In Niakara - Believers coming together to roof the church

Neem: The Toothbrush Tree

This morning the team and I did a little trekking. We marched through tall grasses, sloshed through soggy rice fields, crossed a stream on a creaky footbridge, and rested in the shade of a mango tree. Rod took us on this hike through the bush to give us a lesson in West African trees and birds. There’s no better classroom for this kind of lesson than outside, making the topic tangible. 

I just want to say one thing: God’s creation is phenomenal. He is Artists of artists, Scientists of scientists, and Gardener of gardeners. There are unbelievable properties to many different plants and trees around here, and Ivorians have clearly tapped into these resources. I know that I’ve barely scratched the surface in learning about how different trees are used here. But, what I know already excites the nature-loving, natural-remedy-providing side of me. 

The Neem tree is used for teeth cleaning; just cut off a little twig and chew on it for a bit. (I checked and there’s actually neem in my natural toothpaste! It’s good stuff.) There are countless mango, coconut, avocado, citrus, and cashew trees around here too. They’re growing everywhere – but most of them flourish during the dry season. (I can hardly wait!) The Baobab tree is a symbol of Africa. It is one of the hardiest, most resilient trees around here. Hack away at it and it’ll survive, heal, and keep growing. There are numerous palm trees as well. One of my favorite sauces to eat with rice is made with fresh-pressed palm oil. Many other leaves, roots, and barks are harvested for cooking. The Moringa tree has leaves that are dried out then crushed up into a powder, taken for it’s herbal and medicinal properties. 

Knowing the plants and trees is important for life here in Cote d’Ivoire. My learning has just begun! 

The Coulibalys

9 family members + 1 new house + 1 foreign guest = One Happy Family. 

Returning to L’Ecole Baptist after a week-long stay with an Ivorian family was bitter-sweet. I didn’t want to say good-bye to the family, but I was excited to see my teammates and trade stories about our new experiences. My host-dad and sister, Lea, dropped me off with a jar of pure honey, a new pagne, and my backpack full of dirty clothes. The honey and pagne were gifts from them. Gifts of grace; I certainly didn’t think I deserved them. They were the ones who blessed me so much. They opened up their home, their lives, and their hearts to me, a stranger. They were patient with me as I fumbled through French. They were generous toward me and fed me like a queen. They were caring in every sense of the word. And yet, they were the ones giving me gifts at my departure. This past week was an initial stay with an Ivorian family, giving me a preview or foretaste of what is to come for nine full months! And, I am all the more excited about what lies ahead.

A few words to describe life at the Coulibaly’s…togetherness, hard work, communal living, laughter, delicious food, simple joy, in-the-moment-living.

There were ten people under the roof of one house when I was there. Five of us girls shared one bedroom, three boys another, and our parents in another. I slept under a green mosquito net on a bed with Simon, my sister who is just one year older than me. The other three girls, Lea (18), Yira (14), and Helen (14) sprawled out on floor mats. The boys were younger. Emmanual (11), David (8) and Onj (4) were typical little guys, who loved to wrestle, climb trees, eat as much as they could, and play with sticks and toy guns. Little Onj was my buddy. He was home throughout the day with mom, Simon, and me when the rest of the family was at work or school. He called me tanti and would sit on my lap to snuggle every chance he could. When he wasn’t sleepy and snuggly, he’d be showing off and acted like a little comedian. His knew how to get his way with humor, “innocence,” or a big smile. Mom would threaten to punish him when he disobeyed, but rarely followed through with it. His very first day of school – ever – was on my last day with the family. So, I got to see him off with a brand new bear backpack and shiny water bottle. He couldn’t have been more thrilled. Mom felt the same.

Most of my day was spent sitting on a little stool in the outdoor “kitchen,” which is essentially made up of two small charcoal ovens and several metal pots. For women in Cote d’Ivoire, the majority of their time is spent preparing meals. Everything is made from scratch. My sister Simon was also home throughout the day. It was a rare moment that I wasn’t with her. We cut vegetables, stirred rice, and mixed a combination of things into the different sauces. She taught me how to make a variety of typical meals, such as rice with a peanut sauce, fried plantains with eggplant sauce, and attieke with smoked fish. Fish was the meat of choice in my family, so I had it in nearly every meal, including a few breakfasts. It was usually mixed into the sauces, served over rice. And, for my first couple of meals, I also had crab! It was my first experience eating the entire crab, shell, legs, and all. Once I got over the initial apprehension, it was delectable.

My host dad teaches at a school that is equivalent to a middle school in the States. He’s a math teacher there. I was able to shadow him at school one day and sit in the back of his class. All the students got a kick out of having a white girl sit in their class. It was very similar to class in the States. But the cement floors, simple tables, green chalkboard, and hot outdoor air distinguished it a bit.

My notebook and pen became my greatest aid throughout the week, as French bombarded me! Without writing words down they would flee my mind just seconds later. So I’d ask my family to speak slowly and often spell things out for me. They were patient and kind. By God’s grace, I was able to communicate the basics throughout the week.

Most importantly, I learned that I don’t have to be fluent in French to build authentic relationships with Ivorians. It’s more a matter of simply being together and offering a helping hand. It’s a matter of putting aside my personal comforts and individualism and joining the routine of my family. It’s a matter of sitting and listening and smiling and being. The Coulibaly’s cared for me and showed me undeserved hospitality. The demonstrated love towards me, because they, too, know the deep love of God. My heart overflowed with joy when the family read from the Bible together Friday evening. Jesus is their Savoir, too. While there are many things that may differentiate us because of our cultures and languages and experiences, one thing remains the same: we are all sinners saved by grace through our faith in Jesus Christ. That, my friends, is all that really matters.