Faith

Tanzania is 50% Christian and 50% Muslim. In the Kilimanjaro/Moshi area where I am, it is predominantly Christian. I don't think I've ever felt such a strong presence not only of religion, but of faith, not even in my hometown of Baltimore where I attended Catholic school up to age 18. I've said more prayers, attended more masses, and met more walking Saints then probably ever before.

I think it has something to do with the fact that most of the people I see here don't have much, but are the happiest, most thankful people I've ever come into contact with. This past Sunday I had the pleasure of attending mass at "The Orphanage" I've written about - Kwasadala, the home of 35 children from the street that Paulina and Rosmin have brought into their family.

Kaleigh and I show up on Tanzania Flexible Time (a few minutes late). In our defense we got lost in the corn field. Really. Elizabeth joins us, she opened the school Kaleigh volunteers at in the yard of her home. We brought her to chat with Rosmin as we think each can help the other. It is 10AM and this is Elizabeth's second mass of the day. More on Elizabeth later, she is fascinating and made us a hen the night before for dinner!

Ok, back to Sunday....The kids quickly take us back to the "church" which is the log-cabin like shack that doubles as a schoolhouse. Before we even enter we can hear the songs thundering through the thatched roof. The  entire family, plus a few neighbors and the priest are in attendance. Over 40 people crammed into a very teeny, very hot room. It also can get quite stinky in there.

The family church and schoolhouse. Notice the cross on top right.

Within minutes upon entering Kaleigh and I are in tears. Although we can't understand a word of the songs, there is something about watching these children dance and sing in praise with energy like I've never seen before. Perhaps it's because I know their biological parents abandoned them on the streets with no plans for food or shelter, or the fact that 4 of them share a single-bed sleeping head to toe, or that they have no power, no electricity, and really not much else other then a roof over their head. Yet I've never met happier people in my life.



Rosmin calls all the different choirs to the front to sing various songs. I chuckle at the fact that there is a children's choir, a Massai choir, a girl's choir, etc, but they all live under the same roof. Each song has a unique dance and follows the beat of one cowhide covered drum, and occasionally some clapping. This is much more entertaining then the stodgy church I went to growing up with a bunch of tone-deaf old white people barely humming hymns!

Grace, Lucy and their sisters singing in the girl's choir.

After more than 45 minutes of continuous singing they begin the "testimonials." This is a wonderful part of the mass where anyone is welcome to stand up and speak about what they are thankful for, or how they've seen God in their life. Paulina, the loving mother of this wonderful family that has the best laugh I've ever heard, tells a story close to her and ends by saying, "You will never be the same as when you came." These words hit right home.

After the testimonials Rosmin then gets the family rowdy by shouting (he likes to do this), "This is the day the lord as made! Let us give thanks and be glad!"

He then shouts to the room, "Are you happy?" There is a resounding response of, "Yes, I am happy!" He shouts back, "Be happy for the day God has made." This is repeated over and over.

This exchange sits with me for a while and I think through it while the scripture is read in Swahili (later to be translated in English by one of the boys). In America,  people often ask, "Are you happy?" It is discussed as if happiness is a destination, or an achievement to be accomplished. A mountain to climb, a marathon to be finished. The perfect job to be found, the perfect husband to meet, the perfect house to buy. This is part of the problem with our culture. We behave as if happiness is the summation of all these things we need in order to achieve it. It's part of the reason we have such a hard time living in the present. There are books written about how to be happy, seminars about it, and lord knows Oprah never stops talking about it. No wonder no one ever thinks they are truly happy. It's a to-do list that feels impossible to complete. I myself am guilty of this.

I realize that this wonderful family is choosing to be happy. It is a conscious decision. An attitude. A perspective on life. They wake up every day, pray in thanks for what they have, and are happy, that the Lord has brought us this day. Period.

Philosophically this is what faith is all about. At least for me. And anyone who doesn't  believe in anything, or maybe lacks faith in their life, should spend a day with people like this. How can you not believe there is something grander looking out for this family? I no longer feel incredibly sorry for them (ok, maybe a little), but realize they have the riches of a strong faith and positive attitude on life which gets them out of bed everyday and helps find ways to put food on the table. Being simply thankful for the day we have is a pretty good place to start.

My dad gave this to me many years ago and I pull it out whenever I'm feeling woe is me.

Ok, I promise not every post will be this preachy. More on dinners of neighborhood hens and updates on my kiddies my soon.