Le Conferènce des Femmes

Last week I attended (along with my other teammates Heidi and Alyssa and the host mothers of both Alyssa and I) Le Conferènce des Femmes (Women’s Conference) for all of our churches in the district of Korhogo. The district of Korhogo consists of 6 churches in the actual ville and many, many other churches in the surrounding rural villages. The fact that I went at all is interesting because by Ivorian standards I am no femme. To be a woman you must be married, so despite age or any other western measurement of maturity, I am a jeune fille (young girl). This Conference was for women only; since Alyssa, Heidi, and I are here to learn about and work with the church, we were allowed to attend despite our singleness.

The conference lasted from Tuesday evening until early Saturday morning and was held at Salem conference center not too far from Korhogo. Salem consists of about 12 concrete buildings: a chapel, pavilion, residence buildings (non-furnished, Ivorians need only a mat to sleep on) and Ivorian bathrooms. No kitchen or dining hall is needed because all the cooking and eating is done outside.

Over 460 women attended, some stayed overnight, others walked the few kilometers to their villages at night to sleep. Most of the women were from villages and therefore spoke only Senefou, so everything was in Tyembara. (As I said before, Senefou is the overarching ethnicity with several sub-languages/ethnicities. Most Senefou in the Korhogo area speak Tyembara as their first language and most Senefou can understand Tyembara. However there are over 25 different Senefou languages).

The conference is an annual opportunity for the women to have a small respite from the daily grind. The average day for an Ivorian women is completely filled with housework, such as getting water from the well for washing/eating/drinking, sweeping the house and courtyard, ‘cooking’ over a fire (there are no microwaves here; generally preparations for lunch begin around 9:30 and the meal is eaten between 12 and 1), perhaps buying food or helping in the family’s fields and of course all of this work is done with a baby strapped onto their backs. The conference is also an opportunity to hear teaching from an actual pastor; there is less than 1 pastor for every 3 churches in our denomination. The theme of the teaching was the value of women; the pastor looked to the scriptures to define the value of a woman to her husband, to God, and to the church.

Senefou women are known as the singers and dancers and with good reason. Each night we would fall asleep to the sound of the women worshiping and then each day began with a troupe of women going from building to building with a drum and a song. Senefou songs are generally call and response, with one woman leading, singing different verses and the rest of the women singing a repeated phrase or two. They do not quickly tire of a song, but might sing the same one over and over again for 10 minutes. Young and old women stand up, clap, sing, and dance. Thankfully, you do not need to know the language to dance along.

Both Bible teaching and worship are common at Christian conferences and retreats in the states as well, although they look and sound quite a bit different. However, there were plenty of ways this conference did not resemble your average church retreat. Not only was a baby born one morning (on the concrete floor with the help of a midwife, I am not kidding), but there were also sessions dedicated to practical health issues. One afternoon was about married women’s health (we were given a general summary of the subjects talked about; according to our host-moms since we are not yet married we did not need the specifics translated). The next morning there was a session on AIDS and then all of the women were tested for HIV. Health education for women is scarce, especially in the village; and having testing for the entire conference at the same time takes a lot of the potential awkwardness away.

Please join me in praying for these women. This week they have returned to their ‘normal’ lives. Most can not read but depend on others to teach them about their faith, many have husbands that are not Christians, and seven of them found out that they are HIV positive last week.

I am glad I had the opportunity be a part of and witness this conference, but I would not necessarily wish to do it again anytime soon. Jumping through language and cultural hoops, while your every move is being watched, is draining. 3 white girls will inevitably be the center of attention when surrounded by women who have had almost no experience with people of a difference race. To be constantly surrounded by a language you know almost none of is so much harder than I would have ever guessed. You are completely dependent on others to fill you in on everything that is going on; it is impossible to acquire any information independently.

Yet I know that it was most certainly worth my time. One of the mornings, Alyssa and I were sitting with Alyssa’s host-mom, Awa, waiting for the morning session to start. She asked us (in French of course), ‘Do you realize how important it is to the women that you are here? It shows all of us that despite our differences, we serve and love the same God. We are truly sisters.’

Le Barrage

Due to my continuing technology situation, for the next few weeks it's going to be hard to update as much as I'd like. Hopefully by the end of this week I'll have a post up about the Womens Conference I went to last week. But to satiate those of you who are curious about my life, here are a couple pictures.

