Kamenge Friends Church

Sunday 31 Jan

The plan is for me to attend the whole 3-hour service at the Friends church in Kamenge, a block away from the clinic where my workshops have been held. My lift from Adrien is not very prompt, so I miss the first half hour. As we drive up and ease into a parking space, I notice a lot of people clustered round the church building, some looking in and some greeting and talking to each other. Florence arrives and takes me to a side door. Two chairs are reserved for us, next to the various pastors, at right angles to the children's benches. Florence says there are probably 1000 people inside; they need to be getting on with the larger church being constructed adjacent to this building, so the others can fit inside.

As we sit down and greet our neighbours, a group of a dozen men makes its noisy way onto the raised area at the front. They are enacting the Israelites' journey through the desert from Egypt. Moses, with a briefcase, is being berated, quite fiercely, by the other men. The props for the others are staves, bundles and baseball caps. They shout at him, he sings a prayer (which they harmonise). Ah! God tells him what to do. He crouches down, banging his stave along the ground. The men huddle near the ground, obscured by the lectern, keyboard etc. The tension eases. They get out their plastic mugs – the same design as for drinking water in the workshop yesterday – and drink deep. They leave to cheers and applause.

Visitors are welcomed. I go to a microphone, with Florence beside me to translate. I have never spoken to so many and I say so. I read part of my travelling minute, using its quotation from Ecclesiastes and a verse from Genesis to show cultivating the ground as doing God's work. Enough.

Several choirs sing, each performing 2 songs. One choir has two young male soloists who jump about vigorously throughout. (Later they do a double act with shakers and fancy stepping during the offertory.) Each choir has rehearsed carefully and accompanies the words with gestures. In front of me many of the older children join in quietly with words and actions. Some members of the congregation sing along. As each group leaves the raised area there are cheers and applause.

After the offertory, the children file out and their benches are carried to various spots under trees. Next the sermon. It lasts almost an hour. The preacher uses not only his voice, highly amplified, but also his whole body. As he describes how Jesus saved him from being murdered by a gang, he writhes and throws his head back, calling out to heaven. He moves from Deuteronomy to Matthew, exhorting everybody to act lovingly to at least one needy person. The address is frequently punctuated with 'Alleluia' 'Amen'. Florence moves between calling out suggestions, joining in general responses and giving me a translation – usually of the bible passages I have in front of me.

It is very, very hot. I excuse myself and slip outside for 5 minutes. At least there is an occasional breeze. When I come back to my place Florence commiserates: 'Only 15 minutes more.'

The heat and the sound level are almost unbearable. So why don't I walk to the bus stop and take myself home? Well, it's tempting, and I know the way well enough not to be an obvious target for a thief. On the other hand, there's something uplifting about the mood of rejoicing in this huge community. We've had theatre and a concert. As well as Adrien and Florence I see Edith, my translator for the workshops, Alexis, the clinic doctor, and many of my students. Children and adults greet me, taking my hand or embracing me. I feel genuinely welcome in this community of faith.