Sunday, July 29, 2012

This is what life looks like

Sometimes, I stop and think about how naturally life has become here.  Wearing pagnes, washing clothes by hand, cooking over charcoal, visiting, teaching girls how to paint, taking a bus up north, going to the market - these things were so strange just 21 months ago.  As my second year winds down, I'm doing a lot more looking back, asking myself, "what has made this all worth it?"  It's in these moments - building relationships through the everyday thick of life - that remind me why I do any of it.

With my roommates and sisters: Mai and Awa
Preparing dinner with Awa - this is our kitchen
Everyday is laundry day in our courtyard
She is one of the several kids who live next door
This little albino girl called me "tu-babu" (white person).  Then my sister yelled, "but you're the same color!"

With Sara, my "older sister", a woman I look up to and love SO much!

With Eliane, one of the cutest little girls in my sunday school class

Bamba Sephora, the most adorable little girl, period.

At the tailor with Mimi Bjorklund, Eliza, and Eliane
Oh Lea, how I love you. I tried to get mad when she stole my dress and put it on, but that didn't work, so I just laughed.

My painting class at Centre Providence.




Pictures from Korhogo.  
Tricia at her host family's house.
Enoch, her little brother - one of the most cuddlable and adorable little boys.
An Ivorian coffee shop, with Tricia and Almut.

I love these girls.

Market pictures.


Almut and her little sister.  

Washing clothes the Ivorian way.
Little baby salamander.  These guys are everywhere this time of year.

Seminar on evangelism with Nanou, a recently graduated pastor in our church association.

Team pictures on top of Mount Korhogo!



Thanks for checkin' out this blog!

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

13 Pastors added to our churches

On June 30th, we celebrated the graduation of 13 student pastors from our Bible Institute in Korhogo, Cote d'Ivoire!  These are men and their wives who I’ve gotten to know over the past 20 months that I’ve lived here. They’ve become my brothers and sisters, making it a joyful day for me as well as the hundreds of friends and family members who came to participate. The party wasn’t just to congratulate the new pastors, but also to rejoice in the fact that the previous pastor to church ratio(1:4) here in Cote d’Ivoire is now a little smaller. This means that more workers are now equipped for the harvest, and the gospel will be taken further - to those who have not yet heard. If that’s not a reason to celebrate, I’m not sure what is! 

We started out the celebration with an all-night party on Friday night. Around 2 am, I sat on a wooden bench at the edge of the swirling circle of people dancing to the balafone. If you’ve never experienced Senoufo culture, this is a difficult thing to explain. Imagine a crowd of people, about 5 layers deep, dancing around a wooden instrument that resembles a large xylophone, a woman singing, and a bright light. The song starts out simple enough. People walk in and start dancing little by little, and I would sit watching for someone whose footwork I could easily follow. However, all of a sudden, near the end of the song, their steps change and the circle resembles more of an organized mosh-pit than anything else. I’ve been to a lot of these events (called “veilles“), and I’ve never seen Ivorians dance as passionately as they did that night. It was a celebration indeed.

Then it happened.  Spontaneously, one of my teammates grabbed my hand and we ran into the circle, safely situating ourselves 4 layers in to avoid observers, and squarely behind an older woman whose footwork we could follow. It started out ok, but after about one minute, I could no longer play follow the leader with the women in front of me, and my friends weren’t in sight. I kept dancing to my own beat, while searching for a way out. Judging by the dancers in the 3 outer rows, it was safer to stay inside, though my surroundings felt like they were quickly becoming a hazard zone. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped, like a downpour that went from raining buckets to nothing in 2 seconds flat. I breathed a sigh of relief and darted through the crowd to my seat outside the circle. Ivorians party hard, and in Korhogo, that means dancing to the balafone like there’s no tomorrow.

After a few hours of sleep, we left for the ceremony on Saturday morning. After intervals of guest speakers and singing (in French and Senoufo), the pastors and their wives lined up on stage. They received their diplomas and several gifts from the visiting speakers (including a sowing machine, John Piper book, and iPod), and one of the wives led a song in Senoufo. Though the ceremony was 3 hours long, to me, it didn’t feel longer than 5 minutes. It was an incredibly joyful day.


The 13 pastors have by now left for their home churches, and are getting ready to go into their new placements in September. Two are staying in Korhogo (including my good friend Nanu), two are going to Bondoukou, at least one to Dabakala, one to a village near Ferke (Pekaly), and elsewhere.

A few days after the graduation, I sat talking to Pekaly’s wife - Florence. She shared with me her story of God’s provision and guidance. Ten years ago, she asked for a husband who knew scripture well, and then last year, she got married to a pastor. She told me stories of God’s financial provision for her to learn to be a hair dresser and tailor. We shared our hearts and discussed what God might be planning next. She and her husband are preparing to pastor in a village and to start planting a new church. This is something she never imagined herself doing a few years back, but God has prepared her for it all. Her story was so simple yet so full of trust in God, in His provision, timing, and direction. I prayed for simple faith like hers. And you know what? God answers prayer pretty darn quickly. He used Florence’s testimony to strengthen my faith right when I needed it. “Dieu est patient dê h!” (God is patient!), she said over and over. “You can’t be in a hurry with God.” Goodness, have I learned the depth of this truth repeatedly over the past 20 months.


Thank goodness that He is faithful, and we can say, “God has the power to do what he has promised,” (Romans 4:21). “Blessed is she who believes that what the Lord says to her will be accomplished,” (Luke 1:45).

May we believe in our own lives that He will both accomplish what He has promised in us and in our churches, by adding more workers to His harvest.


Pictures from Friday afternoon.  The Bible school campus was full of the students' family members.





