Madagascar – A Dedication and a Celebration (Day 4)

Sleep came easy last night.  We were exhausted.  In the morning, I got cleaned up in the sink.  It was too cold to get into the shower.  Kelly said he did, but you know me. Granny Fullerton doesn’t do well in cold and there was no heater in the room.  

We put on a suit and tie, had breakfast with Pastor John, toured the new dorms at his school (funded by the PCUSA, our denomination in America), and then left to attend the first part of the celebration at Pastor Jean-Louis’ church. 

What a transformation.  The workers who stayed all night were finished.  The church was open, decorations were beautiful, music was playing, and people were showing up in their “Sunday best” even thought it was Saturday. 

We only stayed for 30 minutes of the ceremony.  I was asked to speak with Ony as my translator.  I began by saying hello in Malagasy.  The word is manao ahoana (ma–now–a–own–a).  When I said it, everyone burst into applause and were beaming with smiles.  It was the best part of my speech.  I greeted them on behalf of St. Andrews, the Presbytery of Tampa Bay, and the Presbyterian Church (USA). I told them I was impressed with their effort to build the church and encouraged them in that effort.  I told them I was even more impressed by what God was doing.  They had told us stories of changed lives, blessings of families, and miraculous healings.  As I said at the end, “I will never forget these stories of God, you, and this place.”  And then we were escorted out a back door, got in the car, and began the three-hour drive back to Antananarivo, the capital city. 

Our driver, Rivo, and his wife welcomed us to one of their businesses where we had lunch. On the drives, we had spoken with Rivo about his life.  He is a professor of marketing at a university and he has several businesses.  He owns a clothing importing business and he told us about a place he owned that was used in Antananarivo by many as a place for special events like wedding reheasals.  The place was called Batou Beach.   Batou is French for boat.  As we approached Batou Beach, we drove through former rice fields that were now brick-making businesses.  Open fields filled with stacks of bricks were everywhere on the slight hills that filled the area. 

When we pulled into Batou Beach I was not expecting what I saw.  This was a resort in the middle of an industrial brick-making area.  It was modern, beautiful, and even elegant in places.  The main feature was a dining hall that the whole building was shaped like a cruise ship.  In front of the cruise ship dining hall was a large wave pool similar to the ones you may find at Wet N’ Wild in Orlando.  Another large reception hall that seated 400 people was on the property.  Bungalows to stay in were there.  Sports fields for basketball, volleyball, and another game like bocce ball were there.  Snack bars and pizza restaurants were there.  As if that were not surprising enough, we sat down to eat and had a four-course gourmet French meal.  Madagascar was once a French colony and that influence was apparent in the meal.  We were both full before the meal, but ate anyway. 

Pastor Laurent’s brother, Sebastian, joined us for lunch, as did Rivo’s wife who was clearly the one in charge of Batou Beach.  I saw her giving orders energetically to the staff.  It seemed fitting in a place shaped like a cruise ship to think that she ran a tight ship. 

After lunch, we drove to Pastor Laurent’s church in Antananarivo.  The rest of the afternoon was spent at a celebration of 25 years of pastoral ministry.  The pastor being honored was none other than Pastor Laurent himself. 

Maybe you’ve seen t-shirts in America that have a saying written on them: “I’m kind of a big deal.”  The person wearing it usually isn’t but would like to think so.  Pastor Laurent could wear that shirt and people would agree.  He is a big deal here.  He is at rock star level within the largest denomination in the country. You may know him as a quiet, gentle, compassionate man in our church.  Here, he is animated, outspoken, and filled with laughter.  So far, everyone we have met here speaks of Pastor Laurent almost with hushed tones.  He is revered in this country. They thought this about him three hours away from the capital in the small villages to the east.  They thought this in the capital city as well, judging from the major production and crowded church for the 25-year ministry celebration this afternoon.

Having said that, this celebration was not focused on Pastor Laurent. He would not have it that way.  It was an opportunity to worship God through music and message. Four hours of music and message.  Yes, a four-hour worship service.  Our backsides may have been tired of sitting, but our souls were crackling with energy. 

We heard three choirs sing.  One from the church, one from the seminary where Pastor Laurent is dean of students, and one from an independent gospel group.  All three were amazing.  We Americans could learn something about robust, full-throated singing.  The church choir sang classical choir pieces, but definitely with a Malagasy and African feel.  The seminary choir sang original pieces written by students and sung with four-part voices.  The gospel choir was called Tana Gospel Choir (pictured above).  Their performance reminded me that American black gospel music has its roots in this region of the world.  The Tana Gospel Choir was amazing. They were passionate, exhuberant, talented, and had a great stage presence.   I’ll try to show you each of these groups on a future video.  The only weak spot in the music was when I got up to lead with Pastor Laurent in two songs I had never played on guitar.  I had to guess at the chords and we had a poor copy of the words to read.  

After the celebration, we went to dinner at Pastor Filbert’s.  His wife, Suzanne, was back from a trip out of town.  We had a nice visit though we still feel like we are functioning at about 80 percent.  Jet lag, sleep deprivation.  Something. 

Off to bed.  Thinking of you.