Sunday Morning

I asked what time church started on Sunday and with a shrug of the shoulders I was told that I would know when it was starting because I would hear it. First of all I heard the church bell being chimed and as I looked out of my window I could see small groups of people starting to make their way towards the church. Then the singing began and so, not wanting to be late, I headed off to join the service. I need not have worried as the large church was practically empty.

As the choir continued to sing and dance at the front of the church more and more people arrived. The youngest children sat in the front pews, dressed in their smartest clothes and behind them sat the older children from the school and the adults. Four different choirs came up to the stage, one after the other, to sing the songs they had been practising all week. The choirs had between 5 and 10 members each and as they sang they also danced and the congregation joined in.

These songs were interspersed with Bible readings and prayers and with different people coming to the front to speak. Wherever in the world you go to church there is always a collection and in this church that involves people walking up the aisle to a table at the front and placing their offering in a plastic bowl that is covered by a piece of material. This was followed by the sermon and, like the rest of the service, it was in Swahili so I have no idea what was said…

The service had lasted for nearly three hours and after a final prayer, and accompanied by one of the choirs singing a final song, the leader of the service and the preacher got up to walk to the main door of the church. Several of the adults sitting around me got up from their seats and beckoned for me to follow them. As we got to the door we shook hands with the leader and preacher and then before I knew what was happening I found myself as part of a growing line of people shaking hands with everyone as they left the church – it was a lot of hands to shake!

One of the choirs

The congregation