Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday morning, we got up earlier than usual to go to the 7:30 French service at a church we've been attending.  Douglas went outside before breakfast and noticed that our neighbors' cat was sitting at the top of our water tower.  How cute! We like this cat a lot (except for the fact that he makes Jennings sneeze) - he is friendly and feisty, seems to be a good hunter, and gets along well with the two dogs Fiona and Simbi and the duck Ferdinand that he shares the yard with.  Unlike them, he doesn't have a name, so we just call him "Cat" or "Pousse" in local French or "Pusu" in local Swahili, or "Little Buddy" or "Fangs".

By the time we were actually ready to walk out the door, we were already running late.  The cat was still on top of the water tower, but now he was crying in distress -- he couldn't get down.

Tower for the water tank outside our kitchen door

We were torn... we didn't want to be late(r) for church, but Little Buddy needed us.  Jennings stuck her arms up and tried to get him to jump to her, and he seemed to want to, but then thought better of it.  Finally, Douglas climbed up on a rickety board, grabbed him, and handed him down to Jennings' waiting arms.  In the process, we both got lots of soot on us, as the water tower was charred from a fire last year.  It still seemed vaguely ridiculous to have gone to all this trouble for a cat rather than getting to worship sooner.  But then we remembered Luke 14:5 "Then Jesus asked them, 'If one of you has a son or an ox that falls into a well on the Sabbath day, will you not immediately pull him out?'" We figure it works for cats, too. Mercy before legalism.

Cat displaying immense relief and gratitude... as they do.

So we were late to church, but it is not a big deal to arrive late to church here.  It was a small group, only about a dozen people.  The Swahili/Lingala service at 9:30 is much larger.  (Most people here speak at least a little French, but are much more comfortable in Swahili and/or Lingala.)  We sat on a pew on the right side of the church.  We were the only couple sitting together; all the other women were sitting on the left side of the church, and all the men on the right.  No one said anything to us about it, though.  If we keep attending this church, we can find out how strong a tradition the segregated seating is.  We certainly would prefer to sit together, if it isn't going to cause great offense.

At the end of the service, we all processed out, swaying and singing a song about friendship in the Lord, and formed a receiving line so that everyone shook everyone else's hand.  Then one of the elders handed out the preaching schedule for the next two months.  Douglas was scheduled to preach two weeks later... good thing we were at church that day to find out!  It will be for the Swahili/Lingala service.