Sunday, July 9 - Giving & Receiving

In contrast to yesterday, today was packed with new and exciting experiences. Shortly before 8:00am, Moïse picked me up on his motorcycle and took me to Matthieu’s house. From there, the two of them drove their motorcycles five miles out of town to Kengenmougousso (or something like that), the village where the SIL couple lived and worked for many years while they were coordinating the translation of the Djimini New Testament. We would spend much of the rest of the day there, and I would learn a few lessons about the Djimini way of life.

Having arrived before the start of the church service, we had time to walk through a significant portion of the village and greet people. (I learned that it is very important in Djimini culture to go around and greet everyone whenever you arrive from out of town. We had traveled only five miles, but that was far enough to qualify as “out of town”.) I was introduced to many people, some of whom were relatives, many of whom were brothers or sisters in the faith, and others who were neither. Of course I can’t remember much about who was whom, but I encountered several who thought I should begin learning Djimini with them as my teacher. They would speak to me in Djimini, and I would either respond in French with what I thought was an appropriate response to what they had said or I’d give them a questioning look. Laughter seemed the inevitable result, no matter which tactic I employed. This time of greeting was one way that we “gave” to the residents of the village.

After our walking tour of two-thirds of the village, we made our way to the church building, where singing was already underway—the signal to everyone not there yet that it was time to be moving in that direction. Not surprisingly, since I was traveling with a pastor and had been asked to bring the morning message, I was seated in the front, facing the audience. Matthieu and Moïse were seated with me, my place being closest to the pulpit.

There were several songs by the chorale, a couple of which I video recorded (but the files are too large to upload to my blog). One of the young men played a djembe (African floor drum), and a balafon was featured near the front of the audience because of the space it required. A younger man played the balafon for the first song I recorded, and I didn’t even get him in the video because of where he was positioned. An older man played for the song I recorded later, and I specifically recorded him playing his instrument because I could see immediately that he was a very experienced and skilled player. If you’d like to see that video, send an email to Anita and she will help you get a copy of it. (That’s assuming that I’m actually able to upload it to a place on the internet where she can access it. With my rather feeble internet connection here, I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to upload it successfully.)

Most of the congregation, as they listen to announcements

There was a period of announcements, one of which featured the word-collection workshop, which led to me being introduced to everyone, and I was asked to say a few words. Following the announcements and a prayer, I was given the podium for the message I had prepared. I shared a message of encouragement that I have used as my subject in numerous churches now, based on the story of the healing of the blind man in Luke 18:35-43. The bottom line of the message is that “When things seem completely hopeless, with no possible solution, Jesus is able to do the impossible. Thus He is our hope.” This message was another way in which I was able to “give” to my brothers and sisters in Christ in this village.

Delivering the message

Following the service, Matthieu, Moïse and I stood outside the door of the church and shook hands with everyone as they came out. I didn’t realize it right away, but after shaking our hands, those same people began forming a line that eventually become 3/4 of a circle, shaking hands with everyone else who came out the door after them. It was only after everyone had come out and shaken hands with everyone else that the crowd began to break up and move toward their respective homes.

The greeting line after church

We made our way to where we would be served the midday meal. Chairs were set up for us as visiting “dignitaries,” and many people stopped by to greet us more thoroughly. I use that last word deliberately because—as I learned today—in the Djimini culture, there is a mandatory exchange of news when someone visits from out of town. The residents want to know about the news from wherever the visitors have come from, and the visitors must be informed about what’s happening in the village they’re visiting. I cannot tell you how many times I heard the same (or at least very similar) lengthy exchange of question and response as we greeted individual after individual.

It took some time for the ladies to get the meal ready, so Matthieu, Moïse and I set off in the meantime to greet the people in the part of the village we hadn’t been able to get around to before church started. We greeted old, young, and in-between, men and women. I heard the greetings so often that I began to imagine that I might actually be able to learn them if I tagged along behind these men and we visited a different village every day for the next week. But we have other things on the docket for these coming days, so I doubt if I’ll master the greetings before leaving here in three weeks.

African tea was served while we waited for the meal to be ready

The peanut harvest just came in recently, so while we were waiting for the meal to be served, a couple of people sent fresh peanuts for us to munch on. These peanuts had not yet been dried, so they tasted something like raw peas. They had, however, been roasted in the shell after having been soaked in water (I think). They were quite good, but my stomach had been acting up since shortly after breakfast, so I ate only a few. I was wondering what would happen when mealtime came, because the more time that went by, the worse I was feeling.

Moïse (Moses) and the first bowl of peanuts offered to us

The meal was completely different than what I had expected. Every household in the church must have contributed something, as I saw twenty-some dishes arranged in a cluster on the floor as we entered the room where we were being served. There was rice, boiled yam, and mashed yam. A few dishes had some sort of sauce/gravy mixed in, but most came with an accompanying sauce in a separate dish. In the pictures I took, I believe there were contributions from 19 different sources, and several more women brought their bit after we had begun eating, so there was a real smorgasbord. For this meal, I was on the “receiving” end of things.

The array of dishes that awaited us

 

A smorgasbord of rice and yam dishes, with a variety of sauces to accompany them

I considered trying a bit of each thing, but many of the dishes were out of reach and it would have required a lot of effort to pass them all to me. Besides, there were a few that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be too excited about the taste of. So I settled for a small serving of mashed yam dipped in one of the sauces that looked reasonably appetizing, then filled up on rice with a peanut butter sauce with leaves in it. I love peanut butter sauce on rice, so I easily ate my fill. To my great surprise, I realized as I was finishing my meal that my stomach ache had disappeared—entirely! The pain I’d been experiencing had not felt like hunger, but it certainly seemed that food had solved the problem.

I had prayed that God would take away my stomach pain at the time that He deemed appropriate and that He would give me grace to put a good face on the situation for however long I needed to tolerate the discomfort. I don’t think too many people knew I wasn’t feeling well, and I was certainly glad when the pain went away. One of my fears on this trip, you see, is that I will get very sick—with malaria, dysentery, or some other tropical illness—and have difficulty getting the medical attention I’ll need. God has asked me to entrust this fear to Him, and I’m doing pretty well at that, but there are moments when my faith is tested. Today was one of those times.

Following the meal, several people brought gifts for us to take along back—freshly harvested yams, roasted fresh peanuts, a chicken, and bananas. (Here again we were on the “receiving” end.) I got to keep the bananas, which I was told would be ripe in the next day or so. As we made preparations to return to Dabakala, Matthieu set off to make his rounds of the village again, saying good-bye to everyone, another gesture so important in this culture. When he got back, we “asked for the road,” were given it, and began our return to our respective dwelling places.

It was a full day, but a very rich one, as evidenced by the amount of prose my experiences generated here in my blog. Congratulations if you made it all the way through this essay!