On being blessed

During the summer after my sophomore year of college, our beloved Grandpa Bill passed away during heart surgery. He had been golfing the Friday before and brought his phone book and cell phone to the hospital so that he could call all his golf buddies to remind them that he would be back up on his feet in no time.

My grandfather was my first immediate family member pass away. His death was a shock and a sadness within our family that is hard to explain. However, we all were still related to our Grandma Alberta, his wife of nearly 65 years, and knew we needed to look damn good at that funeral. She looked better than any of us, but at least we tried. It should come as a surprise to nobody that my mother and I immediately headed to the “mothership” as my father jokingly calls it – Nordstrom – for some much-needed retail therapy.

I’m also not one to let a perfectly good black dress go to waste, so when it came time for fall formal recruitment and preference night, I decided to go ahead and wear the same dress I had worn my grandpa’s funeral that summer. A little morbid, sure, but no big deal. Or so I thought.

When I told my friend Paulina that I would be wearing the same dress, she said absolutely not – unless we cleansed it first. And this is how I found myself, dripping in sweat, post run, browsing the sage selection at Happy High Herbs on the corner of Telegraph and Channing. Preference night was coming up quickly and we secured a time for our “ritual” in the days preceding it. For fear of burning down the house mid-recruitment, we met in the DG courtyard. I came armed – funeral dress, Happy High Herbs sage and a lighter. Paulina came armed as well – with her knowledge of burning sage and rituals. A handful of our friends came to bear witness.

Paulina lit the sage, said a few words and we wafted the smoke around the dress. Simultaneously, we all glanced at the chapter room. The night before our chapter room had seen some harsh words, anger, resentment and just about every negative quality that recruitment brings out in tired, stressed out sorority girls. We decided that it couldn’t hurt to perform a little sage action on the dreaded voting room. Prancing around the chapter room, cracking up and making fun of the stupid shit our sisters had said the night before, we waved lit sage, keeping a semi-watchful eye for fallen sparks. This will always hold a special place as one of my favorite college memories. If you joined DG during Fall 2014, you’re welcome.

I also will not forget how meaningful it was that Paulina wanted to cleanse my dress. Even though burning sage and the supposed associated healing powers isn’t something I believe in, I knew she did and knew that her offering to do this for me was a true sign of support and friendship. It also makes for one hell of a story.

Fast forward nearly five years later (and seven from the freshman year game day pic!!), and I find myself suddenly unable to sleep through the night. Advil PM helps, but I reserve those for Friday nights as a special treat to myself for making it through the work week. I’ve tried nighttime meditation, limiting screen time before bed and reducing caffeine intake – joking about the last one. Maybe it is my horribly uncomfortable bed, perhaps the stress of work and integration, or possibly the recent incursion of Burundian rebels into my neighborhood. Who knows?

I confided in Xaverine, a frequent guest star of my blog, and she told me that she would call her friend to come and bless my home. As promised, early the next week, Xaverine pulled me aside to speak to me privately. My mind raced – what could she possibly need to tell me in private? She only wanted to tell me that she and her friend would be visiting me that evening to perform the blessing. I rushed home early to do some serious cleaning and prepare my house for guests. I wasn’t sure what a Rwandan Pentecostal blessing entailed, so I went ahead and made sure my entire house was clean in case she needed to go inside my various rooms.

Xaverine and Mado arrived after it had gotten dark and I had long ago given up on their visit. We shared tea and made small talk. Small talk turned to talk about my sleep, which turned into talk about my faith, which turned to a conversation between Xaverine and Mado in front of me and about me. Like most of my interactions, I understood some of it but not all.

What followed was a long, passionate and very animated prayer for me, my home and my sleep. Mado became more and more animated, speaking loudly with fervor, with Xaverine interjecting “Praise God”, “God Bless”, “Yes, God” and “Mmmmmmm” throughout the prayer. Mado said something about “agapussy” – cats – which she had also said to Xaverine during their previous conversation. I couldn’t tell if cats were good or we were wishing them away, but either way, I had to suppress a little chuckle mid-blessing.

Suddenly, the prayer was over and Mado and Xaverine were heading out. They thanked me for the tea and I thanked them for the blessing and for visiting my home. Alone again in my home, I was able to reflect on the experience.

I immediately thought back to Paulina performing the sage ritual on my black dress in college. I didn’t understand Mado’s blessing, but I understood that it came from a place of compassion and love. Xaverine called her friend who lives miles down the road to travel to my house and pray for the sleep of a Muzungu girl she had never met. If this isn’t a nearly perfect example of love, empathy and selflessness, I’m not sure what is. My sleep has improved, whether a result of the blessing or other outside causes. I have seen Mado a handful of times since she came to my home and she never fails to break into a big smile and cheer “Praise God!” when I tell her that I am sleeping well.

I’ve had a number of seemingly strange experiences in Rwanda – what is truly strange is how normal they are starting to seem.