Day's Diary

April 30, 2007 ~ Linthipi

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Some churches are easier to get to than others, but some are well worth the effort that it takes to get there. That is the case with the Linthipi Congregation. This church is in the middle of the Chingale region. That is behind Zomba Mountain, so to get there, from Zomba, it is a two hour drive, up over the mountain, down the other side, and then through the valley. The roads are difficult to traverse (that is for another entry), and the going is slow. I had four students and a partnership committee member with me on this adventure. One of the students is from the Chingale region, so he was our human road map. He had a general idea of the church location, but was not exactly certain, so as we got closer, we stopped to ask folks we met along the road. By this time, the road was very narrow and the pedestrians or bicyclists were few. There were no other cars. The answer we got from each one we asked was the same. “Yes, it is just the road a bit. You are near.” After half an hour of this sort of direction, we decided that they didn’t know any better than we did. My companions explained distance in Malawi is expressed differently than other places. Here it is impolite to discourage someone and even more impolite to not have an answer, so it is polite and truthful to say it is near. It is, relatively speaking. Then we came to a woman who said that the church had lost its roof, so we should look for a roofless building, just down the road. This was the first we had heard of this, but it made looking easier.

Sure enough, just a bit down the road there was a church without a roof. But there was no one there. We were told that the service was at 9 a.m. and it was 8:55, so we expected to be greeted by an anxious congregation and a worried pastor. There was no one. We decided to drive on. Maybe they were meeting somewhere nearby. We drove on but there was no sign of a congregation. Then we met a gentleman on a bike who looked as if he were going to church. We asked him and he said he was an elder at Linthipi and was headed there. We needed to turn around and follow him. He showed us a good spot to turn and we followed. Sure enough, he led us to the building without a roof. The service would start at 10, he told us. He carried a bench from the building shell and offered us a seat under a tree. This would be the location for the worship service, he informed us.

Shortly, others began to arrive. They carried benches, brought out tables and flowers and a cloth with the PC(USA) symbol on it, a gift from their sister congregation, Ben Avon. They set up for worship. Then the abusa (pastor) arrived on his bike and welcomed us. He was a friend of one of the students who had accompanied me, so they had a good reunion. He told us of the hardship of the congregation this past year. The rainy season had been good for the crops, but not for the church building. In one of the early storms of the season part of the roof blew off. They had taken the rest of the iron sheets of the roof off to preserve them and save in costs when they rebuilt. These are stored up the road at one of the elders’ homes. They had built wooden frames inside the church and had used some of the iron sheets on those during the rainy season, so they could continue to meet, but since the rains are over all that remains in the shell of a building are the wooden frames, kind of a shell within a shell. If the iron sheets were left, they would be stolen.
We saw the vestry, the meeting place for the elders before and after worship. It has grass growing up around the edges of the floor, watered by the rains. That is where they were setting up communion as we walked through. Their plan is to rebuild, but in a different style, so the storms will not damage them again like this. In the meantime, they make do with what they have.

We went back “outside” and finished putting together the order of worship for the service. Then at 9:50, the pastor said it was time to go for tea. I asked about the start of worship. He said with the church as it was, starting time was flexible, depending on setting up. So we followed him down the road, past the point where we had turned around and into a yard where there were mvano (women’s guild members) singing to greet us. We saw the iron sheets behind the house. This was the home of the session clerk. After singing and dancing with the mvano for a while, we went into the house for tea. This is a very poor area, economically. Most of the people farm their land and depend on the crop for their living. If the rains are good and the crop is good, they are provided for. If not, they are in famine. This area suffered greatly in 2005, during the drought. Many of the people have little or no education since the nearest elementary school is more than 6 kilometers away, a hard walk for a child. But in the midst of these hard conditions, we were welcomed and graciously received. There is no electricity in this area. Our tea was prepared on a charcoal fire. We were given tea and bread, which was joyfully served by the same ladies who had sung and danced with us. We ate. They waited on us. It was a humbling experience.

When we finished, the abusa led us back to the church, to begin the service. Even though it was held under the trees, and the congregation sat on the ground, the clergy robed. The congregation deserves the best the abusa has to offer. The service was much like any other Malawian CCAP worship service, except, we were outside and quietly moved with the shade as it moved. The men sat in one section of shade and the women and children in another. We had the traditional choirs and greetings and announcements. I preached and Rev. Juma, a graduate student, translated for me. He is the friend of the abusa. Before the offering, the congregation brought gifts to me, to thank me for coming – a bowl of fresh eggs and a bag of ground nuts (Malawian peanuts) – and gifts for the abusa as well. Since he serves seven congregations, he only gets to this church once every two months, so they wanted to welcome him as well. I was deeply touched by their generosity. They were giving from their hearts and giving the best that they had. Communion followed the offering. The abusa and I served together. The Holy Spirit was present in a powerful way. The wind that began to blow just as we began communion was a reminder of the Spirit’s presence.

After worship, we met with the Partnership committee of the congregation. One of the concerns of their partner church has been the lack of communication. Being in this remote area, I began to understand the problem. The internet is only an idea to them, not a reality. Many of the people don’t read, let alone use the internet. There is no electricity to the homes, and no ground phone lines. The church does not even have a post office box to receive mail. The abusa gets mail from the Presbytery office when he goes there, but that is not often, since it is a two hour ride one way on his bicycle. Some have cell phones, so we talked about how to use what they have to work on communication with the Partnership in Blantyre and from them to the Pittsburgh congregation. They are excited to be receiving three guests from their partner church in June. They were concerned that their partners would not be comfortable in such rustic conditions. I assured them that their gracious welcome would make everything fine. Their warm hearts will more than make up for any lack of creature comforts.

After the meeting, we were escorted back to the session clerk’s home, but this time we drove the truck and the mvano led us down the road, singing and dancing as we went. We stopped the truck on the road and just parked it there, since there would be no other cars coming, I was assured. They were right. We had the only motor vehicle that had appeared in days. The mvano had prepared rice, nsima, relish and goat meat for us while we were meeting. Again, we ate and they served. Again, they gave from their hearts. Their generous hospitality touched me deeply. I have been here long enough to know that this is the Malawian way, but it never ceases to move me, to know that they have so little and yet give so much so willingly. The mvano sang to us as we drove away, singing until we were out of sight. This is truly the Warm Heart of Africa.