Three days in Konni makes a lot of good memories

Our second trip to Konni came as we were preparing to host the pastors in August. We left early, Monday the 25th. Baker, Gail, Kris and I all loaded into the truck with a second load of furniture. Just mine this time. The drive was nice. We made good time. We stopped at my house first, unloaded the furniture, then went to the Epic house (formerly David and Renee’s) and had sandwiches for lunch. It was 2:30 by the time we had lunch, so we were hungry. Then we rested for a while before venturing out to get some errands done. Jibbo, a good Fulani guy came by and offerred to show us around some fulani villages. We agreed, so thankful for the offer. We made plans with him to come at 9 am the next morning. Jibbo took us out towards a village east of town at 10:15am the next morning. The village is called Rigo Zabi. God’s awesome timing led us to meet a man who lives in that village at the gas station and he gave us an open invitation to come visit. God amazes me! So right then, he jumps into the back of the truck and we head off to his village. I was so excited because this was my first village visit and it was great! We headed about 6K from the town on the main road and then turned off and followed a donkey cart path for another 2K. The road was bumpy, but passable. We parked the truck a small distance away from a group of huts surrounded by millet. The millet here is taller than I am and already has a head on the stalk. We walked near to the huts and our host introduced us to the head of that group of huts and we walked past them to a tree where they set mats out for us to sit. We visited for a short while under the trees, The two white men, our guide Jibbo, Young and old men from the village, some wearing turbans, some Fulani hats, some muslim skull caps and some carrying hoes. Then, off to the side were the White women, honored enough to sit on the mat, but separated from the men. I did not mind. We were offerred fresh milk to drink and we all drank it, thanking them profusely. I really liked the milk. It was cool, sweet and refreshing. After we visited for a while we were told that the chief was not far away, a ten minute walk, so we walked. There was a definite social order to the progression. The men were ahead of us, surrounded by all the important men; next came Gail and I. We tried to get Fulani women to walk with us, but they did not stay; next came the younger, less influential men; then came the rest of the women. We walked through a millet field with stalks well over my head. Soon, we came to another group of huts and were led to another tree with mats being laid out under it. Sitting on a stool at the very center of the mats, at the base of the tree was the Chief. He was an old man, hunched and frail, with lots of wrinkles and barely enough strength to lift his head. The guests sat on the mat in front of him, and people kept bringing mats and sitting until we were surrounded on all sides. The women came and sat behind us, with the children. The men sat all around behind the chief. We greeted them for a while and then Kris began to tell them why we were there. He talked for a long time while everyone listened. He talked about bringing the pastors and that they wanted to work with the Fulani. He talked about God and learned that they did not have a mosque, but it was probably because they were too poor to build one. They did have muslim teachers. The visit went really well. I started bonding with the kids and tickled them just enough for them to squirm. By the end of the visit I had six girls all sticking their feet out to get tickled. They aren’t ticklish on the bottom of their feet because they never wear shoes, but on their ankles they are ticklish. Kris asked permission to bring back the pastors in 11 days. ( I can’t believe it is that soon) They agreed and were very welcoming to us and them. We went to leave and I said goodbye to my new friends and promised that I would see them again. They were all smiles. We walked back to the truck and said goodbye to the men there. Then Kris asked if he could pray for them. They said yes!! He did, praying in the name of Jesus and praying that they would come to know him. He thanked God for the village, for the millet and for the rain. It was such a beautiful prayer! We got back into the truck and headed for the donkey cart path. Half an hour after lunch Jibbo came and we headed off to visit another village. We drove off the main road and headed back into an outer neighborhood of the city. I figured we would keep going, but this place was where he meant. There supposedly were a lot of Fulani in the area as well as Hausa, but this neighborhood was crowded with Hausa children. They were so curious about the white people that as we waited for someone to come talk with us they crowded a safe distance away to try and see what we were doing. I waved at a few of them; no one waved back. I think they were very scared of me. After a while of waiting and nothing happening, I wanted to go play with the kids. Neither of us spoke any Hausa, but Gail and I tried to get them to play a version of duck duck goose by using a wad of paper and setting it down behind the person that was to chase you. It seemed like a good idea, but the first time we tried to do it all the kids ran away! I’m not kidding! Gail walked around the circle, put the ball behind me, I jumped up to run after her and all the kids got scared and ran away. It was hilarious. We all laughed for a long while! Then, after we got them settled again and I walked around I put the ball behind one of the children and everybody got scared again and ran away! It happened twice! After all the adults that were watching laughed for a long time the kids started to understand the game and we played for a long time. Then we played a new version of Simon says, Tag, hide and seek, and follow the leader. It was great fun! We played for about an hour and then Gail called to me to tell me it was time to go. I said au revoir to all the kids and loaded into the truck. Every child wanted to touch my hand and each one said bon jour and bon soir as if they all spoke french. This just solidified my belief thatGod can use me wherever, even if I don't speak and of the language. The next morning Kris, Baker and Gail headed back to Niamey, allowing me to do some visiting and research in Konni on my own. I asked Aisa to take me to the market to show me where the sellers were that spoke Fulfulde. She said Altine would show me the market. I agreed, and boy I am glad I did. I had a really good time. Altine led the way, not waiting for me to walk with him. That was fine with me. I followed about twenty steps behind him and stopped whenever I felt like it to talk to various women and children; mostly to find out if they spoke Fulfulde. I was able to talk to different people and Altine would stop and wait for me to catch up a little, then continue on. Once we got to the market, Altine took me to a few places that sold mosquito nets; one of my reasons for going to the market. The first place was to expensive, and so I found another vendor to buy from, neither of which spoke Fulfulde. The mosquito net I found was very big, but I figured if I ever wanted to sit in a chair and be protected it would be good to have. I tried to bargain him down, but he didn’t budge. I paid 3000F and said thank you to him. I asked Altine to show me some sellers that spoke Fulfulde, so he brought me to a section of the market, near that back, where eight Fulani women were seated selling their sour milk. I spoke with them for a short while, drank some of the sour milk, and promised to come back and talk to them. We wandered around the market a little more, and then I said goodbye to Altine and continued exploring on my own. I headed to the main road, looking for a cool drink of water. I was very hot from the long walk and the hot, sweaty stalls of the market. The next morning I got ready early and head to the market. I wanted to get there before it was too hot. I had a good time just walking around the streets because everyone was outside and very friendly, even if I did not speak Hausa. I spoke to a few Fulani women as they walked around, met an older man who was from a village north of Tahoua and had a good time talking to them. I walked by a house where I saw two women pounding millet, so I walked in and talked to them for a while. The older woman spoke Fulfulde, but the younger members of her family did not. We spoke for a while and I told them that I would come back to talk to them. I made a mental note of exactly where the house is, behind the market and came upon the road where most of the grain is sold. The women selling grain only spoke Hausa, so I only greeted them and went on my way. I walked around the market, talking to a few sellers, trying to find some that spoke Fulfulde. I talked to some different women that spoke Fulfulde, some younger and some older. They were also selling the sour milk. They, again, were so excited that I spoke their language. I think because not a lot of Africans even speak their language that to see me speaking it was special. God knew what he was doing bringing me here. I can't wait to visit Konni again!

