Faith

A few days ago I went to visit Lungu, a village on a mountain, close to the town of Cubal. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, can only be reached on foot, after a steep 3 hours walk. But why would one want to climb a mountain in the South of Angola, at night, carrying water bottles and food and blankets? In my case it was curiosity, in the case of the people around me a matter of faith. In fact, in Lungu the Holy Mother is said to appear. The water of a little pond near the village is said to cure people, to make the blind see, the deaf hear, the crippled walk again.

I didn’t see the Madonna, whether it was due to me just being curious instead of faithful, or to my red painted fingernails or to the fact that I didn’t take my shoes off just before getting to the “holy spot”, I don’t know… As a matter of fact that day no one saw Holy Mary. We just listened to Cecilia, a young woman born in the village, who first had an apparition a few years ago and now regularly “meets” the Holy Mother, speak about her visions, and watched the mountain top to see if we could spot something, a sign, a star, a light.

These sort of places usually make me smile a little cynically and give me a certain feeling of unease. It is however undeniable that there was “something” in this beautiful tiny village behind the mountain top: a feeling of peace, of being a little closer to heaven, shared with everyone around.

I still don’t believe in miracles (at least not this kind of miracles), but somehow think it was worth every step to get to that far little place behind the mountain top.