fun in the sun, Ivorian Style

Last monday I had a positively amazing experience. Somewhere between 500 and 700 people showed up to the Koko church to help 'pour' the floor of the 3rd floor. I got there a little bit after 7 am and stayed there until about 7 pm, although many people were there before and after me. And there were others who were there all day Sunday and Tuesday (like my host-mom, who slept at the church the Sunday night) who made Monday possible.

Everyone had a job: Young men filled and pushed wheelbarrows of gravel and sand, mixed the ciment, or stood on the scaffolding as they passed buckets of ciment upward. Young women (and also some guys and boys) stood on the top, forming long lines that passed the full buckets down and then the empty buckets back to the edge, some women past out drinks to keep people hydrated under the hot sun. Older women and many mothers made both lunch and dinner. Older men kept watch on the whole operation. Many people worked all day, on top of the building, under the Ivorian sun. It was an Ivorian National Holiday, no school and many people decided to spend it at Koko, some of whom weren't even members of Koko.

What a picture of the Church should look like, not just in material things like a building, but in loving each other and the needy world.

Had 3 ciment mixers for this operation!

Passing the buckets

Making lunch, rice with sauce arrachide and sunbaara

Looking down from the top

Gorgeous view of Mt. Korhogo from the top of the church.

What is 'normal' anyway??

When I first moved in with my host family, everything was new. I had a lot of ‘firsts’ and fun stories to relate. Now it is much more interesting for me to think about what has become ‘normal’: what I expect to see during my week.

Waiting for the chickens (ducks/sheep/goats/cows/horses) to cross the road. Depending on your vehicle and the size of the animal this can actually be an very important part of defensive driving.

Ivorians employ a remarkably loud kissing noise to grab peoples attention. You hear it when you are walking along any public area, especially in the market. When I first arrived to this country, my first few times into market I was unaware that this was used as a harmless attention seeking noise, and so I was determined to ignore all of the Ivorians (I thought were) flirting with me…now, I know more likely they want to sell me something.

In the states I would to respond to either Caitlin or CJ (for some special people I would even respond to Cait/Caitie); then I came here and received two new names: Julia and Nibonténé. At my home here (and in most Senoufo homes) when someone calls you, you respond immediatly with the Senoufo equivalent of 'Yes!' (which is really difficult to spell out, its a kind of groan: Ehhnnn is probably the closest way to write it). So when someone calls out Julia or Nibonténé at home it is rude if I don't immediatly reply, which means I was quickly trained to respond when I heard them. My Ivoirian names feel more 'normal' now than Caitiln does.

Ivorian modesty. For women this includes knees always covered, usually by a skirt or pagne (a rectangular cloth wrapped around the waist like a skirt.), although sometimes pants are worn too, depending on how traditional the person is. For breastfeeding mothers or older ladies, the shirt doesn’t really need to cover everything up top. It’s gotten to the point where I feel scandalized when I see a woman’s knees, but barely blink when she forgets to readjust her shirt after her baby’s done breastfeeding.

Working with Ezekiel at the dispensary means that I have become very used to seeing sick HIV patients. The other day a woman brought in a skinny little (HIV positive) 3 year old girl, not her actual daughter, but she's taking care of her since her mom died (most likely from AIDS as well). It took more than 15 minutes to take a blood sample, but for the most part the little girl was silent despite the needle sticking in her arm. I tried to smile and play with the little one, but she was determined to ignore me (white=scary for most kids here). After she and her 'mom' left, I realized the sadness of this little girls story used to surprise me, and while it's still incredibly sad, it's becoming a little too common to be shocked anymore.

At least once a week I receive a marriage proposal or at least an articulation of being interested. “Are you married?” is a question I hear often. There is one guy who works in the family store who greatly desires for me to marry an Ivorian. He says he has 4 lined up, that way if I don’t like his first option there’s 3 more choices. My usual response is I have 3 papa’s for them to ask: my host dad, Rod (the JourneyCorps director) and my father in the states. If they can get all three of them to agree, then we’ll talk.

If you want to know about Ivorian cuisine I need only 3 words: rice and sauce. There are alternatives made from pounded corn or ignames (a potato-like large root), but there is almost never a day where I don’t eat rice. In fact rice can easily be the main part of all three meals of the day; rice porridge, called bruit, for breakfast and rice with sauce for lunch and dinner. Thankfully there are many different types of sauce.

Going to the bathroom in a hole in the ground. Don’t really need to elaborate here, although this does include carrying toilet paper and hand sanitizer everywhere.

Outside of every house there is a pile of flipflops. To keep the floors from getting too dirty everyone takes off their shoes when entering a house. Before I had to remind myself to take off my shoes before walking inside, now it's second nature. If I don't take them off for some reason I start to feel funny.


And yet, of course there are always going to be surprises. Things I just wasn’t expecting to see. For instance, yesterday when I came home this is what greeted me:

A ton of fish from Abidjan that Sara is going to sell at the market. They were still a little moist so she laid them out to dry. It is more dried fish than I really ever needed to see (and smell) at one time. Life sure isn't boring even if some things become commonplace.

Snapshots of Life (including Burkina, Bobo, Bafona, and Braids!)

The gang (minus Angelika) when we first arrived at Nazinga in Burkina Faso!!

Elephants definitely didn't mind grazing near us.


Holly getting a close up view of the elephants; they walked by just after we finished lunch!

Exploring in the Burkina wilderness just outside of Bobo

Looking out over Burkina from the top of Banfora Waterfall

Naomi checking out the falls

I have dubbed these rocketship trees, don't they look like they're about ready to take off?

