The Dancing Collection

A recent trip to Jess's site saw me learn a lot about how to prepare a project, make avocado jam (still not black after a month!), and give up on my woodworker - I ordered bookshelves out of town due to overcharging (by American standards, even) and wood-lacking (doesn't like working for someone who requires sturdy, non-nail-dependent joins) carpenters. I also went to church for the first time in almost three years.

At first I was placed up front behind the preacher as a first-time guest. They quickly moved me next to Jess and her translator, who did an admirable job transforming Kissi into French on the fly for two hours.

Being next to Jess just made me stand out even more than I would have with merely my melanin deficiency. The men sit on the left side of the church and the women, plus one white guy and a translator, sit on the right side.

At the beginning it was great - there was singing accompanied by drums and calabaches in sacks of beads. The music was uplifting and invigorating. People were smiling and enjoying themselves. It was everything religion should be.

Unfortunately the sermon ended up being a long-winded speech about how the children of the rich are awful; state employees are rich, lazy, and awful; and people don't give enough money to the church. I didn't ask them to remind me why I hated going to mass growing up, but they did it anyway and as the guest, I just listened quietly. Redeeming note: everyone up front behind the pastor fell asleep during the sermon and they were all out cold by the end.

The holy sermon, once blessedly over, saw the greatest church collection ever. Both the men and the women chose a representative and a secretary. The competition was clear: who could raise more money, the men or the women. I put my money in with the men, but I was betting on the women.

There was music while each group gave, then a first-round count was intended to drive them to greater charity. The men's secretary preceded his tally with a short speech about how men, who earn money unlike women, were surely the victors and he went on in a bit of flowery trash talk. The women's secretary simply stood up and announced they had collected more than two times what the men gave. The second round ended much the same way; the women obliterated the men.

They cheered and danced their representative back to her seat as the men's rep walked back to his alone and in shame. Our translator was laughing like he was the happiest person in the world, glorying in the humiliation of the men and the joy of the women. On my other side, Jess probably was the happiest person in the world: she had finally shared her African church experience with another American.