Dear
friends,
The dust of the second semester is
finally beginning to settle, and what a whirlwind of activity it has been!
Final exams, papers and grades; graduation; breaking camp (sending people for home
leave or back to their homes in India and Congo, or to their parish assignments
for the summer); traveling south to a special week-long chapter meeting for
mission leadership; a two-day seminar back here and now... nothing! Peace and quiet. Time to clean my room, do some laundry,
rest, sort through class notes and papers, catch up on correspondence, read a
few racy novels, and begin to think about what’s coming next!
These days the Institute is
practically deserted. At Mass and meals there are only five of us, and soon
that will be only three (two if I go anywhere)! But far from being lonely, I
find the newfound peace quite refreshing, in part because I know it is only
temporary. Little by little, beginning August 1, the house will begin to fill
up again. So I am resolved to enjoy the peace while it lasts. I had entertained
a number of ideas about traveling around
My recent trip to the south was interesting
and deserves comment. The trip from
Along the way I saw many onterestingbirds and an incredible forest of baobab trees.
These are the redwoods of
Many of you may feel bored when I talk
about things that happened in church. But that is where the most startling and
memorable things seem to happen to me. Perhaps they remain so clear in my mind
because they are so unexpected by comparison to what goes on in churches back
home. Anyway, recently I went to a Mass that celebrated the graduation of a
number of nuns from Form 6, roughly equivalent to our high school. (Some day I
may write about the education system in
The first was the music. In
particular I was enchanted by the sound produced by an instrument called the
“chungu” or clay pot. From where I sat in
the sanctuary I could see near the choir three nuns seated on low chairs. They
were somewhat bent over what looked like large, rusted canon balls. But the
nuns were holding on to what looked like steering wheels from those bumper cars
I remembers from county fair days. These nuns were furiously twisting these
steering wheels above the pots from which emanated a low scratching/rumbling
noise that kept time with the beat of the music. Later, when I could get closer
I saw that the “rusty canon balls” were indeed simply clay pots
turned with their mouths towards the ground, but lifted somewhat to allow for
resonance. The “steering wheels” were actually the round seats of
traditional African stools. The three legs of the stools straddled the upper
sides of the pots, and when the seats were twisted the pot began to resonate.
It is a special instrument from the far west of
After the opening dances, songs and
processions it was time for the readings. But suddenly everythig
ground to a halt because there was no book at the lectern. But I knew what was
going on...or at least I thought I knew what to expect. You see, on big feasts
before the readings, the book is brought up in another special procession
accompanied by more music and dancing.
Generally it is escorted through the church by a woman who carries it
wrapped up in cloth and hidden inside a pot or basket which she balances on her
head. So when I sense the commotion in the back of church I thought I knew what
to expect. And sure enough, first came a dancing procession of 6 or 8 girls,
and behind them I could see a tall sister being helped to lift a large basket
affair unto her head and start down the aisle. None of this surprised me, until
I got a clear look at what was in the basket. The white form in the center of
the basket was not a book wrapped in white cloth as I had expected. It was a living
child! Perhaps 3 years old. She was dressed all in white, sitting still as a
statue, stately as a queen, holding the book in her white-gloved hands. And all
the while the nun was dancing arms at herside,
turning slow circles so that all the people could see and admire the child
holding the book. Even now I am not really sure what the whole thing meant, but
it was breathtaking! Everyone else thought so too.
The final episode happened during
Mass, but I only heard about it afterward. It seems there was a monkey in
attendance, sitting high among the exposed rafters. The reason I couldn’t
see it is that the monkey was sitting directly above my head, maybe 20 feet up.
For most of Mass they tell me he was very quiet. But, as often happens, at the
time of bringing up the gifts a large stalk of bananas was brought to the
altar, and after being displayed for all to see it was set off to the
side...just next to me, and just under the monkey. Then the fun began. For it
seems the monkey spied the bananas, and for the rest of Mass he kept trying to
find the courage to creep closer and closer to the food. But, thanks be to God,
either he was not courageous enough or Mass did not last long enough to bring
events to a head. I’m not sure what would have happened. My luck with
monkeys is pretty bad. In any case, next time you are distracted at Mass or are
looking for a distraction, check the rafters. Even if you don’t find a
monkey up there you can think of my adventure and maybe offer up a prayer for
me.
Again I want to thank everyone who
has contributed prayers for my health and safety and/or gifts to the Fr. Dan
Project Fund (c/o Fr. Eric:
Love, Fr. Dan