God is good!

So, I got the chance to tell my new friends about Jesus today and I felt as if I was being impeded with every word that came out of my mouth. I was visiting with Mariama, Ali's wife, and we talked for probably over an hour while she cooked. I played with the baby, we listened to music. It was good. Then, after dusk, the call to prayer was heard in the distance. Two men, Ali and his friend, (sitting 100 feet away, by themselves) began to ready themselves for prayer. I had never seen these women praying, so I didn't know if Mariama and her sister were going to pray. Well, they both got up and started to get ready as well. I told them that I didn't pray like that, and they just let me sit while they began. Mariama had her baby, Aishatu, tied to her back and the four of them began the rituals of standing, kneeling, lowering their heads to the sand and standing up again. This went on for about 3-5 minutes. Meanwhile, I was praying for their salvation. I was praying hard for their empty rituals and empty hearts. I was the only believer there, but I pitied them and their loneliness. After they were done, the Holy spirit gave me the boldness to seize the opportunity. I started the conversation. "I don't pray like that, but I do pray." How do you pray, she said. "AAAcckkk," I said, swallowing a few mosquitos. I began coughing, feeling Satan using whatever to shut me up. "I pray to God in the name of Jesus." "Oh," she said. I continued, "I learn about him in Dewtere Alla" (the bible). I stumbled along, searching my brain for the words. I prayed for the words. "He is God's son. I talk to God and He talks to me." Then I showed her what I do to pray, head bowed, eyes closed.

