On Thursday, the parish here in Gumbo celebrated the feast of their patron, St. Vincent de Paul. While I had no idea what to expect, I knew it was going to be big. The choir practiced everyday for what seemed like hours in preparation for the Mass and program that followed, and a bull was slaughtered during the ceremony the night before. Several tents were set-up outside the church for the overflow of people and for the events. The Mass was amazing, with lots of singing, dancing, and African yelling throughout the three hour-long ceremony. Many guests came, including the Vicar General of the Juba Diocese, the Minister of Agriculture and Forestry on behalf of the Governor, and several groups of religious sisters, and after Mass they all came back to our house to enjoy the bull for lunch.
The procession about to enter the church
Sisters bringing up the gifts, with dancers lining the aisle
The program began around two, and included many speeches, traditional dances and sketches. After a long day outside, the final event was a Bari (the local tribe) traditional dance. The dance consisted of a few drummers in the middle, with lines of men and women slowly shuffling around in a circle. Several minutes passed watching the dance, and seeing more and more people from the crowd enter, Sister Antoineta told me to go join. When she tells you to do something you do it, so I got into the line of men though I’m not particularly fond of dancing. With the laughs and hollers of the people, I began to get into it, and decided to attempt “the jumps.” I had no idea what they meant, but I saw a pre-novice and seminarian doing it, so I figured I was in the clear (after I found out you are trying to out jump all the other men to marry the tallest girl). As my adrenaline started to pump, I kicked off my sandals and went for it (I’m in a light green shirt in video below). It was a moment of joy letting myself go and joining in the traditions of the community that so graciously welcomed me. As you can see and hear the crowd loved that I was involved, especially the women at the bottom of the picture.
A view of the program
Bari traditional dance
After Mass the next morning, a middle-aged woman called me over and began talking to me about my dancing from yesterday. I only understood a few things that she said, but Brother Jackson translated for me. She essentially said that I was a natural, should join the Bari Tribe, and marry a tall girl from the village. I smiled and said thank you, not knowing what to say. At the breakfast table, the priests and community shared quite a few jabs and laughs as I told them what had just happened, but I was happy to know I was no longer thought of as a guest, but rather a member of the community.
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