Written September 2, 2012

Posted later tonight … I think

Oh Sunday . . .what an interesting day here in Quissico.

Take a wild guess at what I did today (pause for thought formulation) – that’s right, I went to church! (pause for reaction)

As many of you know, my distaste- no that’s not the right word. . . I don’t not like church/religion. . I just don’t like it for me, and feel that over history, religion (while it does great good) as also done great harm to our world. It’s a catch 22. I feel that those who can put blind faith into something that they can neither see, feel, touch or smell (unless you are next to someone who forgoes deodorant) is both a bit crazy, as well as commendable. I simply have too many questions for one specific religion, and enjoy learning about them all. So with that said, as a means of my “integration” here into my town, I am planning on attending all of the various services offered here.

Quissico, while a small town on the EN1, is home to many many different religions. From Zion, to 7^th Day, to Catholic, Islamic . . .you name it, we probably have it here. Today was my first church-going experience here in Mozambique, many of my fellow volunteers went during our time in Namaacha, but I never did (mainly because my family was never around on weekends) so today I had my first taste.

I attended a service for the Zion faith, accompanied by my 11 year old neighbor (we are becoming friends, he likes to hang out and ask me questions, and I do the same thing). We walked maybe 10 minutes into the campu, not a far distance by any means, to come upon this concrete structure that looked more like a gutted-out house than anything. It was literally 4 walls of cement blocks, a tin roof, and a sand floor. There were estera’s laid out on the ground (the straw mats) to sit on, the women sat in the center, while the men sat at the front facing us.

I should take a moment to describe what I wore to church, its not proper for women to wear pants or short skirts to church, so I used a capulana wrapped around my legs as a skirt that came to my ankles, I wore a plain cowl-necked t-shirt (no cleavage) and used one of my scarves to cover my head. To be honest, I looked more like a hippie than someone going to church, but the women appreciated my capulana, and the men commented on how it was nice that I covered my head out of respect. In my mind I was thinking – “duh, if I’m going to do this church thing, I’m going to do it right.” But regardless. My outfit was a success and I was welcomed into the church.

I sat between two women I didn’t know, my 11 year old friend was in the front with the other boys/men.  We were handed two small blocks of wood, to be used as musical accompaniment during songs.

I don’t know if any of you have ever tried sitting on an uneven surface, on a straw mat, with no backrest, in a side-kneel or legs straight out position (criss-cross legs are forbidden for women here) for longer than 30 minutes. . .but its TOUGH! Now add another 3.5 hours onto that, and welcome to my morning!

Yep, if you did your math correctly, I was in a church service for 4 hours today. It was a life experience that I could never have in the states, and really I had nothing else to do today, so I just took it all in stride and tried to enjoy myself.

The singing was really cool- that’s something about this country that I’ve fallen in love with. Its sort of a call and response type of singing, but then it blends into this harmony that is so awkward its truly beautiful, and then on top of it all, there is always a contrasting voice mixed in somewhere too. With the vocal melodies, a small drum played by one of the boys, and our wooden blocks that we clapped in an odd rhythm, the music we made sounded really and truly African (there is no other word I could think to describe it).

The entire service was done in the local language, so I picked up on a few words/phrases that I hear everyday, but for the most part I had no idea what was going on. I think I prefer it that way – most of my distaste for religion in the states comes from me overanalyzing the information presented. Here, I allowed my ignorance to be bliss, and listened, clapped the wooden blocks, and just watched as the songs and prayers of the people around me were sent up to the heavens.

It was a long process, not something I want to go through again at that church anytime soon, but I think it was a great first impression of church here in Moz. People were very receptive of me showing interest in their life and beliefs, no one tried forcing me into praying, and they simply suggested I come back another time. No one tried to shove the religion down my throat, or demand that I participate, there were no fancy pews, no one in particular leading the service. . just a group of people who were together on a Sunday to share stories of hope, fear, good and evil. At least that’s what I gathered.

I also couldn’t help but think about churches around the world, at home in Dormont, we have some truly beautiful churches, and that’s only a start. Think of the ones in bigger cities in the US, and then reach your minds over to Europe, to India, to wherever you feel like it. There are houses of worship all around the world, including places that aren’t churches. Sometimes it’s a football field, a soccer pitch, a stage, a garden – wherever people go to find their peace, or feel they are connected to something greater than them. Just something I was thinking about during services today.

OMG – I almost forgot to tell you!! So there I was, sitting on the ground, in some remote, half falling-apart building, listening to hymns in a local African language – totally in my “peace corps” life – when I look over to this little baby sitting on his mom’s lap next to me . . . what is the kid wearing? (pause for serious dramatic affect)

A CHILDS STEELER JERSEY! Oh yes. . that’s right. It was a number 36 Jerome Bettis jersey. The odds? To crazy to even think about.

All I have to say is STEELER NATION is literally in every corner of the world. I’m proud to be from Pittsburgh, and look forward to updates about our hometown boys.

With that wild bit of information – I bid you all goodnight.

t