Burundi is a very religious country. Most of the people are Christians, among the Christians the majority is protestant.
One of the first things I was asked here in Burundi by either the kids or people I meet on the streets, in the bus, etc. was: “Where do you pray?”
My answer was: “Wherever I want to pray!”
“No- in which church do you pray in?” they asked. “I’m protestant”, I answered. “So I’ll attend a service in the protestant church.”
“But there are many protestant churches! I myself, I’m protestant and I pray in the “New Life” church. But there are others like the Anglican, the Pentecost’s, Adventist church etc.”

Everyone goes to church here on Sundays – and everyone loves going to church. For many people it’s the highlight of their week.
I always imagined African churches to be very lively, with a lot of Gospel singing and exclamations of “Hallelujah”! This is only partially true – depending on the customs of each church.

Last Sunday Alain, a 19-year-old boy of the street kids centre, invited me to join the service in his church. As he is part of the choir there, he was already in church when I arrived:
It was bare brickwork, there were no windows nor doors, even the bricks weren’t really sealed.
The only proof of it being a church was the painting on the wall which said “Eglise Salut en Christ” (“Salvation of Christ Church”) and a small wooden cross hanging on the wall.
Apart from that there were only some plastic chairs and some instruments on a small stage.
Here again, I got V.I.P treatment so I was offered a chair in the front row as well as a translator. What I liked about this church was the fact that it was only small; only 30 people took part in the service. “The church is only new, and we continue its construction with the weekly collection”, I was told later on.

Other churches here are huge. They have space for many hundred people.

The choir made the entrance of the service; they had a really good singer which sang in Kirundi, as well as in French and in English, and the group showed a nice choreography, too.
The songs have mainly African rhythms, but sometimes I recognize songs in Kirundi which I know from German or English services.
Up next was the sermon, which was preached in Kisuaheli and was translated directly into Kirundi – and for me of course into French.
This priest was very enthusiastic – he literally lives the words which come out of his mouth. One could get the impression that he was shouting at somebody, but in fact in this way he wants to lay more weight in his words and somehow make his fellow Christians agree and shout “Amen” and “Hallelujah” after every word of wisdom.
There was a guy who went up the stage in order to tell his story: “I lately found a job with the help of God; he finally answered my prayers”.

Witnesses of the infinite power and love of God like him are no rarity. They should proof that God will help as long as you pray and live a life adapted to the Christian rites and beliefs.
One day we’ve been to the Anglican Church in which a woman with no underarms stood in front of the crowd and talked about her story. She was pregnant with her second baby which was, again, going to be a girl. Her husband was so mad at her for not going to give birth to a boy that he cut off her arms with a machete in his rage.
The woman survived. I’m not sure whether she lost her baby, but the man got caught, and is now imprisoned for lifetime.
She is also seen as a living proof for god’s justice; she survived, and now lives a peaceful life.

Then others went up the stage, saying or singing their intercessions.
The musicians joined in and it ended in a song to which everyone sang and danced cheerfully. Even I got off my seat and joined the church in the dancing.

What still scares me off somehow is the point when everyone is obliged to pray. They close their eyes, and start praying loudly, their faces contorted with pain, some clench their fists; others bury their face in their hands. The crowd becomes louder and louder, their words come thick and fast…What are they praying for?
For being alive, having survived this cruel war which ended only recently? For being healthy? Do they want God do protect their beloved which they lost during war or because of a disease? Do they pray for money? Do they pray for peace to continue in their country?
In another church this scenery ended in women crying, others were shouting, grabbing and shaking each other wildly in ecstasy.

People here have experienced so much cruelty and injustice, there has to be something to believe and trust in, neither in the leaders of their state nor in their fellow men.
The poverty makes it on top of that difficult to finance medical treatment, and for some diseases there simply is no sufficient treatment, for example for the widespread disease AIDS.

Where there’s no medicine to cure, where there’s inequality, insecurity and uncertainty,
there’s faith.
Acts of inhumanity fuel the faith in a superior power of those who are the victims – and of those who commit(ted) these acts.

‘The Salvation through Christ’

Another boy, 18-year-old Ernest, who heard that I’ve been to church with Alain, asked me what I learned in church that day.
I would tell him exactly that. But unfortunately I can’t do so, I would offend him bitterly.
I’ll explain another time why…