Feast day

Our weekends have been full of exciting events these past few weeks. In the midst of our English friends, the Sunday of July 31^st was the feast day of St. Ignatius and therefore there was a tremendous celebration at the parish. The parish which is informally called “K/Ndege” (airport parish, because it sits close to the Dodoma airport), is actually a parish named for St. Theresa Ledokoska. Because the Jesuits are assigned to this parish, St. Theresa's feast day meets her match with the feast of the founder of the Society of Jesus – St. Ignatius of Loyola.

That Sunday, all four Masses were combined for one massive 8:30am celebration Mass. Our Peter Claver students made their way into town to join the St. Ignatius primary students and the rest of the parish community to pray together in commemoration of St. Ignatius. All the choirs were combined which made for an incredible Mass. I sat next to our rather unenthusiastic students (high schoolers are all the same!), but I enjoyed the Mass nonetheless. The liturgical dancers were on their best game (the young girls and boys who dance to the beautiful music in the aisles of the church) – I love love love them.

After Mass, all of the small Christian communities from around Dodoma (each village has it's own small community) gathered in their designated spots. There was an MC and some entertainment. The Jesuits hosted us volunteers and some of the other religious (the Sisters and other collaborators) at their home for sodas and snacks (sambusa, chipati, karanga) until lunch was announced. Apparently each small Christian community invited a Jesuit or one of the Jesuit volunteers for lunch, but I missed this memo and instead ate lunch with the Peter Claver crew. It was a beautiful afternoon; it was incredible to see so many people gathered around the church. Each small Christian community brought their own food to share with their group and anyone that passed empty handed. I visited for a while with our students and some of our friends who work at our school, the teachers from St. Ignatius, and later I stopped over to visit with my choir friends (upset, as usual, that I hadn't sang with them that morning – I'm working on it!).

I had promised my friend Agnes that I'd visit her home this Sunday, and so we walked together to her home in Chang'ombe. Walking with my friends to their homes in the neighborhoods around Dodoma feels like I'm passing into territory not yet explored. I know this is a bit of an exaggeration, but it is hard not to feed off of Agnes' excitement about me visiting her home, and the surprise on the faces of neighbors who very rarely see a white face pass by. Agnes' house was a 20 minute walk from the parish, walking straight into the hot sun. “Umechoka?” (are you tired?) is a question that often comes from a walk with a friend that lasts more than 10 minutes. Absolutely not!

We reached her house and I was surprised at how nice the place was. It was a large home enclosed by a hefty gate. We walked in and greeted one Mama doing laundry and a child cleaning the compound. Like most homes such as this one, it is very unlikely for only one family to live inside, and this house was no different. Agnes, her “husband,” and their child actually rent only one room in the house where they live. Their bedroom, living room, and store (a pantry of sorts) is all in one room. Like most families, Agnes cooks on a charcoal pot outside and shares a bathroom with all the other occupants in the home.

In Tanzania (and most other East African countries), it is more typical to have a child before a wedding happens, hence why I put Agnes' husband in quotes. They are not officially married – not in the Church yet – but they live as a married couple, with their daughter Happy, and Agnes calls him her husband. This is a cultural thing and happens no matter one's religion. I could try to articulate as to why this is different from how we do things in the States, but that would be unfair of me, an outsider, and probably never truly accurate. I do know though that obtaining a bride is very expensive (the man's family must pay a bride price), and the wedding isn't something so cheap either. I can't say this is the reason, but I think it is fair to say this is a factor.

I sat in their room as Agnes ran to the nearby duka (store) to buy me a soda. Her husband is a teacher at a secondary school in town and also a teacher for the second choir at K'Ndege parish so we had lots to talk about. Soon we were watching a video recording of the choir that Agnes and I both sing in. It is pretty normal for some of the better choirs here to make music videos. They mostly consist of singing the gospel songs and dancing in sync in beautifully matching uniforms. It was fun to finally watch one with faces I could actually recognize! It was fun because Agnes and I played a name game every time we saw a new person's face. Even though I've been singing in the choir for months now, I have to (shamefully) admit I know maybe four people's names. Not only do I have a hard time remembering, I also find it hard to get a time to talk to every person there.

I enjoyed playing with their little girl, Happy. Happy is a common name here – also, Goodluck, Godness, Shukuru (thanks). I have yet to meet a Happy who does not live up to her name. This girl was sweet and constantly laughing. Sometimes kids are very shy around the mzungu, so I'm relieved and pleased when they warm right up to me. (Bringing pipi (candies) always helps). As usual, Agnes walked me most of the way home when it was finally time to leave – just in time for a phone call from Dad.