Teaching With Goats and Roosters

Today I presented a lesson on God's Love in Creation -- in French!  Fortunately the woman who was translating from French to Moore understood what I was saying.  I asked the women to memorize Gen. 1:31a - "God saw all that He had made, and it was very good."  Most can't read, so Suzanne repeated it in Moore until they had it down.  They are a competitive group!  When I said there would be something special on Monday for anyone who could recite it perfectly, they worked and worked on it.

There were two new faces today:



Zaquinatu




Ilboodoradi

 I had printed the pictures of the women from Monday with their names.  They got a big kick at how I had misspelled them.  These are probably incorrect as well, and will be edited as soon as I get the correct spelling.

I also tried to greet them in Moore this morning: "Ne y yibeogo".  They looked at me with puzzled expressions until Suzanne figured out what I was trying to say and they got a big kick out of that as well!

If you live in a mud hut with a dirt floor, no electricity and no running water the perspective on life is very different.  When one of the babies start to urinate, they are held out over the floor since Pampers don't exist in Sector 30.  The mother then takes a small straw hand broom to spread the puddle out so that it will dry more quickly.  The floors are dirty to begin with and this adds another layer to the problem of sanitation.  Then the moms put the babies down on the same floors to sit, lay or crawl.  Remember too that goats and chickens have also been walking on that floor.  It is difficult to watch, but these moms have no concept of germs and what they can do to their children.  Hopefully in our sanitation lessons we can start to work on this.

Loving Is Joyous But Painful

Things just weren’t quite right at Tabitha Center yesterday.  The children were louder and more mischievous than normal.  Babies cried continuously.  The women were somber and agitated.  A project that would normally be fun was tedious.  It was my last day with them and I think it weighed heavily on all of us.  As the time came to a close the women came for hugs and then surrounded our vehicle as we prepared to leave.  There is one special little guy that is probably about six years old, always has a smile on his face and is in the middle of everything.  I sobbed as I drove away, and when he looked at me his expression was of concern instead of that happy face.  As hard as I tried, I couldn’t help but cry.  Loving is joyous but also painful. 

When I first arrived in Burkina Faso last September I thought it would be the longest year of my life.  But now I wonder where the time went – how did it pass so quickly?  I keep wondering how I can go back to the U.S. and live a “normal life” after being here.  Living amongst majority world poverty changes life’s perspective.  Learning about the people that live with so little and in such hard circumstances transforms your inner being.  Working with the women at Tabitha Center has forcibly reminded me that life is about the simple things.  Their happiness does not come from how large and well-furnished their house is, the kind of car they drive, what activities their children are involved in because they don’t have any of these things.  They get up in the morning and work until the sun goes down.  When the sun sets, they sit around a fire with family and friends to share time together, laugh, sing and dance.  Nothing is taken for granted.  Every little thing is a cause for celebration. 

As I close this blog I want to thank you for sharing my journey with your prayers and love.  As of today, Walking With The Children of Burkina Faso has over 8,300 hits.  I know this sounds like a cliché, but I am humbled by your interest and care.

Please remember the people of Burkina Faso in your thoughts and prayers, as well as the missionaries and interns that serve them. 

The women gave me a going away present (until I come back they said!). 

A Sad Day

Today at Tabitha Center, one of the women asked if she could speak with me after we closed.  Her name is Dipama Rakiete.  She has a little baby boy that I absolutely adore.  He has big eyes that pierce right through you.  Whenever I hold him, I tell him he is going to be a great leader for the people of Burkina Faso.  Dipama is a special woman - her demeanor radiates love and respect.  Several weeks ago she brought me two mangoes.  Although it doesn't sound like much, for her it was a big sacrifice and I honor it as a very special gift.

I found Dipama after closing and we went into the empty office.  As she was pulling out a letter from her purse, a large group of women came in.  She asked me to quickly put it away and not read it until after I left.  Her letter breaks my heart because she relates that she AIDS.  She wrote "I would like to ask you for many prayers because I need them.  Life in Burkina is very hard and when you arrive back home, explain my malady to your pastors and ask them to pray for me."

