“Our three villages are near each other. None of the villages have electricity or running water. My village doesn’t have filtered water, so Nick gave me the water filter. If you think of what most people consider the typical African village, that’s what I live in. The houses are small and are built with mud bricks which they cover in concrete. The roofs are made of grass which turns brown. My room is fairly small and I have a roommate. He is my [host family] brother, Assane.”
“As it turns out, we sleep outside every night. It’s nice because the room can get hot and stuffy when we sleep in there. It’s pleasant, but warm enough outside. I sweat all through the night because of my mattress. It is foam, so whatever part of my body touches the foam, sweats. I am having to get used to being sweaty all the time. It’s okay. It is worth it! (Well, continue to pray, as this still does not feel comfortable to me to live in a village and sweat all the time. I love the simplicity. It’s how I have always wanted to live. But, being an American with all our conveniences and AC, I don’t feel comfortable yet. I know I will get used to it. God made our bodies amazingly adaptable and with time, I will get used to it.)”
“One night, I kept waking up to movement nearby. I looked up and saw four to six sheep. This is a normal occurrence. They kept walking right by my head. They would lift their feet up and stamp the ground - I don’t understand why. I would shoo them away as quietly as I could. The Senegalese have different words for shooing away different animals. You know how we say “Get!” or “Shoo!” The one for a sheep is “Hat!” It sounds like “hut” in a football snap - Down, set, HUT! I was saying that as quietly as I could. The sheep would run away for a little bit but in a little while, I would wake up again to their stamping and chomping food and smelling and walking.
Finally, I got outside my mosquito net to chase them away. They had gone into our kitchen and I think were searching for food or eating some food that was in there. Assane woke up and wondered what I was doing. I told him that the sheep went into the kitchen. He got up and told me to wait. He snuck around the yard to retrieve some rocks. Then he threw the rocks through the kitchen window (just a hole, not glass). It made them run off. He wasn’t really quiet about it. They ran far away this time. I learned from him how to chase off the sheep.
Later in the night, they came back, but didn’t go in the kitchen again. These sheep belong to someone, but the owners didn’t tie them up that night, so they were wandering the village. The next two nights, they were still wandering the village and they woke me up a couple more times.”
“At lunch time we all gather ‘round the big bowl and stick our hands in the hot rice and fish and chow down. Our mom pushes us not to stop until we are near popping. We cannot stop eating until we refuse her, ‘Really, my belly is completely full. I’m about to explode!’”
“After lunch the sunlight is hot, and everybody stops moving and rests. Ironically, they sit around and drink hot attaya (tea).”
“Time after dinner is filled with telling stories and chatting with our family. Usually it is a very enjoyable time. We also normally have our second three rounds of Attaya around this time... attaya nana. Nana is the mint they add in the tea during the last two rounds. Then...just as we head off to bed another treat...‘s-oh,’ which is curdled milk with sugar in it. (It has sort of a sour tang)... Lately, I’ve been drinking Melody’s ‘s-oh’ too, so I go to bed really full.”
“I am watched all of the time! There is no privacy. I am never alone. When I read my Bible, someone is there. When I write in my journal, people watch me. When I get water to go to the bathroom, people watch me until I get into the room. I have the attention of the village. People are always around. Everything is done together. Even sleeping. Last night, I went to bed outside again, but everyone sat around right beside me talking to me. It’s not like in America where everyone stays quiet and goes to a different place. I guess it’s part of the group society.”
“My village seems to be characterized by a spirit of anger and fighting. Neither the Gantt’s nor Will’s villages seem to have any problems, but it seems that there is loud arguments and even physical fighting every day. For example, one night a husband and one of his wives had a loud fight and the whole village went over there to watch and/or referee. The next day, my mother beat her niece who lives there sort of as a daughter/maid for not getting up from a card game when she told her to. The niece is about 24, and she jumped on her and the neighbors had to pull her off. Afterward, she kept going back after her, with a stick then with a big firewood stick. The neighbor ladies held her back and the niece got away, but she was bleeding some.
The next night I heard of another fight, but I’m not sure and then last night, after a meeting of farmers, fighting and arguing broke out. The meeting was about the problem of the fields because we are in a drought (They just harvested but the fields hardly produced.), so I can see how people are stressed and uptight.
My household is full of cursing and insults most of the time. My mother speaks horribly to the kids and they to each other and no one respects their parents. Only fear would keep them in line, but fear is not enough to cause people to respect their parents. My [host] father is very nice and polite and maybe too laid back. They need Jesus big time. They don’t know what love or righteousness or grace or anything like that are. Please pray that I would get to shine brightly in this dark place. I am actually kind of excited by the opportunity to love the unlovely.”
