The congregation sings a Malagasy song while a group of women preform a choreographed dance.*
The sun is rising
The Son is risen
And I rise with them
The Son is risen
And I rise with them
I watched the soft pastels of early morning play across my yard. There was no doubt this was the dawning of an eventful day. Eventful not just because it was Easter Sunday, but because it was Easter Sunday in Madagascar; eventful not just because it was Easter Sunday in Madagascar, but because I was going to church on Easter Sunday in Madagascar. Chances are, if you attend church in Africa on Easter of all days, there will be dynamic energy and color. I could already sense the day's vibrance as I stood in the morning light.
Dressed up and ready to go, I sauntered over to the village Catholic church with my neighbor. As expected, Easter church hit the ground running in eventfulness from my fist step over the sanctuary's threshold. As unexpected, the actual first eventful occurrence was getting my hair caught in the priest's goatee scruff during the cultural cheek air-kiss, which almost led us to miss and kiss each other on the lips. (Truly, I am the master of first impressions).
