WHAT HAPPENED ON FRIDAY EVE?
I was sitting in the breeze way of the guest house listening to singing coming from the church. I thought that there was a service in progress, but did not feel free to go by myself. The singing which I heard was just a musical practice session.
Pastor Peter left the church to walk to his house which is really just a small part of the guest home. Soon he left his room for the Church, on his way he graciously greeted and invited me to the Church Service. Before long two other men had invited me so by then I would have been ashamed to not have gone. Since I was dressed in walking shorts, I hurriedly put on long pants and walked about fifty yards to the Church. The Church is really just a wooden framework wrapped in and covered by corrugated tin sheeting. Inside the building are plain white plastic chairs which are readily available in a Wal-Mart for about ten dollars each. The floor is a cement pad. No sound system, no decorations, no screen for Power Pointing sermons. Just the necessities.
I did not count but there was probably about twenty-five people in the service plus a medley of children. Junior church and nursery were not in existence. One young mother was nursing her baby. Little children not much past the walking stage danced to the music.
A young man named Stefan—a teacher in the public school-- led the service. He had two pieces of what looked like iron in his hands. He struck the pieces together to establish a very pleasing melodic beat. Pastor Peter went to a wooden drum shaped like a World War II torpedo. Between the two of them the music rocked out. There was music, singing, preaching, praying. The music and singing was interspersed with short passionate sermons in the Swahili language. There were lots of hallelujahs and amens. At the given points for prayer all prayed at one time including many children.
Pastor Peter left the drum, went to the pulpit, spoke to the congregation in Swahili, then in English welcomed me. He told me that everyone knew that I was a Pastor from America. I nodded and smiled a thank you.
More singing, Pastor Peter did a solo which introduced a choral response from the congregation. The total effect was to cause a delighted sensation to run down my spine. It was the closest things to angels singing I will hear in this world.
Everything came to a stop, Pastor Peter spoke to me in English asking me if I wanted to preach. I didn’t understand him, I thought he wanted me to close in prayer. Which I did. It would be this morning before I found out what he had really said. I cannot imagine saying anything in English that would have helped this Swahili speaking congregation and Peter’s English is not good enough to serve as an interpreter.
This morning we went to our usual internet café to find that it had no electricity. Remember the rolling brownouts, they were having one in this area of Lubumbashi. We went to another café. For some unknown reason I could not use my computer, so had to use one with a French Keyboard. I was finally able to get to my email account. I wanted to answer some mail, but was totally confused by the keyboard, I had to ask Didier to find an e which was on the top row of keys. I was stressed by the keyboard, it was very hot, sweat was soaking my clothing, I was feeling sickly and needed to get out of building which I did. Outside I cooled off, drank some water and ate a Cliff Bar. Soon I was feeling much better. (No posting today).
While I was standing outside regaining my strength, I was a major point of focus for pan-handlers and street merchants. Someone had jewelry, another screwdrivers, a lady with bananas, another had plastic maps of Africa and the Congo. I manfully resisted all.
I almost forgot to tell you that we had a major dust storm going all morning and it is beginning to pick up again as I write this. My guess is the wind was blowing at least 40 MPH. At one point on our way to Lubumbashi I am sure that we could not see six feet in front of us. Fortunately the major visual impairment was very short lived.
About 2:30 this afternoon I ate my first MRE—meals ready to eat. It is what the military and firefighter live on when in the field. I ate just the main course which was a chicken and rice dish (480 calories with 70 mgs of that stuff which clogs your arteries forever). The food is heated by pouring a small amount of water into a chemical. The water reacts with chemicals and soon you have boiling water to heat the food. It was delicious. I am drinking Dasani water which is a Coca Cola subsidiary—no problems there.
Yes, I take my Malaria pill and vitamins daily.
Tomorrow I preach to Didier’s Congregation, but that is another story.
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