New Year, Ancient Praise

Àwá yìn ọ́, Ọlọ́run (Te Deum Laudamus)

Crossover Services

There is an Anglican tradition in Nigeria that I miss: the celebration of the advent of the New Year, where we go to church to worship God, praising and thanking Him for the past year and ushering in the New Year in prayer and the worship of the Almighty God.

Nowadays, this is called a crossover service, sometimes with a kind of pompous religiosity that suggests we have decided to spend time in church rather than in drunken revelry at a bar. Though where I have not been able to attend church, I would rather stay at home and celebrate with my partner or with friends whilst watching the world ring in the New Year.

A Multicultural Feast

However, recently, I have found that some multinational evangelical or Pentecostal churches do celebrate this crossover phenomenon. I did find one nearby that had a feast of multicultural cuisine before we settled down to a sermon, then praise and worship. I am quite comfortable in those settings.

For this New Year's celebration, I decided to attend the !Audacious Church ticketed event, for which one has to move promptly before the tickets are sold out. It was going to be a standing-only event, but seats were provided for those who needed that kind of respite.

!Audacious has a very youthful attendance; I could easily be in the cohort of the elderly with grandchildren rather than just being a parent, but I do love the energy in small amounts.

A Foretaste of Heaven

As we sang praises, many with the word 'Holy', I was caught up in the awesomeness of how this could be playing in heaven: angels, archangels, and all creation worshipping the Father, the Lord God Almighty; the Lamb upon the throne, Jesus Christ; and the Holy Spirit.

I imagined the language in heaven would probably not be English but one which, to our hearing, would fill us with indescribable wonder and awe beyond anything a human mind could ever fathom. Just for that alone, I'll rather go to heaven than anywhere else.

Even in a heavenly crowd of a thousand generations, lost somewhere in the mix of the glory that is beyond the realm of comprehension, it can only be the best place to be. I am thankful for the foretaste we have been given on earth.

Te Deum Laudamus

Then, back to the Anglican traditions I referred to earlier, modernity has changed many of the things we used to do, like chanting or singing the canticles. As the clock strikes midnight at church, we sing the Te Deum Laudamus (We praise thee, O God) in Yoruba.

Maybe it is my engineering brain or something, but the Yoruba language is a tonal language with pitches of acute, grave, and mid tones, mostly represented on the vowels.

I cannot elucidate on the mechanics of representation to the extent of a linguist, but I did learn and master the application of diacritical marks (accents, tone marks, and under dots). As far as I am concerned, they are critical to the understanding and comprehension of Yoruba when written and read.

AI and Linguistic Precision

However, all the versions I found online did not have this essential distinction, so in the age of AI, I asked three different AI bots (Google's Gemini-3-Pro, then Anthropic's Claude-Opus-4.1) to attempt to annotate the text. The last one (OpenAI's GPT-5.2) even engaged me fully in Yoruba, and that was impressive.

The result was good enough, but I had to review the full text against the English version to ensure everything was correct to the best of my knowledge of Yoruba. Then, usually, accents are not put on the consonant N, but the reality is that in speech, for certain words, when N is followed by another consonant, it is prudent to get the right tone.

Finally, the last line of the Yoruba version in the prayer section of the canticles can take many translations and interpretations, but it is the most effective in Yoruba: "Láí, má jẹ́ kí n dààmú." To me, it reads, in context, as: O Lord, I trust in You; let me never be bothered by anything, because You are with me.

I wish you all a Happy New Year!

