…before the rooster crows…

…before the rooster crows three times…

When you are a child growing up a lot if not all of the things you see around you amaze(s) you, not in a bad way but more like a ‘puzzled I wish I knew why ‘kind of way. One of those for me had always been religion.

Now, like most kids I grew up in a religious community predominantly Christian community to be exact.

Like with any other area some churches were bigger and had a bigger influence than the others.

My mother’s home church was what was called ‘Zion’. The kind where people ran around in a circle singing, barefoot (holy grounds), clapping hands, with the drum beater in the centre of the circle. Nice touchy songs. Characterised by a large number of women, children and fewer men usually the bailiff, Priest and boy children. It was fun fewer formalities, just singing mostly, prophesying session and testimony time didn’t really feel like church, church. To be honest I wanted to be that drummer, I mean they had their work cut out , while everyone was running around the circle singing and clapping all they had to do was beat that drum ,man.

My father however belonged to the Methodist, which meant that by default it would be our home church. Fondly known through its founder John Wesley, how it found its presence in our rural village I am not sure I am thinking missionaries perhaps? Anyway somewhat distinct to that of my grannies. The Preacher will, without fail remind the congregants how important it was to follow order. The church being Methodist meant that things had to be done in a certain fashion all the time, they would say. Order they did follow alright,if you were to wake my twelve or nine year old self from a deep sleep and ask how church was done I would tell you that:

Soon as it hit eleven o clock the choir at the Preacher/Reverend’s command would lead the congregation with an opening song, followed by admission of sin, NDIYAKHOLWA, GCOBANI, SIYAKUDUMISA consistency all the way.

Loved everything about my home church…oh wait! Maybe not everything but the singing (best not start with me now)

Amid other events that occurred throughout the church year, Easter had to be the biggest of them all,the most  talked about , a lot of effort went into preparing for Easter. There was a time when my mother lead the youth back in the villages, which meant that our home had to house youth related rehearsals particularly preparations for the  Easter plays.

Now being young, I couldn’t really participate in the plays, so I would just watch and be the runner. Everyone wanted the role of Jesus, lead act obviously. When I think about it now I am amazed at how progressive my mother was, to her it didn’t matter much that Jesus was a male, when it came to the play the person who got that lead role had to be good and more often than not it was always a girl. Needless to say the role of Judas was among the least favourites (understandable so, imagine being known as the one who sold the Savior for two pennies or was it ten?).

rooster

“Truly I tell you” Jesus answered “This very night before the rooster crows you will disown me three times”

I swear even my mother did not have much faith in my acting abilities or ….I don’t know, but from being the runner I would end up with the role of being the chicken (as it was known) Yep that Rooster, the one that cried while Peter denied knowing Christ, never mind being one of his followers yes I would be that rooster. The first time I got the role I must have been five or six I remember I squawked before I was due, it must have been the excitement of being in the play. However as I grew into the role I waited carefully for my queue and when it was time, I would screech so loud , I tell you if real roosters were present would have been so green with envy. In my screams I was hoping for a real role, more like a human role next time even if I was one of the guys who were hanged alongside Christ anything. Needless to say that was pretty much my acting career, I never progressed beyond the chicken.

Times were good then, my mother didn’t care if the kids belonged to our church or not, if they showed discipline and talent and wanted to be in the play, they would be in the play. That was before the Easter bunnies, hot cross buns, and pickled fish. While I was too young to grasp the significant of the story at the time, I don’t recall Easter bunnies and Easter eggs featuring anywhere during the cruxification.

Anyway it’s Good Friday afternoon, I am not a church and I am not feeling the least guilty about it.

The fact that I did not buy hot cross buns doesn’t bother me either my son doesn’t like cinnamon anyway.

I did not prepare the pickled fish…

Instead I am here at coffee typing this, while watching my kid play.

Does that mean I am not a believer?

oh I am a believer alright  just figuring some things out…

…Happy Easter holidays…

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2 thoughts on “…before the rooster crows…

  1. wow andzo this is the most interesting peace I have read from your writings. sorry for the your acting career ending as a chicken.

    keep writing I think you may have hit a nerve of something that comes natural to you.

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