Magically a Missionary??

The way a lot of us talk, one might think there must be something magical that occurs on the flight over to the ‘mission field.’ Missionaries are often thought of as some kind of spiritual superstars (right up there next to pastors, apparently something magical happens in seminary too). I admit I’ve been guilty of such thoughts. I have never thought of myself in the same terms as a long term missionary, however I did think somehow serving here would be, I don’t know, easier or immediately fulfilling, or something like that. It wasn’t something I could really verbalize, but more of a subconscious thought that affected my actions and attitudes. Slowly I’ve been realizing how untrue this idea is and I had a particularly jolting insight about it recently.

I spent last week (April 3rd-10th) in Bouaké, on campus with the rest of the team. Officially it was a week for seminars, French class, and debriefing. It was also a week of speaking lots of English, watching movies, eating ‘American’ food, and saying goodbye (to two members of our leadership team, Peter and Katrina Goehring). During one debriefing session, some of my teammates shared the struggles they’d been having (and in some cases, are still having) and while I listened I realized something...

The last two months I have been incredibly focused on me: my relationships with my host family and my church, my search for a fulfilling ministry, the things God was teaching ME. It’s not that I haven’t been praying for others or thinking of them or trying to encourage them. However, I think it would be safe to say I’ve spent more time meditating on comments from Ivorians stating (happily) how fat I’m getting, than praying for my fellow teammates, for the HIV patients that come into the dispensary, or for my host family.

This problem is not new for me. It’s not the first time I’ve had big, romantic dreams of changing the world, but faltered when loving in more ‘commonplace’ measures. I am more likely to talk your ear off about ending human trafficking than offer to help with the dishes or remember to call to see how your weeks going (and if I do remember, there is a sizable chance I’ll mostly talk about myself). It’s not that I lack any feelings of fondness toward my host family or my teammates; I have those in abundance. Yet Jesus has called me to more than feeling fond of others. His Word says that I should consider others better than myself and should love with actions and in truth instead of with words. If I used every ounce of my willpower to try and accomplish these two ideas alone, I would undoubtedly fail. And this is not the only area of my life that I could improve upon.

I might as well have packed all my struggles, my pride, and my weaknesses right along with the deodorant and flip flops.

So, no, I was not immediately transformed when I stepped off the plane five months ago, thank goodness. If I had I wouldn’t be so desperate for His grace, love, and power in my life; I wouldn’t be learning to abide in Him, to trust Him, to obey Him, to love Him and His people. I am certainly not a spiritual superstar of a missionary, then again I am not the person I was when I left the states. This transformation is not immediate, it is humbling, and quite often a bit painful, but it’s absolutely worth it. I don’t need any magic plane ride, I have His Spirit in me. So instead of attempting to will myself to be more compassionate (a considerable temptation for me), I confess my self-centered pride, ask Him to work in and through me, and then walk in faith and obedience.

If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come!

Meet the Yéo Family (Part Trois)

The picture fun continues...but first a quick update on what's happening in my life lately. I spent 5 days last week in Ferké (a town about 45 minutes north) at the hospital helping my friend Heidi recover from an appendectomy. She's doing great now, although it'll be a month before she'll completely recover. I've also been continuing my work with Ezekiel the social worker at the dispensary and had the opportunity to actually visit some HIV patients in their homes with him last Friday. This upcoming weekend marks 2 months since moving in with my family. Our team will be reconvening in Bouaké for a week of seminars and debriefing.

Suzanne and Mikail. Suzanne is the daughter of Nontonwa and Sarah. Mikail's (biological) family lives out in a village. They are in the same level of school and spend most of their time together. And yes while the rest of us suffer the heat in our clothes, they spend nearly all of their time at home like this.

Minga. The youngest child of my host-parents. He is usually studying in Abidjan but because of the situation there, he recently came back home, for the time being at least.

Nontonwa (with Suzanne and Mikail). Nephew of Sidiki, husband of Sarah, father of Fidele, Emma, and Suzanne and papa-adoptif to the rest of the kiddos at the house.

Outside view of Sidiki's store.

Pierre. The oldest of my host parents kids, he runs the store his father started.

Meet the Yéo Family (Part Deux)

Alrighty round 2 of meeting my host family and seeing where I live. Since I still haven't gotten everyone up it looks like there's going to have to be a round 3. Enjoy!!!

Mattieu and Daniel. They're both in their early 20s and some of the 'adopted' children at the house, meaning they are not biologically the children of my parents, but their treated basically as if they were. They haven't finished high school yet (thanks to the political situation the last 9 years) and spend every day except Sunday working at the family store.

This is Amos. He's about 11 years old, and is also one of the 'adopted' kids. I love his smile and sometimes catch him singing and dancing when he thinks no one is watching.

Annie and Sephora, washing the dishes, one of their usual chores. They also are
'adopted.' I had the chance to meet Annies actual mother at the women's conference. If Annie lived with her parents in a village she wouldn't be able to get the type of education she's getting living in Korhogo with my host-family.

View of the courtyard on laundry day. We have 3 mango trees which I've already taken advantage of.

Marie. The second youngest child of my host parents. She's 21 but hasn't finished high school either, because of the political situation she doesn't go to school at the moment, she spends most of her time cooking and cleaning the house.

Another view of the courtyard. The small building on the right is where I sleep, along with all of the other single ladies of the household.

Here is the 'grand-papa' of the household. Sidiki, my host dad. Since he is retired, you can find him in this position quite often.

Meet the Yéo Family (Part Un)

The last few weeks I have had a few technology troubles that have kept me from keeping in touch as much as I’d like. Other more exciting things have happened as well.
I officially passed the one month mark of living with my host family. The entire JourneyCorps team had a one month debrief for 3 days on campus in Bouaké. It was great to have the whole team together, as well as do some seemingly simple yet extremely liberating things, such as wear shorts, speak in English, play soccer, have a second helping of pizza. I also have started helping out at the nearby dispensary as a sort of assistant to the social worker who works with the HIV patients.

Since it has almost been 6 weeks with my family now, I thought you might like to meet a few of them and maybe see a little of where I’m living. Keep in mind that there are 18 people who live here including me, of course there’s usually a visitor staying with us as well. So I haven’t actually gotten pictures of everyone yet. Here’s what I do have

Sara. She is married to Nontonwa, the nephew of my host parents. She has three kids, but also takes care of the other children at the house. For work, she sells different things in a petit marché down the street.

This is Emmanuel, though everyone calls him Emma for short. The political situation as left him without school lately and so he has been a great friend to me. He is the son of Notonwa and Sara and the grand nephew of my host parents.

This is where our meals are prepared. It's amazing what the women can whip up here.

This is Prince or more often 'le chien'. They are much more fond of the cat, but they keep him around because he's a good guard for the house.

Madeline, she's 18. I honestly don't know the specifics of the relation except that she is family. She has spent most of her life in the village of Lamekkaha and so speaks barely any french at all. She spends most of her day preparing meals, but on Mondays and Tuesdays we go to Senoufo class together, where we both learn to read and write.


Maman Tamirigue. Her name means la terre or la pouciere, meaning dirt, earth, or dust. It is customary for parents give a child a name like this when many of their previous children have died. Between her older sister and Tamirigue there were 5 children that passed away, and so her name is Dirt. To me though, she is Maman.

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!