Spending the night in a village

Ok, so some people have asked what we do when we go to a village.  Usually that includes visiting with the people and gathering whoever is willing to listen and sharing from the Word.  I have rarely gone to a village just to observe and learn from the culture.  I have, however, not spent the night in one since we came back to this country in 2009.  I began feeling a bit guilty about this recently and wanted to do so.  I did not want to do it with the kids because I actually wanted to focus on what God might have me see.  I also did not want to do so with one of our volunteer teams because I wanted to just observe life rather than be on translation duty.  For months now, my friend has been wanting me to go out to her village again.  Last year we were going out there to teach but then work got to be too much and this village just got dropped off the list.  I have been wanting to go back, but I could find no good time to go in the midst of home school.  I really wanted to go on a Sunday because that is also their market day, which I wanted to see.  I had to struggle with giving up my rest day with my family as well.  I wanted to spend the night also to get the full cultural experience.  So Sunday before last I went to the village, and here is what happened there.

I got ready to leave and packed my bag with only a change of clothes and my crochet stuff and my copy of the Word in local language.  I packed another bag with two bottles of water for each day I would be gone.  I went into our town to buy some nuts that are used here as a gift to show respect, particularly when one has not been to visit in a while and when greeting for a death, both of which applied to my case.  I then went to pick up my friend who was not ready to go, not surprisingly.  She had gotten food cooked for her family to have later in the day.  Her step-daughter was going with us as well, since she had never been to this village, despite how long my friend has been her mother.  My friend's youngest child, just a little older than Lydia-Ann, was going with us because he is weaning but he is very much so "2".  The next youngest child was wanting to go as well because she had not been there since her mom had had the baby.  So we loaded into the truck and got the children buckled in, as well as my friend.  I am not sure who was more uncomfortable--my friend or the little ones.  We drove for about an hour, the last half-hour being the most rugged terrain of all. 

We arrived and greeted the house.  Everyone was so welcoming despite it being such a long time since I had been there last.  They brought buckets of mangoes and cashew fruit for us to eat.  I waited until the father arrived to give the nuts that I had brought to greet him.  They kept asking me to eat more and more mangoes, but I said I could not or I would not be able to eat lunch.  They laughed.  We got ready to eat lunch, which they served to us.  They served white rice with a green slimy sauce in the middle made of leaves and okra and then drizzled around on the rice a red oil-like liquid to add more flavor.  I realize it does not sound appetizing, but I really like it.  Don't get me wrong.  I like my meat and veggies!   I could make it on this stuff for a while.  We chatted a bit more after lunch. 

Then my friend told them I was wanting to go to the market.  I thought it was not far, so I had planned to walk.  However, now it was after 2pm and HOT, so I was ok with driving there.  I was glad that I had when we got there.  It was farther than I would have liked to have walked in the heat and am not sure I would have made it before the market closed.  We had to cross a border to get to this market, and I had to go past military on our side but not the other.  Upon arrival I found a good spot and my friend's dad began showing us around.  He wanted to buy some packets, much like Kool-aid.  They were also wanting to buy some soap and jewelry for the dad's wives.  Everything under the sun that people need here can be found at this market.  There were tables covered with packages of hair extensions.  There were tables covered with "Secrets" that would make "Victoria" blush.  There were booths with used kids' clothes and toys.  One could also buy material to make an outfit or buy a ready made outfit.  There were tables set up with toiletry items like toothpaste and toothbrushes.  Toward the back were rows of ladies all selling beignets, which people snack on a lot here.  I really like them but most were no longer fresh this late in the day, so I passed on them.  At the very back are mechanics and those who repair bikes.  It is a market held only on Sundays and it is truly a one-stop shop.  I even found some sidewalk chalk and a purple Tinkerbell jumping ball for the kids.

Upon arriving back at the truck, the step-daughter who had stayed in the truck, said that the military there had come to ask her for some papers.  She had just gotten that out when they walked up behind me.  They asked to see my papers and my friend's dad offered his papers as well.  The military asked us to come sit with them in their "shack".  No longer had our feet entered the space than the dad began talking the ear off of this military man.  Dad truly knew just about every person at this market.  I don't know if it is something he said or just the fact that he would not stop, but the military just handed us back ur papers and said, "Good day."  We got in the truck and left.  The dad told me that I certainly would have had to pay had he not come with us.  I am so glad he did.  We got back to the stop on our side of the border and had to stop.  They wanted to make sure I had nothing in the back of my truck that I was not supposed to have.  Then we had a nice drive back.

We got back to the village and some rested and some started the process of cooking dinner.  One lady brought a bowl of fresh honey to us to eat.  When I say fresh, I mean still very raw and full of "chunks".  You don't want to look too closely at the chunks, for fear that you are eating actual bees  It was delicious, but one can only eat so much.  They wanted me to eat the whole bowl.  I could not do it.  I took out my crochet and worked as I chatted.  After a while, a mattress was brought outside for us to sit/ lay on to relax.  More mangoes were brought for us to snack on, and the cooked fresh cashew nuts were brought to us to crack and eat.  I ate so many mangoes that my lips started to hurt from the acid.  The ladies kept talking about making rice for me, but they were having millet.  I said there was no need for them to make extra work for themselves, but that I would gladly eat whatever they were having.  They had caught a chicken earlier in the evening to make sauce for us.  This was in addition to the other sauce they were making for the millet.  Nightfall came and we were eating dinner by flashlight.  The millet was delicious, maybe the best I have ever had, maybe even better than Moroccan couscous. 

After dinner I lay looking up at the stars and pulled out my copy of the Word to look up a few passages.  This was just time for me and my Creator.  What a precious time that was for me.  However, my heart was heavy and I longed to talk to a friend.  I turned to my friend and talked a little about what weighed on my heart.  She and another shared some words of wisdom.  I knew my Creator was speaking even through them.  I lay back down and fell asleep.  Just about that time, they came to get us up to move inside the huts.  The round cement hut with thatched roof had four double size beds.  I slept with the stepdaughter in one of the beds.  I wished that I could have stayed outside to sleep because it was so much hotter inside.  But eventually I fell back to sleep. 

The next morning we got going rather quickly.  I took a rinse off bucket bath and got redressed.  Then we went out to gather mangoes which had to be knocked down out of the tree and cashew fruit which has to be gathered from the ground.  We carried so many buckets of mangoes back to the truck that the bed was completely covered.  The cashew fruit juice was leaking such that the dad started to worry that I had a gas or oil leak.  When we were done, we ate our breakfast.  It was a combination of rice and peanuts that had been pounded together.  They gave us the choice of the red oil from lunch the day before or sugar to put on it.  It was good with both, but I prefer the sugar.  Sometimes it is served with yogurt over it, but this village did not have any this day.  We said our goodbyes and got in the truck.  We drove the hour home and made it just about the time I was hoping to be home, surprisingly.  Time for a real shower and a little English listening.