So after eight months of being invited to every church you can think of in Accra, and tactfully refusing, I made it to Church last week Sunday. Felt good and gave me a calm I needed to start my week.
I had always used the excuse of language as not going to church in Holland, but of course here that doesn't wash. Furthermore, most of my friends - in Holland that is - didn't believe in God, so I had no real push to find one of the many English churches I am sure there were. I must confess that that created a rea dilemma for me. Did I have a religious obligation to save their souls? Or did I just let them be ? Chicken, realist or somewhere in between the two I opted for the latter.
Most of my church going experiences to date outside of funerals and weddings, really have been Sunday school way back when at Ewarton Methodist, and mantilla-wearing-genuflecting-masses at my Catholic boarding school - also way back when. Hardly your charismatic, energy pumping sessions. Here was oh so different!
The use of song and dance in African churches I think are unparalleled, and you can imagine my amazement when lo and behold in the middle of singing a very lively hymn, complete with drums and all, a spiritual conga line started. What initially were two ladies moved by song, suddenly became a line of twenty, weaving in and out of the rhythm of the band and the clapping of the rest of the church! Make a joyful noise indeed!