A Baptism

Last week, Christine invited me to her baby, Benine's, baptism. Christine is one of the women I work with in the nun's co-op and she is also the primary caretaker of the rabbits, meaning that we end up spending a lot of time together and we were really starting to develop a friendship. So I couldn't possibly turn down her invitation.

Sunday Mass was like any other, crowded, hot, and sweaty and full of singing, standing up, and sitting down. Thankfully, my Kinyarwanda has come along enough at to the point where this is fairly tolerable since I can understand some of what is being said if I really apply myself.

Halfway through the service, it was time for the baptism. The mothers, who occupied the first couple of rows of seats in the central part of the Church and came forward together. First, the priest dabbed oil on the foreheads of all the babies in a row and then went back in the same order to pour water on their heads. None of the babies were too happy to be a part of that. I always feel sorry for babies at baptisms because it's meant to be their special day, but it always seems like it is one of the least enjoyable days they could imagine. But after the water, the hard part was over for them. The priest walked by and placed a cloth briefly over each of their heads while several attendants walked around to light the candles that the mothers had been given beforehand. Again, this seemed like a part of the ceremony that had given little thought to the feelings of its infant participants as most of the babies instantly tried to stick their hands in the candle flames that were right in front of them as their mothers sat back down and tried to pacify them.

When Church was over, I took photos of Christine and the nuns, as promised, outside. Little Shimwe, Christine's first child, did not look happy to see his baby sister getting all of the attention. Granted, despite being quite sweet, he always looks a bit disgruntled, which I have attributed to the fact that I have been told that he drinks beer already. The nuns picked him up and tried to cheer him up and I ended up taking a bunch of pictures and, in the hubbub, I got way too comfortable and my phone got stolen. At Church! When I was taking pictures for a baptism! This was not one of my warm, fuzzy Rwanda moments. I made a huge fuss in front of the entire congregation and made it clear that I felt like my trust had been broken. Here I was, alone, having given up an entire life in America so I could try to help people, and, in the midst of doing so, one of them had stolen my connection to my family from me.

Thankfully, everyone wanted to help. Father Vincent tried calling my phone several times and invited me over for lunch to calm me down. He seemed to not want what had happened to my phone to reflect badly on his community and kept on making the point that 99% of people are good, but it only takes 1 person to do a bad thing, which is true. I had momentarily forgotten that it was my confidence in the goodness of people that had driven me to do Peace Corps in the first place. In fact, the reason my phone had been so easily stolen was because I had grown so comfortable and trusting with that 99% that is good.

After lunch, I was invited to a bar and restaurant by my house to celebrate with Christine and another family that had just had their daughter baptised. Rwandan parties mostly consist of sitting around drinking soda and beer and eating meat and fried potatoes. I couldn't drink because I am a girl (unmarried women are all considered to be girls here) and I couldn't eat the meet, but it was a good get together anyways. As part of custom, everyone in the group got up and made a speech. Christine's husband made sure to include me in his own, extending an invitation to me for every family event they would have in the future. I really felt like I was a part of the family. Later, more of my friends showed up. Sister Rukundo handed Benine off to me and I sat, bouncing her up and down, while Marigo got up and danced, and Laurence, my Kinyarwanda tutor-to-be sat and chatted with me. It's good to be starting to have people to celebrate with here in Rwanda, even if it does just mean sitting around eating soda and fries.