The least of my brothers…

When I was a young, we used to go to mass EVERY Sunday and we rarely attended service at our local parish in Orleans.  We would drive all the way from Queenswood Heights into Our Lady of Mount Carmal near St. Laurent and Montreal road.  I believe we did this because my parents preferred the stern messaging of Father O’Rourke and I think him being Irish didn’t hurt either.  He was one of those priests, that seemed to me at the time, to be well over 6ft tall, broad shouldered and always opting for the daunting black robes. I’m glad my encounters with Father O’Rourke were restrict only to Sunday mass.  In the context of us all being “God’s little soldiers” he was certainly, in my mind ,cast in the light of General Patton or even Sgt. Fury.  From a young boy’s perspective, the only benefit of attending Father O’Rourke’s service was that if Terry (my younger brother) and I were good in mass, there was a chance that we could stop at the Red Barn (just down the road) for a burger on the way home from church.

My Mom had my brother and I convinced that it was the ultimate judgement of Father O'Rourke that would determined whether we were worthy of a post worship feast; a “Burger Blessing” if you will.  Leaving mass each Sunday, somehow as Father O'Rourke greeted the exiting parishioners, he would secretly send our Mom some kind of signal regarding the verdict.  As much as I would watch for it, I never really felt I had successfully decoded their secret communications; was it the wink?, tilt of the head to the left?, to the right, was it the nod?, the shake? Anyways, most times my brother and I didn’t have to ask if the “Burger Blessing of Father O’Rourke” was earned.  More often than not, we knew climbing into the back of the car, whether we had blown it or not.  But you know, sometimes that was ok. Because the only thing better than having an uncontrollable laugh (ESPECIALLY when you’re not suppose to be making a peep) is inducing one on a sibling.  Well worth the occasional burger and fries.

Of course the most effective means of self-managing your behaviour and upping the possibility of a post mass reward was to zone out completely; go some where in your mind and mentally entertain yourself  You could count church pews, ceiling fan rotations, evaluate the structural architecture of the roof, etc, etc etc. Unconsciously you’d go through the sit, kneel, stand cycles while maintaining a certain level of consciousness through personal audio cues.  These would give you a sense as to where you were in the mass and how much longer you’d need to maintain this “meditative” state; “….the gospel according to …”,”….this is my body…”, “…to the least of my brothers…”.  “The least of my brothers….”, this one always stood out for me. 

Marie, the cleaning lady, had shared with me that there was Catholic mass on Sunday a 6:00am in Mooré, so I decided to attend to see if I could recognize the different stages in the mass. I wanted to see how different it might be.  Well I didn’t make the 6:00am, but understood that there was also a french mass at 7:00am, so I started out towards the direction of the church.  You can hear the church bell ringing, so it was easy to find the church. Fairly quickly, I was following a large crowd all dressed up in their best Sunday clothes.  It was quite beautiful as the Burkinabé  women wear lots of bright colors.  Many were carrying benches and chairs to sit on.  As I got closer, the crowd grew larger and larger; collecting more and more people from all different directions.  Finally I decided to walk past the church, as I grew concerned that the presence might be too much of a spectacle.  I could see so many children and thought maybe the call of “Nasara” might not be appreciated by the adult congregation.

Now continuing away from the mass and further back into the village, I began to encounter more children coming up to me to shake hands.   I found myself again at the mosque that I had mentioned earlier (in the post Whoa…where did that come from).  A woman signalled to me that I could enter the courtyard of the mosque.  A few minutes later, a man and a boy welcomed me into the mosque.  It was empty, notwithstanding the prayer mats that lay on the floor.  The man explained that the women would stay behind the curtain, found at the rear of the mosque and the men would prayer in the open area in front.  To the left side, along the wall, was a pile of sheepskins and small “kettles”.  He explained that the sheepskins were available for those the did not have a prayer mat and the small “kettles” were used to wash your hands and feat for absolution before prayer.  I asked if he would take a picture of me praying on one of these mats.  It was a great experience and privilege.

