time for a recap

Time for a recap.

It seems I have been slacking a little lately on the blog. The last mass email I sent was a little extensive and it always takes me some time to recover my stomach for writing and reflection.

I spent my New Years holiday research in a village called marampaka. This is about 150 kms from Mwanza. With the roads here, however, the 30ks between the tarmac road and the village can take about 2 hours and rattle most of the contents of your stomach. On New years day I attended some 4 masses! I went to the first mass at Marampaka and then followed Bundu to the 2 parish outstations, both about 40 km away. There is a phenomenon here in Tanzania where choirs are celebrated as the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. These dancing singing machines, with their exaggerated movements and loud organ often render a congregation silent for an entire mass. While seen as the tools of inculturation, they tend to work against it, as one of the purposes of inculturation is a greater participation of the congregation. In Marampaka, however, they seemed to have been able to partial strike a harmonious chord between congregation and choir. The choir sits in the front pews of the church. Rather than being a group to be observed, they are meant to be followed. Furthermore, Bundu has established 2 inculturation groups. The first is of younger children, who dance and sing in the very front row and then a group of older folks who dance and sing in the middle. This way a person in the congregation can feel some connection to at least one of the groups. Overall, it was quite successful.

New Years eve I attended a mass. It started at 11 PM and did not finish until 2:30 in the morning! From start to end it was liturgy. The congregation, priest and choir turned it into a real celebration. At many points the choir got up and danced in the aisles and before the altar.

Attending mass the next morning (Swahili mass number 5… my brain was a bit fried), my folks called at midway through the 2^nd reading. I left the building and took the call. Upon returning an hr later, the priest was just starting the liturgy of the Eucharists! Only in Africa…..

In discussing inculturation with Bundu, I realized that it is indeed a life and death situation at times here in Tanzania. That sounds a bit dramatic, but what inculturation is doing is opening a dialogue between church and culture, and addressing issues that would be important to local communities. Within Tanzania and amongst the Sukuma in particular, there is a great fear of witchcraft. A person who has died from illness or accident before old age is purported to have been cursed. Someone would then go to a diviner to figure out the cause. As bundu has said, they don’t ask what, but who. This diviner identifies the source of the calamity, often pointing out a witch. Someone is then hired to kill this person. Between 1994 and 1997 some 399 people were accused of being witches and were killed. According to a survey done by the Tanzanian Media Woman’s Association, 99% of these were old woman. One of the markers of being a witch is red eyes, which a woman would often have from years of cooking over an open fire. Bundu told me that within a period of 2 days 7 women were killed within his parish alone. Inculturation is more than just dancing and drumming. It is taking the context and culture of a community seriously as one proceeds with theology. There is no mention of witchcraft in the catechism here and often the response of the church was to just tell people that it doesn’t exist. People know and believe the case to be otherwise however. What needs to happen is a greater research done of this topic by a qualified person, interested in the topic and willing to face the dangers of entering into to this world so they can give a better response as to how the church can respond. These are real issues and real fears that the church needs to help address.

12 hrs back in Mwanza and then on the road again.

This time I was returning to retired Maryknoll priests Dan Ohhman and Don Sybertz. I drove down to Ndololeji Village with Hung, a maryknoll seminarian originally from Vietnam and Fr. Tim, who is the rector of their Chicago seminary. In Ndololeji I feel like I am at black Butte Ranch resort. With little else to do but enjoy the company of the folks there, I relaxed, unwound and got plenty of rest. 2 days in to our trip we drove to the rift valley, where the Wataturu live. The Wataturu are a semi nomadic tribe, who have only begun farming within the past 10-20 years as an effort to keep their land from being taken over by the Sukuma. The Wataturu are known to be fierce warriors.

Everyone of these herders seems to carry a walking stick with him, whether she or he be 8 or 62. While they may be wearing nothing but a blanket, they would feel naked without their beaded necklaces.

Having a sundown beer with Dan, Tim and Hung while watching a spectacular array of rainbow colors beautifully and chaotically spewing through the top of the clouds, I couldn’t help but feel I was getting a glimpse of paradise....