Roman Catholics, Second in the Eastern Division

This Sunday, I went with my house mother, Lincoln, and the house girl to church. Unbeknownst to be before I arrived in Moshi, but my host family is fairly religious. I may have mentioned this before, but I often come home to see my Mama Catherine watching the gospel channel on TV.

This week’s service was a little different then last weeks. Last Sunday was the Pentecost and the church was significantly fuller. Although a there was a good amount of Tanzanians there this week, no one had to sit in sections that were actually outside the church.

The building itself is fairly small, at least according to American Roman Catholic standards. Arranged in the classic cross formation, each of the three wings looking at the alter area have about 30 pews. Mama Catherine likes to sit to the right of the altar, probably because when Bwana Theophile is home, he sings in the choir which is located in that wing.

Opposed to the elegant buttresses and arches of large churches I have seen, this particular one has ceiling tiles, occasional colored yellow, turquios-ish green, and red in the shape of crosses. If they are working, the ceiling fans spin freely and add a cool and soft breeze to the chamber. There is a number of stained glass, although there are no scenes in the glass. The colored glass is either arranged in a mixture of purples, yellows, greens and pinks, or complementary colors in the shape of what else but a cross.

When everything began around 10:30am, I couldn’t help notice the similarities between the service and a basketball game. It sounds like a weird connection but it kind of fits. Here goes the explanation:

On the interior walls of the edifice hang pictures of Christ, like banners of past championships or advertisements preaching life lessons. The pews, or short wooden bleachers, wait for the spectators and are filled at random. At the center of the three wings is tile, or hardwood, that is separated from the churchgoers by a low metal barricade. The music, brought to you by the choir, provides entertainment before the actual action begins and announces the start of the ceremony.

Although there is only one team in this game, the players come in one at a time, waiting for their cues from the choir. First come the bench players and main assist leaders on the team, the alter boys. Swinging the golden Censer, one presents the game ball to the audience. I envisioned these young kids as tiny fragments of Scottie Pippen, ready to help out the superstar. They kneel at the altar waiting for the rest of the team.

Next comes the badass, the one who likes to look different, the Dennis Rodman of the team. With his sweet brown cloak and hood, like an outfit from Monty Python’s The Holy Grail, he arrives at the altar next, kneels and waits.

Last and certainly not least, here’s the superstar. I think the choir’s music is slightly different at this point. I hear them saying “number 23, Mmmiiiiccchhhaaaeeellll Jjjjjooooorrrrddddaaaannnn!!!”. In strides the priest, clad in an all white garb, decorated with two small chalices on the very front, the hero of the team. He kneels at the altar, says a few words and instead of chest-bumps, they all rise in unison.

The choir ends its singing and the game is underway. I don’t exactly know what went on most of the time, mainly because the entire service was in Kiswahili and I’m still not fluent. However, I did understand a little, mainly the words “takatifu” which means saint, and “kazi”, the word for work.

About halfway through the service, after a few iterations of the crowd standing and kneeling, I decided it was halftime. And what happens at but the cheerleaders, or nuns, entertain the crowd while the team takes a quick break. One of the sisters walks up to represent the entire squad and begins a sermon on family. I think I understood something about it doesn’t necessarily matter the size of the family, as long as it is close and everyone loves one another. But I could be completely wrong. Her speech is a little long and I can see a few members of the audience nodding off. But they didn’t come to see the cheerleaders; they came to see the Lebron James of their Roman Catholic Church perform.

Michael Jordan said a few more prayers and the choir chipped in. And then, Dennis Rodman got a few rebounds in the form of a monotone prayer that lasted about 2 minutes. The small Scottie Pippens helped by ringing a bell, bringing in the Censer, and holding the Bible for Michael. The entire service was definitely a team effort.

Towards the end of the service, the team asked if any of the fans would donate to their cause. The majority of the congregation said yes in the form of Tanzanian shillings. I even decided to kick in about 100 Tzs. And at the very end of the service was communion. I thought that since I am not a loyal fan of this team, I shouldn’t receive Christ’s body so I sat in my seat while Mama Catherine went and received her portion. I didn’t sit alone, as the house girl did not receive communion as well.

All in all, I thought it was a fine service. I enjoyed the singing from the choir, probably because I didn’t really understand what they were saying and they harmonized well. The Waiters would be proud, but I don’t think it was quite up to their standards. Taking an anthropological view of the experience definitely helped me get through an event that I would probably not have gone to otherwise.

Thinking about religion in this country, I wonder about its origins. When did people start to say, “Yea, our tribal views are silly. We should believe in your religion, with only one guy who has supernatural powers”. I imagine that mission trips have something to do with it. I would think that Islam would have a larger pull in the mainland, as the Arabs made a larger influence in Tanzania’s history from the beginning. For example, many of the Swahili words have Islamic origins. I should talk to Bwana Theophile’s father, Babu Theophile (babu means grandfather) since Bwana Theophile said his grandfather was Muslim.

I was thinking about going to an Islamic service while in Tanzania, to see something that I have never witnessed before. Maybe my globetrotting cousin who also went to Cornell could give me some advice?

All in all, I see religion as an extremely interesting topic. I don’t really want to express all of my views on the subject, as I might offend some people. However, if you do practice, good for you and I hope that turns out for the best. To put all of your faith into actions from thousands of years ago is truly a strong belief. And if you don’t regularly practice, then I’m right there with you.