Monday, February 13 Word Collection—Day 1 (855 words)

Ever since we ended the training phase on Thursday afternoon, the suspense has been sort of building, as we wondered who would actually turn up for the word-collection portion of the workshop. One of our biggest concerns has been regarding the Group Leaders, several of whom did not attend the training. Past experience has indicated that those who do not attend the training do not do well when asked to lead a word-collection group. So we planned a catch-up session on Saturday and invited four people to attend. However, no one came. So there was quite a bit of discussion and creative thinking over the weekend to try to figure out how to move ahead with the actual word collection in the most productive way.

But we still didn’t know who would actually come today. Would all of those who were trained come? We certainly hoped so and prayed that they would! Would some of those who had missed both the regular training session last week and the impromptu one on Saturday come today? We weren’t sure. As I mentioned, the suspense was building.

What happened in the end took us rather by surprise. With us focusing our concern on the seemingly inadequate number of Group Leaders and wondering whether those who had been trained would come or not, we were not prepared for the fact that none of the people who were invited to attend without having the training showed up! (We generally invite about 15 speakers of the language who need no other qualification other than that they speak the language fluently, and none of those who had been invited in this capacity showed up by the time we were ready to begin!)

This had never happened in any of the workshops I’ve led previously, so David and I put our heads together—because one of my roles as RWC workshop consultant is to give advice for dealing with the unexpected when doing one of these workshops—and came up with a plan. We would use the Glossers and Typists to fill in for the missing people, hoping that those others would show up late instead of not at all. So, following a fairly short Opening Ceremony, those in attendance were divided up into five groups comprised primarily of a Group Leader, a Scribe, a Glosser, and a Typist. And we began to collect words.

As time went by, a few more people did come, but we decided to stick with the five groups we had going, just adding the new arrivals to one group or another. Productivity for the day ended up being on the low end of the acceptable range, which was better than we were expecting, quite frankly. 855 words were collected on this first day of the workshop. The first day for other workshops I’ve facilitated has resulted in anywhere from 700 to 1100 words, I would say. So 855 seems quite acceptable, considering the challenges that we were working to overcome, and especially considering the fact that we had only five groups collecting words instead of the usual six.

Results from the first day of word collection

Sunday, February 12 Our eyes are on You, O God

In 1 Corinthians 10:31, we are told to do everything in such a way that God receives the glory. In Colossians 3:23, we are encouraged to wholeheartedly carry out God's mission for us here on earth. In our efforts to ensure that this current RWC workshop is a success, David and I have done everything we could think of to prepare for it. We feel like we have been faithful to the exhortations in these verses as we've laid plans, contacted people, prepared lessons, bought supplies, and so on.

It was therefore quite disappointing when some of the people whom David anticipated playing a key role in the workshop never turned up for the training. Whether this was due to schedule conflicts or to lack of interest, I have no way of knowing, but it was both frustrating and discouraging to see a year's worth of planning leading to something less than what we had imagined for this workshop.

Yesterday, however, as we prepared for the word collection that will begin tomorrow, we reminded ourselves that we had done all that was humanly possible and that we now needed to place the entire workshop in God's hands, for Him to accomplish what He desired, recognizing that that might be different than what our own goals for it have been. We prayed that our arch-enemy's attempts to thwart God's purposes would themselves be thwarted and that God would receive glory through whatever results from this workshop.

I was reminded of 1 Corinthians 3:7, which states (in my words) that those who do the planting and the watering are not to be focused on or honored, but it is God—who causes the growth and is therefore the real mover and shaker—who is all-important and who is the one to receive the honor and glory for what is accomplished. I thought, too, of Gideon's army of 32,000 men that was pared down to 300 because it would then be clear that any accomplishment was God's alone.

So, while the number of people who attended the training sessions this past week was smaller than we had hoped and planned for, making it difficult for us to conceive how to achieve our objectives for the workshop, we are trusting that God will use those who have been trained to bring Him glory through the result—whatever that is. I encouraged David and the others by pointing out that those who did attend the training sessions seem to have gotten a good grasp on both the purpose and the techniques for the workshop, so we have a high-quality core of people to work with.

Bottom line: We've done all we could to prepare. Now we look to God to do whatever He desires with our preparations.

Saturday, February 11 An opportunity to extend grace

I arranged, through Ibrahima, to have my laundry washed yesterday. He asked a niece of his to do them, and she agreed. There were about four pairs of slacks and the same number of shirts, along with several pairs of socks and a v-neck t-shirt. (I washed the other items of clothing myself, as it would not have been culturally appropriate for me to ask his niece to include that in her work.)

I received everything back this morning, Ibrahima bringing them to my door, all ironed and neatly folded. He reluctantly informed me, however, that his niece had made a serious mistake, washing some of the colored items in water that was intended for the white t-shirt. That water had some bleach in it, and as a result, some of my clothing had spots where the color had been washed out by the bleach. I inspected the pile, and it was as he had said. Multiple socks had pink blotches where the bleach had begun to work. One pair of slacks had a large spot of discoloration on one of the legs. And one of my favorite colorful African shirts had a spot right in the front where it would be very visible.

