I could hear the pousse-pousse driver chuckle. I suppose we were not his typical customers. Mama Jeannette and I sat side-by-side in the cart pulled behind his bike. Mama Jeannette, a small Malagasy woman with a large presence, sat gracefully and comfortably beside me. I happily crouched to fit under the roof of the cart. Mama Jeannette and I had attended church in the morning and then visited a sick member of the women’s association. Now, the pousse-pousse driver led us home.
During our visit to the sick woman, Mama Jeannette and I had crammed into a small bedroom with the other members of the association. Some women sat on the floor. Others stood in corners. Mama Jeannette and I shared a chair; she had to wrap her arm around my shoulders to keep me from falling off. The group of women prayed, and then, we sang. I joined in as I could - flipping through the pages of my hymnal. The other women have known each hymn by heart for years. Then, the association asked the woman which song she would like to hear. Number 469. I turned to the correct page and sang the Malagasy words printed in my hymnal, but the English version played through my mind and warmed my heart.
Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.
While riding home in the pousse, I asked Mama Jeannette if she knew the song Jesus Loves Me. She asked me to sing it, and I quietly sang the tune I know so well. She recognized the song and started to join in as she could. We continued down the road - sharing a pousse, sharing in song, sharing in faith. Mama Jeannette sang in English when she knew the words, and I occasionally jumped in for the Malagasy chorus. I imagine we were the most memorable ride of the day for our pousse-pousse driver. Two seemingly very different women cuddled together and singing a hymn in Malagasy, English, and sometimes both.
I, too, will remember that ride. Mama Jeannette and I shared parts of our faith. We listened to the each other’s lyrics and sang the words we could. Mama Jeannette could not sing in only English, and I could not sing in exclusively Malagasy. However, we could still sing together. We could still praise God while sitting side-by-side in the back of a pousse.
Malagasy Hymn 469:
Verse 1
Jeso o, Mpitita anay!
Maminay ny teninao,
Osa ny fanahinay,
Fa mahery Hianao
Chorus
Mamy, ry Jeso!
Mamy, ry Jeso!
Mamy, ry Jeso!
Ny fitiavanao.
Translation:
Oh, Jesus our lover!
Your words are sweet to us.
Our spirits are weak,
But You are strong.
Sweet are you, Jesus!
Sweet are you, Jesus!
Sweet are you, Jesus,
And Your love.
