As I pulled on my fanciest Tanzanian dress early yesterday morning, I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was undoubtedly going to be one of the longest days I’ve faced yet…Easter Sunday in the village. I had promised this mama that I’ve become friends with that I’d go to church with her on Easter Sunday, and since my absence had been prayed for at church the week before I thought it would be good to make an appearance. I had also convinced Carol (my devoted site-mate and sanity who teaches at the secondary school in my village about 3 km away) to come with, as I figured these things are usually better in pairs.
We met at the mama’s house at 9am. Learning on the way there that it was going to be impossible to successfully ride my bike in my flowing dress without flashing unsuspecting Tanzanians along the way, we decided to walk to 5km to the neighboring village where the Easter service was being held. We set out on the path leaving Sepuka, mama in her Sunday best, and Carol in her swearing-in outfit, and me carrying the essentials in my bag- water, granola bars, sunglasses, sunscreen, and my offering. Now, Singida gets a crap for not necessarily being the most breathtaking place in Tanzania (as we’re situated in a desert where it rains twice a week for 6 weeks out of the year,) but I guess it takes a certain appreciation of this place to really see its bush-like beauty. I for one, have grown to accept the scarce terrain, sand, dust, and thorny bushes as a unique kind of lovely, and this hike to church was all of the above. I had to stop almost every 10 feet to shake thorns out of my sandals as we crossed dried up river beds, passed fields of sunflowers, and slightly rolling hills, as the path led us into the neighboring village of Msungua. With the ‘rainy’ season just ending, the area is actually quite green with fields of tall grass and leaves on the trees, but carol warned that this was about as green as it gets, and I braced myself for the coming drought.
About an hour later we arrived at the substantial German-built Lutheran church where all the neighboring Lutheran churches were gathering to celebrate ‘Pasaka’, or Easter. It was a packed house, with bikes lining the outside wall and kids chasing each other. I longed to be one of them, lucky to be young enough to have the excuse to escape from what we all knew was going to be a long service. But fortunately for us, my friend Samueli saved us seats right up in the front with the choir meaning an escape was going to be very difficult. Our seats really could have been a lot worse, we were right next to the window and could lean back against the wall behind us, so I couldn’t complain too much.
The service started with each of the choirs from neighboring churches dancing and singing, our group from Sepuka being my clear favorite. The service went on with singing and dancing, announcements, praying, and more singing and dancing. At one point the pastor made a point to recognize each tribe that was present at the service, Carol and I being no exception. Then he made a quick comment that he wanted each tribe to sing their own Easter-esque song at the end of the service. We looked at each other and laughing I hid my head in the large woman’s back who was sitting in front of me. The pastor quickly moved on, I however did not. I looked at Carol and said ‘seriously?"’ she said she’d heard of Peace Corps volunteers having to do this before and didn’t seem quite as phased as me. I decided that he’d forget about it, that we wouldn’t have to do it, but in between my little naps during his sermon we brainstormed songs from church camp as kids and came up with some pretty hysterical ideas. Trying to remember the words to ‘this little light of mine', ‘he’s got the whole world in his hand's’, and a few others kept us entertained for most of the service. I purposely didn’t wear a watch for fear it would make the service feel even longer, but as I checked Carols watch and learned it had been 4 hours since the service started, I was beginning to get a little antsy. Approaching the 5th hour and assuming it had to be over soon, I though we were in the clear and had avoided our duet. I was wrong. Before I knew it we were standing in front of 300 people singing ‘Our God is an Awesome God’ and performing the appropriate signs we learned in Sunday School. We finished our second round of the chorus, which was actually the only part we knew, I gave a quick curtsy, and the crowd went wild. We took our seats, laughing, and I played the moment over and over in my head, and couldn’t wait to tell my mom and dad. I knew they’d be proud.
I lasted about 30 more minutes, my granola bars had long since been devoured, and it was just time to be done. When the choirs switched we made our escape. We stopped at a milk co-op near the church and had chai and a quick snack. Had I not been completely starving, the chunky, fat saturated hot milk would have bothered me a bit more, but desperate times call for desperate measures and I downed the cup before the trek home. We got back to Sepuka around 5 in the evening, replaying the days events in my head I sat down in my favorite café and enjoyed my Easter feast of rice, beans, and orange Fanta.
my counterpart Samson getting’ down with the choir
our easter monday easter egg hunt. thanks for the eggs amy:)
