4.4.06
Barraca
On Sunday we went to church at Barraca, the church outside the Village of Hope. We woke up at 7:30 (as usual, but I know jet lag is finally ending, because I’m waking up later), and I had fun getting dressed up in a skirt (I never wear skirts). My parents and I headed to the Bersaglios to pick up Serge (Lauren and Nancy were still sick with Malaria), and continued on the road to Village of Hope. We parked, and got out of the vehicle, when this kid came up to us, and introduced himself as Godfrey. He was from Racecourse- the village beside VOH- and wanted to be my dad’s new best friend, it was pretty funny.
We walked through the gate embedded into the walls of VOH, and stepped out into the field. As we walked along the path, and neared Barraca, we gradually heard singing. It was like those Catholic churches in Europe with all the nuns singing, but this was African singing- so cool.
Barraca was a rectangular brick building about the size of a high school science lab. It had two windows in it, but they were blocked up with bricks – to keep the sun out of people’s faces I guess. This made the church dim, and also hot. The floor was painted red, with the paint that comes off easily (and stains your shoes/socks red), and is in pretty much every building I’ve been in- including my house.
When we stepped inside, we were ushered to the very front row, which was special for visitors because the front row pews had backs. As I walked down the aisle, I briefly glimpsed at the faces of all the people, and noticed the hard, wooden pews that they were sitting on. The singing that we had heard outside continued, and it was amazing. Everyone around me was singing, loudly, passionately. It made the room seem full, and thick, and close.
The worship team was made up of a choir of about 9 singers (5 guys, 4 girls) plus a male worship leader, and a keyboard plugged in and turned up to maximum volume. They all did the ‘sway back and forth with a four step heel movement.’ (I was watching them later, and noticed that ‘the sway’ was four movements. A heel of one foot, then the toe, then the same for the other foot. But other people would take a complete step, and rest on the offbeat. So there were many variations.) They were all wearing authentic African patterns and styles. The women had two-piece skirt/top outfits of the same material, and the men had African print shirts with dress pants.
The singing was all in Bemba, but pretty repetitive in the lyrics, so I caught on for some songs, and made up my own words for others. Fatuma (who for some reason none of us recognized) sang, “Reign in Me” in English, with the choir backing her up, so that was pretty cool. There was a sweet prayer time, where all of a sudden everyone was speaking in Bemba, out loud, at the same time.
Then Everlyn spoke (in English), and had a translator translate it into Bemba. At first that was kind of slow, but once they got into their rhythm, it moved along nicely. At the beginning of Evelyn speaking, she got Serge to introduce the ‘International Visitors.’ He made a joke that usually people are introduced by who their father is, but we were being introduced by who our brother/son was. As Serge called our names we stood up, turned around and smiled, and gave a little wave. It surprised me how many people were behind us, because, being at the front, you don’t get to see the people- they get to see you. Serge also decided to add in that we were staying for 5 years, not 1 year (saying that God had told us 5 years, but we thought He said 1 because He was speaking in Bemba).
After the service there was a procession, where the choir sang, and we filed out, pew by pew. When we got outside there was a line of ‘hand shakers’ that shook our hands, then we added ourselves to the line. People came out, shook through the line, smiled, greeted each other. Each person was so different. Some were tall, thin, short, big, small. I noticed that some people would look you in the eye, while others would look down, or away. Also, there were different quality of handshakes. For some it was just a 'grab limply' and for others it was 'firm and strong.' After awhile my face hurt from smiling so much, but I felt the need to smile at each person, so I continued on smiling.
Serge wanted to leave quickly, and take advantage of the service ending earlier than usual (this one was two and a half hours, and they usually go on for three), so we left, and went back home. I stayed in my skirt (the long, black, crinkly one) all day long, becauses it was so much fun to wear.
We walked through the gate embedded into the walls of VOH, and stepped out into the field. As we walked along the path, and neared Barraca, we gradually heard singing. It was like those Catholic churches in Europe with all the nuns singing, but this was African singing- so cool.
Barraca was a rectangular brick building about the size of a high school science lab. It had two windows in it, but they were blocked up with bricks – to keep the sun out of people’s faces I guess. This made the church dim, and also hot. The floor was painted red, with the paint that comes off easily (and stains your shoes/socks red), and is in pretty much every building I’ve been in- including my house.
