Awkward

Posted by Ali

Thomas, a Maasai gatekeeper, speaks with a strong authoritative voice and I try to pay attention even though the only Swahili words I pick up from the worship so far aree "Yohanna" and 'kwanza" (John and first, the first chapter of John). But framed through the conference center windows I can see monkeys leaping from tree to tree. My eyes bounce across the room, looking at Thomas for a few seconds before cutting back toward the window to watch the monkeys play. Suddenly the other four workers stand and I obediently follow, turning back to the group. Thomas says something in Swahili and the men move together to form a circle and then hold out their hands. I reach my hands out to take Abraham's hand on my left and Jonas' on my right. And that's when things get awkward. Abraham holds my left hand the way most people, in a prayer situation, do. Clasped firmly but indifferently. Jonas, though, immediately grasps my right hand and squeezes it. Thinking that a little strange, I shrug my imaginings off as we bow our heads and Thomas begins to pray. But Jonas squeezes my hand harder and then starts rubbing his fingers over the back of my hand. "Wow, OK, this is kind of weird," I think, my mind completely unable to focus on the prayer, partly because I can't understand the Swahili words, but mostly because of the hand-mauler beside me. I contemplate flinching. I contemplate twisting my hand, doing something to let Jonas know I'm not comfortable with what's happening. I contemplate pulling my hand away and hiding it deep in my jacket pocket. But I do nothing. My mind is too full of questions to figure out the best reaction for the situation. Is this just how some people in Africa hold hands? Will I greatly offend Jonas if I pull away from his grasp? Does he maybe just have some sort of involuntary tic or jerk that makes him do this? Why in the world is Thomas still praying? For what is most definitely at least two (if not more) minutes, I stand there with conflicted thoughts racing through my brain. Over and over I try to concentrate on the prayer, mostly to see if I can identify any words that might indicate it is coming to a close. No such luck. "OK, you really need to learn more Swahili," I scold myself. Finally, after the record longest-time-feeling-completely-awkward-with-my-eyes-shut of my entire life (now there's a record for you, eh, Ty?) Thomas announces, "AMEN!" And I echo it with near joyous relief as I snatch my hand away from Jonas'.

We plop back into our chairs to hear the daily announcements, but, of course, there aren't any since Max and Yona are gone on a week-long trip. We all realize this at the same time and, after looking around at each other for several seconds, stand up and leave the room. Somehow Jonas ends up walking beside me. I'm not impressed. I've just remembered that at the start of yesterday's worship when I walked in during a hymn and took my normal seat, Jonas slid over to the one next to me. I speed up my pace. Jonas does to. He tries some small talk, like he has several other mornings as we walk from worship to work. This time it seems different, though. He tells me, for what must be the fifteenth time, how to respond to "How are you this morning?" in Swahili (zuri, meaning good). I repeat after him. Then he says something I don't understand. I look over, puzzled. Then he mumbles something that sounds very much like "I love you" in English. I am shocked. But maybe he was really speaking Swahili and the combination of words he said just sounded like "I love you." When I don't respond, he says something else, again in Swahili, and then something else escapes his mouth, a question that sounds almost like "Do you love me, too?" I don't know what to say. I don't say anything. A strained laugh shoots past my lips and I duck my head, trying desperately to think of what to say, how to end this exchange. Finally we're at the door to my office and I shove my key in the lock, barely looking back to nod after Jonas calls good-bye. Then I'm in my office. Alone. Free. To think about what in the world just happened during the past 8 minutes. And to plan what I should do if the situation presents itself again.