Everywhere we went we were treated as honored guests and were even invited to speak at a Catholic mass. We were overwhelmed with kindness and generosity. We were given more gifts than we could carry including a giraffe, a hippopotamus, an impala, and two Masaii warriors.(Fortunately these were all carved of wood). We were also presented with two live chickens, one of which we are sure we had for dinner. We were invited into the homes of total strangers and granted every courtesy and fed more than we could ever eat. I got drunk with a priest and a nun, talked politics with a coffee broker and a government official, and learned how to make local moonshine.
Probably the most surprising thing for me was that my perspective of the Catholic church changed completely. I was quite skeptical of the missionaries that came to Africa and robbed the natives of their beliefs and their culture. Now I realize that without them, the Africans could not compete in the modern society that is washing over them. The Fathers, Brothers and Sisters of the Catholic church have built schools, dispensaries, clinics and hospitals to improve the lot of people across the continent. They have sacrificed their lives in the true spirit of Christianity.
Through a friend of a friend ( thanks Patti) we connected with a Catholic priest in Western Kenya. He generously shared his life with us for a few days. He shared his parish, home and roots with us. (Thank you Father Martin) We got to visit the humble village where he grew up and I, my friends, yes I, attended several Catholic masses.
Father Martin picked us up at the Kenya/Uganda border and after lunch took us to his native village nearby. A rough collection of mud huts topped with thatch were dispersed through several fields of maize, beans and cassavas.
A hut in Father Martin's village
After a visiting with some of his relatives we went off to his house where we spent the next two nights. We had long discussions about religion and philosophy and drank beer long into the night. (Getting drunk with a priest was a first for me).
Hangin' with Father Martin and Father Augustin
The following day was Sunday so we all went to mass. The first mass was under some trees as this village was too poor for a church. Fields of maize provided the walls and the canopy of trees arched over the congregation to provide the roof. The floor was dirt. Rough benches provided the pews. The spirit was stronger in this “church” than in the loftiest cathedrals of Europe.
Church in the trees
An African mass is unlike any other. These people are joyous in their celebration of their belief. The service starts with native dancers leading a processional to literally dance the priest to the altar. Dressed in matching T shirts young girls dance in dual choreographed columns as the priest in his vestments follows them up the aisle. African drum rhythms pound out gospel songs as the choir and congregation sing in four and five part harmonies complete with random ululations of praise.
Father Martin
We spent a few more days with Father Martin doing rounds castigating recalcitrant parishners. This offered an opportunity to observe life in a small African village; an opportunity not possible without a guide like Father Martin.
Parishner
Next Father Martin took us to visit a friend who runs a convent school near Nakuru in the central highlands of Kenya. Sister Pauline welcomed us as long last family, gave us a cool little hobbit house to live in and vowed that it was our home whenever we were in Kenya.
She along with Father Martin took us too Lake Bogoria National Park. This park protects the eco system of one off Kenya’s Great Rift Valley alkaline lakes (similar to Lake Nakuru). It had many more flamingos than Nakuru and a bonus of some hot springs and a geer spewing from the lake.
Father Martin and Richard at Lake Bogoria
The following day Sister Pauline took us to her native village in Eastern Kenya up near the Somali border and we bid Father Martin a fond farewell. Again, we were greeted as long lost family members.
Some of Sister Pauline's family members
We spent a day chilling in her village, meeting her relatives and visiting their homes.
Sister Pauline's village
The following day, we attended a 35th wedding anniversary party with hundreds of other well wishers. I attended yet another mass to celebrate their marriage with a renewal of their vows. It was touching and hilarious at the same time. (You had to be there). Victoria, the wife was a hoot and it was easy to see how this man could love her for 35 years.
The happy couple renew their vows. (Note dancers in the background)
Today, we left Kenya behind, but it will always have a place in my heart and mind. I will never forget the wonderful people I met there and the kindness and generosity they showed me. While I remain skeptical of organized religion in general, there is no denying that a lot of good is happening in Africa because of the Catholic church.
Sister Theresa, Deb and Sister Pauline
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