When we stepped inside, we were ushered to the very front row, which was special for visitors because the front row pews had backs. As I walked down the aisle, I briefly glimpsed at the faces of all the people, and noticed the hard, wooden pews that they were sitting on. The singing that we had heard outside continued, and it was amazing. Everyone around me was singing, loudly, passionately. It made the room seem full, and thick, and close.
The worship team was made up of a choir of about 9 singers (5 guys, 4 girls) plus a male worship leader, and a keyboard plugged in and turned up to maximum volume. They all did the ‘sway back and forth with a four step heel movement.’ (I was watching them later, and noticed that ‘the sway’ was four movements. A heel of one foot, then the toe, then the same for the other foot. But other people would take a complete step, and rest on the offbeat. So there were many variations.) They were all wearing authentic African patterns and styles. The women had two-piece skirt/top outfits of the same material, and the men had African print shirts with dress pants.
The singing was all in Bemba, but pretty repetitive in the lyrics, so I caught on for some songs, and made up my own words for others. Fatuma (who for some reason none of us recognized) sang, “Reign in Me” in English, with the choir backing her up, so that was pretty cool. There was a sweet prayer time, where all of a sudden everyone was speaking in Bemba, out loud, at the same time.
Then Everlyn spoke (in English), and had a translator translate it into Bemba. At first that was kind of slow, but once they got into their rhythm, it moved along nicely. At the beginning of Evelyn speaking, she got Serge to introduce the ‘International Visitors.’ He made a joke that usually people are introduced by who their father is, but we were being introduced by who our brother/son was. As Serge called our names we stood up, turned around and smiled, and gave a little wave. It surprised me how many people were behind us, because, being at the front, you don’t get to see the people- they get to see you. Serge also decided to add in that we were staying for 5 years, not 1 year (saying that God had told us 5 years, but we thought He said 1 because He was speaking in Bemba).
After the service there was a procession, where the choir sang, and we filed out, pew by pew. When we got outside there was a line of ‘hand shakers’ that shook our hands, then we added ourselves to the line. People came out, shook through the line, smiled, greeted each other. Each person was so different. Some were tall, thin, short, big, small. I noticed that some people would look you in the eye, while others would look down, or away. Also, there were different quality of handshakes. For some it was just a 'grab limply' and for others it was 'firm and strong.' After awhile my face hurt from smiling so much, but I felt the need to smile at each person, so I continued on smiling.
Serge wanted to leave quickly, and take advantage of the service ending earlier than usual (this one was two and a half hours, and they usually go on for three), so we left, and went back home. I stayed in my skirt (the long, black, crinkly one) all day long, becauses it was so much fun to wear.
# posted by alanna @ 10:57 PM 
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yes! sweet. baracca now has backs on the pews. lucky. good my lasting legacy...i get to be the one remembered this time. haha. yes. still havent found my wallet yet but i canceled my visa and filed a police report. anyways dad can tell godfrey i say hi....played soccer with him a few times...the thing is i think everyone knew me as kasongo not graeme. oh well. i like the pictures...although they are quite BIG not just in file size but in actual size so you do alot of scrolling. my friend joel is leaving for tanzania on may 15 for two or three months so i just got him to get doxy instead of larium. ha. we built bombs today and blew them up...dont tell mom. ha. oh i guess everyone reads this...bad idea. k peace. slurpee time with hymes.
# posted by 
: 4:06 AM
: 4:06 AM
hey beautiful! skirt time is it? is this my sister we're talking about? what happened? ha, i'm sure you'll notice in all that heat that skirts are way cooler. ha. oh! "have you seen this man" is SOOOOOO coming to school with me thursday! yay! oh, and the best part of my day today was standing under the pink flowered cherry trees at school with janelle and looking up at the sky. then this guy asked if we'd rather climb trees with him or go to class. so we climber trees. and then went to class. oh, and then some guy started yelling about how the devil wears pink and that pink flowers are stupid and that everyone should just go inside. you shoulda been there to yell back. LOVE YOU baby!
kristin
(you WISH you were negnant!)
kristin
(you WISH you were negnant!)
# posted by : 7:18 AM
: 7:18 AM
Alanna Olson- have I ever seen you in a skirt? Sheesh you move to Africa and start wearing skirts...we won't be able to recognize you when you move back! Keep the blogs coming, I love reading them, and in return I'll try to keep the emails coming. love you lots!
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# posted by : 8:38 PM
: 8:38 PM << Home
