What if our world's leaders were truly selfless?

If, for a US college student to go to Canada for a leadership conference, it meant taking an over filled bus, leaving 5 hours late because the company was unreliable, and sleeping overnight at the border because you arrived at 6:30, half an hour after it closed (it opens again at 6 am), do you know anyone who would make the journey? I’m not sure I do. But I know 4 Ivorian students who did, to go to Accra, Ghana. I had the opportunity of going with them.

In the US, 1 in 3,700 women die in childbirth. In Africa, 1 in 16 women die in childbirth. Half the children I know quit school at the age of 8 or 9 because their parents needed them for housework or selling food, clothes, or themselves on the streets. The University in Bouake hasn’t been running for 5 years because of the war. Right now, because several professors live in Abidjan, when one comes to Bouake they have classes for a few days, then not again for several weeks. The inequalities in health care and schooling are far greater than we can wrap our minds around. What would Africa look like with Godly leadership?

There’s an organization called the HuD group (www.leadershiphuddles.org), a not-for-profit movement, which started in Ghana, with a man named Dr. Yaw Perby. Currently living in Montreal, he runs training sessions for young people in several countries, with a mission to, “engage hearts, enlighten heads and empower hands of Emerging Leaders for global impact and God’s glory”.

”You can’t tell me that you love your people so much that you’re willing to kill them,” yelled Dr. Perby, emphatically, to a room full of students from Cote d‘Ivoire, Ghana, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Benin. In Sierra Leone, innocent people were asked, “do you want long or short sleeves?” That meant, where should I cut your arm off? In Cote d’Ivoire, rebel factions threw bombs into church courtyards, to try and rile the people against Allasane, a Muslim, when Gbagbo (a said Christian) refused to leave office. 3,000 people died because one man had too much greed. Africa needs leaders who will give their lives for their people. This continent’s issues often feel like Goliath, and the youth are as small as David. But Jeremiah, Jesus, and Samuel all heard from God when they were young. Contrary to the popular belief here in Africa, life doesn’t start at 40. A girl from Sierra Leone, Christiana, stood up at the end with tears in her eyes and said, “we don’t need leaders for tomorrow, we need them today!”

With statistics like, “it takes 10,000 hours of practice to become a genius”, and the Beatles played 1200 times before they got big, the crowd was charged to start early, walking in Godly principles, and seeking God’s purpose for them in their countries. For, “it is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young,” Lamentations 3:27.

“The kings of the gentiles lord it over tem; and those who exercise authority over them call themselves benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you shall be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves,“ Luke 22:31.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday of this past week, I sat in a guest house at the University of Ghana, with a small group of students from Cote d’Ivoire, Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ghana, and Benin, plowing through workbooks and sharing our own experiences. One of the Liberians, Sartu Doe, told me that his family stayed through the entire war. In fact, at the age of 12, he saw his own father shot before his own eyes. Yet, he came all the way to Ghana because he believes that he can be part of turning his own country around. Are you getting this???

For once, I understood everything (because they speak English in Ghana), and I often translated for my friends from RCI, assuring them that I knew their struggles, first hand. I understand better now why Jesus often answered questions in parables. I found myself translating concepts like “bearing fruit” by painting a picture of a grapefruit tree. And everywhere I went, people were encouraged when I told them that I learned this much French in a year. I remember one night, when I was laughing and chatting with Mai before bed. One of the Ghanaian leaders came in and said “Stephanie, you’ve only spoken French for a year? That’s amazing.” My friend Timothee told me that he was proud to be my friend.

But perhaps the greatest joy for me of this trip, was to hear my Ivorian friends introduce me as American by nationality, but Ivorian at heart.

