April, 2001

Dear friends,

 

            Happy Easter to you all! Greetings once again from Tanzania. Things here continue well. After 7months I’m still not sick, and I haven’t been lynched or poisoned by my students or confreres, so I’d say things are going well.

            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 Africa it seems to have landed there from elsewhere...another time and place. People con­tinue to use it, but tentatively like renters. I do not sense they feel it is really “their” church.

            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 Africa they don’t need to be concerned about insulation.) The floor is cement. There are openings for windows down both sides of the church and they are mostly blocked with specially designed bricks. This allows air to circulate while it keeps most of the larger birds and animals out. The pews are also very simple...backless benches with a single runner in front that serves as a place to kneel. There is evidence of electricity, one light bulb hang­ing over the altar, but I have never seen it on. The overall impression the church conveys is of earth and shade. Early in the day when Mass just begins it is cool and inviting.

            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 East Africa. You can see it in words for numbers, days of the week, in clothes and hats, certain customs, proverbs, etc.

            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 Tanzania. Thanks too for those who have donated to the Fr. Dan Project Fund (here comes the commercial: c/o Fr. Eric, 1735 Hi Mount Blvd., Milwaukee, WI 53208-1720). I hope you would be pleased and surprised to know all the many people you are helping with school fees, medicine, emergency travel, dictionaries, charcoal, food, etc. And I always let them know the help is not from me but from you. And that they should keep you in their prayers as I do you, Love,

 

Fr. Dan