Chilomoni

On Good Friday we got up about 4.30 to walk the 'way of the cross' with some of A's catholic friends up a hill outside Blantyre. We joined 100 or so other English speakers and set of at 5.30 to walk for about 2 hours whilst the sun was rising above the hills. We stopped at 14 stations, each with a large iron cross and a cast bronzy looking thing depicting a different stage of the Passion. There were priests and seminaries there who gave readings and led prayers at each station. The group sang and chanted the Lord's Prayer and what I think must be Hail Mary's between each stop. I was one of the only ones who had brought a rucksac of drinks and snacks but still felt it wasn't appropriate to tuck in until we'd reached the top (and even then only for the water, left the creme eggs in my bag!)

I found parts of this walk a little strange (I've never seen so much emphasis on Mary's pain before) but it was graceful and beautiful. The faith of some of those we met is phenomenally strong – It must be a great comfort to live with that level of conviction of the constant guide / controller; but it is a very frightening prayer to 'do with me what you will'.

The Chichewa speaking procession started around 8ish and they estimated that about 4,000 people were there. We took the other path down and saw the troops of them winding their way up the hillside. The singing was fantastic, much more joyful than the frankly turgid & luke-warm hymns we often get at home.

I'm left wondering and feeling all sorts of things but in particular come away with a real sense that whatever God is (or however it is understood), the sight & spirit of places like that valley, on that morning, must have something to do with it.

F x