Palm Sunday

Flora Hostel is a convent and guest house run by Italian nuns. It is greatly influenced by Western culture. The chapel has daily and weekend Masses, but the people who attend are mostly upper and middle class. We wanted to experience a more traditional African Holy Week, so we asked the MK Fathers where we ought to attend services. Graciously, Father John offered to take us with him on both Palm Sunday and Good Friday.

Father had called earlier in the week to ask our shoe sizes. Why? We are in the time of long rains, translation, the long rainy season. He wanted to get gum boots for us. The streets in the slums are not paved and of course there are no sidewalks. (There are no sidewalks on our way to language school either.) Father has been in Tanzania and Kenya for over forty years so he knows what he is talking about. Part of his current ministry is helping with weekend Masses in the slums. There are six churches in the area where he works. These six churches have two assigned priests, but there are eight Masses. So Father John and two other priests help out on the weekends.

He took us to St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Kanisa Katoliki la Mt Maria, in the slum called Kwa Njenga. It hadn’t rained in the past two days, so we didn’t need the gum boots after all. Father had delivered the palm branches a few days earlier to the priest’s house, but thought he would be taking them to the church that morning. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that they had already been delivered.

As we were driving to the church, he remembered why he usually walks. The streets are very narrow and difficult to maneuver. In his excitement of having guests plus thinking he’d have palm branches on the roof of his vehicle, he forgot and drove. I’m guessing he won’t do that for a long time again. There was barely room for one vehicle to pass. On the way home, he got boxed in. A load of dirt had been delivered while we were in church and unloaded right in the middle of the street. There was no way we could pass. That meant that we had to back up until we could find a place wide enough to do a three-point turn. Once that was accomplished with the help of many pedestrians, who should we meet in the street but a truck. There was no way we could pass, so we had to back up until the truck could do a three-point turn and we both headed out following one another. I’m glad I wasn’t driving!

Father had selected this church because they do a procession before the Mass. Usually they process through then entire “town”, but this year they decided to make it smaller. The palms were outside the church. Several children adopted us helping to create our own crosses. This is Rhinda who was my guide. She not only helped me, but allowed me to sit by her and even showed me around the grounds after church. Rhinda is ten years old and already in grade 7. She must be a good student! Notice her little sister, Mary, on her hip. She was responsible for Mary the entire time we were there. I never did meet or see her mother. At one point I tried to hold Mary to give her a break, but this white skin is pretty scary and Mary wouldn’t allow it.

We gathered about a block away to begin the procession. You can see from the photos here Father blessing the palms at the beginning of the procession. We sang as we walked to the church. The church had been added on to five times as it increased in size. We estimated that there were over 1500 people there. The choir alone had about 70 people in it. There music is so amazing! No keyboards: only voices, hands, rattles, drums and another instrument. You can see it in the hands of one of the choir members. It is made of wood and has to be filled with seeds. They shake it and it makes an amazing variety of sounds. They sing in at least four part harmony. Beautiful!