Holiday anecdotes

My friend Tenan has been teaching Steve and Jessica (our newest JC recruits) French. One day, upon seeing all of our electronics, he said, “All Americans have computers and cameras. I think they give them away for free in the US.” We have the same Senoufo name: Yéo Tenena and Yéo Ténédja. So he introduces me as his sister, even to his own family. He says “this is Ténédja, she is Ivorian.”

I tried on my new outfit for Sarah one day, and she lit up, exclaiming “Steph-an-ie! Tu es belle!” (You are beautiful!). Wouldn’t you know, the next thing she said was, “je prie pour toi, que Dieu te donne un BON mari,” (I pray for you, that God gives you a good husband). This is one of the love languages of an Ivorian - to pray for you to get married and have kids. She herself got married at 30, pretty late for this culture. I asked her if she was afraid - which opened up the flood gates. She told me all about her first love, the man she thought she’d marry. But after years of waiting, his family told her that she couldn’t marry their son, since she was from a different ethnic group. She ended up marrying Benjamin, an old friend. Sarah calls me “ma petite soeur,” (her little sister), with which I usually respond, “ma grande soeur”.

On Christmas eve morning, I went to pick up things at the tailor. As always, he wasn’t finished, so Jessica and I went with his son to find jerseys. I thought it would be a short walk, but it was not. Through broken, trash covered and busy streets we walked, and walked. I laughed at my agitation. It was so like life - I am ready to get somewhere, to do something, and then God takes me on a long path that I never wanted or planned for. When I asked the tailor‘s son why we were going so far, he said, “what? You’re not used to walking?” We weren’t even sure we’d communicated well what we wanted. What if we didn’t find a jersey, and the walk was for nothing? Yet, we have not conceived what God has for us. The walk is not in vain if He’s leading.

For Christmas eve night, I went to church.. From 11 pm to 6 am. Christians celebrate the day by dancing all night long, which they call a veille (translates to vigil). There’s also a sermon and skits. Around 3 am, my friend Julie literally took me by the hand and showed me dance steps to the balafone (a traditional Senoufo instrument). After one of the songs, several of the youth came over and high-fived me, saying that I was Ivorian and would stay in Cote d’Ivoire. Julie said we’d stay and dance until the new year. Sweaty and exhausted, I went to sit down around 4:30 am. It’s like a workout!

After Christmas, we went to stay at the NZ river lodge for a few days, west of Bouake. It’s a beautiful tree-house like structure that was started 3 months before the war broke out in 2002, and rests unfinished. Our guide was a man who had stayed with the lodge to guard it when everyone else fled, because otherwise, he knew the rebels would have stolen building materials. He was a funny guy. He’d say things like, “I’m not a comedian, I’ve never been, but people think I’m funny because of my teeth,” or “I’m an ecologist but I smoke.” One night, while waiting for a shower, he walked up and put 2 jars on the table: one with dead snakes, and another with a tarantula. He was doing his best to entertain us. The stars there were beautiful - the kind that remind you of how big God is.

My friend Mai is a very quiet girl when you first meet her, but in actuality, she is not at all quiet. At the wedding of Timothee and Lea, during the “I dos” and the 5 minute long rolling up of the veil, she yelled and screamed, mostly out of excitement. You see, Ivorian weddings are not as quiet as ours. They’re more like watching a concert in the US. If you don’t get a little boisterous, you must not be that excited. I did a lot of jumping up and down and dancing myself. Timothee and Lea are like family to me, and I have been waiting for this day for months. I love them both so much! Seriously, what an incredibly joyful day. To see all my friends with the jeunesse (20 somethings) get together to plan, put together, and then celebrate this day was amazing. I’m afraid I’ll get asked to leave weddings in the US, assuming that it’s ok to jump up and down and cheer when the couple says “I do”.

On New Years Eve, we danced to some classic songs around the fire, one of them being YMCA. The next day, the Ivorian kids who were staying with us (Esther, Caleb, Ezekiel, and Deborah) started singing “Moi, J’aime chier,” to the same tune. This means, “Me, I like to poop.” Apparently, that’s what “Y M C A” sounds like in French. (PS: chier is probably not the verb you'd use for this action in France, but this is Cote d'Ivoire).

Yesterday, I greeted some of my host dad’s friends. One of the men gave me a series of blessings, in Senoufo. I responded to all with “Amina,” (Amen) having no idea what he had said. Then the guy next to him said, “Really? He blessed you with a lot of kids.” I said I’d rather wait until I was married, but I’m pretty sure he blessed me for that too.

My host parents came to visit me at ICA. At one point, Bakary, my host dad, said “Tu n’as pas oublie que tu es un Yéo?” (You haven’t forgotten that you’re a Yéo?) “Jamais!” (Never), I told him. My family name is Yéo Ténédja. Though I’m not living with them right now, he wanted to tell me that I am still family.