I don’t even know how to begin to describe life in Côte d’Ivoire to you. It’s overwhelming. It’s beautiful. It’s freaking hot. It’s God-centered.
I’m writing this from our humble abode in the middle of the West African bush. Home for the month is a nine by nine hut crafted together with a mixture of cement and mud. I share this space with four other women and all of our belongings.
Our village has no running water and no electricity. We don’t speak the native tongue and it is safe to say this is the biggest culture shock I’ve walked into yet. We get photographed and followed and latched onto with every move we make. Reading the Bible has become a “me, Jesus, and all the village children” activity. There is no such thing as alone time.
Charismatic would not even begin to describe the church culture here. There is seemingly no start and end to the services and the place is packed full. There are intense dance parties for hours at a time, exuberant pastors preaching their hearts out, and handsome dresses with the faces of local prophets plastered on them. Church is the agenda for the day. The whole day. Honestly, my words can’t do it justice. I mean, chances are you are confused by at least one of the things I just described. You’ll just have to experience it for yourself some day.
Despite the unfamiliarities, I am thanking God for bringing us here. I’m learning incredible lessons about faith and praise and love from our new family in Côte d’Ivoire.
Over thirty years ago, God gave the lead pastor a vision of Americans coming to his village to preach about Jesus. It’s crazy to say that my team is fulfilling that prophecy!
With that being said, we are the first white people to step foot into this village. Most of the people have never laid eyes on someone that looks like me in real life. This adds many unexpected dimensions to our time here. I don’t even want to know how many photos are now floating through the digital atmosphere of my sweaty, dust grazed face. People love to take photos of and with us. The only feeling I can compare it to is what I imagine celebrities feel after a long day of appearances, and there is a crowd of loving fans waiting to snap just one photo with them.
This is uncomfortable and exhausting because for one, I’m no celebrity, and also, I’m overwhelmed by the insane amount of attention my skin color is bringing me. However, I’m willing to stand under the pounding sun in group shot after group shot if it puts a smile on someone’s face. It’s not about me, after all.
I think that’s where God’s grace comes in the most this month. He’s allowed me to see, and be okay with, the fact that it really isn’t about me.
I’m surviving without electricity (thank you, power banks) and running water (hi, bucket showers). I can lean on God to pull me through the long days with a joyful song in my heart. I can seek him for the willingness to pray over just one more person when I feel like I’m all prayed out. I really can, with his help.
With most things, here lives this reality of give and take. Just when I feel stretched and emptied out at the end of each day, I’m refilled by the thought of the intense adoration our new friends have for us and we for them. Love is abundant here. God is abundant here.
It’s amazing to see the expression of God’s love in this context. We have been treated with such care since the day we stepped foot on the village ground. If I can give you one impression of the people of Côte d’Ivoire, it would be that they are a people of service, hard work, and hospitality. It’s encouraging to be a part of such a community-oriented culture.
At our first church service, we were called to the front to introduce ourselves. It was at this time that we were given new names; traditional Baolé (the people group that lives in this village) names. I’m Affoue if you’re wondering.
It is these moments which allow me to realize how the people of this village are welcoming us into their lives. They have loved us so well from the start. Even when I find myself desperate for some time apart from kids pulling at my hands or a moment of silence, I can appreciate this. It’s not every day you get to integrate into a village in Côte d’Ivoire.
This month is already incredible. It’s incredibly hard and incredibly awesome. I have to remind myself upon waking that this is real life, and yes, I really am living in the bush of Africa right now. It’s not a dream, although it feels like it a lot of the time.
God has already given me countless stories to tuck into my heart from this month. I can’t wait to share more with you (when WiFi allows).
As I sit in this little hut in hiding from the hot afternoon sun, I am thankful for the life I’ve been given in Côte d’Ivoire.
If you’d like to join my team and I in prayer, ask the Lord for fresh humility among the village leaders. Pray that God would set their attention on him.
Pray for the children of this community. Pray for provision and education and joy in their lives.
Finally, please pray for us. Like I said, this month is amazing, but we need God to renew our strength every day. It’s taxing on our minds, bodies, and souls to be in this place. I don’t want something different, but I know I need God’s help to do this thing well.
Thank you for being on this journey with me.
Love and blessings,
McKenzie
