Holler Indeed

"He is risen!"
"Holler!"
(quote from a DC friend's first response to the Easter morning liturgy having never heard it before. Awesome)

This past Sunday, Easter Sunday, was our first Sunday in Kenya. It's always difficult to adjust to a new place, but I think that sometimes holidays make it more poignant that you are, in fact, no longer in a familiar setting. Easter held just such an experience.

We set out Sunday morning in a taxi with a fellow IJMer to head to All-Saints Cathedral in Nairobi which is an Anglican congregation. As at most churches on Easter, there was quite a crowd gathering outside to head in to the next service and we were among them. The crowd comprised of an interesting mix of ethnicities and ages as we squished through the doors.

Disclaimer: I should probably just put it out in the open that I love church. I don't usually think of myself as particularly traditional, although I am not particularly non-traditional either... but just any given person I may meet in casual conversation at a party probably wouldn't assume that church-loving-ness about me straight off. So there it is.

I know I have a number of expectations and stereotypes stored away in my subconscious for what Kenya would be like and what our experiences would be. Some of these come courtesy of the big screen such as Lion King and The Constant Gardener, while other expectations are rooted in my previous experience in South Africa in 2001, while still others are the product of reading too many guidebooks and blogs about what to expect. I try to recognize those expectations and stereotypes when going to a new place in order to attempt a separation, or maybe more appropriately attempt to take inventory of truths or lies that are embedded in my preconceived notions.

In the case of Easter Sunday, I was expecting a lively time of worship and celebration with lots of color and 'African flare'. You know... the stereotypical unaccompanied choir and maybe some dancing. What I received was not exactly what I expected.

We began the service with a responsive reading and the traditional Easter call "He is risen!" which the congregation responds to with "He is risen indeed!" This has to be one of my more favorite Easter traditions (apart from Peeps and Easter bonnets of course *wink*). I get really excited before Easter services knowing it is coming and getting ready to reply with gusto. Needless to say with the combined personal excitement at this tradition and the expectations of a boisterous Easter Sunday Kenyan style, I was all ramped up for my response to the clergy's call.
Just as I expected, a ridiculously dark and adorable bishop got up and began the service "He is risen!"

I took a big breath and put my diaphragm behind my much anticipated response "He is risen INDEED!". And that is when it happened.

I suddenly realized that I was the only person in my general vicinity besides perhaps Ian who seemed to be super jazzed about responsive reading. (I guess I should be used to this as responsive readings aren't exactly the most exciting part of most people's church experience, but... it's Easter for crying out loud!) I got a somewhat startled half glance from the woman two seats down with the umbrella, and one of those trying-not-to-look-at-the-crazy-person grimace from the older couple in front of me. Yikes!

I calmed myself for a moment and tried to reign myself back in. I listened to a couple more responses and was surprised by the muddy mumbling all around me. Sure enough, I seemed to be the only crazy in the 5 or so pews on any given side of me. This was not one of those expectations that I was preparing to be dashed to pieces. Where was my happy African Sunday service!? What the heck is going on here?!?
So I flaked. I was in shock and frustrated, and as a rebellious move I decided not to stand up with the rest of the 'first time visitors' when asked by the provost. Who even likes doing that? As far as I know.... NOBODY.

It didn't take long for me to bounce back to full roaring-choir-kid volume and exuberance. One thing that continues to be difficult to learn as we transition from place to place is to not let a crushed expectation keep you from enjoying the moment as you had hoped. Sure, my fellow church-goers murmured through all of the responsive readings in the liturgy. That is no reason to join into the mumbling and let a few rumbly lines rain on my (Easter) parade.

Looking back, there are many reasons why the response could have been muddy: the architecture, lack of familiarity with the text (I mean it is Easter and lots of people show up on Easter who don't usually frequent church services), even low literacy rates could be part of the deal... and probably a couple church grumps thrown in. Not to mention that while I love Anglican services, I have to remember that the tradition is probably a little less charismatic than even my good 'ol Reformed background.

Either way, I belted my way through "Up From the Grave He Arose!" and a few more rousing celebratory hymns, laughed at the jokes of the wonderful Bishop who was preaching from Ezekiel about resurrection (brilliant! talk about throwing a curve ball to the usual text from the gospels), and shared The Peace with those around me.

Communion on Easter is always special since we are celebrating a fulfillment of the covenant and Christ's conquering death. Even though I didn't get my high-powered responsive reading, the procession up to the altar was great as we proceeded right through the cathedral's choir with the choir singing on either side as we reached the altar. That was awesome. Honestly, I love my teetotaling American Protestants at large and all of their weekly Welches grape juice, but there really is something about the heat of real wine going down your throat when observing Christ's blood shed for us that makes me feel connected historically.

All in all, Easter was great. Confusing, mildly disappointing in some ways, but in general a good beginning to our time here.

Our Easter celebrations didn't end there, of course. We walked around city center, through a park where I was almost run over by a camel while crossing a footbridge, in and quickly out of the Maasai market, into a grocery store to buy a man named David a bag of rice, and into a coffee shop for some of the best Masala tea I've had outside of Asia. A little after-noon nap helped soothe some of the jet-lagged feelings we're still getting and then we had a friend over for Garlic Chicken and some exciting rounds of Set and Nerts.

We're settling in and looking forward to new experiences and new friends during our time here in Africa

And finally....
He IS risen. Holler!
B