Celebrate Me Home

“The only thing better than singing is more singing.” ~Ella Fitzgerald, American jazz singer (1917-1996)

“Compound” would be a gracious description. The encampment was circular in shape with an enclosure wall comprised of bare branches woven together for support. Frankly, it looked more like a brush pile than a wall. The compound had seven gates; one for each family who lived there. “Does each family use only their own entrance?” I asked as we entered through one of the gates. “No, we enter through any gate,” our Maasai guide replied with a toothy smile. The Maasai people occupy parts of Kenya and northern Tanzania and are arguably the best known tribe in Africa.

“Be careful not to step in the cow dung!” someone warned. “You mean be careful not to step in the wet cow dung don’t you?” I replied. The Maasai are cattle farmers. Wealth is measured by the size of one’s herd and the number of children. A man must have both to be considered wealthy. By day their cattle graze in pastures outside the compound, but at night; they are brought inside to protect them from predators (mostly lions and hyenas). As a result, inside the compound, it is impossible to step anywhere that you are not stepping on dung. Even the exteriors of the hovels of our hosts were plastered and their roofs waterproofed with the stuff.

The remaining male members of the tribe appeared, clad in their traditional bright red blankets, in bold plaid patterns. One tall tribesman wore a blanket around his waist which bore images of the cartoon character Scooby Doo, though he had no idea who Scooby Doo was. Those who had earned their status as warriors, were easily identified by their distinctive headdresses and a sizable earlobe created by inserting a knife into the lobe and then twisting.

The men danced a “welcome dance”. Then all the men, guests included, engaged in “the jumping dance” or “adumu”; a jumping competition of sorts which is a demonstration of male prowess. In the distance we heard the sound of trilling voices. The women of the tribe, even more brightly clad than the men, processed into the compound as if their sudden appearance had been carefully orchestrated. They too danced and sang a welcome song followed by a chanted lullaby, and a song praising their sons. Their last song seemed to have a particular significance.

“What is that song?” someone asked our warrior host. “It is the song the women sing when they take the cows out in the morning.” “They also sing the same song when they bring them in at night.” “You mean you sing your cows into the field and home again…every day?” someone else asked. “Of course”, he replied with the same toothy grin. “Don’t you?”

We Americans spend billions of dollars each year on music and music producing devices so we can plug our ears, insulate our cars with sound and generally separate ourselves from the world. But the world was never intended to be masked or blotted out by music. Rather, it was intended to be experienced through the use of music. It should be our “ticket to ride” rather than a means of stopping our ears with electronic cotton.

Nor is music simply an accompaniment to our activities, like a movie sound track. It is not background noise. The Maasai women sing their livestock into the fields and home again, yet we seem to struggle with a few hymns at church. “Alleluia” might as well be “what’s it to yah?”

Why is this?

For much of the third world singing and dancing are a means of constant celebration, part of a daily ritual, whether it is welcoming guests, singing a child to sleep, a dance of courtship, or a song which carries one through the work day. Our “first world” culture has lost this ability to celebrate. When we do celebrate, we celebrate sporting events, successes, milestones. It is as if we are challenged to find reasons to celebrate. Celebrations are becoming a means of putting our success and wealth on display. We celebrate “things” rather than celebrating our daily lives.

Whether we choose to involve ourselves or not, our lives are a celebration: a celebration of our being, of our existence, of our humanity, of our journey. There is cause to celebrate failure as well. Failures often lead to personal growth and growth deserves to be celebrated. Even death is something which evokes celebration: Irish wakes, sitting Shiva or Dios de los Muertos celebrations for instance. Native American writer, Manitonquat, once described life as a “sacred mystery singing to itself, dancing to its drum, telling tales, improvising, playing.”

If we are to be truly happy we must learn to be good stewards of celebration. This means seeing life as a celebration of God’s gifts; a celebration occurring at all times; a constant renewal. We are called to celebrate this moment in time…and the next…and the next…even when we are singing the cows home at twilight.

Dear God: “Be with me and save me. Take great delight in me, quiet me with your love, and rejoice over me with your singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

“…singing induces in you a desire for experiencing the truth, to glimpse the beauty that is God, to taste the bliss that is the Self.” ~Sri Sathya Sai Baba, Indian Spiritual Leader (b. 1926)


© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.