April, 2001
Dear
friends,
Happy Easter to you all! Greetings once again from
We have just finished celebrating
Holy Week and Easter. Much of what I saw and did was quite similar to the way
we celebrate things in the States, but of course with an African twist. At
least that’s true with our celebrations in the seminary context. I imagined
things would be different in the villages and I had hoped to spend at least a
few of the holy days there. This, however, did not happen. Maybe
next year. Moreover I was hoping that an Easter visit to the out
stations would furnish me with interesting stories for this spring travelogue. Again, no luck. So I will share with you some of the
impressions I gathered while serving at a small out station during this past
Lent.
The name of the village I served is Pangawe (3 syllables). It’s about 15 K away, and
because “driving-on-bad-roads” stories makes
my father nervous I’ll skip that part. Pangawe
is a true village: merely a collection of houses with no central meeting place
or market. On the fringe of the village is the Catholic church.
The church is of an indefinite age, but it has clearly seen better days. Like
many things I have seen in rural
The building is constructed simply:
fired red bricks and a corrugated metal roof. The unfinished inside walls look
the same as the outside brick walls. (In
However drab the church might seem
against its lush African setting, once the people begin to arrive
things change. Now there is color! Now there is life. At church the people from
the villages, even the children, are quite calm. They exude the deep inner
peace of village life in any generation. There is no hollering after people, no wild running around on the part of the children.
If the truth be told, the real
“Gathering Rite” takes place under a beautiful shade tree at the
side of church. Everyone greets everyone in a highly stylized manner. They
shake hands (women do a kind of additional quick curtsey) and ask each other:
What’s the news today? Good.
What’s the news of the family?
There are no problems. They are at peace.
For
people here, everything is always fine, peaceful, no problem. If you hear
someone say “not bad” you know something is really wrong. Elders
are greeted with the word ”Shikamoo”.
The response they give is “Marahaba”.
Both of these words come from Arabic and no one knows quite what they mean. Perhaps something like “I touch your feet” and
“That’s good, I let you.” There is a great Arabic and
Muslim cultural influence in this part of
The colors intensify as the women
continue to arrive in their local dresses and headgear. In the villages the
most prominent article of clothing is a rectangular piece of cotton material,
usually printed with very vivid, colorful pictures or designs. Bright orange,
green and brown are quite popular colors. One such cloth will be wrapped around
the waste like a skirt; another may be draped over the hear
and shoulders; a third may be used to carry a baby; and a fourth (or part of
one) may be worn on the head in proud, rakish fashion. Sometimes the cloths of
the day match or are even identical. Just as often they do not. Color
coordination from a fashion perspective is more social than personal. I think
a good effect is achieved when the congregation can boast of showing every
color imaginable. Insofar as the women and babies all sit on one side of the
church and men and young children (boys and girls) the effect is quite
stunning. And there is no question who gets the award
for color since men’s clothing here is very dull: long pants, and dress
shirt for men; long pants and Tee shirts for boys (usually representing some
sports team from a State they have never heard of). Young girls often wear
vibrant colored party dresses, like Shirley Temple wannabes.
Many people in this village are from
the tribe called Makonde. These people are noted for
their wood carving skills. They also had the tradition of tattooing the faces
of their women with rows of small diamond-shaped designs on both cheeks. In
addition, they had the tradition of piercing the space just between the nose
and the upper lip. There they insert a kind of wooden plug. Some people have
told me it was meant to indicate that a woman was expected to block her mouth
in public. Even today in more traditional societies it is quite awkward for
women to speak in public in front of their husbands. In any case many of the
old women in the villages have these tatoos and
wooden plugs. But the practice has gone out of favor with the younger women.
Perhaps the most striking element of
the liturgical celebration is the singing. It is unrestrained, full-throated, with beautiful,
intricate rhythms and harmonies. The people in the village seem simply to take
for granted that everyone can not only sing, but can also harmonize at will,
and probably also play the drums or sticks or something. Dancing during Mass,
on the other hand, is not common around here. The closest we come to dances are
the three processions: when people make their offerings, bring up the gifts,
and come for communion. People seem quite naturally to fall into a rhythmic
dance step, like a slow, swaying shuffle.
It is the custom that when they
bring up the bread and wine the people also bring forward things they have
recently made or harvested like soap, corn, coconuts, or eggs. I always make
it a point to hold these things up high so the people can know that their gifts
are honored and accepted. One Sunday, behind a group of children who were
brining forward an ear of corn each, I could see a group of maybe six or eight
older women carrying something low to the ground. When they finally reached the
altar I could see they had brought forward a 50 lbs. sack of freshly ground
corn meal. The deacon and the two small servers and I had a devil-of-a-time
lifting that sack high enough for everyone to see! But we did
it...somewhat...to great cheers and ululations.
Ah that’s another thing that
was difficult to get used to during Mass: ululations. It’s a loud,
piercing cry made mostly by women but also by man, to express great joy. The
first time you hear it you are quite unprepared. It makes the hair on the back
of your neck stand straight up! But after a while you get quite used to it and even
look forward to it. But like anywhere, some people seem quite unselfconsciously
happy and joyful, while others seem to be showing off. Just
my opinion.
That’s quite enough for now. I
hope and pray you will all remain in good health. I thank you all for
prayerfully remembering us and our work here in
Fr. Dan