Most days at Tabitha Center have been filled with joy, but today it is sadness.  Several weeks ago, one of the women cut her leg badly on the soap cutting machine.  I took her to the clinic twice and thought she was healing.  Today she asked for some antibiotic ointment to put on it so I asked to see it.  The cut is filled with infection that has spread in a circumference of about 1-1/2 inches.  She didn't realize it should look any different.  She now has money to go back to the clinic. 

For about a month now I've been concerned about a little girl that is probably around 2 years old.  She used to roam the room with the cutest smile and was always ready for me to pick her up.  Lately the smile has disappeared, she is lethargic and clings to her mom.  I picked her up today when she woke up from her nap.  She didn't cry, she just moaned with a far way look in her eyes.   I asked her mom if the little girl was sick.  Her mom said she has been having trouble with her stomach, but she doesn't have the money to take her to a doctor.  She does now. 

Dipama is right - life is hard here in Burkina Faso.

Voo-Doo's and Witch Doctors

My last month here is proving to be very interesting.  It started off with the administrator from Accedes that works at Tabitha Center  resigning.  I have been mentoring him this past year and providing tools to help him be an effective administrator.  He is a fine young man that unfortunately went about changing jobs in a very clumsy way - he just didn't show up for almost a week while he was working for his new organization.  Even his boss at Accedes didn't know until after the fact.  We've picked up the slack - buying needed materials, assisting in decision making and financial affairs, maintaining attendance records - until Accedes replaces him.  The Center will close for August because of rainy season.  It's already an adventure trying to drive on the rutted dirt roads.  The rain makes them even worse.

Last Wednesday a voo-doo was found in the children's play area.  It was a piece of orange plastic tubing about 1/2 inch in diameter and 3 inches long.  A nail had been driven through the tube with a piece of human hair attached and sticking out of the top of the tube.  We burned it.  On Friday, one of the kids took Autumn to the large chalkboard area on one of the walls of the play area to show her a picture that had been drawn of a demon.  She erased it.  This is Africa and many people still believe in witch doctors and evil spirits.

The people are very literal here.  In my devotional on Friday  I was trying to use an example - "What if we heard there was an elephant in the church building across the way?  We would all want to get up and go see it."  The translator couldn't believe what he was hearing because he thought I said there WAS an elephant in the church building.  Being very perplexed, he told the women what he had heard.  They were all shocked and confused.  Finally, with great relief, he understood that it was only an example.  The illustration was completely lost.  On top of that, a big rain storm was blowing in.  The women were concerned about securing their huts and bringing their children in.  Sometimes it's best to realize what the situation is, smile, and go with the flow.  That's a pretty typical day at Tabitha Center!

It’s A Celebration!

Several months ago Mike Pierce from Georgia joined a group of pastors from Indiana to view well digging in Burkina Faso.  The group traveled to a number of villages and heard firsthand how important the wells are, not only in providing physical water but also giving a platform to the local pastor to talk to the villagers about the living water of Jesus Christ.

When the team was in Ouagadougou, they made a visit to Tabitha Center.  I happened to sit next to Mike and he commented that he would like to purchase matching t-shirts for all of the women.  The women had a lot of fun deciding what color they wanted the t-shirts to be – and the majority won with green.  Tabitha Center was placed on the front in white letters, on the back a verse from Jeremiah which is a “theme” verse for the center.  

Fun in a Sea of Green

Through a very generous donation we had the funds to do a grain distribution so we decided to have a party today and all wear our green t-shirts.  It was a sea of green at Tabitha Center today and the women love their t-shirts!  It was a wonderful party including singing, dancing, a devotional by John Arnold who visited us with his wife Betty, their son and his wife Maggie and Brian, and an intern Jake.  We had macaroni with sauce, bread with Nutella, and cookies for lunch.  I’ve never seen such a mass of food disappear so quickly!  

One of the dances that I really enjoyed included everyone forming a circle.  We have such a large group that we had to move outside for dancing.  Two women enter the middle of the circle, dance around motioning each other much like in a boxing match.  At an agreed time, they come at each other and bang hips.  They really got into the motioning and teasing each other.  At one point I went into the circle and the woman that was to bang hips with me went “ohhhh”.  She wasn’t quite sure about banging hips because she didn’t want to hurt me.  I was ready and motioned her to bring it.  Needless to say, it was a very meek hip bang on her part.  

