Welcome, Father!

Today I attended most of the priestly ordination of Father Boniface Benedictus Mwahindange (please don’t me how to pronounce that!). I didn’t really have much choice about whether I would attend or not, because the ordination happened about five feet from my door.

Last night, I went out with about 10 of my friends and colleagues for my birthday. We gathered at a local bar. After two or three large bottles of Tafel, the excellent local brew, I felt like I was speaking Oshiwambo fluently. At the very least, when newcomers arrived I was able to make the introductions in Oshiwambo. Eventually we moved to a second bar, which was one of the nicest bars I’ve been to in Namibia. It was large, well-lit, and clean. Outside of the bar itself, there was a formal outdoor seating area in the form of a poured concrete porch. Behind the bar, a nice buffet of beef, goat, oshifima, carrots and butternut squash was available. After a late dinner and a few more drinks, I headed home around 11:30 and feel into a deep sleep.

When I awoke Saturday morning with a slight hangover, I threw on my nicest clothes, a tie, my dress shoes, and stumbled out of my room, vaguely hoping that the ordination would not be too big of a deal. I was wrong. When I opened the door, I saw between 500 and 1,000 people sitting and standing in the courtyard of the boys’ hostel. Tenting had been erected to provide shade over much of the crowd. A small platform, not more than three feet from my bedroom door, had been transformed into a ceremonial altar, replete with flowers, a podium, and white draping. At least five hundred chairs from the mission, the school, and our neighboring school were arranged around the courtyard. Right in front of my door sat about 30 Catholic priests. I said a quick “Baruch ata” to myself and sat down to watch the ceremony.



This ordination was a big deal for several reasons. First, the Archbishop of Namibia was there to officiate. Secondly, the priest being ordained was from the Benedictine order, and was the first native Namibian Benedictine priest ever to be ordained. Finally, father-to-be Boniface was a local boy from the Ombalantu region. It was a case of local boy made good.

The most interesting part of the ceremony was how in many ways it resembled a wedding. At the beginning—well, only one hour into the ceremony, which technically still counts as the beginning, as the whole thing lasted five hours—the initiate was presented to the Archbishop by his proud parents. They gave him away just as in a traditional wedding. I think the Archbishop may even have asked if the parents had any objections, but because the whole thing was in Oshiwambo, I’m really just guessing here. After some singing by the nuns and girls from our school, there was a long ritual where the initiate prostrated himself completely before the Archbishop while a variety of prayers were said. The initiate may have lain there for 30 minutes or more, which emphasized the submission to God’s will. Once Father Boniface was formally ordained, the Archibishop presented him to the audience. Each of the thirty Catholic priests in attendance came up on the altar, hugged the new priest and said a few words to him. It was as if they were welcoming him into his new family, which I suppose they were. The Archibishop and the new priest then walked, arm in arm, around the crowd to much singing and celebration.




Despite my best intentions of sticking it out for the whole time, three hours of hot sun, Oshiwambo, and a mild hangover got the better of me. Anyhow, it seemed like I’d seen the good part already. Unable to go back to my room, I went over to Robin and Nicola’s house and took a nap. Fortunately, I woke up in time to catch the end and the food. There were so many people attending that food was served in four different areas of the mission; depending on a person’s importance, they were served different food in different areas. Priests and government ministers got the primo chow in the boys’ dining hall, nuns and community leaders got the next-best food in the girls’ hall, regular folks ate in the main hall, and children were served something outdoors under a tree. I was heading to food area #3 when Sister Daisy, my colleague, pulled me into nuns’ dining hall. All the salads were gone, but I did eat a piece or two of meat from the bulls which had been chased around the school the day before. I didn’t exactly enjoy it, but by the time I was done eating at least my headache had disappeared.