I left the Mosque and continued my walk.  I came across a group, of maybe 20 people, sitting on the ground listening to a man wearing a green “bubu”(robe) and bright colored cap.  As the man was speaking a boy sat in the front holding a spear, pointed straight up to the sky.  I asked a boy, who was also standing back from the crowd , if this was a mass.  He said it was part of the celebration of the Naba; chief of the village.  All the while as the Naba spoke to the crowd, someone to his right was thumping on a drum and every once and a while some guy, to the right of the crowd, would begin blowing a wind instrument that sounded somewhat like a “gazoo”.  This guy had a hat and robe that definitely put him in the category of a monk.  In Mooré he is known as the “WIRÉ”. I moved in closer when 4 chickens were passed up through the crowd and handed to one of the Naba’s assistants.  From time to time, the women in the crowd would yell out, with a high pitch cheer that we have all heard, when watching documentaries.    Finally the Naba, and his three of assistants stood with the 4 chickens in hand and entered a stone hut that was adjacent to the crowd and connected to a courtyard.  The crowd sat quietly and awaited the Naba’s return.   A little while later, the Naba and his entourage returned with several bowls.  The bowls were passed through the crowd allowing each member to take a sip.  Now I know what you are thinking; I thought it too…. but it turns out the bowls were filled with water.

Again a boy standing in the crowd, signalled that I could pass through the hut and enter the courtyard of the Naba.  I cautiously approached the entrance to the hut, inspecting it from side to side with a fair bit of hesitation.  I still was not sure if I could actually do this or if the boy was just curious to see if the “Nasara” could take a punch…or a beating. LOL.  It was all good.  The Naba was quite welcoming and obliged me pictures; including the WIRÉ.

Leaving the Naba’s palace, I continued my stroll.  I’ve begun taking more pictures and have learned that the children actually treasure this as they get to see themselves immediately.  I think they enjoy this as much as the “bonbons”.  Most of them will not likely ever get to see a hardcopy photo of themselves.  Not far from the Naba’s palace (it seems this palace is just like every other courtyard) I snapped a picture of a woman (from a distance) filling a donkey cart with millet(grain).  I could hear her friends from across the road call out to her that the “Nasara” had taken a picture of her.  As I approached her, we began an exchange (without any real mutual understanding based on language) that I recognized from home.  She interrupted her gestures and laughter as “Now why would you snap a picture of me, while I’m wearing this old dirty skirt.”...I pointed to my pants and said “…and I looking any cleaner with these sand dyed pants.”  We laughed for a minute, as she looked at the picture and then I carried on my merry way.  To be honest, I don’t know if we actually connected the way I have described but again here is an example where I have my reality and she has her’s.

Returning to my humble abode at SEMUS,  I was quickly joined by the guard’s 2 little girls; Fatimata (9yrs) and Alimasatia (7yrs). I pulled out some crayons and colored paper and asked them to draw a picture for their father.  Watching the two little girls drawing, while listening to 3AM by Matchbox 20 as a very pleasant way to end the morning.

I spent the rest of my Sunday typing up my journal and talking with the locals.  The hostel is quite busy during the weekend so you get a chance to interact with more people.  Bev, the kids and I had an “amazing” internet connection which facilitated a higher quality Skype experience.  With this connection there was an irresistible temptation to have people join in.  We had all sorts of people taking turns chatting with Bev and the kids.  Bev’s french is much much better than mine so the conversations were cool.  As you can imagine, every one of these people could not comprehend how people could live in an environment where the temperature can drop so slow.  They would literally have physical reactions where they could not remain seated.  One guy was so taken a back by the Skype experience that he wanted my phone number both in Burkina Faso and in Canada.   <<Just to jump ahead, 2 days later while he was in Ouayigouya he called me…. just to say hello and see whether I was still going to be here when he returned to Yako….LOL.>>

So as you can see, I didn’t get to the Catholic mass in Mooré, as I had intended to do at the start of my day.  I didn’t get to see if I could identify the different stages of the mass, the different audio clues such as ….  “The least of my brothers….”.  I believe I am now walking amongst those that could be considered (from a privileged perspective) the least of my brothers. But they don’t act that way. They are making it work.  They smile, laugh, welcome you and deliver a certain sense of security within their community..including those that are simply visiting.  I was quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of so many welcoming invitations, from those that clearly have less than you and I.   Again, “the least of my brothers” in privilege not in value, potential and accomplishment.  The irony is not lost on me that I began my day heading out to one religious ceremony and ended up exploring two others.