Te Deum Laudamus
Yoruba	English
Iyín Mẹ́talọ̀kan	Praise to the Trinity
Àwá yìn ọ́, Ọlọ́run, Àwá ń jẹ́wọ́ Rẹ pé ìwọ ni Oluwa, Gbogbo aiyé fi orí balẹ̀ fún ọ, Bàbá aiyé títí láí. Ìwọ ni ẹni tí gbogbo àwọn Angẹ́lì, ń kí gbé pè, Ọ̀run àti gbogbo agbára, tí ń bẹ nínú wọn. Ìwọ ni ẹni tí àwọn Kérúbù àti àwọn Séráfù, Kígbe pé ní gbà gbogbo pé: Mímọ́ Mímọ́ Mímọ́, Olúwa Ọlọ́run àwọn ọmọ ogun, Ọ̀run òun ayé, Kún fún ògo ńlá tí ò gọ Rẹ. Ẹgbẹ́ àwọn Apóstélì, Tí ó lógo yìn ọ́, Ọgbà àwọn Wòlíì, Tí ó dára, yìn ọ́, Ogun àwọn Mátírì, tí ó dára yìn Ọ́., Ìjọ Mímọ́ ènìyàn Ọlọ́run Ní gbogbo ayé ńjẹ́wọ́ Rẹ: Baba ẹni ọlá ńlá, tí kò ní pẹ̀kun; Àti Ọmọ Rẹ nìkan ṣoṣo, Olólá, Olótìítọ́. Ẹ̀mí Mímọ́ pẹ̀lú, Olùtùnú ni.	We praise thee, O God: We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord. All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father everlasting. To Thee all Angels cry aloud: the Heavens and all the powers therein. To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry, Holy, Holy, Holy: Lord God of Sabaoth; Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty of Thy Glory. The glorious company of the Apostles praise Thee. The godly fellowship of the Prophets praise Thee. The noble army of Martyrs praise Thee. The holy Church throughout all the world doth acknowledge Thee; The Father of an infinite Majesty; Thine honourable, true, and only Son; Also the Holy Ghost: the Comforter.
Iyín Kírístì	Praise of Christ
Kírístì, Ìwọ ni Ọba Ògo, Ìwọ ni Ọmọ láílái ti Baba. Nígbà tí Ìwọ tẹ́wọ́gbà fún ara Rẹ láti gba ènìyàn là, O kò kórìíra inú Wúndíá. Nígbà tí O ṣẹ́gun oró ikú tán, O ṣí ìjọba ọ̀run sílẹ̀ fún gbogbo Àwọn onígbàgbọ́. O jókòó ní ọwọ́ ọ̀tún Ọlọ́run, Nínú ògo ti Baba. Àwa gbàgbọ́ pé O ńbọ̀ wá Láti ṣe Onídàájọ́ wa. Nítorí náà ni àwa ṣe ńgbàdúrà, Sí ọ̀dọ̀ Rẹ: Ran àwọn ọmọ ọ̀dọ̀ Rẹ lọ́wọ́, Tí Ìwọ ti fi ẹ̀jẹ̀ Rẹ, iyebíye rà padà. Ṣe wọ́n kí a lè kà wọ́n kún àwọn ènìyàn Mímọ́ Rẹ Nínú ògo tí kò ní pẹ̀kun.	Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ. Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father. When Thou tookest upon Thee to deliver man: Thou didst not abhor the Virgin's womb. When Thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, Thou didst open the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers. Thou sittest at the right hand of God in the glory of the Father. We believe that Thou shalt come to be our Judge. We therefore pray Thee, help Thy servants whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood. Make them to be numbered with Thy Saints in glory everlasting.
Àwọn àdúrà	Prayers
Olúwa, gba àwọn ènìyàn Rẹ là, Kí Ìwọ kí ó sì fi ìbùkún fún àwọn ènìyàn ìní Rẹ. Jọba wọn, Kí O sì máa gbé wọn lékè láíláí. Àwa ńgbé Ọ ga, ní ojojúmọ́; Àwa sì ńfi orí balẹ̀ ní, Orúkọ Rẹ Títí ayé tí kò ní pẹ̀kun. Fìyèsíni, Olúwa, Láti pa wá mọ́ lónìí ní àìlẹ́ṣẹ̀. Olúwa, ṣàánú fún wa, ṣàánú fún wa. Olúwa, jẹ́ kí àánú Rẹ kí ó máa bà lé wa,  Gẹ́gẹ́ bí àwa ti ńgbẹ́kẹ̀ wa lé Ọ. Olúwa, Ìwọ ni mo gbẹ́kẹ̀lé, Láí, má jẹ́ kí n dààmú.	O Lord, save Thy people: And bless Thine heritage. Govern them and lift them up for ever. Day by day we magnify Thee; And we worship Thy Name, ever world without end. Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin. O Lord, have mercy upon us. O Lord, let Thy mercy lighten upon us: as our trust is in Thee. O Lord, in Thee have I trusted: Let me never be confounded.

References

Te Deum Laudamus - Awa Yin O, Olorun | Yoruba Chant with Lyrics – Source text

Andrews University: English Text of the Te Deum

Wikipedia: Te Deum

Church of England: Te Deum Laudamus – Modern

A Google NotebookLM AI Podcast on this blog

Thought Picnic: Where Everybody Shares Your Pain

Some cheers for the dawn

This morning I woke up to the playback in my mind with the refrain - Sometimes you want to go, Where everybody knows your name – and as I thought that through, the words of the song formed into a sense of existence - And they're always glad you came.

