namuwongo

I went to church in namuwongo this Sunday. Namuwongo is the biggest slum in kampala. Bob and I took a taxi and boda to get to namuwongo stage, then I called my contact William at the church to send someone to guide us. The stage is nothing more than a flat area by the road for carts containing food to stop and unload. I was anxious that we might be in the wrong area, or they might not find us. Bob kindly pointed out that finding the only 2 white people in the area might not be that hard for the guide. Oh… right. I turned to see a teen in spotless bright clothing and bright write shoes. I noticed the shoes because all of kampala has red mud, even more so in the slum. (only in the slum its black). The teen mike guided us thru the maze which is the slum. Houses built off of houses holding up sheds. And all across the walkway stretches clotheslines with clothes in various states of disintegration. Kids would run up and grab my hand yelling mzungu and “hi”. Cute, happy kids. The adults just stared at us, wondering what in the world we were doing there. Around the mud hole, under the clothesline, between the houses, past the rusting fence, turn a corner, do it all again. This place goes on for several kilometers. I want to just go wander around, but I would need a guide to get me back out again. on the way back out i caught a pickpocket trying for my phone. We finally walked into a building of sorts. Sloping cement floor with pockmarks all over it. Thin wood walls with barred windows covered by lacy curtains. Rough-board rafters right above our heads led up the tin roof. It was the gathering place of this community, as the church should be, easily the biggest building in the slum.

The actual church was pretty much amazing. I understood about ½ of what they sang, bob understood even less. Imagine a church presented with Christian songs without the traditions that go with them. Their worship looks like a cross between Christian and African traditional celebrations. When the song talks about shouting, or dancing, or jumping, guess what the people do? They shout, they dance, they jump. When it says kneel, no one stands. We sat at the front side so we could see both the congregation and the stage area. During the dancing songs, everyone danced. Grown men and little children. The space between the people and the stage made the perfect space for the children to wildly dance. Eventually several little ones overcame their fear and grabbed our hands. I played the game of see how many hands you can hold in one hand to forgo the possession fights. The church went for 3 hours. We sang, announcements, visitor introductions, our special introductions (we went up front), the sermon, even a wedding announcement. Groups of men and women escorted the bride and groom up to the front where the pastor explained that they were now officially a man and a woman, and called us all to notice they wore traditional clothing of man and woman, not girl and boy. He also announced when the wedding would be. All this time the bride and groom did not go near each other since their entourage still surrounded them. But they did share many looks and smiles. Also, different musical groups would come up to sing and dance, always both together. People would walk or dance to the stage and give them money then walk or dance back. When the actual offering basket was set out, most of the church surged forward in a mass to give their money into the barrel shaped basket. This is the slum, but these people give eagerly just as they eagerly dance or sing. All during the service, kids outside crowded the doorway across from us to stare. Once in a while an adult would notice and shoo them away.