In my defense, this was written over a week ago but the internet decided to fight me a bit. So it is even later than I intended. But my intentions were good!
Part 1
It’s been a little while since I wrote, and each day that I didn’t
blog made it a little bit harder to actually sit down and document some more of
my crazy life. As soon as I would finish a blog-worthy experience there was
another right behind it. So I will give you my last month in a short paragraph
and some pictures (scratch that - the internet said "No."), and then focus on one aspect of my life in Moundou.
April started out with a week of school and then spring
break. All of the orphans went home and the school yard was abandoned. If I recall
correctly, I did absolutely nothing that week and it was great. We all returned
for the last short trimester, and I skipped out early to take the bus up to N’djamena
before flying to Ethiopia for a week retreat with other MCCers near Addis
Ababa. It was nice to get rejuvenated in the cool, green, loveliness of
Ethiopia before flying home and taking the bus
back to Moundou. I taught for 2 days and then took the bus to N’djamena to pick up my American visitors, Brett and Caley.
We took the bus down to Moundou for a
super fast week of “this is Kelsey’s life” and then hopped back on the bus to N’djamena where I sadly watched them
leave. Then I took that dang bus back
to Moundou for the last weeks of school. And now school is out and I have less
than two months left in Chad. What a whirlwind. Obviously, there are more
emotions and stories in these last two months then I have room to write, so I’ll
stay in the present instead of looking back.
Part 2
I have mentioned before that things that may have seemed
strange to me in the beginning of my term now don’t faze me in the least. However,
last Sunday I attended a service that made me reflect on the differences and
similarities of Church cultures.
My host family was visiting a small church across town that
was getting a new pastor. We were seated in a place of honor at the front where
everyone could get a good look at the white girl (I hate sticking out like this). After the normal service the new
pastor was invited to say a few words. My host father reached over my host
mother and told me that I should take a picture. I wasn’t too interested in the
idea for a few reasons. First, I didn’t know this man and although I am sure he
was really nice I didn’t think his photo would hold emotional value for me once
I got back to the States. Secondly, and most importantly, I knew that taking a
picture in a Chadian church meant standing up in front of everyone and making a
scene. I already cause enough of a distraction by simply being that I did not
want to add a camera and movement to the spectacle. I’ve run into this problem
before so I happily handed my camera over to my father so he could take the
picture. He stood up, walked to the front of the church, stepped on the stage
in front of the podium and held the camera in front of the pastor’s face.
Having someone close enough to thoroughly clean his glasses did not throw this
pastor off at all. Without pausing, he delivered a few lines of his speech to
my camera lens before my host father moved over for a side shot. At that moment
I was thinking, “I could not see Jeremy Waltner doing that in our church and
getting absolutely no reaction from
anyone.”
This happens quite often, actually. A person will stand in front
of the congregation and shoot panoramic video that captures both the speaker
and (to my horror) the audience. My friends and host family have encouraged me
to get close and personal while taking photos in church, but I cannot shrug off
the years of church etiquette instilled in me in my Mennonite church.
A few words about my church. I go to Church number 8. I
think there more than 20 Evangelical churches in Moundou, but ours might be the
largest with over a 1000 people each Sunday. The service is held in French,
although there is a ngumbaye choir that sings in addition to the French choir.
The church building is a 5 minute moto ride from my house and a 10 minute bike
ride if I want to play volleyball there some evenings. I usually arrive and sit
with my host father on wooden benches that, thankfully, have a back rest. The
service is usually around three hours; four hours if there is communion.
There are actually quite a few similarities between our home
churches and the church I attend here. The services contain the same structures
as the US. - the choir sings, scripture is read, a long message is given, then
we have offering, introductions, and announcements. I was surprised to discover
that many of the hymns the congregation sings are familiar, despite being in
another language.
One of the biggest differences, that I was expecting a
little bit, was the energy once the music starts. In the states, I feel that
often (with some exceptions!) the younger generations tend to be more exuberant
in their worship. Here, the older women of the church are the literal movers
and shakers. Women in their sixties come dancing up the isles in their matching
Chadian outfits to give their offering, then catch the eye of a friend in the
choir and hop up onto the stage to bust a move that reminds me of “pop and lock
it.” The traditional Chadian dance is a shoulder twitch that reminds me of a
chicken, but is actually really difficult to pull off. The dance is usually
accompanied by a little shrill whistle/scream that I also cannot master. By the
time offering is over everyone is laughing and sweaty.
I believe each church has its strength and weaknesses. Some
of the traits of Church 8 that I haven’t appreciated are cultural, organizational,
or have been the result of sheer numbers. I have struggled with gender roles
and racial stereotypes that sometimes pop up in a sermon. The power of the
pastors makes me uncomfortable, and the ever-present threat of corruption in
the church. There is too much money and influence that goes hand in hand with
being higher up in the church, and matters get complicated quickly. From the
little that I have seen (and I am no expert), this is a problem in many
churches here.
Often, I miss the simplicity and quiet strength of my church
at home. I miss the comfort of English, four-part harmony, and knowing the
names of the people next to me. I can leave my purse on bench and know that the
only person who will touch it is a toddler looking for gum. There is an
expectation of honesty and straightforwardness. I find this to be a strength of
my church that I had not realized of before.
For its faults, I have discovered countless aspects of
Church 8 that I have admired and benefited from. The strength that stands out
most to me in the Chadian churches is uninhibited, unashamed, pure joy. When
these people are happy, they do not hide it. And church makes them happy. My
congregation delights in the joy of others in praising God. They will clap,
dance, laugh, whistle, and encourage each other. Even better, this joy is not
contained to church. My host family is a living example of joyful faith. I have
woken up in the middle of the night and heard my host mother or sister singing
a hymn just because they felt like praising God. Every good thing is attributed
to the goodness of God, from rain to arriving at a destination safely.
Yesterday I was putting together a puzzle with a 15 year old boy at Altonodji
when he heard me humming a French hymn. He laughed and charged straight into
the song with complete abandon and we finished it together with big smiles.
Worship styles are different for everyone, and I don’t
believe that one is better than the other. I don’t raise my hands in church
because that isn’t how I praise, but the underlying joy that is the foundation
of the Chadian service is something I want to take away from this year. So
maybe I will keep this close up picture on my camera to remind me less of a stranger
and more of the importance of being uninhibited.
