Caroline and I recently joined one of the choirs at our Church. Our choir, or kwaya, is called the Ignatius Loyola Kwaya and we practice every Monday, Tuesday, and Saturdays and then sing at one of the two Masses on Sundays. We have quickly become a part of the Ignatius kwaya family, and are now expected to attend all of the events and trips thats the kwaya goes on. For example, after signing on Sundays, we go and visit the sick. Each week we visit a different person, but each week no matter how long Mass is, the visit centers me and helps me reflect on my time here. My first visit we went to a member of the kwaya who was sick. We stood outside her house and sang songs for a little while, then we went to another house and did the same thing. It really is a very simple act, however the visible joy that it brings the people we visit makes the entire day worthwhile.
Two sundays ago was Confirmation. The week before all three kwayas from the Church practiced together and prepared for the Auxilary Bishop to come. Practices were long and confusing as all of the songs are in Kiswahili and they were all new to me. As I struggled to learn the songs, I also struggled to obtain the proper uniform we were all required to wear (white long sleeve shirt and a black shirt). A friend helped me out and surprised me with what I needed. It was not quite the same with the songs. It was Iganitius kwaya's turn to sing at Misa ya Kwanza (First Mass at 7 am), so we all were there for the two hour long Mass, dancing and singing. Then we had a short break and lined up for Misa ya Pili (second Mass at 9 am). The candidates lined up dressed in their red and white robes, hair all done up in wigs and silk flowers, high heels, makeup, the works. By this time the sun was beating down on us and there was no shade to be found. We started singing a song I had never heard before and this started to trend of the day (dance and move my lips like I am singing). I should also include that I had a cold the entire week before and was unable to hear very well because of congestion, so even attemtping to sing would have been painful for the people around me. After about a half hour of dancing and singing in our line behind the candidates, we processed into the Church and sat behind the candidates.
Well, let me tell you, this Mass was ther longest, the most lively, and the most celebratory Mass I believe I have ever been to. We did not leave the Church until 1:30 in the afternoon, the Mass lasted 4 1/2 hours. The length of the Mass is just a side note compared to the details of the Mass. The candidates has pratices dances to some of the songs and so at different times they would stand up and perform a choreographed dance, all 300 of them. The kwaya was definitely put to shame. We continued our dancing and singing, but were definitely overpowered by the excited kids. The Bishop met with each of the kids and their sponsors, blessed them, and then at the end of the Mass took pictures with all of them. They danced up the aisle during the offeratory (they usually do this but this time it was extra extravagant and beautiful), in the procession they had a child sitting on the shoulders of a man holding the lectionary high in the air, they presented gifts of bananas, water, bread, the collection (or sadaka), and many other things. Even though we were all fading towards the end, we were all rejuvenated by the excitement and celebration of the day.
The next day I had to attend a Misa ya Rehemu, or Mass of Mercy, for a man who had died the day before. I have never been to one of these here but the kwaya was singing at it so I had to go. I snuck in the back as i was coming from school and they motioned for me to come sit up in the front with them. I arrived just in time to view the body. The coffin was so small and narrow almost seemingly for a child, yet it was an old man who had passed away. Coffins are sold on the side of the road here, literally right next to beds and armoirs. They have bows wrapped around them. Life here is fragile. At the Mass there were women wailing, people comforting, mourning, and trying to accept. It was difficult to watch and experience, especially since the day before, right in the exact same spot, many children received the gifts of the Holy Spirit through Confirmation. It was a very joyous occasion and now 24 hours later we are mourning. The people need the Church. I need the Church. I have found a warm and welcoming family there, especially with the kwaya. I see Mshauri on the street and greet him, Thedei waved at us while we were on the dala yesterday, I work with another member, David, Mama Pascalina waves hello every day when I pass her house on the way to school as does Agnes. My kwaya is my family.
