I've been studying Swahili, the most common language of East Africa, for two years--six terms--at Portland State University, learning from the expert teaching of Josphat Waruhiu, a Kenyan, who's made not only Swahili but also the culture of East Africa come alive (not to mention a valuable friendship with "Mwalimu" and much shared around our common interest to get laptop computers to Africa). So, one of my intentions for this trip has been to test my ability to communicate in Swahili. To my great dismay, I'm in deep difficulty when I get far beyond a few common greetings. I've learned fairly well the way Swahili comes together, but in verbal situations, I'm soon lost. My Sunday morning stumbling is the most prominent example.
Knowing the protocol, I had expected Dave and I would be called up front for a greeting from America, so I had carefully prepared a paragraph of a few sentences in Swahili for just such a greeting. I especially wanted to let the people know why Bibi Annette was not with me, and how sad she is at not seeing them and missing the experiences of another visit. I practiced the speech and thought I could manage those few lines quite well, imagining my friends appreciating my speaking their language without an interpreter getting between us.
Dave and I arrived at church as the first service was close to ending. Bishop Amos, who was the church's pastor when we were here in 2009, was the preacher. Sure enough, even though the service was nearly complete, he calls us forward to greet us and invites our response. I launch into my well-planned speech, only to bog down in about the third sentence. Nervous and far from having Swahili in my bones--I'm grasping for words, struggling to get the grammar right, and generally making a mess of the whole thing, when i so much wanted to convey Annette's feelings and together, our great enjoyment of the friendships we share here in Dodoma. I finally realized my presumption and allowed the bishop to translate for me until the last line, which I managed with some smoothness and seemingly with meaning to the people, who responded with wholehearted applause.
I had learned my lesson quite well. In the second service, again called to greet the people, I began with a common Swahili greetings, then reverted to English, let Bishop Amos do his interpretation, and closed with the important last line that went something like this, Bibi na mimi tunawaambia kwa upendo kubwa, "Mungu awabariki sana kila siku daima." Tunawapenda sana. Asante. (Bibi and I say to you with great love, "Good bless you very much every day and always. We love you very much." Thank you.) I struggled to say that, not only because of shaky confidence in speaking, but because of the deep feeling with which I said it, tor truly, the love I felt at that moment, which I knew was shared by Annette 10,000 miles away but very present there, was startlingly real.
I carried that emotion into what is the closing ritual of every service we have attended here. The congregation files out of the church, following the pastor, in this case Bishop Amos, who stops near the door. Each person greets him, then stops in line to be greeted by those who follow until all have formed a large circle around the courtyard, each worshiper having greeted all others. Every greeting I received was generous, from young and old, sometimes in a common form of hug here, cheek to cheek on both sides of the face and others total bear hugs. But even the most gentle of handshakes, meant as an exchange of peace and affection--the shy smile of a child, the averted gaze of an old woman--never has failed to move me deeply, more than once to tears.
Once all have completed the greetings around the circle, the bishop reads a short passage of Scripture and gives a benediction--the service has ended--but not before all have physically connected with one another in a closing act of strong community. It is beyond beautiful, and somehow the frustration of my struggle to speak Swahili has become quite unimportant.
Which doesn't mean I'm not going to keep on trying, every day, to use Swahili and move a little beyond the struggle. I find many glad here are glad to support and guide me in that plan.
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