The Saturday morning ceremony!  Korotum leading us in a Senoufo worship song.

Jonathan Finley was the main guest speaker of the ceremony.

The students' gift to Pastor Keo, the current Bible school director. With his wife and daughter, Prisca.

The students leading a Senoufo worship song.

Tricia and I

Lea and I

With Jonathan, Benjamin, and Tricia - sporting the pagne uniform for the graduation

With Pekaly and his wife, Florence.

All of the pastors and their wives.


With Nanu and his wife

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Do you choose God, self-sufficiency, or a maribou?

“Do you find that evangelism is easier here in Cote d’Ivoire, than in the USA?” Brisk asked, a co-worker at the girls’ school where I volunteer. I stopped and thought it over in my mind. Here in Cote d’Ivoire, if you aren’t a Christian or Muslim, you still believe there is a God. In the US, many say there isn’t one or they don’t care. Why? Life, here in Cote d’Ivoire, is spiritual by default. The very nature that God created testifies of Him. Guire, a muslim co-worker, told me about a friend that he had from New Zealand who said he didn’t believe in God. To Guire, that was incomprehensible. “Are you telling me that all of creation, so perfectly made, started with some big bang?” he argued.

There are 3 kinds of Maribous, traditional healers, Guire explained. The first uses verses of the Quran, the second fetishes (traditional animistic materials), and the third is what they call a liar or a fake (money stealers). Here, everything has a spiritual causation. If someone dies young or unexpectedly, one often wonders if sorcery was the cause. Some go as far as seeking a maribou to find out who caused the death.

Over a table of decorations, for the upcoming party at the school, they told me story after story of encounters with these healers. Brisk said that someone stole his friend’s shoes, so he went to see a maribou. The boy who took them had constant diarrhea until he returned them. Guire said that his grandmother told him a story of a woman in her village who stole her neighbor’s guinea foul eggs. The woman went to see a maribou; that night, lightning struck the house, picked up the whole family and threw them out in the yard. “Je ne te crois pas! Je veux le voir!” (I don’t believe you! I want to see it!”). That was my reaction. Coming from a culture where the magic that we see, in public, is illusion, stories like these are not very believable. But here in Cote d’Ivoire, sorcery is not something to be played with. It exists, and no one questions that fact. Brisk and Guire laughed at me, shaking their heads. “It must be a different world, where you come from,” Brisk said.

In my church, if you become a Christian, you are asked not to consult maribous anymore. One night, at a prayer meeting, I remember a woman saying in the face of a big decision, “Before, I would have gone to see a maribou, but today I need to go to Jesus.” Going to see a Maribou is quick - instant gratification. There are many who refuse to go to the hospital, because even broken bones can be more quickly healed with a maribou and traditional medicine.

It is so hard to compare such concepts to Western culture. But in reading the Bible, this reminds me of someone - the Israelites. When Moses went up to Mt. Sinai for 40 days, the people came to Aaron, “come make us gods who will go before us,” (Exodus 32:1), and they created a golden calf out of their earrings. This was after God had taken them across the red sea, caused manna and quail to rain from heaven, and made water gush from the rock when they were thirsty (read Psalm 78 for a summary). Before Joshua’s death, he warned the Israelites not to serve the gods of their forefathers (Joshua 24:14). Have you ever read Judges? Over and over again, you read, “again, the Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord,” and they served other gods.

Like the Israelites, we often don’t want to wait for Moses to come down from the mountain. We’d rather consult a maribou than call on Jesus. Wait, this is beginning to sound a little more like our western culture. What do we do instead? We pack out lives with so many things and so much technology that we don’t need to rely on God. We become our own self-sufficient gods. This is so different than what David testified to, saying, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” (Ps 23). Stories like the ones my co-workers recounted aren’t much different than quail raining down from heaven or Jesus bringing Lazarus back to life. While listening to Brisk’s and Guire’s stories, I asked myself, “do I really believe in the miracles described in the Bible? And if I do, why don’t I trust God with even my smallest worries and struggles?”

One thing that is for sure - there is a lot more to this world than what meets the eye. Jesus talked about a spiritual realm that surrounds us. In the western world, we don’t believe something unless we see it. But here in Cote d’Ivoire, such a spiritual realm exists, and you don’t question that fact. It boggles my mind. I’m so thankful that I serve a God whose love even angels and demons cannot separate me from (Romans 8:38). And I’m learning every day to rely on Him, like David did, and to believe that He really is capable of the impossible (Matt 19:26). His power is greater than any maribou or any of our own self-sufficient efforts - thank goodness.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

June is where it's at

Every year, June is a month full of parties here in Cote d'Ivoire.  Personally, I wouldn't choose any other.  The month kicks off with my birthday on the first!  A handful of my Ivorian friends and American teammates made it a fantastic day.  

Mai and Marie Louise
 Lea and Mai

I love laughing this hard

 Tim and Lea - who made the party happen.


We had our annual party for the annual African Children's Day, at Centre Providence (the girls school where I volunteer).  The girls prepare dances, songs, games, and food, and we party it up!



 Mureille
 Elody
 Djata and Rokia, twins
 Audrey, proudly holding her newborn
 Evelynn and I
 Sara and Solange
 Nathalie and I
 Laurelle and Bintou
 With our beautiful mural.


For the end of the sunday school year, we had a kids day at church.  Eight am to 5 pm, nonstop fun!  For the kids that is.  Us teachers are usually lying unconcious by the end of it.  But somehow it's all worth it, just to see the smiles on their faces! 


 Manygi and David - I LOVE them.
 Grace

 Chimngo and I
 Emmanuel, actin' all cool
 Lea and Mai
 The view from the top of the church building, of the community veggie fields


I promise that my next blog will be a written one!  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the photos!