A Different Church Service

With Karen out of town for the weekend, I was left to find someone else to go to church with. Vivian offered for me to go to church with her and her family. Everyone here is so welcoming and always makes sure I'm included in events. After my weekend plans of going to the Lewa Marathon fell through, people immediately started making plans for me. I received phone calls at eight in the morning (I don't think anyone ever sleeps in) from Karen making sure I had something to do each day. Vivian had made plans with me the night before and around eleven I was picked up by Vivian's friends. Tommy, the Italian guy, came along as well. I knew just from the fact that I wouldn't be the only Caucasian person in the audience that this would be a different church service from the one I had attended last week. On our way, one of the Italian guys riding in the car with us couldn't get his seat positioned up-right. As he was muttering to himself in Italian, I had to start laughing. I felt as if I was witnessing some sort of cartoon.

The church we attended was a Catholic one and quite similar to Catholic churches in the States but with an African flare. The prayers were the ones I have seen Catholics memorize and without hymn books, all the songs were memorized as well. The African flare came into play during the time the choir sang. They used instruments such as drums and tambourines, and the audience dance and clapped to the music. The sermon was not shouted into a microphone. Actually, I could barely hear was was being said, or understand it for that matter. The priest had a thick Italian accent. Another difference, this service only lasted for a little over an hour. As much as I love going to church, I was really happy the service was not three hours. The church was also set up differently. Instead of being crammed into a small building, the sanctuary was open, with a roof over our heads. I found this experience interesting. It went to show that as "westernized" as people have made Africa, the culture will always prevail.

After church, Vivian had me over to her house for lunch. On our way, we stopped at a local bakery to pick up some fresh buns. She served me rice and beans and although that seems to be the consistent meal I have at the Guest House, the way in which she prepared them made them taste fantastic. Damian, being the ball of energy he is, never failed to make us laugh through the whole lunch, doing things only little kids can get away with, such as eating with the serving spoons or making a mess of his rice. One of the Italian guys had brought suckers for the children at the church. Damian, so excited to eat his, could not wait until after lunch like Vivian requested. Thinking he was being sneaky, he bit through the back part of the wrapper and sucked on the sucker through that small opening. When we told him we had figured out his trick he just started laughing. Oh little boys. When he finally was able to eat the sucker, he insisted on sharing, shoving the sucker in all of our faces. We shook our heads but having no concept of germs he didn't understand. He decided to save the rest of the sucker in his pocket for a friend he was going to play with later. Luckily, Vivian caught him right when he was sticking the sucker in. What a sticky mess!

Lunch was followed by lots of games with Damian. He loves to invent his own and tells everyone what they should do. We spent quite a while playing hide and seek. Only in Damian's game, there was a catch. He would tell us where to look for him and where to find him. Playing with Damian reminded me on the young boys I babysit in the states, so full of life and energy. Even across cultures, some qualities will always be the same with human nature.

Vivian had a Fraternity meeting in the afternoon and decided to take me along. The meeting lasted for at least two hours (Africans love talking), and I still don't fully understand what the purpose of the meeting was. They seemed to be talking about schools, teachers, and raising their children. The young children played outside as children do. It was kind of funny how the kids would look at me through a crack in the door and run, wondering who this strange mzungu lady was. After the meeting, Vivian’s friend drove me back to icipe again. Some of the meeting attendees road with us and requested to be dropped off in the middle of the highway. Yes, the busy highway where cars drive fast. In Kenya, people walk across the highway all the time. The guy driving me back talked about some recent kidnappings at a refugee camp his NGO works with. It’s scary to think that kind of stuff is happening a few hundred kilometers away from me. His discussion was a good reminder of the dangers beyond the gates.