My Mozambican Sunday

It is hard to believe that one week ago, I was just arriving in Nampula, sleepy-eyed from the over thirty hours of travelling. I feel like I have been here a very long time—so much has happened in the past week! 

My bedroom- I pretend I am a princess with a canopy over my bed- but really it's a mosquito net

Yesterday, I went to church with two other young women who arrived here from the U.S. a couple weeks before I did. I think it was a very Mozambican experience. Just getting to church was a new experience for me. We walked down the dusty road to meet the chapa on the main road.  Chapas are the public transportation here. They are vans with five rows of seats. The seats are more like benches, and of course there are no seatbelts. After all, the point seems to be to fit as many people as possible in one chapa!  On the way back from the church, the chapa was very crowded and I was next to the door, which is not always closed when we would start to move. There is nothing really to hold on to, so I was afraid I would fall out! I didn’t though, and we arrived safely to our destination, all for the price of only five metacas (metacas are the currency here; one U.S. dollar is equal to about thirty metacas). While the chapa is not what one would call comfortable, especially on the bumpy roads here, it certainly is affordable!

So, we got to church safely. The church building was not a building, per se. I would call it a shelter. There was a roof made of grass and half walls also made of cement blocks. The floor was dirt. Soon, though, the church will construct a building. They have already built the foundation. The pastor, who also works at the SIL centre in the print shop, seemed really excited about the new building. Everyone in the current church sits on benches, but since we were guests we got to sit in chairs in the front. We were also asked to introduce ourselves. I have never been to a church service in a different language before so that was very exciting for me. Something I liked about it was how much singing there was! There would be various singing groups come to the front of the church, and while each one was getting ready to go up, a member of the congregation would start loudly singing, then everyone would join! No PowerPoint necessaryJ.  

One of the many choirs at the church. The women are wearing capulanas

Another very African thing I noticed about the church was the way they prayed sometimes. Everyone would pray at once. Also, the way folks treated money and giving seemed different than at home. The offering basket was at the front of the church, so giving was a far less discrete thing than it is at our churches in North America. When it came to be the time of the sermon, Pastor Vicente spoke in Portuguese, and another man translated into Makua, the main regional language here. They both had voices so loud that there was no way they would need a microphone. From what I could catch of the sermon, it seemed to encapsulate the entire Bible. It went from the fall of man, to Jonah, to the Prodigal Son, to Philippians. It turns out the book of Jonah is one that Mozambicans particularly like, due to its narrative nature. Story is a really important thing in this culture. So there were many stories and illustrations in the sermon. At the end of the service, I think there must have been an altar call or something. Lots of people came to the front of the church kneeling, and crying and wailing. After the service ended, everyone wanted to shake our hand. Everyone was very friendly. I really loved my experience at church—probably because I love singing so much! None of this just mouthing the words—these people were belting out songs of worship. I loved it and I can’t wait to learn the words to some of the songs so I can join in.

Nampula sunset from my front yard. The sun goes down between 5 and 5:30 each day

The gospel of Mark in Chuabo, a language spoken in Quelimane, which is south of here. Made me think of MarkEast!

Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession. Psalm 2:8

This is the prayer I have for my time in Mozambique: that in my heart it will become my possession, a place dear to my heart, as dear as the Bay of Fundy or Malagash. I pray that one day I will have a special attachment to mango trees and capulanas as much as to apple trees and parkas.