“I want to tell you about an event I went to Friday night called a kahset. It is pronounced similar to ‘cassette.’ At a young age, a boy is circumcised and becomes a jooleet, which is a Muslim. For about 15 days after this circumcision, they are put together somewhere in the village, separated from their parents, I think. They wear white outfits with white hoods. They have sticks with strings attached to the ends of the sticks which are used to greet people. They can’t touch people so when I greeted them, I had to shake their sticks. Anyway, in my village, on the last 5 or 6 days of this period, the people in the village have a kahset, which is a dance. It starts every night around 10pm and lasts late into the night. It is for these jooleets, although they aren’t the ones who are really dancing. They are just there.
Let me give you a picture. There is a big fire in the center and the people crowd around in a ring around the fire. The drummers are on one side of the circle playing the typical rhythms of Senegal for dancing. There are people who are in charge of the dance called kahsets, my age or older. They run around pulling people from the crowd to come in the center to dance. These kahsets have sticks with strings on the end of them, too. When they pull people in the center, the people are supposed to dance and dance well. If they don’t dance well, the kahsets whip them on the legs. This sounds harsh, but it is not to be mean. They do this for fun. They are smiling and laughing the whole time. They pull people in one at a time, so it is really a show.
I have heard about dancing here that there are some bad, perverted dances, but I didn’t see any bad dances while I was there on Friday night. It was all good fun, it seemed. My brother kept telling me that if a kahset comes over to me to pull me in to dance, that I should say Mahban, which just means that I am refusing to go. The first time a kahset came to me to pull me in, I refused. I was far back in the crowd. Somehow, after this, I was able to communicate to Assane (my brother), that I didn’t mind going in the center to dance. Although I have no idea how to dance these dances, I wanted to see what was going on and I couldn’t see anything from where I was. Another kahset finally came over, and I accepted. I was pulled to the center of the ring and the crowd went wild. It’s not often or ever that they see a toubab, white person, dancing in their village. So, he pulled me in and let me go to dance. I danced for a little bit, imitating them the best I could and left the center. I didn’t get whipped. I don’t know if they were being lenient because I was a toubab or if I actually danced well. My family was laughing and telling me afterwards that it was beautiful, or raffetna. Now that I have danced at a village dance, I’m sure everyone in the village knows me or that my name will be known. Once I get back to the village and visit people, I imagine that people will be greeting me by asking me about my dancing on Friday night.”
“The other day coming back from the prayer ‘toonduh’ (hill/lump), I went to greet (Greetings are very important here.) my grandpa Goonyuh Dare. Normally he is sitting in the middle of his whatch-ya-ma-call-it.....yard (?) making ropes. Instead of finding him there, I found all the women from our family sitting around chatting. They told me there was a fight at Daawda Dare’s house between his second and third wife. My grandpa went to be judge of what was happening. They said Byinjoguh boy and all the other old people were there, too. They suggested . . . I go and learn from what was happening. So I did.
When I got there I saw my grandpa, Byinjoguh Boy, By Songo-leen and several other heads of household (all having relation to my family) sitting around in a circle. Daawda was on the right, and two of his wives were on the left. Byinjoguh Boy motioned for me to come over and sit with him. I was a bit intimidated by all of the “oldness.” The highest, most respected people in the whole village and me a toubab (white person) who doesn’t speak a lick of Wolof.
Everybody was wearing their serious faces. Byinjoguh cleared me a spot and I sat down next to him, I felt a bit honored. I’m just a little kid among all these beards. To my right Dawada’s third wife was giving her speil uninterrupted by my entry. The second wife had already completed her side of the story. The elders all listened to her testimony. When she finished, one by one the old men said, “Here are my thoughts” (something like that) and began giving wise counsel on the situation. Grandpa Goonyuh’s testimony seemed particularly powerful. After he finished Byinjoguh Boy piped in and talked to the wives, saying that they both were being “saytanay”(devil/ trouble) to each other, and that they should seek peace with one another. Then he said we should all pray for peace on the household and he led us all in a prayer. I prayed, too. Another elder said the wives should apologize to each other and shake hands. So the wives shook hands half heartedly and went back to business.
We sat around a bit and chatted before dispersing and heading home. They talked with each other about the need to accept one another as family, and they used their adoption of me as an example. Afterwards, they said I was a toubab but now I come and eat like them and talk with them. They said I am Wolof now. I felt very loved and accepted because the oldest people in the village were all talking, saying they accept me as family. It seemed to make what could just be words more official.”
“A couple of weeks ago, I was having a language learning session on emotions with Assane (This may seem out of place, but it connects to the above). I drew pictures to try to explain the word ‘happy’ but I could not get him to understand what I was talking about. I thought, ‘Surely they have a word for happy.’ I said to Assane, ‘When you smile and laugh a lot, you are ....?’ I even tried to be excited for him. After the session was over, I still didn’t have a word for happy.