Timothee later told me that he said this because he saw me share in this experience with them, awful bus trip and all, accepting everything as it came. Then, the last night, we all shared about our countries conflicts over the past year. My team talked about our recent civil war: the numbers who died, people in Abidjan who were trapped in their houses with 2 loaves of bread and a sardine can, and the frustrating paralysis that students faced - unable to do anything to stop it. Then someone turned to me and asked how I saw it. And with surprise, I realized that I had been in the country during the conflict, I had experienced the frustrations of a society whose banks were closed for 3 months and people had no motivation to work. But knowing my Ivorian friends and family like Timothee, Mai, Pierre, and Tenan reminded me that, despite what the news portrayed, life went on as normal. And today, I want to see this country rebuilt as much as they do

If you would have told me, back in October of 2010, that I’d be traveling to Ghana with 4 Ivorians a year later, I would have laughed. But with God, all things are possible.

We know, “He is able to do immeasurably more than we all ask or imagine, according to his power, that is at work within us,” (Ephesians 3:20). So, “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful,” (Hebrews 10:23). So that others will say of our lives, “(Steph), a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God - the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures regarding his Son,” (Romans 1:1-3).

Pictures from are Ghana adventure:

Pierre, Tenan, and I

Timothee, Mai, and I

I like this quote. I think it describes Journey Corps

Gilba (Sierra Leone) and a Ghanaian sister

Youth Power conference

My Ivorian brothers: Tenan, Timothee and Pierre

and my sister in Christ, Mai

Isaac (Sierra Leone) and Sartu (Liberia)

Pierre (CI) and Isaac (Sierra Leone)

Tenan told me that he was dancing like an American. He was showing me how we're gonna dance at my wedding. He's a riot.

Pierre, Dr. Perby, and Mai

Our training group: Liberia, Ghana, Sierra Leone, and Cote d'Ivoire represent!
Sneak peak - next blog: fall in Bouake

Two Different Worlds

Have you seen the movie “Night and Day”? The past week of my life has felt a little like that. Except, instead of sedatives, I’ve had doses of Paris, huge metropolitan supermarkets, plane travel, airport security, lack of sleep, and an all night veille in an Ivorian village. Is your head spinning yet?

Last Monday morning, I was wondering around Paris. I went to an art gallery for the first time in a year - l’Orangerie, to see Monet’s water lilies. That night, I babysat 3 adorable, bi-lingual boys whose parents (Jonathan and Karen Finley) are missionaries with WorldVenture in Lognes, just outside of Paris. Tuesday morning, I went to a huge supermarket (like a super walmart) with Karen. It was a holiday and full of people. We turned a corner and found a traffic jam of bright red shopping carts. As I followed her, weaving through moving buggies, she asked if it was a little like the market in Bouaké. Suddenly, in my mind, the carts turned to motorcycles, cows, sheep and Djoula women selling vegetables, soap, snails, pagnes, sugar, and plantains. I laughed, realizing it was a lot like the Koko market that I often walked through on my way home from church. Only much less dusty and with a lot more choices. That night, I went to H&M, one of my favorite stores in the US. All I wanted were a few t-shirts, but somehow it took me an hour to pick them out. It was pretty overwhelming.

Two days later, I was in Dabakala, a small town Northeast of Bouake, at an all-night funeral for one of the first pastors in the Baptist church of Cote d’Ivoire. Suddenly, I found myself trying to convince a little boy, who most likely didn’t speak French or English, to keep his shoes and pants on, in the middle of a dusty village, with people dressed in pagnes and bright white dresses rushing around to prepare for the burial. I later walked past to see his pants and shoes on the ground. He either didn’t take my advice or didn’t understand my French. Around 8 am on the 2^nd day, after a few hours of sleep and no coffee, I found myself sitting on a little wooden stool, washing spoons and plates in large basins of water, in the middle of a chaotic village courtyard. Women who only spoke Djimeni were passing me rinsed plates, and I washed them with a fish net sponge and a large, round cake of soap. The funny thing is, this setting is more normal to me now than the supermarkets and shopping malls in France. For lunch, we were invited to the mayor’s house to eat. There I was, sitting under a canopy of trees in front of a mansion, eating salad. Their bathroom had toilet paper and a bathtub. Had I somehow woken up back in France again?

