As I was walking up a steep road called simply KN3, towards the center of Kigali, I noticed to my right a large building that looked familiar. It looked familiar because in fact it was the Sainte-Famille Catholic church in downtown Kigali and I had read some of its history when studying books about the genocide on a previous visit.
In a deeply religious country such as Rwanda, and in times of trouble, it would not be unexpected for people to seek refuge in such a building - in the same way perhaps that Londoners took refuge in the underground stations during the blitz in the second World War. And this is exactly what happened.
However according to witnesses this may not have been the expected haven, for the priest allegedly took to arms himself, and assisted the militia in picking off candidates for execution. What really can one say about this? Silence has its own voice.
So I entered the building, sat down, and said a prayer or two before exiting and making my way into town.
I addressed my mind to the question of a service attendance for the coming Sunday. A google search suggested that the Christ Church Rwanda would be suitable. Primarily because it was an English speaking church.
On the next Sunday I asked the hotel receptionist to order a taxi and I jumped in the car. The taxi driver claimed he did not know where the church was and asked for the number, and tried calling. I found this rather odd since it was a well established church and not far from the hotel. I guess I was still naive to Rwandan taxi driver tactics. Before leaving Rwanda I had indeed learnt the tricks. The driver will claim the destination is obscure and may take some time to find, thus the cost of the trip increases. I said to the driver - 'well if you don't know where this church is, I suggest we cancel the journey because I won't be able to help you'. After this, he suddenly remembered exactly where it was located and took a rather long time to arrive there. He charged me the equivalent of ten pounds, which is more expensive than a London black cab. I was rather annoyed however I had made the mistake of not negotiating the price before heading off - so in a way only had myself to blame. I handed him the money and rather sarcastically thanked him for such a cheap fare.
I entered the church and took a chair towards the back. The worship team were singing Blessed Assurance, a song I had not heard before. It was a really lovely performance and I do admit my eyes were rather watery while listening to the lyrics
After worship Pastor Brett Shreck delivered a first class lecture about the nature of suffering, why it exists and how it works its way into our daily lives. It was thought provoking and I thanked the Pastor at the end of the service for his superb delivery.
I needed to find a taxi back and I was not going to call the driver who drove me to the church. As I was walking down the street, two attendees approached me asking for financial assistance - the first to help with tuition and the second to help with medical expenses. I had some reserve to help the first, but not the second since I needed money for the return trip.
Begging is an annoyance that one really just has to shrug off in Rwanda. If your skin is fair, then you are fair game and you will be approached. I wonder how Rwanda will address this going forward as it transitions into a wealthy African country. I say it does need addressing because towards the end of my stay in Rwanda I sensed that it was as much as a habit as it may have been a necessity. It is tiresome as well as uncomfortable having to refuse when your spare cash has already been given out.
It wasn't long before I found a taxi driver. He knew where the hotel was, and we agreed a price that was considerably cheaper than the previous fare. It was a good service, and I was pleased to have attended a church service in Rwanda.
Peace to All
However according to witnesses this may not have been the expected haven, for the priest allegedly took to arms himself, and assisted the militia in picking off candidates for execution. What really can one say about this? Silence has its own voice.
So I entered the building, sat down, and said a prayer or two before exiting and making my way into town.
I addressed my mind to the question of a service attendance for the coming Sunday. A google search suggested that the Christ Church Rwanda would be suitable. Primarily because it was an English speaking church.
On the next Sunday I asked the hotel receptionist to order a taxi and I jumped in the car. The taxi driver claimed he did not know where the church was and asked for the number, and tried calling. I found this rather odd since it was a well established church and not far from the hotel. I guess I was still naive to Rwandan taxi driver tactics. Before leaving Rwanda I had indeed learnt the tricks. The driver will claim the destination is obscure and may take some time to find, thus the cost of the trip increases. I said to the driver - 'well if you don't know where this church is, I suggest we cancel the journey because I won't be able to help you'. After this, he suddenly remembered exactly where it was located and took a rather long time to arrive there. He charged me the equivalent of ten pounds, which is more expensive than a London black cab. I was rather annoyed however I had made the mistake of not negotiating the price before heading off - so in a way only had myself to blame. I handed him the money and rather sarcastically thanked him for such a cheap fare.
I entered the church and took a chair towards the back. The worship team were singing Blessed Assurance, a song I had not heard before. It was a really lovely performance and I do admit my eyes were rather watery while listening to the lyrics
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine
O what a foretaste of glory divine
Heir of salvation, purchase of God
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood
Perfect submission, all is at rest
I in my Savior am happy and blessed
Watching and waiting, looking above
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long
This is my story, this is my song
Praising my Savior all the day long
After worship Pastor Brett Shreck delivered a first class lecture about the nature of suffering, why it exists and how it works its way into our daily lives. It was thought provoking and I thanked the Pastor at the end of the service for his superb delivery.
I needed to find a taxi back and I was not going to call the driver who drove me to the church. As I was walking down the street, two attendees approached me asking for financial assistance - the first to help with tuition and the second to help with medical expenses. I had some reserve to help the first, but not the second since I needed money for the return trip.
Begging is an annoyance that one really just has to shrug off in Rwanda. If your skin is fair, then you are fair game and you will be approached. I wonder how Rwanda will address this going forward as it transitions into a wealthy African country. I say it does need addressing because towards the end of my stay in Rwanda I sensed that it was as much as a habit as it may have been a necessity. It is tiresome as well as uncomfortable having to refuse when your spare cash has already been given out.
It wasn't long before I found a taxi driver. He knew where the hotel was, and we agreed a price that was considerably cheaper than the previous fare. It was a good service, and I was pleased to have attended a church service in Rwanda.
Peace to All
No comments:
Post a Comment