I Left My Heart in Africa

Well, we've officially worked with IMB for 2 years now. Of course some of that was training. We will have been in Africa for 2 years in October. Seeing as we have a little somebody special that is supposed to arrive in October, I don't know if I'll have time to reflect then so I thought I'd do it now.

One of those first term missionary questions everybody asks is "Is it like you expected it would be in Africa?" I had not ever actually been to Africa. I'd never lived in another culture with a different language. I'd never been a full time missionary (two weeks in the summer is about the most I'd done). So the expectations I had were very minimal at best and sketchy.

I'll not say it's easy to leave your family, friends and everything you know behind. I will say that I am certain it is a whole lot easier if you know that is what God is calling you to do. I can't really imagine doing it for any other reason. I also won't say it's easy to know that life goes on when you are not there. Babies are born, people get married, friends get together, people pass away. So in my reflection, don't hear me say that this is a peice of cake.

One of the other things I think about when I take time to reflect is that I'm weird. Only weird people sell all of their stuff and move to Africa, so I guess you'd think that I would have thought about that before I left. However this realization really hit me when I'd worked so hard to fit in here, which I do as well as I can, but let's face it, I am a white American missionary in Africa. Do you really think I'm not noticeable! ;) Those days when it is just obvious that I'm different even to my friends, I get to thinking and realize that of course I am different than they are and always will be no matter what I do. I am also different in what used to be my home setting. Not too many people that I knew before sit around on a concrete floor with their friends and split a papaya. Not too many of them love to eat foutou for lunch with their hands. Not too many have been to a baby naming, or danced at a Baptism, or call the closest rest stop "that tree just ahead that is mostly concealed from the road and accessible by a dirt road leading off of the highway." So, I think that maybe I am coming to grips with my weirdness.

Now, I've said it is hard leaving family and friends and I'm weird. This doesn't sound like somebody that is thrilled with their life. Well, actually, on most days, I am. You see, Africa has gotten in my blood. And NO I don't mean in the way of "Oh wow, that was a malaria mosquito that just bit me" sort of way. I mean it in the "I love it here and can't imagine being elsewhere" sort of way.

One of the most remarkable changes that makes that true is in language acquisition. God captured our hearts for the people here before we left, but when all you are able to do is express yourself in the manner of a 2 year old, relationships aren't so easy. I am a far cry from where I'd like to end up in my French learning, but on most days I can have a semi intelligent conversation with most people here. That is even easier to see now that we are working on language number two. You forget how far you came with your first language until you are sitting in a room having studied your second language for months, but still getting nowhere. Comprehension is beyond your ability and no matter how hard you try, even those words you can pick up strung together make absolutely no sense! Anyway, all that said to say communication is a wonderful tool that makes life much better!

One of the more unexpected ways I've changed to love where we are is in worship. I remember very well our first few services here where everything was loud and chaotic and irritating and BORING! I don't know how all of that goes together, but it does. I'd never had the opportunity to sit for 3 hours in a room where I understood zippo and yet knew that I was sticking out pretty badly and needed to be still and do the appropriate things at the right times as best I could. I remember thinking it was rediculous dancing down the aisle to deposit your offering in a bucket with the rest of the crowd. Then after a couple of months, you move into the understanding very little and being able to hum along to a couple of the songs, but still thinking the whole thing is crazy. Then you move on to the services that you pray through the whole thing "Dear Lord, please do not let them call on me to pray!" In the beginning, church is a chore. It's something you do because you need to, not because you are truly able to worship or that you even remotely enjoy the gathering.

Now, for me, church is often very refreshing. I like the music, I'm not going to say I know or even understand all of the words of the songs, but I know a lot of them. Sometimes I understand how David could dance in the streets in praise of our maker. I love sitting through the prayers of praise. These people can pray prayers and songs of praise for 30 minutes easily. They can come up with more ways to praise the Lord in one prayer than I can scratch out in a whole week! I can't think of a more joyful way to give my tithes and offerings than to dance them up to the basket. OK, OK, I am a Baptist girl born and raised in the south. So my dancing resembles pitiful shuffling steps occasionally in time with the music, but I try! I love going through the line at the end of service, shaking every persons' hand that came that day. I can even stand and shakily work my way through a prayer if called on like today. It's big language pressure, but I can do it.

There are neat little trinkets about our new culture that I enjoy. Greeting is so important here and it makes everyone feel welcomed and remembered. I love that spending time with a friend is so much more about presence and not so much about conversation. I love our new mission family. Hey, and who wouldn't love living in a tropical paradise with birds and flowers galore all year long!

I thoroughly enjoy something that I never really new you could love before. Telling The Stories to those that are eager to hear is amazing. It is like they are all new all over again. I can't imagine ever growing tired of that aspect of being here.

So I guess, a long time from now, when I am old and can't make it here any more, I'll have to sing that I left my heart in Africa. There is a piece of me that will always stay tied here. Praise the Lord for the difference two years can make.

Hope you haven't minded my rambling!
Love to all,
Heather