In Bouaké, yesterday morning (Sunday), I walked into the church courtyard to see the monitors and kids standing in a circle, singing and dancing. Everyone greeted me with “bon arrive!” as I joined them. In the afternoon, I biked across town to visit my host family. I hadn’t seen my host mom and little brother in over a month. I remember the smile on my host dad’s face when I walked in the door - huge and welcoming, happy that I was home again. It was Tabaski, a major Muslim holiday. I visited my Muslim neighbor, Coulibaly, to say “bon fête” and they tried to get me to stay longer to eat some grilled lamb. When I saw my friend Mami there, she attacked me with a huge hug and kiss on the cheek. Finally, I stopped feeling like I was in some sort of hazy dream state. I biked home thinking, “this is why I am here.”

Here are some pictures to better describe this culture shock:

Paris

Heidi, CJ, n I

Lyss's face is priceless

Kati and I

Dabakala. Friday night, the beginning.

They asked to take our picture. I said, "only if I can take yours."

All the grandchildren dancing around the casket

Dishwashing Saturday morning

How many Ivorian women can one wagon carry?

What does it mean to follow Jesus?

J’ai décidé de suivre Jésus
I have decided to follow Jesus
Pour toujours, pour toujours
No turning back, no turning back

I think back to August, when Naomi and I got baptized in the river behind the ICA campus. We stood on the river bank with all of the campus staff workers, as Sarah (an Ivorian sister in Christ) sang this song in French, and then in Bombara. What does it mean to follow Jesus?

Oswald Chambers excerpts from My Utmost for His Highest:

October 31st Then God withdrew his conscious blessings in order to teach you to walk by faith.

November 1st Why shouldn’t we go through heartbreaks? Through those doorways, God is opening up ways of fellowship with his son.

November 2nd The Lord does not give me rules. He makes his standard very clear, and if my relationship to Him is that of love, I will do what He says without any hesitation. If I hesitate, it is because I love someone else in competition him: myself. […] If I obey Jesus Christ in the haphazard circumstances, they become pinholes through which I see the face of God.

November 3rd “I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” (Galatians 2:20). These words mean the breaking of my independence with my own hand and surrendering to the supremacy of the Lord Jesus. […] Is He going to help Himself to us, or are we taken up with our conception of what we are going to be?

November 4th To act on the truth of God.. Once a man acts, he is never the same. It is the foolishness of it that stands in the way of hundreds who have been convicted by the Spirit of God. Once I press myself into action, I immediately begin to live. Anything less is merely existing.

God’s voice to me in this past week has been inescapable, irresistible. I wish I could describe it to you. I’ll try. It’s a little like trying to deny that morning has arrived when all you want to do is stay in bed, attempting to ignore a child who has her heart set on your attention, or trying to sleep at an all night veille when the balafones are playing in your ears.

I just arrived back in Cote d’Ivoire, after a week in Paris with the team I came with in October of 2010. We ate lots of cheese, enjoyed French wine, met some seriously awesome people, saw some of the beautiful city, and encouraged one another - sharing how we’ve seen one another grow in the past year. It was the perfect end to a year of God given fellowship. On the last night, my team encouraged me in my desire to go straight back to RCI, to follow Jesus no matter the cost. There were a lot of tears.

And as Monday, the 31st drew near, the day they would all get on a plane to the US, I started praying for God to prepare my heart. I asked for His strength and knowledge that He was in control. I prayed for a renewed passion for His people in Cote d’Ivoire. What He gave me proved that He is faithful.

Those excerpts from Chambers may seem like simply a list of statements, but they are what God has been speaking to me. I asked for comfort and strength, and He gave me freedom to follow Him. I am learning that sacrifice means more than I once thought. "You are not your own; you were bought with a price." (1Corinthians 6:19). And while it hurts to see my teammates leave, it hurts even more to give up my own plans. I guess I was holding onto them more closely than I realized.

But here is what this all comes down to: God is faithful. I expected to grieve for days over the loss of CJ, Jason, Chazz, Naomi, Heidi, and Holly (save Devin and Alyssa who are coming back). But, instead, God has moved me to pray continuously for them as they enter back into Western culture, with friends and family who don’t understand why they miss the sound of a balafone, peanut sauce, or their Ivorian families. And He has filled me with the sureness that I want nothing more than to live my life for the purpose of His redemption. I don’t know what that means yet. But I do have a stillness in my heart, a knowledge that my life is completely safe in His hands. Complete and utter surrender means that my plans may not work out, but I finally have the courage to believe that His are better. There are tears in my eyes, as I write this! Mostly from joy and realization that I am out of my mind, for the sake of Christ (2 Corinthians 5). I have a restless excitement in my bones. I know there is an adventure ahead. I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back and Jesus as my companion.

