PALM SUNDAY, MY FAKE DIARY

Hello Hi,

Today, I wrote like I imagined I would write in my diary and see what it would turn out to be. I normally do not keep diaries, mainly because I forget to buy them and even when someone gets me one, I forget to write in it. So enjoy:-

Today, I woke feeling tired and as usual, blaming myself for not going to bed earlier than I did last night. After a short prayer (in my mind, since I was going to pray more in church anyway), I started my sit-ups with the hope that one day, my belly might oblige to the hard-work I have been doing for about a week now and somehow start to look like those of the other ladies I saw at the hot-yoga place yesterday. I cleaned up afterwards, ready for the light cantaloupe breakfast and a drink of green tea which I had, before remembering that it was Palm Sunday, a great day of celebration, so I also helped myself to the cooked pasta I had in my fridge. I hurried out of my house to catch the bus to church, promising myself that I would not run because the last time I did, the bus driver still did not let me get in and drove away. I was at the bus stop on time; the bus came few minutes later, dropping me off at my intended stop.

As I climbed the steep hill that led to church from the stop, I shook my head feeling sorry for the people that lived in the neighbourhood and probably had to walk that height every day; just before it dawned on me that such people would be physically fit and healthy, and then I began to wish that I lived in the neighbourhood. I was about five minutes late to church; I sat down quickly at the back row not bothering to go up to join the choir. I had never seen the church so filled up and the only reason I could come up with was that somehow the Holy Week had reminded people that they were Christians and so, they decided to show up today. I had no palm leaf, so I turned to ask the lady beside me where I could get one from and she gave me the only one she was holding and asked me to keep it; it reminded of how kind the people here are (except for the bus driver some weeks ago).

The Mass was similar to almost every Palm Sunday Mass I had attended in my life; the Passion of Christ according to Matthew was read with more lectors to play the role of Pilate, Peter, the soldiers and the crucifiers (or crowd). I had always wondered why we read the Passion of Christ on Palm Sunday and today, I decided to find out from the priest. The only thing different in church today was that we did not have any Palm Sunday procession like we used to in Nigeria just before Mass, where some roads got blocked because the congregation would sing and dance on the streets, or like in Ghana where we walked around the church singing, or like in Sheffield where we walk almost quietly to the city centre with our palms in our hands after Mass. So after church, I stayed behind to question the priest. I asked him about the reading and he explained that the Passion reading was to set in the mood of Holy Week and so, even though we were celebrating the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem today, we should still be aware of the crucifixion and death, and not celebrate too much. I felt a pang of guilt over my generous breakfast; nonetheless I was happy to get the clarification. I also asked him why there was no church procession but he said that the parish did not have processions because it rained a lot in the city. That would have made perfect sense to me except that it was not raining today neither had it rained in about a week, so I did not understand why we still could not walk around the church.

As I was about to leave the church, I said hello to one of the Parish members. He was the first person I had met the first day I attended church here. He offered to drop me off even though I told him that my destination was only ten minutes walk away but he insisted and so I hopped into the car. He drove past where I was heading for because he thought I said I was going home, so I had to remind him that I was going to the office instead. Realising his mistake, he apologized and I got off the car, now having an extra 15 minutes to walk. I was not sad though because I knew he was only trying to helpful (plus it was a lesson for me to say no to free rides sometimes). As I walked to the office, I met a couple on the road who were holding “Stop Abortion” signboards. They started talking to me; they said they knew I was Catholic because of the palm in my hand. We talked for a short while about the interestingly different national, religious and health views concerning abortion, before I left them to continue my journey. I got into the building, went to greet my colleague and course mate because I knew she would be in her office; she was always there and she always had something edible for me. She gave me a sandwich today (yesterday, she got me a frappuccino J) before I went into my office to finish up my assignments and studied for my forthcoming exam.  

I got home this evening and I decided to write all of this down before going to bed. As I wrote, I imagined what other people’s diaries might look like for today; most likely different from mine or probably even similar, except that I did not add “Dear Diary” at the top. 

So this is what I did today, what about you? Until next week, have a blessed and Holy Week :D

(@vivio_gogo - twitter)