Prayer

Alexandra Foley

June 8th, 2011

Wednesday at McColin's Preparatory and Orphanage is prayer day. The entire upper level (p1 through p6, ages 6 to 14) gather together to chant and dance. This in and of itself is an incredible experience, but even more moving is the time that I spent with the teachers in their prayer prayer, after the students prayer had ended.

There are six of us gathered in the 12' by 12' dimly lit room. I try to move my body to match their dance, and tune my voice to match their speech, but my body is awkward. I step and clap, step and clap, trying to clap and step in time to their chants, but my voice falters, unable to synchronize with their song. My rhythm is poor to begin with, and combined with attempting to pronounce the forgien Ewe chants, I loose step. The small room we are standing in is used for the prayer every Wednesday, and it houses echoes of the hopes and dreams of the teachers encased in its rough cement walls. Praying here is not like prayer in the states, where we are stony, silent, and stiff. Here we are vivacious, loud and fluid, and our bodies match the love that we speak out loud into our prayers.

I am not a religious person, and if asked, I would classify myself as an atheist. However, even through my disbelief I can feel the the reverberation of power present in the room, and the belief and community that our chanting creates. We pound our chants into the dirt floor by stamping our feet into the ground, and speak our voices into the low ceiling, opening the dusty roof into a clear sky. We turn that room into a chapel, bringing it to life. While the teachers pray to God, I say my own prayers, prayers to myself and to my own beliefs and integrity. Alex, the leader of the prayer tells us to chant our peaceful hopes for the success of the coming day. While Judith and John, Michael and the other teachers look to the sky to find their saviour there, I look up to stretch my neck and back, my own sort of religious yoga, preparing myself in my own way for the day I will spend teaching.

Maybe its the heat, or because I had only a banana for breakfast, or the cup of coffee I had this morning (the first caffeine that I've had in two weeks), but for whatever the reason, I feel more power in this tiny room then I have ever felt in a church in the U.S. Although I'm not religious, the way that the Ghannain's have accepted me and my beliefs into their daily lives has inspired me. I love this individual yet communal prayer, and I look forward to Wednesdays to come, where I will learn more words in Ewe, and find more prayer within.