22nd October, 2006

ON BEING CERTIFIED

I grew up in a very limited world – it didn’t extend beyond the island of Ireland, and as islands go, that’s pretty limited. Foreign travel was for either of two purposes – to emigrate, which many had to do in order to make a living; or to go on pilgrimage - to Lourdes, Rome or Oberammergau – I can’t remember hearing of anybody going to the Holy Land in those days! I would often wonder to myself if I would ever see any of those sights that seemed fascinating to the childish mind – skyscrapers, deserts, wild animals, etc.

Around twenty years ago I had the opportunity to visit an African country for the first time. Very good friends of mine were on assignment in Zambia and invited me to visit while they were there. It was a totally new experience for me – different people, different climate, different landscape, different …. you name it! I had the opportunity to visit an extensive safari park – I particularly liked the wart-hogs in their high-heeled shoes! I got to see the wonder that is the Victoria Falls. And, in return, I provided all kinds of native insects with a change of diet!

But one particular memory is special. It was on a week-end trip to see the Victoria Falls. We were staying in the local town, Livingstone, and decided to go to the vigil mass on the Saturday evening. Having located the church, which looked very dilapidated, we entered to find that the congregation consisted of only about nine or ten other people. There was a little group of women and girls sitting at the front, who turned out to be the choir. There were two big brawny white guys, who subsequently drove off in their 4 by 4 into the bush. And there was a very wizened old lady sitting just inside the door. The mass itself was a rather sad affair, with a very Roman liturgy that appeared very out of place in the heart of Africa.

After the mass I was approached by the old lady, who clearly was very anxious to talk with me. She said she had something she wanted to show me, and started searching through her belongings until she emerged triumphant with a very tattered bit of paper. “This is my most valuable possession”, she told me, with a big smile on her face. She very carefully unfolded it – it looked like it would fall apart any second. At last it was open, and she handed it to me to read. The print and writing on it was very faded, but I could just make out that it was a Confirmation certificate. Her most valuable possession? It made me feel very humbled.