But, I really did not feel like being there, the familiarity, the catching up, the questions, the answers, the concern, the sympathy, the empathy and much else was weighing on my mind – I wanted to be present somewhere whilst being absent elsewhere.

Somewhere elsewhere

Basically, I did not want to be where everybody knows my pain, and whilst some might be glad I came, I was not ready to take the strain, even though my excuse does sound lame.

There were some things I was not ready to deal with until a more convenient time. So, I moved to another section of the song - You want to be where you can see, Our troubles are all the same; - I wanted to be in church, just not my church.

Antipodean flavours

My friend observed that the churches I seem to have an affinity for were planted by Australians, I dare say, there is something refreshing about the antipodean perspective of the same revelation that has been in Europe, gone to America to be exported round the world and emanating from Africa too with the contaminants that belie a tendency to error, levity and licence, I am persuaded of a different allegiance.

And though having attended C3 Amsterdam and now C3 London, I found myself visiting Hillsong London at the Dominion Theatre on Tottenham Court Road where I found welcoming and friendly faces unified in song and common humanity that one had to reflect on whether one was being swept away by the awesomeness of mass hysteria or a personal experience similarly expressed by others.

Words and meanings together and apart

I began to understand the need for songs if you did understand what the words meant; for in song, you invariably were chanting the affirmative in the structure of verse and chorus almost repetitively without it becoming a mantra – the accompaniment of music then engaged your whole being with some being exercised or overcome with emotion.

There is life in participating, and when the prayers are said, you being to realise that our troubles are more or less the same and we all want insight, ideas, inspiration, results and solutions to take us to a better place.

Sometimes, that is what church is all about, amongst friends and amongst strangers, the fiendish and the strangest things can find root, but we can find firmer foundations in how we believe that together we can reach for a better day.

Cheers!

Making your way in the world today 
Takes everything you've got; 
Taking a break from all your worries 
Sure would help a lot. 
Wouldn't you like to get away? 

All those night when you've got no lights, 
The check is in the mail; 
And your little angel 
Hung the cat up by it's tail; 
And your third fiance didn't show; 

Sometimes you want to go 
Where everybody knows your name, 
And they're always glad you came; 
You want to be where you can see, 
Our troubles are all the same; 
You want to be where everybody knows your name. 

Roll out of bed, Mr. Coffee's dead; 
The morning's looking bright; 
And your shrink ran off to Europe, 
And didn't even write; 
And your husband wants to be a girl; 

Be glad there's one place in the world 
Where everybody knows your name, 
And they're always glad you came; 
You want to go where people know, 
People are all the same; 
You want to go where everybody knows your name. 

Where everybody knows your name, 
And they're always glad you came; 
Where everybody knows your name, 
And they're always glad you came...

Theme song for the situation comedy TV series – Cheers, written by Gary Portnoy & Judy Hart Angelo – Where Everybody Knows Your Name.

Grounded By The Heart of Worship

An altered Sunday

On Sunday, just as I was about to step out of church I was co-opted into a prayer meeting of the Outreach Team; a group of quite highly exuberant people with infectious enthusiasm for proselytising and inviting people to church events.

The event this time was called Heart of Worship, a gathering of youths and young adults with ages ranging from 11 to 29 years old.

I did not plan on proselytising and after the meeting just as I rode my bicycle home, I took a detour to the South-East of Amsterdam with the hope that one of those African shops will not have kept the Sabbath – I never expected to find one open but I surprisingly did and with that got a few choice items for my nostalgic palate.

An unusual venue

Heart of Worship was to start at 18:00 and though it uses a venue just 3 minutes by bicycle from my home, I have never attended the event, but this time I just dared.

As I arrived at Pakhuis de Zwijger, a warehouse that had been converted into a multi-purpose venue with part of it hollowed out in the middle to offer access to a detachable vehicular bridge, I could already hear the sound of loud music.

The hall was dimly lit, the music loud and the performance of the band a lot different from the conventional antics at church. The music was also quite unfamiliar but full of meaning and feeling as I realised how stuffy, groan up and grown up I had become amongst that many who were closer to nephews, nieces and children if I had ever been a parent than siblings.

