday, we will return and take the students with us.
As soon as we got home from church, I put together four chicken thighs, sauted some onions, peeled five plum tomatoes and put everything together with some spices. Once again, I heated up the pot to a bubbling boil and then enclosed it tightly in the Wonderbag. The question was: Would the Wonderbag be able to cook complete pieces of chick as well as it had chopped up veggies and ground beef? Eight hours later we found out that the answer was definitely a strong affirmative. The chicken was perfectly done! I had shown the closed up Wonderbag to Maso, the proprietor here at Kundayo, during the afternoon when he dropped by to visit with John. He was amazed, and said he wanted to go online and read all about it, as it would save a lot of charcoal, gas, and electricity. From my two experience with it, I'd give the Wonderbag a 5-star rating. The problem now is to whom shall I give it when I leave?
what a beautiful description of everything..the children sound wonderful..the whole thing sounds wonderful..
ReplyDeleteI was also wondering who gets the wonderbag..I bet they will reveal themselves to you.
Kathleen M
I think there would be so much you would love here--even church services.
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