Its the beginning of rainy season. A good time to figure out there's a golfball sized hole in the wall !! My sisters are cleaning up after a pretty rainstorm, there was about 2 inches of water in our little house!

Finally getting my hair 'tressé' thanks to Sara

It took about 15 minutes short of 2 hours. Didn't hurt too bad, but did feel like I'd just gotten a face lift!

The final look! Visiting Steph and hanging out with her younger host brother.

Getting it taken out was a group effort!

Afterward I had a bit of a Bozo the clown look, not helped by the fact that I dyed my hair with henna a bit ago!

Decisions, decisions...

Been staying pretty busy lately with a few days visiting a game park in Burkina Faso and a week seminar on campus in Bouaké, and then having 2 girls from a short term team stay with my host family for a few days. There's also been a good bit mind on my mind lately, which I wrote about in my most recent email newsletter. Here's part of it:

Tomorrow will be exactly 7 months since I stepped onto a plane to come here. This blows me away, in some ways I feel like I’ve been here forever, in other ways I feel still like toddler in the age of discovery. Whether 7 months actually qualifies as a long time or not depends on the perspective but no matter what it means I have some decision making to do: should I stay here for another year or come home in the fall?

If I stay, I generally know what I would do. JourneyCorps is a program that is still in the works, so I’d be part of the leadership for the next couple of teams that come and maybe help figure out some more of the program. I feel like my previous leadership in my college’s Christian fellowship is something that will have helped me prepare for this. Of course the biggest obstacle to this is money. I have only enough support raised for one year. I’d also have to raise more than I did last time to cover my monthly loan payment. And yet, God showed me the first time I raised support that if He wants me here He can easily make it happen.

The other side of the coin is returning after one year, which feels like one big question mark. There are several things that I’m considering doing, mostly between going to law school or getting my masters in social work (maybe they don‘t seem related, but my main passion is social justice and both of these could lead me to work in that field). That wouldn’t happen until the fall (of 2012) and I’d spend the time up to that hopefully taking classes and/or having an internship to help me prepare for going back to school. Of course also I would also need to get a job to help pay for all of this and make loan payments. So, this option involves a lot of unknowns and potential searching for internships, schools, and/or jobs .

The truly amazing thing about all of this is that in the past, big decisions like this would fill me with all sorts of stress and fear of making a mistake. Thank the Lord, He’s been changing me; I am filled with peace over this. I know whether I stay or I go God will be there with me; I have absolutely nothing to fear.

So, because I did NOT come here of my own doing (but have many, many wonderful people supporting me who have an equal hand in my ministry here), I know that this is not my decision alone to make. So please pray with me and if you want send me an email letting me know that you're doing so!!

Like I said, there's a lot for me to think and pray about!! Also want to make sure that while I'm going through the decision making process that I'm staying present here, where I am now.
Be on the look out for another blog soon, maybe some pictures of Burkina!

Time to Celebrate

Yesterday, I woke up thinking I was in store for a 'normal' Sunday, with a baptism after our regular church services. My family forgot to mention that 4 of our family were going to be baptized. 54 people in all were baptized. Baptisms don’t happen that often, usually once or twice a year. Baptisms are taken pretty seriously in our denomination, you don’t take communion until you are baptized and there is a baptism course you participate in beforehand. So the ages of people baptized are pretty spread out, but there aren’t very many children baptized. There was no one under the age of about 15 yesterday.

The ceremony was boisterous, with a lot of hollaring and dancing. After the ceremony at the church, we had a fête at home. People came in and out of our courtyard for the rest of the day. Here are some pictures from the day:

The Pastors (standing in the baptismal) getting everyone ready

The 54 about to be baptized are sitting in the foreground; in the background everyone else trying to catch a glimpse

The balafons played nearly non-stop

My brother Pièrre, right after being baptized, being swarmed with people congratulating him and attempting to dry him off.

My sisters Sephora, Fidèle, and Marie ready to shower love and towels on the next baptized family member.

The 4 baptized: Pièrre, Madeline, Daniel, and Mattieu

Jean, Mattieu, and Timothee, with the half built Koko church in the background.

Most of the group...ivorian style photo: relatively somber and subdued.

Dancing in celebration with the family

Proud maman and papa Yéo

Fête at the Yéo courtyard

Pièrre and baby Esther at the house during the fête

Meet the Yéos (Part Quatre)

I've finally captured everyone!!! I will still be putting up pictures, but by now you should have seen a picture of everyone who's around the house most of the time.

I love this picture of my host parents, Sidiki and Tamirigue. Such a great representation of the traditional ivorian view of marriage, the wife 'a côté de' or at the side of (and also a little behind) her husband.

This is Yéo, but most often I hear him called Mooshi. Since my family, as with most Ivorians, aren't very touchy folks (honestly too hot for that business), I get most of my cuddles from this guy.

Another view of the barrage. I live in the distant left side of this picture.

Eva. She's not biologically the daughter of anyone at my house. She's lived most of her life in Abidjan and she has a Senoufou father (a pastor in our denomination) and a Baoulé mother, and so has grown up speaking french. She's spent the last year living up here in Korhogo with the Yéos, for the sole purpose of learning Tyembara. At least I'm not the only one learning!!

My host-mother is constantly going; going to conferences, to meetings at church, to visit people, to work at the store...When she does slow down she tends to end up like this. Ivorians can sleep anywhere apparently. The sign above her is in both French and Tyembara, announcing a prayer group that meets at the house every Tuesday.

Fidèle. Oldest child of Sarah and Nontonwa. She and Eva are in the same class at school and so are often together. I am really blessed to have great host-sisters.

Time to get 'tressé'. From left: Suzanne, Marie, and Madeline. They asked me if I'd like to go next; I considered, then politely declined.

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!