gusenga imana

 gusenga imana = to pray God

Have I talked about church in Rwanda yet?  Well, if I have, it’s such a part of life here that it warrants another post. 

The religion question in Rwanda isn’t, “are you spiritual?” or “are you religious?” Or, “do you go to church?”  No, it’s “where do you pray?” It’s a given that you pray and, obviously, you don’t pray at home alone. You must be praying somewhere with some group of people who have a title and a doctrine (and a keyboard, sound system, microphone, multiple choirs with dance routines, and possibly an electric guitar). 

The majority of Rwandans identify as Catholic while the rest are protestant (a large part of protestants are Seventh Day Adventists) and a few are Muslim.  Katier, I don’t know how many are Mormon and I haven’t seen any LDS churches around... perhaps you can give us that statistic???  

In my village we have a huge Catholic church with two Masses on Sunday, an even bigger Adventist church, a smaller Baptist church, a smaller still Pentecostal church, and the smallest, an Anglican church.  During training we discussed what we were going to tell our village regarding our religion.  Our training staff advised us that not attending church might be a barrier to integration.  At first, in my village, I thought I would try attending the Catholic church because Mass is a guaranteed short two-hour service.  But then I quickly remembered that I’m not Catholic and, for various reasons that probably won’t ever go on my blog for public discussion, I won’t become Catholic... at least while in Rwanda (never say never in one’s evolving spiritual awareness).  I still like going to Mass. I like it a whole lot, actually, but I had to find a different “church home” as they say.  I went to the Anglican church next because thinking that’s probably where I would most closely identify.  That service was about 5 hours long and I, unfortunately, sat beside the loud speaker which was apparently busted and had a terribly fuzzy sound so that, even if I could understand the rapid Kinyarwanda sermon, I could barely hear it and developed a nice headache from the volume, the dust from dancing with closed doors and windows, and the heat of the tin roof.  Praise be to God.

I finally found myself at the Baptist church, and like Goldilocks thought it “fit just right.”  Or as “just right” as Rwandan church can be.  It was actually fun.  There’s so much singing and dancing and the sermon, which I am now able to follow a bit, is only 20-30 minutes.  And I already told you that I’m gettin’ real good at sitting on a bench for 4 hours.  I’m also getting good at having a slow and peaceful Sunday morning at home with coffee, classic Caedmon’s Call, fresh fruit, my journal, and then going an hour late to church.  I’m only missing the first few choir performances... it’s not a big deal... right?  I still see at least 7 choir performances, greet everyone, and hear the sermon. 

The thing is, before I knew how much church was a part of culture here I wanted to take a break for a while since there probably isn’t a church in my village that I’d feel comfortable being a part of.  In Missoula, I had just found a church that I loved and felt like I could, with a clear conscience, identify myself with and tie myself to.  I’m a deeply spiritual person and I want my personal convictions to align with my public behavior.  This is something I always taught my youth group kids -- remember, guys? your behaviors reflect your priorities which reflect your values.  During adolescence my challenge with this was nonconformity to the more liberal morals all around me.  But then since college the pendulum is shifting and my personal convictions may be more liberal than many people I once identified with.  I’m striving to make sure the things I believe are really the things I believe because they are true and right and not because I like all the other people who believe them.  As a person who likes to be liked and to identify with a group and who is also wildly controlled by her emotions, lining my outward behaviors up to my inward convictions is a difficult thing to master.  I imagine this is true for many people.  Add all this to the idea of “cultural integration” that I’m working for wherein I have trouble finding the lines sometimes between accepting cultural norms and sacrificing who I am.  

A big part of Peace Corps is cross-cultural exchange.  In America, it’s totally ok to be a Christian and not always go to church.  Here, even if you are a church-goer in America, it’s a different experience here: really long, really hot inside the buildings, you get stared at, sometimes people behind you pluck your hairs for examination, you have to sit in a visible spot and introduce yourself to the whole congregation, they don’t speak your language and it’s difficult to catch everything... sometimes I find myself angry for being there, which is, I think, the opposite effect church is supposed to have.  

Ok, digression over.  On to my appreciation of Rwandan church culture...

Like I said, church, all of the ones I’ve been to, are full of dancing, singing, shouting, formal introductions, loud and long prayers, and some intense worship.  Rwandans really believe.  Or at least on Sundays they party like believers. 

One of the things I really love about Rwandan church is that, in the village, they have adapted Christianity to their culture instead of adapting themselves to a Western Christianity.   They sing Christian lyrics to traditional tunes, sometimes wearing traditional clothes, and always doing traditional dances.  And it’s best if they have a goat skin drum.  I mean, I know that Christianity is not their traditional religion, but nobody can really remember what there was before Christianity, only that they have always been monotheistic, and now, Catholicism especially, is a big part of Rwandan culture. Catholic Mass has all the traditional parts to it, but there’s definitely Rwandan flare.  The leader in front will sing the monotone Latin verse and the congregation will respond with unruly melodies, drums, and jumping.  Here’s a video of one of the more tame church services I’ve been to.  This is a Baptist church and it’s all I have right now, but you can see the traditional style of dancing: jumping while thrusting your knees into your chest and then swaying side to side with arms outstretched to resemble cattle walking slowly in a herd. There’s usually a group of women dancing like cattle and one man carrying a staff dancing in front leading the dance (like shepherding the cattle). Sorry this is so shaky; I was dancing too. 

And here’s the sweet family that took me to church with them that Sunday... 

gotta love the seriousness of having your family's picture taken

this girl is a pro at staring. she didn't even bother to act like she was paying attention to church. 

the staring was almost outdone here. i don't think she took her eyes off of me for an hour.

This past Sunday at church I was dragged to the front to join the mosh pit style dance party.  Laughing, jumping, sweating, clapping, and trying not to fall down, I think I just integrated a little more. :)

So I have more thoughts on church and Rwanda, but this is enough for now.  I’m still learning.  I know I barely understand the culture and there are many unanalyzed aspects of my own culture that are certainly influencing my perception of this one.  Please give me grace as I reflect and share.  And, please, I’d love to know your thoughts and be challenged by your questions.