On Sunday, the Catholics in Kabarore attend mass at 7 a.m. The mass lasts for almost three hours because of the amount of beautiful singing from the choir and the length of the homily, but other than that, it’s exactly the same as anywhere else. Today our priest was a man from Congo and not the usual Fr. Eric. I didn’t realize that his Kinyarwanda wasn’t native until my friend Denis told me afterwards. Catholic churches usually have prime real estate in any town but not in Kabarore – the church is way up the side of a hill. To get there, I have to walk about 35 minutes and like most Americans, I’m not a recreational walker, so it’s a bit of a hike. The church itself is quite plain, and there is no sign to indicate which saint or religious name it is named after. The pews are just benches and Stations of the Cross are just pictures tacked to the wall. Sunday mass is always packed out with approximately 600 adults and about 100 kids in the children’s section. There are almost always two collections and today there was a third so that they could pay the salary the nightwatchman. I feel really welcome here and they have asked me to speak a couple of times during the announcements after mass. I can’t say too much in Kinyarwanda but I let the congregation know I’m grateful to be among them. Soon I will be saying goodbye to them and the Peace Corps’ language trainers will help me craft an appropriate short speech in Kinyarwandan.