A tale of sermon on the rails, spirit filled commuters

Passengers on the Embakasi commuter train in Nairobi. [Courtesy]

As soon as the Embakasi commuter train in Nairobi blows its horn to signal the beginning of the one-hour journey to the city centre, a burly middle-aged man shoots to his feet and clears his throat.

“Brothers and sisters, welcome to the morning service,” his sharp voice reverberates through the near-empty but rumbling coach number three. There are a handful passengers, spread in the coach.

“Today, being a Friday, is a thanksgiving day. A day to speak of God’s blessings and mercies. But before I invite you to share on what God has done for you, let us bow our heads and pray for this short journey,” he says.

Calling them out

His name is Brother Anthony Barasa. And this interdenominational church on rails is called Jerusalem. Brother Anthony is not your typical matatu preacher. Like the biblical John the Baptist, he is here to prepare the way for he who is to come.

His preaching lasts some 15 minutes, the time it takes for the train to make its way from the first point of call at Embakasi Village station to Stage Mpya along Outering Road.

In an impressive case of a shepherd knowing his flock, Brother Anthony knows his hundred strong congregation by name. He keeps calling them out to drive his sermonhome.

Jerusalem, is every bit your ordinary church, except that it does not have a Sunday service. Twice everyday, Monday through Friday, there is a service at Jerusalem, both on the morning commute to town and during the return journey in the evening.

Like a normal church, Jerusalem has several preachers. It has a chairman, a secretary and a treasurer, all elected and who serve for a term. It also has a coordinator whose main role is to draw up a preaching rota.

It has a group of dedicated faithful who lead the singing. When they raise their voices, everyone else on the coach joins in, except for that odd passenger.

One of the members, Celine Otieno, just released an album two months ago after honing her talent on the morning commute to work. She now has a CD and three of her songs are doing well on YouTube.

Part of the coordinator’s role is to make announcements. On this day, and just before the pastor of the day steps up to preach, she announces to the congregation about a lost and found umbrella from the previous day’s commute. 

She also announces weddings, funerals, charity visits and just about anything that is announced in your ordinary church service.

By all means, Jerusalem is an organised church. At every one of the train’s stops at Aviation, Taj Mall, Pipeline/Avenue Park, Stage Mpya/Tumaini, Donholm and Makadara, it receives more faithful.

Regular train users know it too well. Those who like a scripture filled ride squeeze in, those who don’t avoid it.

At Stage Mpya, Brother Anthony is done with his sermonand invites the lead singer of the day to take over. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a shaker. As they sing, Brother Anthony provides instrumental accompaniment.

By the time the train makes a stop at Donholm, the commuters are lost in prayer.

The coordinator then invites the preacher of the day, who has his scripture readings all planned out.

In this coach, time is of the essence. A few precious moments cannot be wasted scouring through the Bible looking for a verse. All the preacher needs to do is mention the book and verse. A designated member of the congregation will always have them ready.

Brother Anthony says he first used the Embakasi commuter train in 2009. Then, coach number three had a church service, but it was not as organised as it is now.

Bursting at the seams

He reckons that the church may have been started two years before he discovered it.

So popular is Jerusalem that it has given birth to Bethlehem, another church on coach nine. Bethlehem, like her mother church, is bursting at the seams.

But unlike your ordinary church, Jerusalem and Bethlehem are not interested in its congregation’s money, and never ask for offertory.

“We are after people’s hearts, not their money,” Brother Anthony says. Each pastor pays their own fare.

Away from the train service, members also organise visits to children’s homes, hospitals and prisons. It is only during such visits that leaders ask for contributions in cash and kind.

Besides Celine the gospel musician, preachers have sprouted from coach number three. Brother Anthony says most of them have gone out to establish themselves as ministers in the churches they attend on Sunday.

Interdenominational Ministry’s chairman and lead pastor, Rev Onesmus Gichohi, was uncomfortable talking to us. He did not wish to antagonize the train’s operators, under whose good will the church has been able to thrive.

Gichohi is mindful of commuters who want to keep their peace, especially those who profess other faiths. Those who would rather spent their ride away from the preaching and singing avoid it.

But it is almost impossible to find a quiet coach on the Embakasi commuter train. In almost every other coach, save for Jerusalem and Bethlehem, there is always a group of men politicking. 

And as the Embakasi morning commuter train slows down as it approaches its final stop at the Nairobi Railway Station, the preacher asks the faithful to bow their heads in prayer and for God’s blessings. 

At the end of the ride, a few faithful hold a brief meeting outside the station before dispersing to their work places, happy to have had a traffic less praise filled ride to the city.

They leave hoping to get to the station early enough for the ride back home, aboard Jerusalem or Bethlehem.  

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