My Fulfulde was very slow, and choppy, but whatever it takes, right? Mariama did not react much. I am sure she is being blinded and deafened by the lack of Jesus in her life. But it is a start. I was encouraged by this opportunity. I know God has a purpose for me here, even while I wait to go to Konni.

"I praise You when I suffer trials of many kinds..."

This week has brought major change in the Sokoto Fulani team. David and Renee, my teammates, have resigned and have returned to America. Their plane left yesterday, the 21st, taking our friends, co-workers and brother and sister in Christ, and leaving a void in our ministry and our hearts. I am fully supportive of their decision, knowing it had to be hard to follow Christ in this difficult time. I do not understand everything that God does, but I know His will is best and I am walking in that. Here is what David and Renee posted for you all: While being here we were told by many missionaries, “On the hard days, the only thing that will keep you on the field is your call, when you get out in amongst your people. ” Renee and I do not have such a call. We do not feel a specific call holding us here. This has not been easy. God has shown us even through our application process, screening conference, and orientation that Renee and I did not share with one another our true feelings and real reasoning for coming. Ultimately it was pride, discontentment in our daily lives, fear of failure in life, and the unfed desire for adventure. Not until the past few days, did these hidden agendas, and unshared truths surface. These were things they told us to share and discuss at MLC, but we kept them hidden out of fear of what others might think. God has been working to bring these things out during our time here. He has shown us that we do not belong here and has given us a peace in this extremely hard, life changing, decision. As we talked this over with the leadership here they listened to us pour out our hearts and cry and they cried with us. They talked with us to touch on every area we needed to consider and pray about and they prayed with us. We told them that our only fear was returning home and disappointing our family and friends. They assured us that you would wrap your loving arms around us and continue to pray for us and support us as we seek God. We know you will. For our team, this is changing some things. I will be staying in Niamey longer than expected, until my supervisor is able to plan for my ministry out in Konni. I will be well cared for by all the missionaries here, We are all excited for our new ministry among the Sokoto Fulani as I know you are. Thank you for partnering with me and all of us out here. Please keep David and Renee in your prayers. Sincerely, Danielle

I just went out for Tomatoes and Eggs...

