My thoughts seem to be occupied with the thought of being at home (USA) again, taking hot showers, having clean feet, eating pizza and ice cream. I leave Dar on September 15 heading for London and then on to DC. It is a 2 day trip home and 3 days to return. That is not counting the day long bus rides from Mkuu to Dar.
Meanwhile, I continue to throw myself into the experience of living here in Tanzania. (Aggie and Fidesta said that I am the African and they are the wazungu). My latest insights are into ways of worship.
Recently, Aggie asked me to join a small community prayer group with her. She does not know many people here, and I think she wanted my support. We meet in homes or at the local primary school for about an hour very early (6:30 am) every Saturday morning. At the end of our first meeting I was asked to host the next meeting. What could I say except, "Of course, I would love to host"! I knew Aggie and Fidesta would help me, but Aggie said that I was to do the reading and give the reflection, in KISWAHILI! That unnerved me a bit, but the reading was short: "Jesus blessing the little children". That week I wrote my reflection in English, and then translated it into Kiswahlil. I asked the girls to proof it for me, and they were amazed that there were very few mistakes. I told them that I write much better than I speak. (I think that is true in both my current languages). Saturday morning came and mostly little children attended (seems fitting). I read my reflection, and they seemed to understand what I was saying. The older girls read over my shoulder. However, I did not ask for questions because I was afraid I would not understand them. I like the small group. The meetings are short and quiet, I understand a few words here and there, and I have to interact with a only few people at a time.
Now Fidesta has also asked me to join her at a Charismatic Catholic service. They meet on Saturday afternoons. In America I attended the Catholic church for many, many years, and for the life of me, I could not even visualize what a charismatic Catholic would be like. Charismatic Catholic? Is that an oxymoron? However, I agreed to go with her. Aggie refused, and she is Catholic too. Oh no, what adventure was waiting for me now?
Well, the service was actually more like a contemporary service might be like in our country, only more passionate than any service I have ever attended. There was much singing and dancing, and you just seem to move about as you feel compelled. The songs tended to be just a few repeated words, so I was easily able to sing them, or versions of what I thought the words might be. (Who knows what I was really saying). Prayers were individual prayers spoken aloud (loudly and passionately) in unison. It was almost like the church was alive. In America I tend to be on the more inhibited side during church services, singing only loudly enough for me to hear and saying my prayers silently to myself, but by the end of this first service with Fidesta, I definitely felt my level of charisma increasing. When I come home in a few weeks, you may not even recognize me because I will be so charismatic. During the service, I was singing and dancing and wishing I could ululate like Fidesta. (Ululating is making this really loud whooping-like noise by wiggling your tongue rapidly back and forth. It is an expression of great joy). Unfortunately, I can barely whistle. The padre announced each reading and gave us time to look them up in our Bibles. I looked over the shoulder of the young man next to me to see the verse and then found it in my Bible. Being able to read the verse in English really helped with my understanding. At the end of the service, all visitors were asked to stand and introduce themselves. Everyone was tickled pink when I spoke in Kiswahili, and they all wanted to shake my hand. After introductions, newcomers were called to the altar. I thought this was so everyone could see us and greet us. Then someone from the congregation came and stood in front of each one of us. The kind old gentleman in front of me told me to close my eyes, and then he turned my hands upward and put his hand on my head. The congregation began praying aloud with the same energetic passion that they had used earlier, maybe even more so. I am sure that if I had had any demons remaining after my experience in Morogoro or if I had acquired any new ones since, they have now all run away with their tails between their legs. It was very moving, although I don't understand why the visitors from this past week were not treated to the same experience. Maybe it had been for my benefit.
On the way home, Fidesta asked me if would I come again with her? Did I like the service? I told her certainly. It was a wonderful, uplifting way to worship God through song and dance and prayer. Fidesta really likes charismatic. Others, like Aggie, prefer traditional ways of worship. Is it not the same in our country? I guess I like variety, because now I go to small prayer group on Saturday morning, Charismatic on Saturday afternoon, second mass on Sunday morning, and each Tuesday and Friday, as I return from the market, I stop at the church to pray. However, I must admit that that is my favorite time, because the church is empty and quiet and I am no longer "mzungu". I am just me, alone with my God.
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