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Kathryn Evans, PCV Corps de la Paix B.P. 10537 Niamey, Niger West Africa

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Dressed in their Sunday Best

All dressed in their Sunday best, families walk to church. From my porch, sitting quietly in the morning, I can sometimes hear the congregation singing hymns. American missionaries, who lived in my village twenty some years ago, built, among other things, three evangelical churches and converted many people in town.

I went to one service, curious to see what a Christian service, conducted in Hausa, within a predominantly Muslim country would look like. The pasteur stood confidently at the simple wooden pulpit, dressed in a shiny white robe, delivering his sermon to the engaged mass, women on one side and men on the other (I sat in the middle, oblivious to the gender seat assignments). After the sermon, the altar boys passed around the eucharist, a sweet biscuit and some pungent fruit drink. The service closed with the men and women singing in succinct harmony. In fact, except for the fact that the service was in Hausa, it felt like any other Sunday church service I have attended.

In contrast, yesterday after the four o'clock call to prayer, wearing their Sunday best, crowds of people walked to the edge of town for a spirit possession ceremony. Filled with anticipation, I crouched on a mat, crowded by women and children, but protected from the scorching sun by the shade of a towering tree. There next to me in the circle of people, three drummers used sticks held together by colorful pieces of cloth, to beat the outside of calabash bowls. Behind them one man shook a gourd filled with beans and another glided a branch across a string producing a fiddle-like melody.

Two women and three men entered the circle, wearing red and black cloth, headscarves and leather belts decorated with dangling tassled cowry shells and mirrors. They began to circulate the space, pulsating their upper torsoes while throwing their arms up in the air, haulting occasionally to scream. After they all congregated to the center of the circle, encompassed by geometric designs that had been etched into the sand, they started sobbing. Their weeping wails intensified with each pulsating movement, until one of the men fainted onto the hot sand. Simultaneously, several women from the crowd of onlookers, rose in a trance-like state, pulsating their heads with their eyes shut. One of the women who rose, took long strides around the circle, periodically diving onto the ground landing on her knees. Then, with a breaststroke motion began shoveling sand onto her face and rubbing sand in her eyes, as if she was bathing in it.

A cloud of dust emerged and enveloped the trees and clouded the glowing sun. In the hazy mist, villagers removed the belts and scarves off the bodies that had been possessed. Their faces, drenched with sweat and tears, had stopped twitching, their bodies stood still as they greeted the crowd and then finally left the circle.

Minutes later, evoked by the drums, villagers started dancing. I was invited by my friend, Salaamatou, to enter the drumming circle. As I did, a flood of nerves made me nautious, particularly with hundreds of eyes watching to see whether or not their new foreign villager, had a shred of rhythmic capability. With two quick steps I started flapping my arms and pushing out my rear, in an effort to simulate what I had learned in Africa dance classes years prior. No more than thirty seconds of dancing, and a mob of women and children closed in on me, smiling brightly and greeting me on my movements. Overwhelmed and unable to move, Salaamatou grabbed my hand to lead me out of the circle. Finally able to take a deep breath, I realized that the mob, like me, had also followed Salaamatou's lead. So, she ran over to a fence, grabbed a stick and held it in the air threatening to beat the followers. Effectively, they all ran away. Then, as the sun set, Salaamatou held my hand and smiled, dancing in her step. As I tapped my feet in unison with her, I felt relieved that I made it through my first spirit possession ceremony.