Despite war and famine, sickness and death, poverty and lack, they still worship under the Baobab tree.
_________________
Every Sunday morning we cross a (usually) dry river bed three times and pass the local football pitch - which is also the cow hangout zone - to a large baobab tree.
We are going to church.
For around three years the baobab tree was our building. It would probably take nearly 10 people to encircle. But in the hot dry season it loses its leaves and offers less shade. We would sit on logs under the tree.
The service is mainly done in Arabic. Most of those who are educated understand English, but there are still quite a few attendees who do not. Most weeks I can follow at least 90% of what is said, but it takes significant concentration.
There are no songbooks or written words, and sometimes two people would start singing at once and it would be a competition to see who won out. To most people’s joy, and my dread, they have recently obtained a keyboard, which is carried to the church each week.
While most people here can harmonise well with each other and create intricate clapping patterns for percussion, they are not used to singing in tune with an instrument. Often the keyboard is playing in one key and rhythm, while people are trying to sing in another.
But, although my seat and ears may be uncomfortable and I am battling not to fall asleep, I still make the walk each week. And not just because of concern about what people will think (although to be honest that does play a role).
I see joy on people’s faces as they sing. These people have known war and famine, sickness and death, poverty and lack, but they can still know joy and they still choose to worship. Each week a different tribe sings a song in their mother tongue. I do not understand a word, but I am reminded of the hope and purpose that one day every tribe will sing.
I stand among those who may also be the patient I am caring for or the staff member who is not my favourite colleague. Here I am reminded they are also my brothers and sisters.
I watch as people, even in a time of hunger, bring their pumpkins, cucumbers and peanuts, or their scrunched-up 100 pound note (which last year was worth 20 cents and is now worth less than 5 cents), to be offered to God.
Now, we stand under a metal roof structure adjacent to the baobab tree. This roof did a backflip in a big storm over a year ago. It had to be painstakingly straightened out and eventually set up again, this time surrounded with walls of rocks and mud the whole group carried down from the nearby hill. It was months later than planned, but it is now standing, a shelter from the sun and rain, and a symbol of restored life.
Now to stay awake on the more comfortable brick seats. At least it keeps me humble about my growth in godliness.
~ A Pioneers nurse.
(This story has been edited for length.)
Current mission needs: doctors, nurses, midwives (Get in touch with us today.)