Tonight, I’m going to Daboukallah, to attend an all night funeral, to celebrate the life of a major pastor in the Baptiste church, here in Cote d’Ivoire. Can’t think of any better way to jump back into Ivorian culture!


Prayer requests:

Heidi, CJ, Chazz, Devin, Alyssa, Holly, Naomi, and Jason as they enter back into the US. Pray that God will give them the words they need to describe their lives in RCI, and God will lead them into what’s next.

Alyssa and Devin as they prepare to come back at the end of this month.

Steve and Jessica Wilman who are coming to join us for 2 years at the end of this month!

On Tuesday (8th), I am taking a bus to Abidjan with my friends Timothee, Mai, and Tenan. On Wednesday, we’re going to Ghana until the 18th, to attend 2 conferences on business and leadership in West Africa. Pray that it will be a great time of fellowship and hearing from God

Pray for Cote d'Ivoire's rebuilding projects. As I rode through Bouake this morning on a moto, on my way to the internet cafe, I passed countless piles of rubble on the side of the road. Bulldozers are plowing down boutiques, clearing up the roads, and the city is planning to build a big market, like the one that burned down years ago. Crowds of people are just standing, watching it happen. It's sad, to see people's shops destroyed without their concent. Pray for the country's future.

The Ferke Mural Miracle

Here’s the background story:

Ferké is a town in northern Cote d’Ivoire. The Mission Baptiste hospital is located there, well known because it was the only to stay open during the war. Several of our RCI missionaries work there. Ferké is also the cross-roads between Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso), Abidjan (Cote d’Ivoire), and Bamako (Mali) - 3 large capitals.

Glenn and Linn Boese live in Ferké . Glenn works at the hospital, and Linn has been working for over 30 years to learn the Nya?afolido language, and now translate the Bible into this language. They also teach Nya?afolido literacy. Linn grew up out here, first in Congo, and then in Ferké , at the hospital where her dad was a doctor. Glenn and Linn raised 3 kids here who are now back in the US.

Nya?afolido is a local language, part of the Senoufo language group. Originally from Mali, a few hundred years ago, they came down into Cote d’Ivoire. Legend has it, they were chased into the mountains. They hid in a cave, and a porcupine covered the hole, so they stayed there 3 days and nights before a deer put its hoof through the blockade and they saw the light of day. They were told to find somewhere with 3 rivers and 3 elevated places - modern day Ferké . Ny?afolido literally means “the language of the people who came out of the mountain.”

The story:

About a month ago, Linn contacted me to ask if I could come up to Ferké to help paint a mural of the Nya?afolido alphabet. They have a 50 meter long wall outside their mission center, situated in front of a public square. I jumped on the chance to paint, as I haven’t had many outlets for this passion of mine in the past year. I also jumped at the chance to spend time with Linn and Glenn. They are the type of people who fill you up to spend time with, soaking in their stories and the passion they have for their work. Before we started the mural, I had the opportunity to spend a night in a local Nya?afolido village, where Glenn and Linn have done language research, built a church, and found a family in the past 30 years. Ivorians have amazing hospitality, and I certainly felt like family.

As I took my bucket bath under the setting sun and then sat on the grass, watching the stars come out, one by one, I thought, “Stephanie, you are so far from home.” That day, I had been coming to grips with the fact that life isn’t about my dilemmas like where to go to grad school or what to do with my life. God’s far more concerned with how close I am to Him than where I go or what I do. It’s the motive He looks at. And as I was sitting there, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and the deep black of night, I felt the depth, the profundity of the fathomless God that I’ve believed in since I was a little girl. He began to fill me with a peace that cannot be measured.

