Welcome to Africa

I'm breaking my rule to blog just once a week because too much has happened in the last few days to wait.  I feel as though I have been introduced to a small part of the true Africa and its substance is quite impressive:

What happened?
Very late a few nights ago, I heard yelling and chanting in a local dialect from the village a few hundred yards from my room.  When asked, one of the priests explained that a woman was plagued by evil spirits.  To save her and protect her soul, the villagers were taking part in a ritual of cleansing.  All of the villagers.  The whole community.  Everyone.

What has this taught me about Africa?
The word "community" has strong meaning, stronger than anything I've experienced.  This is not to knock Americans, who have certainly rallied to the aid of one another during times of tragedy.  There is something to be said, however, for the pluralistic way of thinking and living here.  Every single person dropped what they were doing and came together for a common purpose, no matter their plans or how long it would take (all night).  It seems there is no "I" here.  There is only "we".  All of their hearts beat to the rhythm of the same drum.

What happened?
The next afternoon, the boys I was playing football (soccer) with shouted words of encouragement as I climbed across the top of the goal.  They cheered me on during the game.  They replicated my way of celebrating a goal.  They also gave me a name-sign that resembles a large bird having a spasm as it takes flight (don't ask me why - it just happened).  All day they yelled "Keet!" ("Caitlin" is too hard), made the gesture, and laughed whole-heartedly.  They huddled around me and showed me how to eat osami - a long stick that looks a little like bamboo.  They laughed as I bit into it without peeling the outer layer; they laughed as I tried to swallow what is supposed to be spit it out.  They laughed and handed me another, then another and another.

What has this taught me about Africa?
If I play with them (which I am more than happy to do), the children will embrace me.  Already they accept me for my positive points and are willing to overlook the negative.  If I want to be a part of the community, it is through the children that I will find my place.

What happened?
Later, I found the girls singing and dancing.  I watched for only a moment before they pulled me into the middle of a dance in which an outer circle whirls around a leader who beats a standing drum.  They laughed because I'm sure I looked foolish.  They smiled because everyone was having a great time.  The only words sung in English were, "we are so happy today," and they meant it.  They all laughed and smiled and sang and danced.  It felt like a scene from a National Geographic documentary.  It felt... authentic.  (Duh Caitlin, maybe because it was authentic).

What has this taught me about Africa?
No matter what they have, many Westerners seek still more things to provide them with happiness, all the while living a solitary life behind TV screens and computers.  Here in South Sudan, people gather together to be "so happy" and make their own bliss.  But I believe they used the wrong word.  It is far beyond happiness.  It is capital-j Joy.  People have an intense exhuberance and zest both for life and for one another.  It is simple and it is beautiful.

What happened?
Last night, the village gathered for Rosary outside the church.  It was said in 4 different languages, one of which literally sounded like soft music playing.  As I ran back to my room for a moment, one child was adamant about saving my seat despite many attempts by his friends to occupy it.  He cared that it was mine.  After Rosary, the four SLMs were called up to say a few words and were recieved with thunderous applause and roaring cheers.

What has this taught me about Africa?
People have great capacity to love.  Those here love us not for what we have or what we will try to do.  They love us just for being and for being with them.

Overall impression:  Africa thus far has embraced me despite my ignorance.  It has loved me for my willingness.  It has begun to teach me in the same way an adult explains simple things to a small child.  In the 12 months to come, I believe it will show me more than I ever thought I could see, both the good and the disheartening.  Here we go...

PS: On an unrelated note, learning Arabic is really hard.  I feel like a complete idiot during class.  Thank goodness the people all speak English and are patient with my ineptitude.