Tag Archives: village

The view from the sky

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As our plane took off I looked out the small window, over the propeller, and out into a world that I had been living in, but was seeing for the first time, in a new light.
I saw a runway, with tall wild grasses growing on both sides.
I saw our little corner of Cap Skirring, where our house and our neighbors live, tucked off to the side, with dirt roads, wells, and rooftops in view.
Soon a green and brown afghan of rice fields was below us. They were geometrically perfect squares, each one belonging to someone who would walk many kilometers a day to grow a crop that would feed their families.
Palm trees bordered these fields like they were guards at their post, protecting the fields from unwanted visitors. Each palm tree was unique in the way that it grew. Each one had a curve and a bend different from the next. Each one had palm branches that fanned out wide and sturdy, welcoming a tropical feel.
We flew by little communities, villages full of people living simple, challenging and primitive lives. We were still low enough that kids, appearing like little dots, came running after us, as if they were going to snatch a plane from the sky and pull it down to play with. The huts were in clumps, as close as could be, showing the value of community and of a shared culture.
The tops of huts like golden mountain peeks against red dirt roads, as old as time, showed me a new, exciting and beautiful side of Africa.

The view from above changes everything.

Foam baby

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Babies spend a LOT of time on people's backs here!

I saw the cutest thing yesterday. This little two-year-old girl walked by me and I noticed that she had a blue piece of foam tied to her back. I thought,“Ooooooh, how cute! She’s playing house. She wants to be just like her Mom, carrying her “makeshift doll” on her back.” She had the technique down, too. When the moms do the whole, “untie the wrap, grab the baby and swing them to the front  in one quick motion” maneuver, she did it. TWO years old and she had it down (oh, the beauty of learning by observation). At one point I noticed that her little ”foam baby” was laying on the ground, so I told her to bring the wrap and her foam baby (yup, you can boss kids around here), so that I could help her tie it back on. As soon as she handed me the chunk of foam, she was already bending forward (again, she had the technique down!) so that I could easily place the foam and tie the wrap accordingly.

 Awwwww. How precious.

Or so I thought.

I pointed this out to my friend sitting near by saying, “Look! She’s taking care of her little “baby”, carrying it around on her back like African mama’s do.” She laughed (out loud. literally.) and said, “Ohhh, that just means that her Mom’s expecting another baby. That’s just one of the ways that moms prepare their little girls for a lot of responsibility once the baby comes. They take care of the baby while their mama is off carrying water, cooking, going to the market, or doing another one of a thousand things that need to be done. The foam square is just what they use in the beginning as the young child adjusts to having something on their back. With time they will change the object in order to increase the weight, so that the child’s back will be strong enough to support the weight of a newborn.

I had NO idea!

Can you imagine? At such a young age, even!

So what I thought was “the most adorable thing ever”, turned out to be {surprise, surprise}, yet another insight into a foreign world of ideas, reasonings and concepts.

It was still pretty darn cute to watch though. Well, except for the part where I spotted the foam baby lying “face down” in the dirt. Terrible parenting skills. I’ll tell you what, she’s going to need some in-depth parenting classes to break her of that habit!

Oh, the lessons we learn.

A sign of belief in a dark village

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August, ready to take a stand.

Every Sunday we have a church service in the village of Kabrousse, where our co-workers are working really hard to learn the local language and culture, in hopes to one day see a mature church established.
The church is a melting pot of languages and cultures. We have French, Creole, English, German, Portuguese, Wolof, Jola and even some tribal languages present in our group of about 20.

The village of Kabrousse is very animistic (the belief that non-human entities are spiritual beings). Charms, spirit worship and mysticism have a tight grip on the lives and hearts of the people living there. Sacrifices must be made to please certain spirits, ceremonies must take place in order to please the god of the rain, the giver of life, or the one who controls the thunder. Even little babies are tied down with charms and bracelets that are said to protect their life, and ward off evil spirits. If the land is thirsty and the crops need rain, the women will go to a certain river and cry all night so that the crocodiles will hear their plea, and send rain.

This is reality for these people.

This presents a huge challenge for missionaries living and working amongst people like this because the day that they can freely speak the language and begin to talk and teach about God, we don’t want them just to combine their beliefs with what the Bible teaches (syncretism). Nor can we just come in and say, “get rid of your ceremonial sacrifices and “magic bracelets”, God is against those things.” It must be the Holy Spirit that convicts these people to turn from these things and trust God with their health, their safety, their families, their crops, their very lives.

It’s a sign that someone has truly grasped the Gospel when they are willing to go against their own culture, contrary to their own worldview, to obey and follow the Word of God.

Today was a very exciting day at church. August, a young man in the church said that he wanted to burn his charms as a sign to others that he believed in Jesus, not in the powers that people say these charms hold.
So after our church service we all gathered around to watch these necklaces (the charms) burn to ashes. It was a big moment for August and a huge testimony to those watching.
As the flames died down we all sang a chorus of “Digne, oh, Digne es-tu, Seigneur” (Worthy are you Lord).

It was neat to see August take a stand for what he believes in, even though he will probably be criticized, looked down on and people will tell him all the reasons why he should be afraid, since according to them, he burned the only thing that was protecting him. PRAY that he will stay strong in his decision and that God will continue to give him the courage and strength to go against the flow.

The charms burning in the fire.

Shawn and some of the others standing around watching and singing as the flames go out.

Some of the other believers watching and praising God!

