When In South Africa….

Sunday July 7^th, 2013

At church today I felt more comfortable so I danced more. They straight up called me out praising me in front of the whole congregation. “This sister can dance,” exclaimed Treasure as she motioned to me in the front row. “Let’s give her a round of applause.” Awkward hand wave to acknowledge their applause, ‘Yes, yes I am a white girl and I do have rhythm.’

My mother discreetly passes me Rand when it’s time to tithe like I’m her own daughter. It makes me think of when Grandmother would do the same thing to me growing up with dollar bills.

I was also ‘blessed’ today in church. The pastor put his hand in some oils and grabbed my head with his fingertips. It was interesting and a little frightening. I only did it because my mom really wanted me too and I doing it didn’t go against what I believed in some blasphemous way. And you know what they say, “When in South Africa…” Some people would flail onto the ground after he touched them so I was little hesitant cause it looked like he was hurting people with how forcefully he was putting his hand on their faces/heads.

So I was “blessed.” My scholars said that I approached the pastor flinching, eyes closed, slightly backing up preparing for the worse. My mother could see the fear in my eyes and assured me that I would be fine and that she was right behind me.

Everywhere I walked today in the community I was known as the girl who was dancing in church. People pointed and danced to convey to me I was the one they saw earlier. It’s beautiful how dancing is something that transcends language and instantly connects you to other human beings.