Do you go to church at Hampstead? This is the question people often ask me when I go to church and I ask them, ‘’Why not?‘’
’But you do not belong there,’’ they say.
“It is quintessentially English and those people at Hampstead are snooty. Their church is no ordinary Church, it is called St. John’s of Hampstead.’’
‘’Yes,’’ I reply, ‘’and why not? It is so called just so that you don’t get lost when you go to look for it.’’
I came to worship at Hampstead a few years ago. You will have noticed that I have acquired a position in the front. That is how keen I am to hear the sermon. The choir is a big attraction for me because growing up at Saint Andrews in Sekondi Ghana, mass was always sung and I was in the choir at a very early age. I have learnt since being at St. John’s that, over the years many from other churches have taken refuge here for various reasons. I hope I can be allowed to say that I am fully integrated into the congregation because it has been long enough. Samuel too was very new when I arrived but I am able now to have meaningful conversation with him which is wonderful. It has not been altogether an easy journey but I have had support, guidance and advice along the way from individuals for which I am eternally grateful.
In my early days here, I didn’t see many like me so I didn’t have the opportunity for much conversation. That’s nothing new when you are new so I decided to do something about it. Mind you, there still is not a lot like me here but I am sure one will understand that not a lot of people who look like me think they belong in Hampstead.
One morning I attempted to start conversation with someone because I needed to be spoken to. It did not go well. Generally anyone else who looks like me would have considered it a major disaster but I was not daunted. At some point I was thinking ‘’Contagion? Are they thinking that ?” One learns to deal with it and I have learnt plenty. ‘’ Hello ‘’ I said ‘’my name is ‘’…… and before I could say anymore, came their questions: ’”who are they, where do they come from, do they speak the language?’’ I said to myself “Perhaps those people are right, and Hampstead is snooty”, but I wasn’t going to be beaten. I put myself ‘’out there’’ so that those questions might be answered. I hope they have been answered because now, everyone knows my name, they know where I come from and also that I can speak their language. Some even know about some of my relatives.
In a short while St. John’s of Hampstead will be hosting refugees of the ‘’normal” kind, the ones we are used to seeing on our television screens, some of the ones who have been burned and blinded by chemicals, some of the ones who have been maimed by bomb and shrapnel and falling debris, some of the ones who didn’t have water and food for several days some the ones who are really fleeing their homes because of senseless war, starvation and death. They will soon be with us and no doubt some will be asking the same questions that were asked of me when I first came to worship here: “Who are they, where have they come from, do they speak the language?’’
Who are they? We don’t know, but they may well be princes and princesses of a far away community, their kind of Hampstead, where everybody knows your name.
Where do they come from? We don’t know and we are going to have to Google or summon atlases or some such to try and find where they have come from. Chances are, we will not find their town. Their homes have been reduced to rubble and the stench of death is what comes out of where granny’s house once stood, their roads and high streets have become alleyways leading nowhere. The trees and the shrubs have now been replaced by iron bars sticking out from the ruins they once supported.
Do they speak the language? Probably not, but they are here, what difference does that make now? We have invited them here to help preserve life. Mattresses and pillows and towels will help for creature comforts but that is not all they need. They do not need invitation to our homes because bacon will get in the way if they are not Christian. They need us only to say “Hello!” and “Hi five!” and perhaps a reassuring arm over the shoulder from time to time. “How are you today?” will be nice.
Communication need not always be spoken and certainly not always in English. It is very difficult to be at a place where nobody speaks to you because you are different or because the people you meet don’t think you will understand what they say to you. Believe me it is most disheartening, I have been there. The people of St. John’s of Hampstead will not know, and I don’t hold it against them, but those coming in are from a place where it is rude to say nothing when you meet another can find it hard. In their culture the silence is self explanatory, ‘’ I do not see you nor do I recognise you let alone welcome you.’’