Travel Journals

"Waking Up in an African Village" by Jan Neville

500 Words & 3 Photos in 1 Entry

Trip Journals

            It is 4:50 a.m. and I am lying in bed listening to the sounds of Pujehun village waking up, just as I listen to the sounds at night as I go to sleep. This has become one of my favorite times, lying and listening, trying to absorb the sense of deep community happening outside my walls. It feels so unhurried, so relaxed and natural.

            At 4:45 I awakened to the sound of the beating of the drum from the mosque.  Boom; boom-boom. Boom; boom-boom. Then the voice of the imam, calling the Muslims to prayer. It’s still dark outside.

            I hear the whirring of thousands of insects out in the bush, like a backdrop of sound. A rooster crows, and an occasional goat bleats, stirring before daylight.

            The village wakes slowly, in Africa time. It does not leap to alertness, fueled by caffeine. It stirs gradually and stretches. Another rooster crowing in the distance followed by the cooing of morning doves in the bush.

            At 5:00 I hear the soft chanting from the mosque, Muslims called together beginning their day in prayer. Then gradually more sounds of people stirring, footsteps on the path outside our house. Quiet voices speaking in Mende. Now, more crowing and goats bleating. Kid goats calling their mommies. I smell the smoke as fires are lit for breakfast and hear sounds of wood snapping as sticks are broken to feed the fire. More voices and footsteps. I drift back to sleep.

            At 5:30 comes the clang of the church bell, calling Christians to prayer just a few yards away from the mosque. Both groups giving thanks to their God. Both living in harmony within the village family, working side-by-side, caring for one another. What a lesson the rest of the world could learn from this.

            I doze. More voices speaking Mende. I don’t understand what they are saying, but I feel the language wash over me. Soft round sounds, like the shape of the earth, always in conversation, taking time for one another. Layers of sound, voices in the distance smoothed together and then individual voices nearer our house. I can understand none of it, but am enjoying the feeling it conveys.

            It's 6:00 and the sound I’ve been waiting for flows from the mosque, or is it from the church? The sound of voices singing in unison, a cappella. The tune is familiar, but of course I can’t understand the words. It’s light and lyrical, as the voices blend together lifting their prayer up and sending a lovely shiver down my spine. Every morning the same song, the same ritual.

            Now it’s getting light outside; the sun is coming up. More voices and more animal sounds. Chickens and goats. Someone is sweeping the dirt area outside our house. I hear people walking by carrying water from the well. Now the sound of children’s voices and a baby crying. The smell of the fires and sounds of cooking.

            It’s been a gift for me to wake each day this way, so contrary to my routine at home. In a sense it’s been my own form of prayer, holding the villagers in my heart as I listen and breathe.

         

A rooster runs as people gather to talk. Text copyright (©) 2006 by Jan Neville.  Photos copyright (©) 2006 by R. Jewell