Sunday Service

On Sunday, I had my first experience of a black township church. The churches I’ve been to so far have been predominantly white (apart from the coloured church I went to in Cape Town), so I was eager to experience something different.

The Worship Centre Community Church in the Nellmapius township* is only 25 minutes away from my home, but what a marked difference from the leafy gated housing complexes. We drove past hundreds of tiny one-room homes, some made from breezeblocks, others from tin and wood.

When the post-Apartheid government fulfilled their promise of free housing for the poor, hundreds of thousands relocated from Mamelodi, a larger township a few miles away. In the midst of the poverty and over-crowding, drug abuse, crime and disease (especially HIV/AIDS) spread (and continues to spread) rapidly in the new community. It is estimated that over 75% of the population of Nellmapius is currently unemployed.

Pastor Jonas, himself a resident of Mamelodi, observed that there were no churches in Nellmapius, and was burdened to begin one. What began as a small group has now become a 250-strong congregation with a youth ministry, a men’s ministry, a women’s ministry, a children’s ministry, as well as outreach activities into the surrounding community. They also help to feed and clothe the many child-headed households in Nellmapius.

photo by David Mauldin

We drove up to the large, dust-covered, blue and white tent where the service takes place. The first thing that hit me was the noise, although the heat was equally intense inside with all those bodies crammed together.

The large youth choir sat up at the front leading us in the lively (and long) session of singing. During the singing, many of the ladies made their way to the middle of the tent where they danced and waved flags, while the rest of the congregation danced and swayed where they were. The appointed emcee got up to make a (long) announcement about how imperative it was to keep things short so as to keep to the ‘ordained schedule’ (his words, not mine!). We then sang some more. Then there was the ‘greeting’ segment where everybody got up and hugged everybody else. Needless to say, everyone was sweating profusely by this point.

photo by David Mauldin

After singing some more, they called up everyone who was there for the first time. We had to stand at the front, introduce ourselves and say a few words. This was followed by some singing and dancing…

Two hours from the start of the service (I really am not exaggerating!) Pastor Jonas got up to speak. Between him and the translator, the service was in Sotho, English and Zulu. Unfortunately, whenever the pastor made a joke, it tended to be in Sotho or Zulu, so we had no idea what the congregation was roaring with laughter about… I wish I could adequately describe the sermon to you. You’ll have to content yourselves with the knowledge that Pastor Jonas shouted rather than spoke. While there was a pulpit, he never made use of it, except to rest his towel, with which he frequently mopped his brow. He hurtled around that small space, making flamboyant gestures, which his translator emulated.

Three and a half hours (!) after we had begun the service, it began to draw to a close. Although completely drained, we could not stop beaming as we drove away from that unique worship experience.


* The word ‘township’ in South Africa refers to urban residential areas designated during the Apartheid era for non-whites (principally blacks and coloureds). ‘Ghetto’ would probably be the most appropriate synonym.