The Time Of My Father Essay

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The time in which I was born was very different than the one my parents had to live in when they were children. I was born in a small town in Colombia, where no more than a hundred families lived. The entire population of my hometown was Catholic. There was a small chapel next to my house and the priest went there once a month to celebrate Mass. He and the seminarians stayed at our home, when they went for the Holy Week and Christmas missions. On Saturdays, my brother and I went to a town an hour away afoot or 20 minutes on a horse, to have further studies. Ninety percent of that town’s population were Pentecostal and only 10 % were Catholic. There was a big Pentecostal Church in the middle of the town and a small Catholic church outside the village. My brother and I went to study there on Saturdays because the Pentecostals offered to us a couple of American godparents who sent us gifts twice a year from the US. Nonetheless, to get those gifts we had to attend school on Saturdays, take pictures with the gifts in our hands, and attend the Pentecostal service once a year. During that service, my brother and I laughed the whole time at the people dancing in the church. My aunt, the only Pentecostal member of a family of twelve siblings, got embarrassed for our behavior every time we attended the service. It was very interesting to grow up in a country where almost all the population were Christians and, at least at that time, 92 percent of the 45 million Colombians reported

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