On Saturday morning, we started the mural. Children trickled in and stayed there for hours, watching how we put pictures on the walls with a strange liquid most of them have never used. They were especially mesmerized by the mixing of paint. After the first day, I had to warn them all, in French, that if they touched the wall they would most likely die, because it was toxic. There is a partial truth to this - because it was oil paint and we used gasoline to wash off the brushes - but it was mostly a lie. A few boys took it upon themselves to spread the news, in Jula, for the kids who didn’t speak French.

Women would stop by, immediately recognizing their language, and light up with excitement as they saw a picture (a shirt, for example) and recognized the word below it, “burugo”. Not only did they feel pride in seeing their language written on the wall, but they could read it. A muslim man named Abraham came by, testing Linn on her Nya?afolido comprehension, asking things like, “why are you doing this?” or “why does it matter?” He said he would come back on Monday to pick up a copy of Genesis to learn more about his namesake, and he did. Others asked about the literacy projects, and it became evident that this mural would be a huge advertisement for their mission, as well as a betterment for the community. Countless women would stop by on their way to market, with basins full of vegetables or baskets on their heads, and men would pull up on their motorcycles, just to say, “C’est jolie!” (it’s pretty!) or “C’est bien fait” (It’s well done.).

We worked from 7 am until 6 pm with a break for lunch, Saturday, Monday and Tuesday, then for 3 hours Wednesday morning, and it was completed! A title page and 24 letters later (each being 6 feet by 6 feet), we had covered the wall. There were 8 of us in all: a 5 member short term team from Michigan (Courtney, Sarah, Robert, Matt, and Phil), Linn, and I, then Beal - an Ivorian who helped us with cultural color choice, paint mixing, brush cleaning, and communication. I found myself as a foreman of sorts, often the one who translated for Beal and other Ivorians between French and English, mixed colors, and, with Courtney, drew the mural on the wall. Looking back on it, I call it the “Mural miracle”, because we did not think it could be done in such short of time. Yet, on Tuesday night, we found ourselves nearly at the end. I turned to Beal and asked if he thought it could be done by dusk, and he said “avec de courage,” (with some courage). We finished with fresh energy the next morning.

Thursday morning, I sat in a Bible study with Linn and the men who work in her translation office (all Nya?afolilo). We read Psalm 27. I sat with men who have faced much harder lives than my own, yet we could all relate with a psalm that calls God the “stronghold” of our lives, (“notre fortress”, in French), whether in the face of sickness, sorcery, or war. Looking back on the past few weeks, I didn’t face any of these (except a minor case of strep throat), but I can see how I wasn’t focusing on Jesus - the only thing that is unchanging in my life. I looked forward in the Psalm to verse 8: My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, Lord, I will seek. I have been trying so hard to figure out all the little details, that I stopped doing this.. And then my heart cried out for patience and confident assurance in exchange for anxiety. I want to be a woman who trusts whole-heartedly that God is my stronghold. The whole point is that I seek His face, that I focus on Jesus and Him only. He said that He could destroy the temple and rebuild it in 3 days (which He did), He can move mountains (Matt 21:21), and now I know that He can make a mural happen in 3 days. I have no reason not to believe Him when He says: “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go; I will counsel you with My eye upon you.” (Psalm 32:8).

Here’s some pictures from Ferké :

pictures from the village

courtney, linn, me and sarah

Here is the mural!

beal

Why oh why am I not coming home?

This is an email I wrote to a good friend (slightly edited). It explains a lot of why I am staying here in Cote d'Ivoire for longer than a year. Enjoy!

