Sunday Morning Church

We arrived at church at 8:30am, and already the band was playing and the first few rows of seats were filled. I followed the lead of the girls and sat with them in one of the hundreds of plastic chairs that filled the concrete building. As the minutes went on, the band grew louder, the church filled to capacity and the energy intensified. By 9am, the band was hushed, and one of the senior members of the church began a prayer. Soon the entire congregation had their hands in the air, eyes closed tightly, and were muttering collectively individual prayers. The tone gradually increased until I was uncomfortably surrounded by hundreds of devout Baptists, swaying, hands shaking, heads nodding, yelling out to God, praying for salvation, praying for redemption, confessing their love for the Lord. The would continue for a long few minutes before the prayer leader slowly silenced the congregation, she spoke a few calming words, and again the intensity, the energy, and the prayers would start again, continuing for an uncomfortably long few minutes. After 4 or 5 repetitions of this cycle, the band was started up, and instantly the church as transformed from a place of devotion to a rock concert. People began dancing, singers belted out horrible karaoke renditions of Africanized songs of praise, and the smiles on peoples faces were infectious. A few of the girls I am working with joined a small group of women in the front of the church in traditional Tanzanian dances, people shook hands and welcomed each other, hips were shaking, and hands were clapping. It was the most fun I'd ever had at church. 30 minutes of dancing and ear-piercingly loud singing later, the and slowed and the pastor took his place at the podium. From here the typical church events ensued; testimonies from community members on acts of miracles, a sermon on the importance of loving God completely and the blessings this will bring, offerings to the church, and then when I thought it was over, things really started to get interesting.

By this time it was already 12:30pm, my stomach was grumbling and my ears were muffled from the 4 hours of onslaught that they endured sitting near speakers turned up about 100 decibels too high, and needless to say, I was anxious to leave. Through broken translations from the man sitting on my right, I was informed that the pastor has the power to heal through the holy spirit and to remove evil spirits that are tormenting congregation members. So the pastor had called forward anyone in the congregation who had a problem that they needed additional help and prayer to solve. Close to 100 people crammed to the front of the church. The simultaneous intense praying that I witnessed at the beginning of the service began again. The pastor too muttered and mumbled words into the microphone, asante baba, asante baba, thank you father, thank you father, were the only words I could make out as his head began to twitch seemingly uncontrollably, his eyes flickering and squeezed tight. And then, the words stopped, he moved into the crowd, and then he slapped a women on the forehead, and the another, an anger and aggression in his eyes. He clenched the head of a man, digging his fingers into his scalp. Women started convulsing, fainting, screaming, crying. People lay twitching, seizing on the floor, unconscious. The pastor moved through the crowd, praying for them, slapping foreheads, clenching scalps. The intensity in his eyes frightened me. I've seen this before in movies and read about it in books, but never before have I witnessed such a sight.

After the crowd had thinned, the pastor called on a few individuals, claiming the holy spirit had sent him messages for them. He advised one man to find a new home, another man to visit his ailing mother, and prayed with a woman to ensure that all the money that was stolen from her is returned. He picked each of these people from a crowd of hundreds, I wonder if his messages from the holy spirit were really right?

The pastor said his closing remarks, and all the while, laying just a few feet from me, a woman who had fainted continued to lay unconscious, sprawled uncomfortably on the cold cement floor. At the closing of the service, the band began to play again, startling the woman from her sleep. She sprung to her feet, confused, breast hanging out of the top of her shirt, she stumbled in circles, swinging her arms, a look of panic and fear in her eye. The pastor fought to calm her, muttering prayers, and slapped her forehead. With a single slap to the forehead, a light flashed in her eyes, and she was back. She smiled and began dancing, hugged the pastor, and was back to normal. It's like she was hypnotized, possessed and controlled by something else.