Pagan Girl Attends Mass

"Tell us if there is was one thing we could do for your village what would it be?"



"With all respect, Sahib, you have little to teach us in strength and toughness. And we don't envy your restless spirits. Perhaps we are happier than you? But we would like our children to go to school. Of all the things you have, learning is what we most desire for our children."



- Conversation between Sir Edmund Hilary and Urkien Sherpa from Schoolhouse in the Clouds





November 9, 2008



My village became a much less scary place today- so why am I crying now? I think out of relief and because my mom was with me so strongly today. Sometimes I feel my dad or one of my sisters, but today was definitely my mom. I saw her in the look of each mamas eyes, in little Mary twirling in her pink dress, in the leaves that coated the walls of the Catholic Church- but I will get to all that later. Today was a roller coaster. I am exhausted, I tried so hard, I was accepted. Every minute I have a new thought, idea, confusion, frustration, happiness. There are minutes I decide I could live here forever- I love the people, the environment, how simple life is. The next minute, if there was a plane right here I would be on it. This is not because anything bad happens, but just because I get frustrated with myself or homesick. Today I forced myself to be brave and resolved to spend my entire day with my village, not just the teachers, but the village. If you haven't spent an entire day with an African village than it is an experience that is terrifying and rewarding. It was fascinating and beautiful and they loved that I did it. My village is remote to say the least. I remind myself that I wanted this. I wanted to be out in the bush and they gave it to me. I wanted to work hard for my relationships and I will have to.



Except Katherine, there is always Katherine who, I think, loves me unconditionally no matter how badly I speak or silly I act. So when she hodied at my door at six thirty am on this Sunday morning, I had to get up and let her in. Now if I show too much interest in her she gets embarrassed and won't talk to me. She is like a cat, ignore her a bit and she will come to you. I think this comes from kids here having little to no positive adult attention. I have made cinnamon rolls the night before- she eats one, I can tell she loves it. I get ready for church and we walk to Juster's home. I am wearing a full on African outfit and my nicest shoes. Juster is in one of her great wigs and a similar outfit. We get to church and it is every stereo-type you might picture of a Catholic Church in the heart of Africa. It is one of the few buildings with a tin roof, the walls are made of concrete and mud, there are windows with no glass. I don't know the last time I was in a church and have probably only been in one a handful of times in my life which is fine with me. I am more likely to believe in "Magenie" than anything that will be taught here. But somehow going to mass in a language you barely understand with a bunch of Tanzanians makes it more appealing. So I go in.



There are basic wooden benches made into pews. At the alter is a technicolor picture of a white- skinned, blue-eyed, Jesus. The dirty walls and ceiling are decorated with scraps of African fabric that look similar to Tibetan prayer flags, as well as leaves and vines that have been woven into garlands. It is already crowded but in typical African fashion, people trickle in late. Women sit on one side, men on the other. There are no little black dresses or suits in this service- the colors are vibrant and the patterns busy, I am maybe one of ten people wearing shoes. Babies are strapped to mamas back and sleep or breast feed through the service. I notice that most of the congregation spend the service turned around staring at me. The young children all sit up in the front. Oh the dancing- if God ever presented himself in a church it would be here in those children. They drum like crazy, people dance in a circle, the children weave in and out- arms, legs, and heads flail independently of bodies. Women whoop and call, men chant and I assume it is all about God and Jesus, yet the means of worship is so African, so Pagan, it is so uncontrolled and against organized religion-I love it. And I wonder, as I have so many times before, how Africans believe in God and why he is there if their lives are so fraught with challenges. It is no wonder Africans were all originally pagan, their continent demands it. I think maybe no where else in the world is good and evil, beauty and horror, dark and light- found so readily in one thing or place. It is a place of extreme contrast.



After church we go to a burial- a child has died. We go to the home, mats decorate the yard, here we will sit to mourn. But first I must go around and greet all of the elders. I shake hands with maybe thirty of the most ancient looking people I have ever seen. I sit and am served ugali, beans and cabbage- as I eat with my hand, I try not to think of everyone's hands I just touched...ewww. At the burial I run into the Mama who sat next to me on the drive into town where I was sick. She goes by "Mama David" which is also Roma's wife's "Name" but different person. Juster knows her- not a big surprise. Mama David goes to Juster's home to fix her hair. Mary comes along too. She is Mama David's youngest child. She is six, wears a pink flowered dress with a broken zipper and is missing her two front teeth. I play a bit with her, she is shy but not really afraid of me. A woman comes over named Angel- who is friendly and offers to teach me Kibena in exchange for English lessons. We talk a bit and once Juster's hair is finished we go to walk to Mama David's home. We go to a part of the village I have never walked through before.

This girl runs up to us and says "Hi" to me. She is wearing a Barak Obama t-shirt, capri jeans, heels, as much jewelry as I am wearing, and has her hair cut short and gelled into spikes. Am I back in America? Her name is Vicky, she is from my village but is studying business in Dar es Salaam. She is marrying a man from Holland next month which is not surprising because she is beautiful, vivacious and charismatic. She walks with us and I learn of of this information. (I walk with her everyday now, although she is just here for a brief visit. I love walking with her, Juster blends in a bit but Vicky warrants almost as many stares as I do. She knows everyone but greets them with a scream or a "Ciao Bella". One day she wore a bright orange sweatsuit to go walking, she always wears pants. I love her energy.) I need to figure out the key to Vicky's success and I don't think it is money. Once I know it I can figure out how to replicate it for Katherine and Mary so that they have the same opportunities.

Anyways, I walk through the village with my new best friends, we stop at houses and greet people who then invite us in for rice, beans, chai, soda or some combo of all. I eat maybe a dozen meals- great, so much for the weight loss... Finally we reach Mama David's home. She invites me to come whenever I want, so I am glad to finally have a village Mama friend. I met so many people today, shook so many hands. My Villagers are curious and shy around me but I think that they will come around. I will have to put in a lot of time getting them used to me- but I think the pay off of having them as life long friends will be tremendous.