Adjusting to difference

In any case, I did still try to soak in the atmosphere even though I did not find myself gesticulating as if I were at a hip-hop concert at the instigation of the singers. I need to loosen up a bit for all this jumping, revelling and high-fives, but I have apparently been slaughter at the altar of respectability.

To my observation, I noticed how much talent is reposed in the youth of our church much of which finds no expression in the main church services in their musicality and absence of inhibition which appears to be curtailed by the formal settings of organised programmes and groan ups like me.

They all gained my respect with the way they used their voices as they switched between instruments with ease and one performance had a new solo singer, a worship singer take the keyboard, a keyboardist take the guitar and the drummer squatting on what I later found out was an Afro-Peruvian cajón – genius!

After the singing, dancing and clapping, there was some teaching based on the story of Hannah, the mother of Samuel who later became the prophet who anointed David for the position of king of the Israelites, taken from the 1^st Chapter of the First book of Samuel.

The message showed how people can be frustrated by the successes of others who can use their good fortune to denigrate those who have not been as fortunate. How desperation and desire can concentrate the mind on a goal, how the dedication of that desire to service can bring needed help and the wonderful testimony that can come out of having not just answers to particular prayers but much beyond that too.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that a message from the pulpit can be of great significance to all, from the fully liberated to the reserved – the heart beats to a rhythm of life seeking solutions, respite, succour and peace regardless of who embodies that heart.

I was truly blessed, but will I ditch the cravat and brogues for a less demure and more casual appearance at the next Heart of Worship? Time will tell.

Nigeria: Congregation growth by maggot count

The stories baffle

What it takes to live in Nigeria can only have begun to be stranger than fiction in a recent conversation I had with a resident who can be identified as a true Nigerian.

Having lived in quite a number of places and with the ability to speak all the three major languages almost flawlessly, one cannot discount the insight this person brings to appreciating Nigeria, Nigerians and the different ways of engaging with people from all the different parts of the country.

Points were made that I could not discount outright but left one thinking about that we might consider logical explanations and the sinister workings of superstition and fetishism in a society where distrust and selfishness leaves everyone suspicious of everyone else regardless of their relationships.

My Western naivety towards the bizarre

It is quite easy for me to sit in my Western hemisphere comfort zone and scoff at happenings back there being exasperated by the happenings and news stories that boggle the mind, sometimes these things cannot be appropriately relayed because one has to draw on sophisticated powers of articulation and risk ridicule at expressing what can only be stranger than fiction.

The apparent religiosity of Nigeria is too obvious to be invisible to sight or not too distant to ones hearing, somebody is worshipping something but the question is changing about what is being worshipped.

Evidence in the bones

In what can only reflect an X-Files investigation I find myself wanting to dig up the grounds of the main buildings of places of worship that have their teachings outside the mainstream traditional religious doctrinal codes passed down by the missionaries of yore.

What I am supposed to or expected to find are bones of the bovine variety, however, that might not be strange until you appreciate the amazing liaison between animist fetishism and supposed religions of the book – apparently, the projected congregation growth which has both a financial and mesmerisation component is derived from the amount of maggots produced by a decaying bovine carcass.

Believing the unbelievable

Now, I have no reason to believe any of this and as an X-Files investigator I would probably have egg on my face if I ever mentioned this to anyone with any rational bearing.

But, something is self-evident in this matter; the medicine man has probably conjured up this superbly atrocious and incredible scam of indeterminate congregation growth by maggot count and enticed some nefarious but charismatic religious personality whose core business plan is of tithing the gullible looking for the spectacular and funny stories rather than saving souls.

Or there is a genuine interworking belief system that allows for this liaison of the macabre to thrive, but it is unlikely anyone would be counting maggots just as Abraham of old never went counting the sand of the sea to determine the projected growth and number of his descendants.

A shovel to the ground

If one were to expose this as a scam, do you get a shovel and dig or just allow a stratospheric rise in your sceptical quotient when a phenomenon is beyond rational insight?

More dangerously is the extent to which either the fetishist or charismatic religionist would go to fulfil their aims to get their hands on the money of the desperate seeking quick and spectacular solutions to problems that probably could be solved if the intellect is allowed basic stimulation and exercise.

Somehow, ones upbringing in these overtly superstitious societies militates against viewing this with an open mind, but make sure you have a good story if your religious leader finds you digging up the floors of the place of worship for the sacred cow bones to place in a reliquary, better still try ground penetrating radar and suggest you are on archaeological research.

Now your suspicions have been roused, it is not too strange that in Nigeria you are schooled to live with suspicious minds.