100 kilo bags of corn

After lunch was completed, the corn distribution began.  The corn came in 100 kilo bags that were divided among three women.  It was hard work for the three guys that were lifting the 100 kilo bags, pouring it into a measuring container and then pouring it into a sack that each woman brought with her.  Corn is more expensive than rice and is a real treat for the women.  They will make porridge and tou which is served with either peanut sauce or red sauce.  To prepare the corn for cooking, they will pound it in a large wooden bowl with a very large pestle until it is a ground powder.  It is a slow process and before they can eat it, it must first be cooked.  That means building a fire either out of wood or coal outside of their hut.  There are no “quick serve” items in Sector 30.

I wish you could have been there today and experience such joy at simple things, for today they did not have to cook a lunch meal and had food they could not afford  like sauce with meat, bread with Nutella and cookies.  You would have loved the look on their faces as they received the corn.  And you would have benefited from lots of hugs, “praise God” and “barka’s” (thank you’s).  

We celebrated God’s goodness today and it was an awesome testimony to His power and greatness!

Clinics, Flip Flops, and Cultural Differences

Today was such a busy day at Tabitha Center.

Our nurse, Georgette

Our nurse, Georgette, now comes every Wednesday to talk with the women about health issues and distribute medicines as needed.  The vendor returned to fit the children with flip flops that didn't get them on Monday, and the women were busy making jewelry, bags, dolls, soap and cards.  I was out in the children's area when someone came to get me.  One of the women, Odine,  had cut her leg on the soap cutter.  I rushed to where she was and when I arrived, saw a 3-4 " gash down her shin area.  It was bleeding and the cut was deep.  The nurse was there having her clean it with water and placing gauze bandages on it to try and stop the bleeding.  Odine's husband was killed in a motorcycle accident about six months ago.  She has a little boy that is probably around 5 or 6 years old, always smiling and full of mischief.  But as he stood by his mom you could see the worry all over his face.  It was decided that she needed stitches and I would drive them to the clinic.  Her little boy was so worried about her and you could see the agony in his face thinking he was going to be left behind.  I took him by the hand and helped him get into the backseat of the car.  Suzanne, the pastor's wife, was with us as well.  We drove to a clinic that was about five minutes from Tabitha Center.  The clinic was a small area with two buildings and a small outside courtyard between them.  The building was made of mud bricks, with concrete floors that were stained and chipped, and walls that had once been painted but were now peeling and dirty from the constant blowing of the red dirt in that open area.  As we came into the courtyard we were greeted by the man who worked there.  He went into the office area and came out with a list of items that would be required to stitch the gash and the cost of the procedure.  The amount was paid and he led Odine to a room on the opposite side of the courtyard with a sign above the door that read "Dressing Room".  Suzanne, Odine's son and I waited in the courtyard.  At first I was shocked by the place - the outside right wall of the courtyard was framed in a mismatch of either grooved metal sheeting pieces nailed to a wooden frame or woven bamboo.  It was an area that contained a metal bed frame with a thin, black vinyl covered mattress on top.  Several rusted metal chairs and a wooden bench stood near the bed.  There was a small fan nailed to one of the wood beams as well as a bare light bulb.  The same configuration was duplicated at the opposite end.  These beds would be for patients that would spend most of the day there.  The benches and chairs were for family members who would help care for the patient and bring them food.  In the opposite building with the "Dressing Room" in the middle, there were two other rooms, the "Care Room" and the "Observation Room".  These rooms were just large and long enough to hold a metal bed frame with the thin, black vinyl covered mattress on top and a narrow walkway where the doctor/nurse could go from one end of the bed to the other.  There were no doors to close the rooms, only a curtain that could be dropped if necessary.  The smell of the area was not pleasant and all I could think of was dirty needles and infection.  It took almost an hour for the doctor/nurse to treat Odine's leg and as I sat in the courtyard I began to look more closely at everything.  Although it was obvious that the buildings were run down, everything was as  clean as possible.  I watched as he worked on her leg, and was impressed by the effort to keep everything as sterile as possible.  He did a nice job of cleaning and stitching her leg,  wrapped it very carefully and was professional in all of his dealings with us.  Odine left with medicines for pain and to fight any infection that would start to develop.  When we were leaving, her little boy jumped into the front seat and the worry on his face had now turned into a smile and excitement of his friends seeing him riding in the car.  My initial impression of dismay at the clinic was replaced by a thankfulness that there were clinics in Sector 30 to handle these kinds of situations.