Her life story

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I could see the pain in her eyes as she shared her story.

I was 20 minutes late and I was still the first person at our women’s soap exchange/community group Wednesday evening. It was just me and Mère (mother), as they call her. As I sat outside with her, both of us sitting on wooden benches, waiting for the other women to show up, I realized that I really didn’t know anything about her or her life. So I began asking questions. I started where all of life begins: birth. “So, were you born here in this area?” “Oh no”, she said, “I was born and raised in Burkina Faso.” I had no idea! She told me that her husband, originally from Senegal, and working for the Army at the time, had moved to Burkina Faso, where the two met and married. As the questions continued I realized that, like everyone, her story was meaningful, and it was one that needed to be told. She said they had 11 children. Eleven. She went on to say that four of their children had died. How sad! I wasn’t sure if it was socially acceptable or not, but I was too curious and asked how her children had died. She didn’t skip a beat. She told me how each child died, some from sickness, some from accidents, how old they were- mentioning even dates and specific years (unusual, coming from a culture where most don’t even know their date of birth). She said that her first son, Mustafa, a guy we know from the community, was her first child born in Senegal, when her and her husband moved back here. She went on to say that her husband had died when Mustafa was only seven or eight. Wow, I couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to raise all of those children, in a country not her own, without her husband. I could see the sadness in her eyes. I told her that I was so sorry. There was a long but necessary pause in our conversation. We both looked off into the distance, watching the chickens roam free. Then I remembered that she had only told me about how three of her four children had died. Hoping that I wasn’t overstepping my bounds, I asked how the fourth child had died. Her story continued, “This son was older when he died. He was living in Dakar at the time, and he had come down to visit me, along with his wife and their young child.” She said that her son and his family were on the boat headed back up to Dakar, when the boat they were traveling on, Le Joola , capsized and over 1,863 people died. This is a national tragedy that I have heard a lot about, because it’s a large part of the history of this area. Some call it “the lost generation”, since many on the boat were young students headed back up to Dakar for school. This is also the same route that the ferry takes when we sail up to Dakar or down to Ziguinchor. Yes, I know the history behind what happened, and I’ve cringed at the lives that were lost that day. But this was the first time that I had actually talked with someone who had lost a loved one in the accident. Mère lost a son that day. My heart was sad for her. She has suffered so much in this life. What made me more sad than anything was the fact that if she doesn’t know Jesus, she will NEVER know true joy or peace. In this life or the next. I hope that despite what this life has been like, Mère will come to know the Lord, and that because of that, her story will have a happy ending.

Who knew?

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+ That 55° could feel oh-so-chilly. This week we’ve been having some crazy wind/dust storms, and the mornings have been quite cold. It doesn’t take long for our bodies to adjust to the warmth here, and with tile floors, concrete homes and no insulation, you can easily feel a drop in temperature. We’re enjoying the cool mornings while we can!

+ That hosting a Senegalese pastor and his wife for the weekend would be SO much fun. The guys sat outside and talked while the girls made an Italian meal (aka: spaghetti, salad and garlic bread) and talked in the kitchen. We went to church together on Sunday and Israel (the husband) preached.

+ That a video chat with a friend could be so encouraging.

+ That Senegalese presidential elections would sneak up on us! They’re in just a few weeks. Pray for peace throughout the country and for a good leader.

+ That one day Shawn would be translating Bible lessons.

+ That we could go three weeks (the amount of time that we’ve been back) without one power cut. NiCe.

+ That a bag of mini Snickers would be that scrumptious. Our selection of American candy is gone. What?! It’s gone?? Ok, I’m not really that surprised…

Deep thoughts and chai tea

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Vanilla chai tea and deep thoughts.

Enthnocentrism (big word, I know) is defined as an attitude that one’s own group is superior.

Do you think that we, living cross-culturally, ever struggle with being ethnocentric? All the time! It’s sad but true. It’s just one of the areas where our sin nature rears its ugly (and unwanted) head.

As humans we have this deep-rooted racism and it shows up in bold letters after a trip, albeit short, to our homeland. We come back comparing what we know to be “normal”, “sanitary”, “humorous”, “delicious”, and so forth, based on what our own culture tells us. In many ways it boils down to preference. Senegalese people may prefer and value certain things as a society that we, as Westerners, may or may not, and vice versa.

Shawn and I have conversations on this topic all the time, because it was a topic that was often highlighted throughout our training on tribal church planting. Let’s be honest, there are times when the people we live amongst do (from our frame of reference) some pretty stupid things! But we would feel the same no matter where we lived! You go into a local Walmart and you’re going to come face to face with ethnocentrism in one form or another.

The point is this: we’re all human, we all judge, we all struggle with attitudes of feeling superior or inferior. But we have the answer: the LOVE of Jesus Christ. We have his example, the way that he has modeled unconditional care for his children, and we have the Holy Spirit to lead and guide us.
So even if you’re living amongst a people group that cut in line and make fun of people for using toilet paper, just remember that THEY ARE LOVED by the creator, and you have the power to love them too.

“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.” 1 John 3:16

Something that has helped us when we come face to face with ethnocentrism is to focus on loving the individual, rather than a whole society of people.

By God’s grace, we can CHOOSE love. No matter where we are. No matter the difference in skin color, culture, daily habits, or even religion.

“A proper and healthy relationship with God is fundamentally important to having a good and effective relationship with the tribal people.” ~ Relationship to Target People, class notes, 2005

What are you thinking about today?