Sunday

Sunday 6/23/2013

A very traditional Sunday in Makumira

In the morning, Kristen and I went to church with Mama.  We had slept in, so we asked Mama if we should wait to go the 10 o’clock service. It was 7:50, but Mama shrugged and said, eh, we could probably make it to the 8 o’clock.  She still had to shower.  Love it.

It was about a five minute walk.  We heard the bell tolling before we could see the church, but Mama pronounced that we were right on time.  We stopped in a classroom to say hi to Mama’s Sunday school class.  She actually teaches them on Saturdays, through a program called “Compassion” for disadvantaged children.  Compassion goes beyond a traditional Sunday school to teach the children about manners and give them care that they might not see at home.

Mama attends a Lutheran church.  It was spacious with marble tiles and high ceilings, evidently an important building in the community.  The service had lots of singing, and the choir sang several times. When the choir got up to sing, they moved into a single line before us and stood there motionless for a few moments.  Then they began to sway, and then pulse, and soon they were full-out singing and dancing.  They really knew how to move, even in the most subtle way.  Most of the singing was high-pitched and soft, while accompanied by an electric guitar and some sort of synthesizer.  It made for a cool, ethereal sound, and of course it always had a good beat.

Everyone was dressed in their Sunday best.  But it was interesting to see the Tanzanian definition of “Sunday best”.   There were so many patterns.  The men mostly wore suits, very similar to western clothing.  Many of the women wore starchy blouse and skirt outfits with matching headscarves, head-to-toe in one vibrant pattern.  I also saw a lot of structured jackets and shoulder pads.  The kids were all dressed up puffy princess skirts and little suits, which was adorable.

At one point, we had to introduce ourselves in Swahili to the congregation, which was pretty fun.  It wasn’t intimidating because everyone is so welcoming.

During the sermon, Mama whispered translations to us:

She says that when we join together, we are powerful.  When we do not, we are weak.  The Lutheran church has united across Tanzania and that’s why it is strong.

She says we should join together so that we may both grow and do big things.  When we are lonely, we cannot.

She says we should not lie.  We should always be faithful.  In the Bible, there were people who lied, and because of that, they died.  So we should be faithful in anything we do.

Today was Jubilee, celebrating the 50^th anniversary of the Lutheran Church of Tanzania, which is why the pastor spoke of the importance of unity in her sermon.

The service lasted about an hour and a half, which was very reasonable.  I’ve heard that some of the services that other host families attend can last for as long as three to five hours.  Before leaving church, we all dropped money in a donations basket.  The church seemed to have an extremely strong emphasis on donations.  Mama has her own donations envelope, marked with her name, Glory Mswia. (This was how I came to know her last name.)  It helps her keep track of her donations throughout the year.

We left the church, walked outside, and I realized that the men and women had separated into two groups.  One by one, people brought up goods to the center of the group and a man began to rattle off prices very quickly—they were having an auction.  Mama explained that people can bring in goods instead of money for donations.  She herself bought 4 avocados for 1000 shillings (less than a dollar).  The money she paid will go to the donations envelope of the person who brought the avocados.

In the afternoon, Stella took us to the market in Usa River (there are several markets in the area, each held on specific days).  The market was pretty chaotic.  The food was laid out on blankets right on the ground, and the women selling food sat on the ground amongst their goods.  Even the rice was poured out on the blankets, totally exposed to open air.  There were also a lot of stands selling secondhand clothes and shoes.  We noticed that the mannequins are a bit larger, especially in the hips.

Mama was right—you can buy anything and everything at the market.  I didn’t take any photos, because we were already drawing a lot of attention.  Many people shouted “mzungu!” at us.  Mzungu is the Swahili term for westerners.  Today was actually the first day I was called mzungu, which is odd considering how common it is for Tanzanians to shout “mzungu!” whenever they see westerners.  I’m not sure why it took so long, although some of Mama’s customers have called us wageni (visitors).

Stella brought us to a shop to buy traditional vitenge skirts and got us a good deal.  Bargaining is customary, expected, and even considered polite.  Our Swahili teachers have told us to feel comfortable bargaining, especially because we might be given inflated mzungu prices.  I’m hesitant to bargain, which is something I need to work on for when I go to the market without Stella to help me.  For the time being, I’m enjoying my new Tanzanian attire.