When we returned to Tabitha Center, the women were working away.   When they saw Odine return they started cheering and praising God.  They are such an awesome group of women.

I had some diaper pins that Vickie Van Nevel brought with her on a vision trip and one of the women saw them in my bag and wondered what they were.  I've been a little leary of introducing diaper pins for fear of the babies being poked or the pins lost.  But they were curious, so I put a diaper on one the babies and explained how to use them, emphasizing safety and care.  Before I knew it, there was a line of babies to be diapered.  These women have a great sense of humor, so several motioned to their older children to be diapered, or claimed that they were pregnant and needed diapers.  I love it when they tease like that because it is a sign that they are comfortable with me.

As we were closing, Suzanne announced that a little 10 year old girl that had been lost for two days was found the night before.  On Monday when we found out she was missing it was like a blow to the stomach.  Sector 30 is a vast maze of mud huts and walls and there are minimal communication tools. I can't imagine the relief her family felt when she was returned home.

To those of you who supported the flip flop program, the women and children area so grateful!  Thank you!!

Children with their new flip flops

Mothers holding flip flops for their children

Hopefully, the flip flops will keep the children from walking barefoot through dung and glass, picking up germs in the soil. 

I was reminded on Monday about dealing with different cultures.  There was a little boy of about 5 or 6 laying on the floor in a place that blocked traffic coming from the back of the room.  His mom yelled at him to get up, but he didn't move.  I had been watching him and thought he must not be feeling well and was asleep.  She reached down and slapped him hard across the arm and then across his ear.  He started screaming and she yanked him and up and drug him to the back of the room and told him to be quiet.  One of the other women went over to try and soothe the little guy but by this point he was hysterical, holding his ear.  I waited as long as I could and then went back to them.  I took his hand away from his ear and it was bleeding from the force of the hit.  He let me carry him up to the front where the medicines are and we cleaned and treated it.  He was just whimpering as we finished and my heart broke for the little guy.  What I have to remember is that hitting and beating are part of this survival culture.  His mom did what she has witnessed and been taught.  The children are constantly hitting and pushing each other - it's how they get what they want.  I have to keep myself in check, not be judgmental and pray for wisdom.  Think our devotionals next week will be centered around doing unto others as you would have them do unto you!

A Coincidence?

In February of 2012 I came to Burkina Faso on a vision trip.  We traveled the country visiting villages where Clay Church had been instrumental in digging wells.  Needless to say, when I returned I was ready to return and on fire to bring as many others on board with the work as possible.  One day I was in the café of the building where I work at the University of Notre Dame and ran into a very dear friend.  She asked about my trip and then told me she knew someone I should talk to about the possibility of Notre Dame working in Burkina Faso.  She scheduled a meeting for me to meet with Michael Sweikar, Associate Director, Institute for Global Development.  We met the day before I was to leave for a year’s stay in Burkina.  At that time, I was hoping Notre Dame would bring forms of solar energy into the country as most villages do not have electricity.  As we were talking, Michael mentioned that he knew about the well digging Clay Church was doing because he attended there – and so do I!  As I left, he promised he would do everything he could to tie funding with a professor to work in the country. 

Michael held true to his promise, and our dream is coming true!  In the near future the University of Notre Dame will join the effort in Burkina Faso not only to provide support to dig a number of wells, but Juan Carlos Guzman and other Professors at Notre Dame will oversee a research project to study the impact of the wells on the villages.  Amazing, isn’t it?  Dr. Guzman will be working with Accedes, the same organization that built Tabitha Center!  I don’t know about you, but it is hard to believe that this is all just a series of coincidences.