Kenyan flag. Photo: Via Wikimedia Commons.
‘I could hear waves of singing – happy people, old and young.’
Getting the message: Myrtle Wyatt has Christmas in Kenya
I knew a Quaker Christmas in Kenya would be different, but not by how much.
We were leaving at first light. We woke early and shared Christmas greetings over a bowl of fruit and toast. We collected our gifts, wrapped in colourful fabric, and were on our way.
The murram (clay) road was good; the temperature pleasant. On the road, instead of cars we met groups of people singing their way to church, stopping occasionally to exchange exuberant Christmas greetings in Luhya, Swahili or English.
We arrived at the base of a small hill, where stood a welcoming Meshack, our host. We exchanged greetings and gave our gifts. On reaching the top of the hill we sank gratefully into the chairs Meshack had placed in the sparse shade of a tree and sipped warm Fanta orange juice.
Refreshed, I looked around. There were sprawling villages, shambas, animals and more. I could hear waves of singing – happy people, old, young, some hurrying, others taking their time: Friends flowing in from all directions to worship.
The hillside began to fill. Still people kept coming, until there were perhaps a thousand of us. The church leaders took their place at the nearby table. An expectant hush fell. The familiar greeting rang out ‘Mirembe mono. Mirembe voci’ – ‘Peace to you. Peace to all of you.’
We were led into worship by people who loved to make music. The hillside vibrated with joy, as familiar hymns came alive with spontaneous harmonies and changes of tempo. Occasionally someone shared a personal testimony. The Christmas message of love, joy and peace flowed through as church leaders shared new insights, changing languages effortlessly. As the message ended, the church leader held the silence, looking searchingly at the gathered group. From the stillness he asked: ‘What does the Christmas message mean to you?’
Mothers with babies in their arms were invited to come to the front and share their response. The leaders listened intently, sometimes adding a few words, before shared prayers. The invitation continued. Shopkeepers take the place of the innkeeper, local herdsmen are our shepherds. Now the church leaders, then the Mzee or Wise Men.
There was a collective intake of breathe. Who would be next? We waited. Then someone made their way towards an old man. As he rose, there was a general nodding and affirmation. A small group made its way to the front.
Meshack explained: ‘The Christmas message is an open invitation for everyone. What about the other people who would have been present at the stable?’
People were slow to come forward. We waited. Had we missed something? I sat puzzled, then catching Meshack’s eye I realised, ‘but what canst thou say?’ What rejoicing as we joined the waiting group.
Such a feast followed. How everyone was fed with stew and ugali was extraordinary, but they were.
The journey home felt different. Yes we were hot and tired, but exhilarated, inspired and filled with wonder afresh by the meaning of the Christmas message.