Dear camarade,

When I started thinking about what to do after this year, going home seemed like the obvious choice. I get to see friends and family again, start grad school, move back into my comfortable environment. I'm not sure when it happened. I think it was during a conversation with CJ, but I started to feel the nudgings and whispers from God that I needed to seek Him in this decision process, not just go with what my heart felt was comfortable. Since when does God ask us to do what's comfortable? I mean, goodness gracious, He asks us to leave our father and mother and follow Him and He tells us we'll be strangers in this world. So, I started praying, giving Him the decision. Immediately, I felt a pull to seek out what staying here would look like. I was resistant. I didn't want to! But God asks us to take little steps - I had to first put my ideas for my future and my comfort on the altar, though secretly hoping God would provide the ram. So I did - and everything pointed towards raising support to stay here longer. In the littlest everyday conversations, I had no choice. This whole time, I am completely aware that God will love me the same no matter which decision I make: to stay or to go home. I really felt like God was leading me by the hand.. and I was dragging my feet a little, like a kid whose parents are telling her she doesn't need the barbie doll she really wants at the store (that was me as a kid). Thankfully, I'm past the whole crying fit ordeal. Then, one week at my wednesday night prayer meeting, just a few days after I sent out my support email, it hit me - I wasn't praying for that support letter. I was hoping God would provide the ram, and it's like I knew that not praying for it would mean it couldn't happen. I started praying, and my heart changed. I wanted to stay here, I wanted to do God's will, not my own. I started asking for forgiveness for not surrendering earlier. And I promise, it was an authentic surrender. Sometimes, we think giving up our own dreams is going to hurt, but in reality, taking on God's will is so much more liberating.

THEN, a few days later, I'm sharing with a friend on how I need a little miracle soon, so that I can know whether or not to get a plane ticket home. NEXT DAY, my mom calls me and says, "are you sitting down? your anonymous donor wants to give you $3,300." If that's not an answer to prayer, an honest "green light" for staying here, I don't know what is! The thing is, I could still choose to go home today, but if I do, I know that I'm going to miss the blessings that God has lined up for me in the next few months here in RCI.

God wants to use people who are willing and ready to go, but He wants to do it in His timing. God listens to our dreams and passions, and His are always bigger. I thought I was coming here for a year, God wants me to stay here longer. I wanted to go home, He's telling me to wait. I'll get there eventually, but just not in October. I don't even know when that will be. It looks like I have support into February. I know I've written this a ton already, but it's good, Luis Palau said, "the living sacrifice is every time my will crosses God’s revealed will, and I choose His will over against my own." Just keep seeking Him on this decision, and He'll reveal His will. But you need to have the future decisions already on the altar. When God sees that you have already surrendered your will to Him, He's likely to show you His will. I was just listening to a sermon on Jonah, and how he tried to run from God's will, but God made sure he got there eventually. But why did he have to end up in a fish first? Why are we so stubborn and steadfast with our own wills? I'm praying that God will make it clear what you should do, and that you can follow it, no matter if it's your ideal destination or not!

It's in moments like these, when God asks us to be brave and follow Him somewhere we are not ready to go alone, that we confront fears. One of my biggest fears is being left out. Guess who is the only one coming back here after Paris? me. Alyssa and Devin are support raising to come back, so they will be here (hopefully) within a month afterwards. But, I am the only one coming back right away. So when we talk about going home, it's difficult for me, because I'm not going there in a month and a half. Trusting God, dropping everything, and going to where He leads is tough stuff. Staying where you are when all you want to do is leave, is also tough stuff. I think, either way, God's going to teach you guys A LOT. You guys have already left a lot, and either way, God's gonna uproot you again. In times like this, I understand Paul, when he writes to the churches, sharing how they've been such a blessing but He has to leave them to go elsewhere. (and every place you go, you're still in people's hearts from the last place - like mine for example!) I am really excited for you guys, because I know you are following Him, and I know that when you do that, life is full of blessing (and struggle that leads to even greater blessing) and it's better than we could dream up for ourselves.

love, Steph

Future plans:
September 26 - October 4, 5 or 6
I'm going to Ferke to paint a mural of the Nyarafolo alphabet, to advertise that it's now written! The missionary couple that I'll be helping, are working to translate the Bible in Nyarafolo.

October 26 - November 2
Paris! I will be debriefing with my team for a few days before returning back to Cote d'Ivoire. I am the only one coming back right away, but 2 others (Devin and Alyssa) are raising support to come back within a month.

November 8 - 18
I'm hoping to travel to Ghana with Timothee, Mai, and Tenan (3 of my close friends from my church here in Bouake), to a conference for future West African leaders.


