Praise the Lord!

Last Thursday my friend and colleague Sister Bev invited me to the convent where she lives to see a performance of music and dance by a Garifuna band.

The Garifuna, an ethnic group whose ancestors ( slaves who were shipwrecked on their way to the West Indies), are enjoying a revival of interest in their heritage.

Apart from the nuns and two of the CARE volunteers, the audience consisted of a large extended family of Americans from Arkansas, who were in Belize for one week to build a house for the poor. The materials are provided by a charity, Hand in Hand Ministry, which arranges for volunteers to come out and construct new homes for poor people.

Anyway, the show was very colourful, loud and entertaining, and predictably we all ended up being dragged on to the dance floor (which was the flat roof of the convent) to make fools of ourselves dancing to the punta music.

The master of ceremonies, Sab, explained that the band was feeling down because a dear friend, Andy Palacio, was desperately ill in hospital in Belize City. Andy Palacio, very famous in Belize and considerably well-known wordwide for leading the revival of punta music, has become a Garifuna role model, and was also designated cultural ambassador for Belize last year.

Sab told us that a special Mass to pray for Andy's speedy recovery would be held at St Martin's Church on Saturday. He invited us all to turn up and join in.

On Saturday afternoon, on a whim, I decided to take a walk up to St Martin's and look in on the Mass, which was due to start at 5pm.

I arrived at 4.50pm, by which time the large church was filling up rapidly. When all the seats were full, and there was no more room even for standing, the latecomers gathered outside the open doors in a huge gazebo which gave some shelter from the sun.

What followed was just the most amazing church service I have ever been to.

First of all, the Garifuna choir; maybe 40 ladies dressed in traditional outfits of brightly patterned yellow and brown flounced cotton skirts and blouses, with their matching headscarves tied in a variety of ways. Then there was the Garifuna band; a big assembly of small drums, large drums, and medium sized drums, together with a group of musicians playing 'shakers', and finally, a brass section.

At the start of the service the members of the choir sang and danced their way down the aisle before taking their place next to the altar. The service was largely musical, and the congregation stood up and joined in the hymns whenever they felt like it. From time to time, the choir again left their place to weave down the aisle, waving palm branches, holding large bibles aloft, all the time singing along.

At one point, all of us in the congregation were on our feet, hands and arms linked right across the aisle, singing and swaying in time to the music. I kept forgetting I was in a church, until an occasional waft of incense reminded me.

There were only two white faces in the audience; mine and that of the youngish American priest who conducted the service. The priest was excellent - he didn't lose momentum in the prayers and gave a warm address about his experience of Andy Palacio's talent.

An elderly Belizean Bishop rounded up the proceedings with a short speech and a final prayer for Andy's recovery. Mercifully, the Prime Minister, who was also there, kept schtum.

At the end, we all shook hands with everyone else, as per the usual Catholic custom, before filing outside for modest refreshments of juice and biscuits. Someone leaving the church sat on a crate and started tapping a drum; someone else stood behind him and began playing the shakers, another drummer joined in and hey! we suddenly had a party in the parking lot.

What a fabulous event - I was buzzing for the rest of the evening, and I never had even a sniff of alcohol!