The morning after I returned from Dakar, I was still very happy. I was happy to see the family again and there were new faces around because school has started back. They could see that I was happy. My mom even said something to this effect, ‘You are smiling because you see your mom.’ They told me that I was happy. I didn’t understand the word, but from the context of the situation and because I was actually happy, I understood what they were saying. Before, with lots of difficulty, I still could not get the word from Assane. That morning, ‘happy’ just came out of their mouths. Now, I won’t forget it - well, as long as they repeat it some in the next few days.”
TALKING TO GOD
“One afternoon on my [language] route this week, a situation came up twice at the other gewel household that made a distinction between their praying and my praying. Two different people asked if I juillit, which is a set of prayers that they have memorized and repeat during their five prayer times. I said no. I told them that I talk to God - waxtan ak Yallah. They laughed, probably because they thought I was making a mistake in what I was saying. My brother told them that I pray, or Niah, which is a little different than juillit and is more like what we do. I said, ‘Yeah’ at first until he added that I don’t talk to God. So, I said again, ‘No, I talk to God.’ Someone asked, ‘God talks?’ My brother tried to explain to me, ‘What you and I are doing is talking, waxtan, but you Niah to God.’ I said I understood and I showed that I understood by saying that Atmane, another friend there, and I waxtan, and in the same way, I waxtan with God. They just laughed again . . .
Before this instance, I had not seen that these people were lost. They seem very good, very hospitable, very moral (at least in my village) and upstanding people. I realized after my route how different their view of God is from the truth, which makes them far away from God. By their reactions, it seems that they think it’s absurd that one can talk with God. After this weekend with Richard teaching us about how Muslims think in Senegal, I see that this is really true, that they think a relationship with God is impossible...
“Yesterday, I wanted to fast. Since I’m in a family that cooks for me, I had to tell them I was going to fast. I told my mother that I would fast until breakfast the next day. It was amazing how the news spread. Anyone who came over to visit somehow already knew I was fasting. I went out on my route and greeted two people who said, ‘You’re fasting today.’ I don’t know how they knew. News travels fast in a village. There was one point when some people were over that my mother explained that I was fasting so I could pray. She also explained how we (the A-team) are friends with God like Abraham was friends with God.
It is only a little thing, but it seems that this will put in people’s minds that we are people of God. I want God to establish who we are and that he will define it in their minds by our actions.
When they ask me if I pray the Koran or the Bible, I say neither and I get to tell them that I talk to God like I am talking to them. I tell them that I pray for them. So, it is only a little that I talk about, but then again, I only have a little Wolof.”
“I had lunch with my family like usual and then with my grandmother and two aunts. I decided to stay with them for attaya. It is normal here to wait until after lunch to drink anything. During lunch, you just eat. There are no cups sitting around for you to sip while eating. After lunch, as each person finishes, you dip the cup in the container of water and drink it. Then, you give the cup to the next person. Normally, when I am with my immediate family here, they get water for me out of my filtered water. But more often now, they are giving me their water. Well, since I wasn’t eating with my immediate family, this other section of my family gave me their water, which is from the river. I hardly ever dip it myself because I am a guest. They almost always do it for me.
Before they got me water, they were discussing something quickly. I think one of the children was about to go get water from my filtered water at my house. Then another child (I think) said, ‘He doesn’t refuse anything.’ So, the child got me water from their supply . . .
The Bible is right when it says, ‘Eat whatever is put in front of you.’ It seems that my acceptance of them and their cultural ways, including food, establishes a great connection. Refusing what they give can separate me and offend them unnecessarily. If I trust God’s word to me, I can trust Him to take care of me.”
“So as we sat there drinking attaya, talking, and holding [rain] buckets, I felt very close to them. I was very happy and content with the relationships God has given me with my [host] family here. I know that this is a very important step in the work here, building relationships. It takes a long time, but it is worth it.”
“Monday there was a party at By-in-jog-uh Boy’s. They were naming his new grandson. On the eighth day after birth, a holy man comes and spits in and whispers the baby’s name in his/her ear. By-in-jog-uh Boy was the holy man. They usually choose a name of someone in the family, and it bestows great honor on them. As the child grows older they may send him to ‘visit’ (to stay with) his namesake. I’m not sure of all the obligations that come with being a namesake but I guess I’ll find out.
Everyone in Ndelle and I were shocked to find that By-in-jog-uh Boy named the baby after me. I am very honored. There is a little baby bearing my name. (I’ll send pictures later). He said that he gave him my first and last name and that they will call him by them both. (When I say he has my name, I mean my Senegalese name. For those of you who don’t know, everyone here in Senegal calls me Babacar Njaye (or Babz). That’s the only name they know me by.) So his grandson’s name is Babacar Njaye Boy. Here, someone named after you or someone you’re named after is your too-run-door. I’m so proud to have a little too-run-door.”