Prayer requests:
-Praise God that support is coming in
-Pray for smooth travels in the next few months
-Pray that I can get a Ghana visa without hastle
-Pray for Alyssa and Devin who are raising support to come back to RCI
-Pray for my grandfather in the states, for good health, he is currently in and out of the hospital. Pray that God would still his heart, clear his lungs, and give him energy.
-Pray for continued relationship building with my neighbors, the church and the girls at Centre Providence. Pray they would see Jesus in me.
-Pray for God's leading as I start the grad school application process
-Pray that I can be filled with peace that surpasses my understanding, in the face of struggles

We are family

When I came here, I never imagined I’d be adopted into a new family. And if I did, I never thought our relationships would reach the point of struggle. Do you know what I mean by that? Ok, we all have relationships that are fairly surface level - your conversations never reach deep frustrations, and you let all your struggles with that person just slide off… because there’s no spaces there to fill, just surface. You never allow the bloody, messy stuff to be seen. BUT, once you do, that’s when the struggles come. When you are really authentic with people, it gets messy. I will share a few examples with you.

My sisters, Kolo and Manygi, had been sleeping in my room for a week because we had a family friend visiting who took their room. The day he left, I asked Kolo if she was going to sleep in her room again that night. She flipped a switch, accusing me of chasing her out of the room, you name it. Here in RCI, you don’t ask people when they’re going to leave. That translates to: “Get out.” In actuality, the room was jam packed with stuff and people, and I could barely move around, so yes, I wanted her to move back to her room.. Which is partially why I said it. The love that 1 Corinthians 13 asks us to live (patient, kind, slow to anger, no record of wrongs) becomes difficult with people you live with.. And impossible when you share a room. A few days later, I bought her a pagne and we went to see our friend Mami who makes clothes, so she could have an outfit for the wedding (scroll down for explanation). And dancing, chatting, and playing cards with Kolo are some of my favorite activities when I’m at the house. Now she’s living in my room again, and again I’m praying for more patience.

One night, my host mom asked me to throw my orange peel outside. I can be sensitive.. As anyone who has really gotten to know me should understand. And when she asks me to do things, it’s more of a demand, and a question, like, “why didn’t you throw that outside? Don‘t you know, that‘s what you do here?” I got visibly frustrated, and went outside. When my host dad got home, we had an informal “meeting”. It started with Kadi and I both really frustrated (I accidentally cried), and ended with the shaking of hands and apologies. It was rather formal, with Bakary as our mediator (a very culturally appropriate way of handling it), explaining that he wants peace in his house and that we were going to work out our differences. I was able to explain that there will always be things which I do not yet understand here, and ask her to speak to me with more patience. She told me she didn’t like when I get mad and walk out of the room. I told her I would work on being slow to anger.

On Thursday, my host parents got married. Yep. It’s true, they were already married, about 8 years ago. That was traditionally, with their parents present, in the village. They were not, however, married under law. This is a pretty foreign concept to us in the US, but it’s common here. So, we had a ceremony at the legal marriage office, then at ICA (our program’s base here in Bouake). About a month ago, they shared with me the plan. I offered to make the cake, thinking it was a small “shindig” at the house. But it quickly blew up into about 150 people and a full ceremony. And then it was Chazz and I directing the show - decorations, food, chairs, sound system. I was so happy to help and serve them after all they’ve given and done for me over the past 8 months. But man, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a wedding planner!

The thing is, all of this - these joys and struggles - would not happen if we weren’t family. I am learning to love the messy stuff, because when it is present, that means the relationships are real and authentic, not just that surface level bogus. I am part of a legit, Ivorian family, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Here’s some photos of my family, since a picture describes our relationship a whole heck of a lot better.

Manygi, David, Emanuel, and I Kolo is ridiculous.. I love it.
The Wedding! Dancing with Kadi, on her way to see Bakary.
Kolo and I
Senoufo dancing
I was trying to get the cake out of her mouth Gorgeous, right?
Chazz and I
This describes our relationship. He is ridiculous and he makes me laugh a lot.
David and Emanuel - so sapé! (snazzy)Bakary and KadiWe are family