I don’t consider myself overly fussy about my appearance, but it was quickly apparent to me that I would not wear the slacks or shirt again. The socks would be hidden by my shoes and slacks, so that was less of a problem. But how should I respond to Ibrahima. What message should I give him to pass on to his niece, who was so ashamed of her mistake that she wouldn’t come and greet me when I was at the house yesterday.

I didn’t feel like there was any point in expressing anger over what was done. It was a mistake, and there were consequences, but I could easily get a new pair of slacks. (That pair was obtained free at the JAARS used clothing shop that people donate to for Wycliffe missionaries.) The shirt, while one of my favorites, was showing strong signs of wear and was ready to be retired anyway. (And when I was in Dakar, I bought more of that material and ordered two more shirts to be made from it.) I could wear the socks, as only one of them had any discoloration on the part that is not inside the shoe. So I told Ibrahima that the damage was not serious. Even though I would choose not to wear some of the things again, I was still glad that she had done my laundry for me. I asked Ibrahima to tell his niece that I was not angry with her. This was, of course, a mistake she could learn from, but I would not hold it against her.

Ibrahima and his family, like most people here in Senegal, are nominal Muslims. This was an opportunity for me to extend grace, just as God extended grace to me for offenses much worse than putting bleach in the water used to wash colored clothing.

Friday, February 10 Inexpensive solutions

During my stay here in Thionck-Essyl thus far, I’ve encountered a few things that were not quite as I wished them to be. In at least some of those cases, I was able to find an inexpensive solution. Here are a few examples.

1)

One day, as I attempted to grasp the handle of the front door of the house where we are staying, it came loose and fell to the floor. I looked at the mechanism and realized that the set screw on the handle that was designed to hold it in place had worked its way loose. All I needed to do was put the handle back where it was supposed to be and tighten the set screw. Ahh, but I had no screwdriver! I’m not much of a handyman, nor do I do well at improvising, but this time I found an idea that worked. I had a fingernail clippers, and the nail file that came with the clippers served adequately as a screwdriver. And now the door handle seems inclined to remain in place.

2)

My first couple of mornings here, I had to shave without a mirror. I tried to find one on Tuesday evening after our workshop ended, but the little shops apparently don’t sell things like mirrors, and the man who spreads his wares out in the town square had already packed up for the day. So the next day I went there a bit earlier in hopes that I would find something, even a very small mirror that would help me to see at least the part of my face I was trying to shave. The vendor’s French was limited, my Gusiilaay and Wolof are non-existent, so it took some time to explain what I was looking for. Once he thought he understood, he said he didn’t have any. But as I turned to leave, he called me back, then began rooting through a large cardboard box, finally pulling out what seemed to me to be a set of child’s toys: a comb, a brush, and a small hand mirror about three inches in diameter. I told him that would work, then asked him how much he wanted for it. His answer: 500 francs. I’ve been happily using the little mirror each morning since then, my problem resolved for only 85 cents. I haven’t found a use yet for the comb and brush, though.

3)
Our bathroom has a toilet, but no water system. It needs to be flushed with a bucket of water. One day I noticed that the seat was shifting. On closer examination, I discovered that there were two plastic cylinders that served as “bolts” to attach the plastic seat & cover to the porcelain bowl. Neither “bolt” had any obvious mechanism for holding it in place, and one had slipped out completely while the other was working its way in that direction. A minute or so, plus a bit of effort with no tools other than my hands, and the plastic cylinders were back in place, making the seat secure.

4)

There is a water filter in our house that David set up for us to use, but we have to draw the water to put in it from the well in the back yard. We get the water via a bucket on a rope that runs over a pulley, lowering the bucket about 60 feet into the well, then pulling it up hand over hand. We pour the water from the well bucket into a makeshift bucket that we use to transport the water into the house. We use that water to flush the toilet, wash our hands, wash dishes, and fill the water filter to get clean drinking water. It’s a good system, but there’s one complication. The bucket in the well has a hole in the side, so when I get it out of the well to pour the water into the makeshift bucket that will be carried into the house, water gets sprayed on the ground at the base of the well, creating mud, so that my flip flops become muddy.

The first time that I was the one to bring in water, I tracked mud all over the kitchen floor. So I decided that, the next time, I needed to leave my flip flops at the door. But that would mean walking on the floor in my bare feet, which I was not keen to do because, in this climate, there is always an accumulation of dust on the floor. I decided that what I really needed was a second pair of flip flops—a pair that I could wear inside the house, so that I could leave my dirty ones outside.

I walked to the town square, found a shop that sold shoes of various kinds, saw some flip flops there, and told the boy manning the store that I needed a pair. “What size?” he wanted to know. “I don’t know. Look at my feet and you tell me.” He hesitated a moment, then pronounced me a size 11 and proceeded to look for a pair of size-11 flip flops. When he had found one, I asked him how much they would cost me and was told “500 francs”. So I bought them.

Now I wear my new flip flops—which are a perfect fit, by the way—in the house and exchange them at the door for my outdoor pair, then go to the well, draw my water, come back to the house, step out of my wet and dirty pair and into my clean, dry pair and bring the water into the house. Once again, my problem had an 85-cent solution.