The pathway on the left and the water in the background is what everyone here calls le barrage (the dam). I walk or ride my bike on this pathway nearly everyday. My house is just around the corner and Koko church is just on the other side of the barrage.

The green jardins provided by the barrage are such an amazing respite from the penetrating poucière (dust) that covers everything in the dry season. That's Mount Korhogo in the background. Definitely not as big as mountains in the states, but it's the tallest thing around this town.

Petit Post

Because of computer trouble I was not able to write the type of blog I would have liked to, but I will probably not be able to get on the internet again until next Monday so I still wanted to post something.

Living with an Ivorian family so far has been an absolute rollercoaster ride, sometimes the moments are absolutely amazing and sometimes they are much more difficult. I am still learning French and Tyembara, but without a doubt the number one subject I am learning about here is humility.

3 of the 6 Journeyers here in Korhogo were sick this past weekend, including myself. Being sick is something that is to be expected, living in such a new environment. And yet, just because I knew it was coming didn't really make it any easier. We all feel much better now, but continued prayers for health for all of us here are very appreciated.

I had planned to post a few pictures I've taken, but because of the technology troubles, I have only this one for now:

This is (from the left) Emmanuel (12), Amos (10), and Suzanne (6), three of the kids that live at my house here. We had the opportunity to play with the camera on my computer yesterday (which they absolutely loved). Emmanuel is my bike-riding buddy and helps me figure out how to say things in French or will translate my French into Tyembara for the adults. Amos is too shy to do much more than smile at me at this point. Suzanne still giggles constantly around me.

I will be spending the next few days at the Women's Conference for our denomination; the way women are involved in the church here is very different, so it should be enlightening!

Sweet Stranger

Yéo Nimbonténé Lamekka’a Julia. That’s my new name. Caitlin Julia Lacy really doesn’t mean much of anything here, so my host family has renamed me. I was already going by Julia here because Caitlin is too hard to pronounce and CJ makes no sense at all. Names in Côte d’Ivoire have a lot of significance. Yéo is the family name of my host family. When Ivorians hear Yéo they know that I’m in the Senefou ethnic group and my family is from a certain area of Côte d’Ivoire. Nimbonténé means ‘sweet stranger’ in Tyembara (the Senefou language my family speaks). The word stranger doesn’t have the negative connotations it can have in the U.S.; a stranger has stuck around long enough to be more than just a tourist; a guest who’s not truly part of the family yet. So to be named Nimbonténé by my family is quite a compliment- they are very happy to receive me into their home. My host father, Sidiki, is from the village of Lamekka’a, about a 40 minute drive from Korhogo, this part of my name reveals even more. I am not a Yéo from Torhogo or Ferké, I am a Yéo from the village of Lamekka’a. Even if that is not where I grew up, my family is from that village.

The first few days after receiving my new name, my family would quiz me, waiting expectantly whenever I was introduced to someone new or just saying ‘Nimbonténé’ at random times to see if I was paying attention. They’ve stopped quizzing me on my name by now, but have moved on to teaching me other things. I am slowly picking up different Tyembara phrases, from the salutations for the different times of day, to how to say I’m full. Sometimes when I think I’ve finally figured out how to greet someone, they’ll respond with a phrase I haven’t heard before. Of course I’m speaking a lot of French too, but not everyone who lives at my house speaks French and not everyone who speaks French can actually speak it well.

All together there are 19 people living here, including myself, Sidiki, Madame Sidiki, Sidiki’s older sister, Sidiki’s nephew and his wife, 3 ‘kids’ finished with school, and the rest are kids who go to school. By Ivorian standards, my host family is well-to-do and so have many ‘adopted’ children living with them. Sidiki is the ‘grand-papa’ of everyone here; he is the head of the entire household. So if you take away the fact that I’m a white American, my staying here really isn’t all that strange.

