5 months since I came to Cote d’Ivoire. Crazy. This blog is long, but it is good. I promise.
Yesterday morning, I went with Angelika, Holly, and Kadi (my host mom), to visit a woman from church who recently lost her husband. She’s young, with 5 kids, the youngest is still breast-feeding. We walked to a cartier on the outskirts of Bouake, past gardens and single cell cement houses. The woman only spoke Senoufo, so Kadi translated for us, from French. She said that if it wasn’t for brothers and sisters from church, coming to visit her, she would have given up on God. Being a woman here with 5 kids and no husband is impossible. Thankfully, she has some family members living with her, but even they don’t have jobs to pay for the family’s needs. I was filled with compassion for her, and frustration with my own life.
Goodness gracious, God, forgive me for complaining, ever! Who am I? I am blessed beyond what I deserve, yet my thoughts are pretty much always consumed with material things. I want to spend my life, my time, my energy, where it matters.
Living in the midst of poverty teaches you what is most important in life. My family has enough money for our needs, but not much more than that. I have a little money here, $100 per month, though for the past 2 months, I’ve lived on about $40 a month. I want to hide that from my friends and family here, because I don’t want to be seen as the rich American, but that’s what I am, my skin color announces that. About once a week, my 7 year old brother asks me for money. “Pourquoi?” I ask. “Rien,” he says (“nothing”). I can help, but it’s hard to figure out how or when. For instance, this morning, Angelika took the woman and her daughter to the doctor, to get her medicine. The child’s stomach was bloated and she complained of it hurting (most likely a mix of worms and malnutrition), and the inside of her eyelids were white, a sign of anemia, possibly caused by malaria. Medication for Palu (malaria) is 10,000 CFA ($20), but there is no way this woman could afford that on her own, let alone the other treatments needed for her daughter.
I’m learning to live what God asks of us in Isaiah 58: “If you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness [..] The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land.”
The Bible tells us that as we share in Christ’s joy, we must also share in His suffering. Me, I am not suffering, but I am sharing in it with those around me. I am also sharing in great joy. Just as the hardships seem more real here, so does the joy. For instance..
A few Saturdays ago, I spent the day breaking up earth by hand with a "dabbah", a mini hand-hoe. About 85 people from my church came out, to a plot of land that was bought in the outskirts of the city. We ate attieke and fish, mixed with onions, peppers, and tomatoes, together, out of basins (7 people per bowl). The women whom I shared a basin with examined my skin afterwards, asking me questions about my freckles and my flabby arms. Nothing can compare with the joy and contentment I felt, sharing in the work and celebration that day with everyone.
This morning, I biked to a near-by village, which is known for making pottery. I had been there two weeks ago, befriended a family who lives there, and communicated that I would love to come back and work with them. So today, I sat for 2 hours, learning how they make coil pots, and then constructing one myself. I’m going back in a few days to make the designs, and then put it in the fire when it’s dry. The joy of getting to make pottery in the middle of a village in Cote d’Ivoire, all the while chatting with a guy who went to school for painting (like myself), priceless.
Centre Providence is a great example of how, as Kent Annan (a missionary to Haiti) wrote it, “The best comedy bumps up against the tragic.” Wednesday, one of the girls had her skirt hiked up during the morning role-call. One of the teachers snuck up behind her and pulled it up, while another tried to de-pants her (I’m talking underpants). She ran and all of the girls busted out laughing and rolling on the floor. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing! Later on, during discussion time, one of the girls said she heard you could lose weight by putting a maggi cube (like bullion) up your butt (and she stood up, to demonstrate). When the teacher asked what she’d do with it afterwards, the girl said, “put it in the sauce.” The girls there have fiery attitudes, and some of them would make millions as comedians. These are girls who have been in the drug and sex trafficking business, no doubt a bit traumatizing, and comedy is a great outlet for stress relief.
My little brother, David, both exhausts me and brings me uncomparable laughter, at the same time. One day I caught him attaching a plastic bag as a camisole, and a pagne for his skirt (remember, he’s 5). Another time he told me he cut the tail off a lizard, and asked me if I wanted to come see. When I said no, he said, “tu as peur? Vien! Je vais t’accompangie!” (are you afraid? Come! I will accompany you!). When I didn’t want to look at the very large cockroach he found in the bathroom, he said, “Don’t worry, they don’t eat people.”
The political situation here is tense. People are leaving Abidjan by the masses. We’ve had 2 families stay at my house for a few days, on their way up north. The power was out in the north of the country for 5 days, from last Wednesday to Sunday, with no good explanation, except that someone down south (most likely instructed by Gbagbo) turned it off. No power means no running water, medicine in the hospital going bad, people on monitors dying, the bodies in the morgue rotting.. Not a pretty picture. The most it affects me is having a slightly overfilled household for a few days, and sweating profusely while I try to sleep. Not much to complain about. We sit and wait, while Ouattara’s military has moved south to take Abidjan.. Pray for peaceful resolutions.
Also, take comfort in knowing that life goes on as normal here. School started this week! For the first time since the voting, back in November. I sat in the school yard a few days ago, with Kadi, my host mom, and sold homemade popsicles and a corn/sugar mixture that tastes like cheerios. Bakary, my host dad, is a teacher there, so he was at work for the first time since I moved in with them. It was so great to see life going on as it did before this all started.
Thank you, as always, for reading this. Best, Steph
Back: Emanigi, Nani, Emanuel
Djik! The smaller of our 2 dogs in the courtyard. 
Emanigi. She says she’s 9, but doesn’t know when her birthday is, so she is most likely 10. Her laugh warms your heart, and when she cries, it kills you. She’s the first to run up and hug me when I’ve been gone, and the last to whisper “bonne nuit” through my window at night. She’s living with our family so that she can go to school here. She’s told me that, in the village, her mom hit her, and that if she stayed, she would have been circumcised at the age of 11. Thankfully, she is welcomed into warm arms here as part of the family. 
David. He just turned 6 on Tuesday! We ate peanut butter cookies, sang and danced. This little guy is one of the greatest joys in my life, even though he drives me crazy. You can see him climbing a wall in one of these photos, stunts like that are things that he pulls every 5 minutes, and then says “Stephanie! Reguarde!” (Look!) 
