Tower and Town, September 2019

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A Common Faith

It’s the middle of a busy working day. Lunch is over, but the local Gambians with whom we’ve shared the meal show no sign of returning to their tasks. Instead, one by one they retire to a private place, wash their hands and feet, and kneel in prayer -to the bafflement of the British teenagers.

One of the most rewarding aspects of taking a group of young people from the UK to The Gambia last summer was watching how they responded to living in a deeply devout society, watching how bafflement turns to curiosity turns to respect and understanding. By the end of their time in Gunjur the British recognised that faith and prayer lay at the ground of what they’d come to love most about The Gambia: the sense of community, of welcome, of sharing, and openness.

A turning point came when I took a group of British teenagers to visit the Imam. Squeezed into a small, dark room, they listened respectfully, a little nervously, while the elderly religious leader began to speak to several Gambians who accompanied us. Nothing was translated and the words flowed, they had a pace, a rhythm. And it slowly dawned on the young people that they were listening to people at prayer. “Ameen… Ameen… Ameen.” A profound peace descended on the room, and although they didn’t understand the words, they knew they were included, embraced, loved. Several teenagers found themselves in tears. Ellie Beale, one of the talented young writers on the TTV programme, said, “It was an overwhelming thing to witness.” After the prayers, one of the British teenagers asked, “Do the Christians and Moslems in The Gambia get on with one another?” The Imam responded immediately: “Of course. Why wouldn’t they? Christians and Moslems are one. We are all brothers and sisters under God.”

The young people from the UK had grown accustomed to the idea in the UK that religions and religious faith divide people and communities. Here they found the opposite was the case. Here was religious faith drawing everyone into community. As Ellie later wrote, “When we sat with the Imam it made me realise how I wish our lives could be slightly more Gambian. I wish for the same peace and equality they all have.”

As I write, the words of the parable of the Good Samaritan are fresh in my mind (yesterday’s gospel reading), and it strikes me that this is part of what the British teenagers learned sitting with the Imam of Gunjur: that loving God and loving your neighbour is a radically beautiful way to live. “Do this, and you will live.” (Luke 10:28)

Communal prayers, Gunjur, during the festival of Eid

Colin Heber-Percy