Rapture and Hairy Christians

Uganda, by most accounts, is a religious country. It is religious in the way that many African countries are: a lot of evangelical missionary teachings, a dash of former colonial religion, and some good old fashioned animism and tribal customs.

Personally, having traveled a bit in Africa, I kind of like this mix. I am more comfortable with it than most religious communities in the US because it tends to allow for a bit more tolerance...as odd as that sounds. It also allows for a good deal of singing and dancing which, to my mind, are always crowd pleasers.

Despite being raised a Catholic and having attended strict Catholic school for twelve years, I never really got into all of the guilt and suffering inherent in most organized religion, especially Catholicism. To be honest, I have always believed in God or a Higher Power but I always kind of assumed that He/She/It had a lot more to do than focus on punishing someone for masturbating or eating meat on Friday (maybe together, maybe separately...but still, I think there are bigger things to think about).

So when I got to Uganda and found out that most Ugandans in Kampala are Christian and take God pretty seriously, I decided to adjust my behavior from one of cautious cynicism to one of respect. Mainly, of course, because my beloved driver, Robert, is very religious and I didn't want to do anything to insult him.

Robert has a well-worn Bible that he reads every day while waiting for me at the office or in meetings. He has dog-eared pages, transcribed entire chapters (or whatever they are called), and he carries the thing around in some hermetically-sealed plastic contraption that comes with us everywhere.

Every morning, upon entering the jeep, I ask about his wife, kids, niece, and, of course, the Bible. I feel it has become a friend and I track its progress with us on our rides as it becomes more dog-eared and more cherished by the day.

I have also grown accustomed to the fact that we listen to Christian rock everywhere we go...Jesus blaring out of the speakers 24/7...

It keeps Robert happy and some of the stuff has a decent beat so who am I to complain?

It was last week's rapture that did me in, however.

I think it was last Thursday and it was a particularly grueling day.

It was about 90 degrees in the shade and the traffic was horrible. I had meetings around town and, by the third one, had developed quite a headache from sitting in the wicked pollution of an hour-long traffic jam.

Robert, however, was beatific.

On the sound system, he had a new track playing called, "Tell Jesus You are Coming!!!"

Every ten seconds, the chorus would scream, "Oh Jesus, I AM COMING!!!!" I AM COMING TO YOU, JESUS.!!!!..Here I am, COMING TO YOU OUR LORD JESUS!!!!"

Normally, Robert is content to just listen but that day he was inspired.

As I flipped through the newspaper trying to ignore the traffic and my headache...Robert decided to sing along.

"Jesus!!! Oh Jesus!!! Can you see your faithful servant down here??" he wailed. "OH JESUS, OH JESUS...HERE I AM, JESUS...I AM COMING TO YOU ('from Kampala,' he'd throw in for good measure, just in case Jesus was confused as to where Robert would be arriving from....)"

I lost my cool when he pushed the 'repeat' button on the CD for the third time.

"Robert, can we chill on the Jesus stuff for just ten minutes, please? I have a wicked headache and while I do, um, enjoy your singing, can we just switch the channel to, maybe, like the BBC or something?"

He was upset but he obliged.

On the way home, we nearly got in a accident.

"Robert! What the hell (oops)... heck, is going on here? You almost hit that motorcycle! Are you OK?"

(Robert has the instincts of a cougar as a driver so this was HIGHLY unusual).

He looked at me sideways and said, "I think I am just a bit hungry, I am fasting now."

"Oh Christ, for what reason?!!!" I asked. "Is it Lent yet?" (In my mind I was trying to tick back through the calendar on Catholic holidays but wasn't coming up with any clues).

"For Christ," he told me. "I am fasting for Christ."

He went on to relate that he could take no food or water from sunrise to sunset.

"But Robert, it is very, very hot now and you are having to work twelve hour days driving me around as well as having to carry heavy things...are you sure this is a good idea?"

He looked upon me as if Blasphemy Itself had gotten into the vehicle.

"Yes, it is an obligation," he said.

And then...

"Besides, I had a rapture today!"

What? Where? Did it get on the seat?

Then I realized that he had said "rapture" and not "rupture" and I calmed down.

I decided that we were reducing our hours, for our own safety, until this Tuesday, when the fast, and its inherent raptures and ruptures, might be finished.

Yesterday, the last day of the fast, we happened to drive by a couple of Hare Krishnas on the road.

Robert was fascinated.

"Who are those people, Madame Boss?" he asked. "The ones on the road with the beads and the flowing robes and the funny hairstyles?"

"Hare Krishnas," I explained.

"Hairy Christians??!!" he asked. "I have never heard of this religion!"

No, not "hairy..."

"Hare"

"They are kind of like Hindus...but not..." I explained. "They don't eat meat, they are peaceful...and they have centers all over the world where one can get a decent meal if one is backpacking and has run out of cash..."

(Hey, all we have is our own experiences, right?)

"Do they think their relatives are living in cows?" Robert inquired.

"No, I don't think so...but maybe. I don't know enough about them," I admitted, "But I know what they look like and that they are a peaceful religion."

"Hairy Christians!!" Robert marveled. "Wait until I tell Rebecca!"

He went on in his musings...

"I wonder if they are like the Seventeenth-Day Adventurists?"

"Seventh, Robert...not seventeen...and it's Adventists...not adventurists" I corrected.

Then I went on to explain that I didn't think the Hairy Christians were much like the Seventh Day Adventists at all.

"Good," he concluded.

Apparently he had dated a Seventeenth-Day Adventurist before getting married. She had refused sex before marriage. He was appalled.

"How would I know?" he asked me, incredulous. "How can a man marry a woman who might be very...'dissatisfying'...FOR YEARS...just on some promise to God? Crazy religion, that one!! God DOES NOT think that way!"

I was about to interject but then held my tongue.

And today, we celebrated the end of his fast with a few pieces of pizza for lunch.

Afterwards, he wanted to go out and find the Hairy Christians...to take a picture for his wife.

It is good that religion remains in perspective in Africa.