One of my teachers, named Ruth, brought me to church today. She knew I was "Roman" Catholic, but brought me anyway to her pentacostal church. I t WAS quite the experience though. The reading today was John 10: 7 by the way, and I think 10, 14, and 16 or somewhere around there as well. It's all about Jesus being a door. You should come through the door with him. He is the good shepard, all before him (Jesus) were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen and they are saved. The whole first half of the service (2.5 hours in its entirety) was songs. Great songs though, that sent chills down my spine because everyone could sing so well, and in harmony. There were these great drums, and two guys playing these home made guitars (one had 3 strings- he was the rhythm guy). There was this guy wearing a suit that acted like James Brown jumping up and down starting the songs, and singing. It was really entertaining.
Then the pastor took over and talked for almost an hour on the reading from the book of John. I had a guy next to me help explain what was going on, but I knew enough kiswahili to catch most of it. "Yesu ndio mlango!" The pastor kept shouting = Jesus is the door! "Ingia na yeye!" = Enter with him. It was a long talk and he was screaming, and being very repetitive. At one point there was this noise from his pocket, and he just stopped and said, "Samahani simu yangu," = excuse my phone. He took it out saw who it was, and then pushed a button to stop the ringing and put it back in his pocket before he continued. Later, in the middle of a sentence he let out this big burp. It's common to hear burping in public, but it was funny to see it at church- FROM THE PASTOR!
Knowing some kiswahili made the talk interesting. I could only understand certain words, and the words I would catch out of the blue would sem out of place kind of, because it would be like: "What could he be talking about?" At one point he said, "Weka Mafuta," = put oil. Another time he said, "Wame shika watiti wake," = The were holding their breasts. I kept thinking how it is interesting that when you hear about people being possessed and how they speak different tongues they've never heard before- they often times are accused of speaking swahili.
So, after the long talk, the pastor invited everyone who has a problem to come to the front and "We will pray for them," as my translator said. A bunch of people came up, and everyone started praying their personal prayers out loud. Many were yelling, some were crying, and everyone was very enthusiastic, and animated. The guy next to me (The translator) went nuts, he was shouting, "mummble mummble mummble, LAKINI WEWE ni mlango!" = But YOU are the door! Teacher Ruth had seated me in the very front row by the aisle (prime seating) and it was at this point that I turned around, and everyone was on their knees with their heads buried in their arms, or on the seats, shouting their prayers. The translator next to me, the people with problems at the front, and myself were the only people standing.
When that was over, there was one more song, and then the pastor opened the floor for any guests to say hello. One man from the back stood up, and he said some things. Then in English the pastor said to me, "You sir, stand and greet everyone." I stood, turned around and said, "Asanteni sana, Nashukuru (and in Kihehe- the tribal language here) Ndilumba." That meant, "Thank you all very much, and then I am greatful- first in Kiswahili, and then in Kihehe. Everyone gave me a big ovation, and then the pastor asked me my name, and I said, "Naitwa Geoff," He said, "Ah, ok, Geoff." He told everyone in kiswahili that I was from America, and I stopped him and told him no- Canada. After that he told everyone the service was over, and everyone left.
I walked home with Ruth and an 18 year old boy named Alan, who spoke English very well. He was the son of one of my fellow teachers, and he was interested in the fact that I studied Anthropology, and wanted to know all about it. When we got to my house he said, "Ok Geoff, I must go now, but I will see you later because I must learn more about computers, and you can teach me." All in all it was an entertaining start to my day to say the least.
Then the pastor took over and talked for almost an hour on the reading from the book of John. I had a guy next to me help explain what was going on, but I knew enough kiswahili to catch most of it. "Yesu ndio mlango!" The pastor kept shouting = Jesus is the door! "Ingia na yeye!" = Enter with him. It was a long talk and he was screaming, and being very repetitive. At one point there was this noise from his pocket, and he just stopped and said, "Samahani simu yangu," = excuse my phone. He took it out saw who it was, and then pushed a button to stop the ringing and put it back in his pocket before he continued. Later, in the middle of a sentence he let out this big burp. It's common to hear burping in public, but it was funny to see it at church- FROM THE PASTOR!
Knowing some kiswahili made the talk interesting. I could only understand certain words, and the words I would catch out of the blue would sem out of place kind of, because it would be like: "What could he be talking about?" At one point he said, "Weka Mafuta," = put oil. Another time he said, "Wame shika watiti wake," = The were holding their breasts. I kept thinking how it is interesting that when you hear about people being possessed and how they speak different tongues they've never heard before- they often times are accused of speaking swahili.
So, after the long talk, the pastor invited everyone who has a problem to come to the front and "We will pray for them," as my translator said. A bunch of people came up, and everyone started praying their personal prayers out loud. Many were yelling, some were crying, and everyone was very enthusiastic, and animated. The guy next to me (The translator) went nuts, he was shouting, "mummble mummble mummble, LAKINI WEWE ni mlango!" = But YOU are the door! Teacher Ruth had seated me in the very front row by the aisle (prime seating) and it was at this point that I turned around, and everyone was on their knees with their heads buried in their arms, or on the seats, shouting their prayers. The translator next to me, the people with problems at the front, and myself were the only people standing.
When that was over, there was one more song, and then the pastor opened the floor for any guests to say hello. One man from the back stood up, and he said some things. Then in English the pastor said to me, "You sir, stand and greet everyone." I stood, turned around and said, "Asanteni sana, Nashukuru (and in Kihehe- the tribal language here) Ndilumba." That meant, "Thank you all very much, and then I am greatful- first in Kiswahili, and then in Kihehe. Everyone gave me a big ovation, and then the pastor asked me my name, and I said, "Naitwa Geoff," He said, "Ah, ok, Geoff." He told everyone in kiswahili that I was from America, and I stopped him and told him no- Canada. After that he told everyone the service was over, and everyone left.
I walked home with Ruth and an 18 year old boy named Alan, who spoke English very well. He was the son of one of my fellow teachers, and he was interested in the fact that I studied Anthropology, and wanted to know all about it. When we got to my house he said, "Ok Geoff, I must go now, but I will see you later because I must learn more about computers, and you can teach me." All in all it was an entertaining start to my day to say the least.
posted by Tanzaman at 3:11 AM
1 Comments:
AMEN!! going to church! Good for ya! Imagine if anyone tried to have a 2.5 hour service over here - except maybe on Easter vigil, which is about that long. Can't wait to hear all the stories. Be careful. Say hello to Sarah, and of course to Jenny..
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