“I have seen the importance of the Body of Christ - our team. Fellowship is important. Also, of you guys back at home. To know that there is support back at home is comforting. Also, I know your prayers are precious. Right now, we are all having to adjust to life in villages . . . Cultural adjustment and dependence on God, Holy Spirit, for everything is a need. Giving up our rights to comfort as we know it in America is important and giving up our expectations is very important, too. God knows His plan and we have to trust Him, even if things don’t go the way we thought they would go. I am very thankful to be here. God is teaching me a lot through my experiences so it is not just knowledge now, but experiential. It’s real. I have to trust God’s promises that He will take care of me/us and that He is going to work in these villages like He said He would.”
“I want to start out by thanking all the people that responded to the last email. As Gloria read them to me I was filled with encouragement to know how many people are thinking about us and praying for us and for our baby and for the people of Senegal. I know that when I was in the states I rarely thought of other countries so to find out that there really ARE people praying for us I was filled with gratefulness and could really feel God’s love for me. Many of the people that wrote are people I barely met but are nonetheless offering up precious prayers to Jesus on my behalf. God is so good!”
“On Tuesday, By-jaga-boh came over to talk with Nick. He came during morning chores, so I excused myself and left them to themselves. Later in the day when we were going to the hill to pray Nick told me some of what they talked about. He said that By-jaga-boh had a dream that Nick was teaching him the Koran. In reference to the Koran, with great compassion and joy Nick expressed to me how “this is all he knows.” God had sent By-jaga-boh a dream telling him that he wants Nick to teach him His Word. God is so amazing!”
“God used another event along my route to help me pray and to keep the condition of the people before my eyes. I went to the house of some Moors (The Moors are the Arabic people of Mauritanian origin—There are black and white ones.). As I sat, the main lady I was visiting named Nya-nya was playing with what appeared to be a baby girl, maybe a toddler. The little girl was making “brrrrr” noises with her mouth, as if imitating a car motor.
After I sat with them a little while, I went into an adjacent compound. There I found five ladies sitting around a couple of twin girls. One lady had a handful of shells they use for magic and fortune telling. I sat and talked with them for a little while and they joked with me about telling my fortune—who I’ll marry. I said no way. They laughed and asked, ‘Why? It’s bad?’ I said, ‘Yes, God forbids it.’”
They suddenly thought I had studied the Koran. I said the Tawreet (Torah or Old Testament) is where it says. Some were confused a second, and then I explained that that’s what the prophet Moses was given. They should know that. They accept the Tawreet as one of their holy books. Anyway, they knew already that God doesn’t like fortune telling, but since it’s not one of the things specifically and strongly forbidden by Islam, they do it anyway.
So after sitting with them a little while, I had to pass back through Nya-nya’s house to leave. As I left, Fatou (my little sister and constant companion) told me that that little girl has a demon and that’s why she was making that noise. She said that when the little girl was younger, she didn’t know anything and she went out to play in a trash heap. A whirlwind passed by (thought to be a manifestation of spirits) and the girl got very sick. She lost weight until she was little bitty, and she acts like a little baby. She should be about 5 years old.
My heart was filled with compassion for these people so bound and oppressed. A little bitty girl afflicted with a demon, people all over getting sick, people living in fear and confusion—this is life here. Our calling, yours and mine, is not to sit back and say, ‘Oh how awful!’ Believe it or not, even sitting here in the midst of it, I can get lazy and not do battle for these people. I can feel sorry for them, but not spend the time in prayer, not go to them and pray for them, not share the good news of deliverance. I’m sure you may have similar experiences. God forgive us. Let us continually seek to lay down our lives and do whatever it takes to bring deliverance to these people so dear to Our Lord.
I feel a burden, as I’m writing this, to plead with you all to again search your hearts and ask the Lord if He’s not calling you to lay down everything you’re holding and come join us in this task (physically on the field). Beloved, precious friends, I’m not saying that your work there isn’t important. Your prayer is our lifeline here. No one will ever come to God without lots of prayer, and we can’t even really survive without your prayers.
However, the need is very great for more laborers here. My heart is so full right now as I think of the villages stretching out in every direction—Peul villages, Wolof villages, Moor villages—who have no idea, no clue, no way of knowing anything of the goodness and love and salvation of God. Who will go to them, lay down their lives, lay down their culture, lay down their status and become as little babies, reborn into the new culture, for the sake of the Good News? Who will accept humiliation and suffering, sickness and discouragement, for the sake of the Good News?
If fear is stopping you, remember that God is your Father, and He will always be your refuge. If you think you’re not qualified or good enough and that’s stopping you, remember that if He’s calling you, He will give you everything you need to do whatever He’s calling you to do. Whatever’s stopping you, if it’s not God, lay it down. Whatever your calling is, please join me in praying for more laborers. May God’s Kingdom come here. Amen.”