The Christian mid-West

There always exists the continuous quest for straying off the ‘beaten track’, leaving behind the tourist world and fully immersing oneself in another culture. Of course, this is often more difficult than expected. Language barriers, lack of contacts and general aversion to ‘outsiders’ by local populations can put a halt to any full immersion.

I decided that a very different trip could be had by taking a slightly more unusual journey; venturing into the wilds of the Christian mid-West. It wasn’t quite the foray into India or Kenya that my friends were embarking upon that summer. I wouldn’t be seeing any beautiful architecture, spectacular sunrises in the mountains or enjoying any vastly new cuisine. What I did experience however was certainly worth the journey.

I was fortunate enough to be welcomed into both the community of a strict Christian sect and into the home of one of the member families. Similar to the Amish, although allowing the use of electricity and cars, this group are very particular in the way they live their lives and close themselves off from the evils of the outside world. Prior to my visit, internet research taught me of their practices of excommunication and shunning, and many described them as a cult. Although this may be difficult to deny, what I found upon my arrival was a wonderfully welcoming, yet bizarre sight.

As musical instruments and radio are banned within this community, my first journey with the family, past corn field after corn field, was accompanied by a very nasal a capella singing of hymns. With the hot Kansan sun shining down on us it seemed an idyllic life for the four blonde children and their young, farming parents. Upon arrival at a neighbour’s farm I found myself surrounded by women in matching floral dresses and head-coverings and bearded men in uniform checked shirts. I suddenly panicked that my dress was far too revealing and was completely unsure of who it was acceptable for me to speak to, as a young, unmarried woman. I needn’t have worried for within five minutes I had been dragged off to sit with a group of older women who greeted me with “so you must be the English girl!” and who fed me with ‘pop’ and hamburgers.

My three week trip was spent helping to herd cattle (poorly!), attending church, ploughing fields, making mud pies and playing board games with the children, visiting the homes of seemingly every family in the community, and most importantly, learning about the endless rules these people must live by. Holding hands with one’s fiancé is a big no, as are dancing and watching television. This group lead a wholesome and old-fashioned life and it was wonderful to share in this if only for a short time.

I wished I could have taken photos of this wonderful family and community to look back at; if only photography was not the work of the Devil.