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.)
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| The array of dishes that awaited us |
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| 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!
