Coming of Age

Last weekend I was treated to an authentic African cultural experience:  a visit to a coming-of-age ceremony for two sisters, ages 17 and 13.  It was actually a far cry from the traditional pagan initial rites to which many local churchgoers still send their children.  Having renounced the spiritism inherent in those rituals, this group had sought a more Biblical approach, inviting ladies from a different church who had developed a Christian alternative to present their program to the pair of teens.  And of course, since Africans don’t mark important events in isolation, about thirty women from the local congregation joined the festivities.

The gathering began on Friday morning, with introductions, dancing, and an exhortation on obedience from Ephesians 6.  By the time I arrived that evening, counseling was well underway.  The two young ladies sat on the floor with their escort while members of the presiding delegation took turns instructing them on procedures deemed necessary for a successful married life.  Bathing, menstrual hygiene, housekeeping, laundry, child-raising, and sex were all covered, with liberal participation in the form of giggling, whooping, hollering, singing, dancing, applause, and coin-tossing from the women huddled nearby — at least those who weren’t sleeping.  When one inductee’s head was lowered during a demonstration, an eager bystander turned it upwards, but otherwise no one seemed to care that the two sat still and silent, staring blankly at the ground, during the entire proceedings.  I didn’t comprehend all that was said, because the tribal language rather than the national language was used, but I certainly understood enough to convince me that this was very different from anything I had ever experienced before!

After an hour and a half, I made the fifteen-minute walk home to retire for the evening, but the women’s cheers still reached my ears at various points through the night as their program continued uninterrupted.  By the time I returned on Saturday morning, the counseling had finished and a team of cooks was busy preparing a feast.  After sending the feted teens to bathe, the ladies decked them out with new clothes, jewelry, makeup, and hairstyling, all accompanied by exuberant singing and dancing.  They then concealed them with colorful cloths draped around their heads and bodies, and led them in procession to chairs at one end of a pavilion.  The singing and dancing intensified as not only the ladies, but some men and children as well, paraded forward to ceremoniously drop gifts of money for the girls into two bowls held by their escort.  The girls themselves remained completely hidden under their coverings as they sat motionless in their seats.  Over the next hour, their veils were gradually lowered to waist level, and they were eventually seated on the ground with heaping plates of the meal that was also served to the guests.  As the atmosphere relaxed, several people, including me, ventured to exchange greetings with the honored young ladies, and for a moment I even saw one of them smile.  By around noon, with the meal finished and nothing further on the agenda, everyone began drifting away.  The presiding delegation left with heads laden with flour, chickens, and other agricultural products given in appreciation for their conducting the ceremony.

Imagine how you would feel if you had been invited as a tourist to this exotic event.  You would probably snap dozens of photos and, once you arrived home, bubble over with vivid descriptions of life in faraway Africa.  Your friends would be duly impressed by your adventure.

But what if you went to the same event, not as a tourist, but as a true member of the community?  What if the people surrounding you, throwing their heartfelt energies into these eyebrow-raising traditions, were your best friends, those with whom you have chosen to spend the rest of your life?  What if “home” weren’t somewhere to return back to after your African adventure, but exactly the setting of these strange activities?

Please pray for me.  The fact that I love these people with all of my heart doesn’t mean that I like all of their traditions.  And the fact that they have renounced pagan rituals doesn’t mean that they don’t still have room to grow in their understanding of Christian sexual education.  Where is the balance between respecting their culture and offering suggestions for improving it?  It can be very difficult to find.  I need your prayers.