Sunday's Blog part two;

Are you ready now? Deep breath......

All the pastors of the Byumba diocese had been invited to attend today’s major thanksgiving service.  A large contingent of the Fathers’ Union, all dressed smartly in navy suits and ties sporting their logo, were present as they’d conveniently held their conference in Byumba the previous day.  There was a tremendous cacophony of noise as the girls’ and boys’ brigade marching bands processed into the cathedral playing brass instruments and loudly beating several drums.  They strongly resembled the Salvation Army in sound and appearance, in smart navy uniforms with RAF style hats perched on the sides of their heads.  Following them up the cathedral aisle and in direct competition to create the greatest sound, was a group of African drummers, pounding on their animal skin drums and dressed in the style of traditional tribesmen.  

A couple of translators were assigned to us and it took Andy a lot of persuasion to seat them in an optimum position for all of us to hear, though it was a challenge to understand anything over the pounding of the drums, the thundering brass band, gyrating gospel choirs and an extremely over zealous preacher.  His sermon must have lasted for at least an hour at about a thousand decibels.  He clearly didn’t need a microphone, but had one none-the-less and his message got lost in translation for us, primarily because our translators couldn’t compete with the amplified preacher. It was totally exhausting listening to him and the volume made you wince.  

Then just when you thought he was finished, the brass band, seated right next to us struck up at full throttle.  It was indeed an assault on the ears!  There was of course also the traditional gospel choir, which sashayed to the front in their long flowing red and golden robes and harmoniously sang some beautiful choruses while our translator explained the English meaning into our ears.  Next, a musician from Kigali, dressed in a rather restricting suit, (to help him reach the high notes?) took to the keyboard and sang a few rousing songs.  He was soon joined by a whole load of the congregation who danced enthusiastically, some performing exuberant tuck jumps in the air, like one might see in gymnastics, all part of their thanks and praise to the Lord. An amazing, colourful spectacle to behold!  There were several further bursts from the marching band and, as if not to be outdone, the African drummers then set down their drums in a line at the front of the church and performed an amazing rhythmic, dancing celebration, with one drummer playing 4 or 5 drums simultaneously whilst he and his fellow drummers danced in between.  The noise was fantastic!

The offering was then taken and three little server boys, dressed in green cassocks stood beside the huge goblet shaped baskets, which almost matched the boys’ height. A stream of people came forward to place money in the baskets and then a group of traditionally dressed ladies, some with slumbering babies strapped to their backs, processed up the aisle bearing cylindrical baskets, covered with pointed lids.  Each of these, borne on their heads, or carried in their hands, contained food gifts and were presented to the bishop as their offerings.  

The whole experience was more of a festival extravaganza, than a ‘normal’ Sunday morning service!  Whilst the jollity and excitement was to come to a halt, our time in the cathedral continued!  An official, suited gentleman set up a laptop and beamed a few slides onto the cathedral wall, showing the most ambitious architect’s plans for the grandiose new cathedral.  The plans were largely labelled in French, but amusingly there was a line of encouragement on the last of the slides, which borrowed a phrase from one of Britain’s better known construction workers, Bob-the-Builder, “Yes we can!”

Having excited the whole congregation over the ambitious plans, the giving began! One by one, the pastors of the diocese were invited to the lectern to announce how much money their parish had pledged to the cathedral building fund, how much of this they had already raised and how much the pastor himself was donating from this own purse!  As we looked at the great number of pastors seated at the front of the cathedral, we realised this would take a long time. 

One after another they stepped forward and announced their pledges, followed by a little ditty played on the keyboard, a ripple of applause from the congregation, and if the parish’s contribution was particularly generous there would also be a short drum roll from the traditional African drummers, who were standing at the open doorway, probably enjoying the fresh air!  This whole scenario carried on for ages, and as we were coming to the end of the rows of pastors, any hope that this was the end were dashed, because representatives from all the organisations present then approached the microphone to present their contributions… the Fathers’ Union, the Mothers’ Union, the Boys’ and Girls’ Brigade, the choir …. need I go on?  It lasted a long time but throughout it all, little children sat without a murmur, these African children could teach their western counterparts a thing or two about patience! After the organisations had presented their gifts more was to come, as members of the congregation moved to the front to make their individual donations all being ushered forward by church wardens dressed in curious long coats, like those worn in traditional green grocer shops and decorated with what appeared to be an enormous label dangling from the collar down their backs! 

A lighter moment was one lady who shyly offered a warden a bank note, whilst whispering in his ear, and we were amused to see that she had clearly requested change from out of the collection basket!  One man and his wife brought a sack to the front of the church as an offering and gave a little speech about the gift he was presenting.  I expect most of us were astounded by his generosity on seeing how he was straining to carry such a heavy weight.  He then revealed that the sack was not full of money but bricks he was donating for the cathedral walls!

As every contribution was announced, one diligent clerk, perched on the front bench with the choir was meticulously logging every transaction in a large book of accounts, some noted in cash and some recorded as pledges.  He was writing at break-neck speed and could barely keep pace with the announcements, which we were incidentally hearing twice, as our translator was speaking the English version to us as well, for most of the time, until he became tired!  Whilst we changed positions in our seats to ease the aches, Paul located an appropriate verse in his Bible which he shared with us.  It listed the fruit of the Spirit and he had highlighted ‘long suffering!’

The fundraising saga proceeded for well over an hour and as we sat there it was interesting to ponder Grace’s comment from way back at the beginning of the service.  As is customary, we had been invited to introduce ourselves and say a little about our lives in England.  Surmising that this might be a long service, Grace had whispered to the group, “We need to keep this short!”  It’s a pity no one else in the cathedral heeded this advice!  Finally, nearly 5 hours after the service had begun, we were treated to the final statistics of how much money had been raised in cash and pledges.  One of the small altar boys handed the Bishop a small purple cloth, which he then dusted off, unfolded to reveal it was a pom-pom hat, which he then placed on his head!  He gave a blessing - allelluia! The end of the service was in sight!  There was of course a feverish burst of excitement with song, dance, the marching band and African drummers giving their best finale, parading out of the church with a massive procession of pastors behind them all culminating in a pile up for a mega family photo outside on the church steps!  So at 2.20pm we finally breathed fresh air and escaped for lunch!

If you’re struggling with the length of this blog, you should have been at the service, a greater endurance test by far!  I think the length of the service had robbed all of us of our sanity because at lunch, well mannered Grace, threw caution to the wind and, having received a screwed-up napkin thrown at her by Andy, ended up flicking it back across the table.  She clasped her hands across her face in embarrassment when the missile missed its intended target (Andy) and inadvertently landed a direct hit on the Bishop!  Oops! But he said how grateful he was to be included in the game.

That’s it! Another day of endurance and praise. Good-night.

Grace, Isobel, Hannah, Paul, Jonathan and Andy