This certainly is and will continue to be a lesson in humility. I am treated like a small child and an honored guest at the same time. For meals, the other women and the children eat anywhere around the courtyard, but they bring me my food and place it on a coffee table with a tablecloth. I am always told ‘Faut manger encore!!’ (Eat more!!); my family, especially my host mom, wants me to get fat, so that everyone will see that they’ve taken good care of me. I’m told to sit down countless times a day; everyone takes their turn in telling me what to do, and when Sidiki’s older sister tells me to do something in Tyembara, one of the little kids translates for her. When I want to go anywhere outside our courtyard, I ask first and someone (usually 12 year old Emmanuel) accompanies me wherever I want to go. Sometimes, I think to myself, “I am really capable of doing this on my own.” But of course whenever I think this, something comes along that works out so much better because I’m not alone. I am laughed at constantly. I always manage to do something that is worth laughing at (of course Ivorians love to laugh at life, much more than anyone else I’ve encountered). The new things I learn and the strange things I do during the day are recounted for the family members who weren’t there when it originally happened. I laugh a lot too, sometimes until my cheeks hurt. Trying to integrate into this family can be awkward and silly at times and laughter eases so much tension.

Eventually I will get into a rhythm of a daily routine here, find work to get involved in, and have friends to visit, but for now I am simply being with this family. This is not something I do naturally; my impatience for something to do rises up in me quite often. But God is patient with me, showing me the art of being through simple things: eating mangos, riding my bike, talking about God with my family or pastor’s wife with 3 different translations of the bible sitting on our laps, preparing lunch or tea the Ivorian way, going to church, learning Tyembara, visiting around the courtyard, and thankfully, laughing often.

Koko, Orientation, and Tyembara

These last few days have been absolutely filled to the brim.

Sunday I went to my new church Koko for the first time. It was a service in both Tyembara (a Senefou language, actually the only Senefou language with a full translation of the Bible) and French. There was a lot of different types of worship: a worship team with singers, a bass guitar, small drum set, and a keyboard, a Bambara choir, who danced and sang, and Senefou song leaders who’d lead call and response songs. Almost the entire service was translated in both Tyembara and French except the actual message was in Tyembara only and was about AIDS and what a Christian’s response should be to the epidemic. I was introduced formally along with Jason, the other Journeyer who’ll be attending the church. At the end of the service, as is custom for anyone new or special, we stood at door and shook everyone’s hands as they left. There were about 590 people in attendance and I’m sure I shook nearly that many hands.

Yesterday and today, we’ve been having orientation with our pastors, their wives, and our host families. This program is unlike anything that’s ever been done here previously so it’s necessary to make sure everyone understands that JourneyCorps has a link with the local churches who then chooses host families for us. I am here to work with and through the church of Koko, my host family, and the community I’ll be living in, not apart from them.

Throughout orientation and going to church it has become extremely obvious how important the Tyembara is to the church community here in Korhogo. When we arrived in Korhogo a week ago, I knew a tiny amount of Dioula (both an ethnic language and the language of commerce in Côte d’Ivoire) but not one word of Tyembara. These last few days of meeting my host parents, spending time with people during orientation, and going to church Sunday have been a bit of a wake up call, most people here speak mostly Tyembara. Instead of merely hoping to better my French in the next months, I’m also hoping to learn enough Tyembara to communicate effectively.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to spend some time with my host mom. We left IBB campus and headed to the construction ‘magasin’ (store) that her husband Sidiké started. We went inside and I met some of her sons who now run the store and then we went to visit the house and Sidiké himself. I also met Sidiké’s older sister and some kids at the house, all probably related to them in some way. We sat in the courtyard eating popcorn sprinkled with sugar and milk powder and they tried to teach me more Tyembara and Sidiké asked me some questions about myself. I didn’t see the inside of the house or stay for too long, but it was nice to visit before I move in with them. Sidiké is very well known; he’s an elder in the church and ‘très engagé’ in the community and his store does well. So it seems that I will be living in a very unique Ivorian situation. How exactly it will differ, I am not sure, but time will tell.

Tomorrow is the last day of orientation and in the afternoon I will be leaving with my host family to go to what should be my home for the next 9 months, the same amount of a school year. A lot of the feelings I have are reminiscent of going back to school as well. I’m a little sad to leave the past three months behind, but I’m full of nervous excitement too. Nervous because there are many cultural and language barriers that I’ll have to cross every day. Excited because there are so many wonderful new things to experience and learn from and so many opportunities to love. My absolute comfort however, is that Jesus goes before me, He goes with me, He'll come behind me; I have nothing to fear. These next months will be like nothing else!!