It occurred to me today that when I say, “I went to the market to buy tomatoes and eggs” Nobody understands exactly what I mean. How can they? The market here is significantly different from anything I could ever have imagined before I arrived, so I am going to attempt to describe the market in the best way possible. It will not do the market experience justice, just to read about it, but it will give you a small glimpse into the daily lives of the Africans and foreigners that live here. Petit marche is the smaller of the two main markets in Niamey. It is shaped in a triangle about the size of a small city block. The road leading to the market is brimming with activity. The market is on the left and you can see each vendor’s wares on the ground, makeshift tables and portable stands that they balance on their heads to carry home. Upon leaving the taxi at the taxi stand, I pay the driver 200 F for the hot, windy, overloaded taxi ride to the market. The road is full of carts, taxis motos and people so I have to wait for an opportunity to cross it. There is really no entrance to the market. Many vendors sell facing the street, and there are many more once you find a small path between vendors. They sell many things. Some vegetables, some fruit, eggs, tomato paste, maggi cubes, many different spices, rice, millet, corn, plastic bowls, cups, cooking utensils, kettles, locally made wood stoves, the small teapots that the men use to make tea every afternoon, chickens, cloth and so much more. It is hard just to take it all in. The market is covered by a makeshift of cloth, plastic sheets and wood. Pretty much, each vendor does what he needs to be protected from the sun and the heat. Never-the-less, it is very hot in the market. I feel the sweat as I try to spot fresh tomatoes on one table. The seller sees me looking at his tomatoes and promises me a good price for his fresh tomatoes. His selection is not very good. The tomatoes are very ripe, and some are even smelly and rotten, so I continue along the row. Each item is sold mostly in the same area so I don’t have to go far to find more tomatoes. The tomatoes here are not even as good as the first one. I start to leave, but the seller offers to make me a good deal. These sellers all speak Hausa or Zerma and French. “Merci, no.” I say, ending the conversation. Finally, about 50 yards away, after crossing muddy paths and sellers all trying to get me to buy there goods, I come across a table with decent looking tomatoes. The vendor shows me the best ones, that are good, and I agree to buy tomatoes from him. I ask the price, and he tells me they cost 900 F per kilo. It is known that the seller never gives the correct price at the beginning, so I make a noise with my mouth that indicates I am not happy with what he said. “Too much,” I said shortly after; and the bargaining began. Bargaining over how much I would pay and how many kilos of tomatoes I would buy took about ten minutes. We went back and forth talking about the worth of the tomatoes and what I was willing to pay for them until we could get to a price that was agreeable. In the end, I walked away with 2 1/2 kilos of tomatoes for 1000 F. I was satisfied with the deal. Then, I spotted eggs at another stand just across the small aisle. The vendor was already there, offering them to me before I could even remember the name in French. Eggs are pretty much a set price within the city, so it took much less time to decide on the price. I bought six eggs at 100F each. Next, I wanted to buy a small can of tomato paste. Deeper into the market I saw a stand that carried dry goods and other small items, so I headed in that direction. This vendor only sold the larger cans of tomato paste, so I thanked him and continued on. Two stands down, there was a large stack of the small cans, and I was excited. I asked the vendor how much they cost and he told me 125F. I know that that is a high price, so I asked him to lower his price. I wanted to pay 50F but he would only lower the price to 100 so I declined the purchase and left. “This is tiring,” I thought, as the young boys were so persistent that I buy one of their bags. I did have three small bags in my hand, so a larger one was what I needed. They were convinced. I was not so convinced. “Ne pas necesairre” It’s not necessary I repeated again and again. I walked to the corner of the market, waiting to cross the street and I saw a pineapple and thought how good that would taste. Again, before I could ask anything, the seller was ready and willing to sell me the pineapple. “This is going to be a challenge” I thought “because I don’t know how much pineapples cost.” The vendor started at 2000F for both the pineapples, so I knew they could not really be worth more than about 400F a piece. After another 10 minutes of bargaining and assuring him that I only needed 1 pineapple, I walked away with my one pineapple paying 500F for it. Now, with four bags, the boys selling the larger bags were sure that I needed to buy one from them. After making my way through the group of four or five boys shouting the 25F price for the bag, I crossed the road and began to walk away. Walking towards the edge of the market, the smell is bearable. Within the market it is hard to breath because the air smells of spices, animals, rotten vegetables and meat, people, cooked food and anything else you can imagine, all in the same place. As Pia, my friend, and I were done in the market, we decided to walk down “Rip-off row” the street where all the vendors of tourist souvenirs have their shops. While we walked down there only to see what there was to see, the shop keepers were sure that we wanted to buy something. I told them that we were only buying vegetables, and we kept going, continually greeted by different vendors. They had souvenirs of all kinds, from swords to beads, from clothes to leather boxes. I ended up having a few conversations with the vendors, finding three who spoke Fulfulde. While in the shops of the Fulani, I couldn’t help but give them preference because I speak their language. I spoke with one for a long while. He was from Mali. In his shop he has some very nice, airy dresses just like the ones that I was thinking of buying. After looking at a few, I spotted one that I liked. He showed it to me, and was not pushy about it. I think he knew more what westerners are used to. The neck of the dress was a little small, so I went to look in his other shop. He showed me a beautiful magenta dress with light blue embroidery that fit me perfectly. The material is thin, airy and very soft. I asked him how much the dress cost and he told me 7500 F. Can you guess what happened? The bargaining began. I started my offer at 4000F. It is a good dress, and I know I could have paid 7500F but in this culture, bargaining is everything. We finally agreed on 5000F and I think the dress is worth it. He gave me his card, and I will definitely come back again if I need anything. Back on the road, Pia and I headed back with our bags of tomatoes, eggs, pineapple and a dress to go catch a taxi. The taxi stand was busy, as it was near the end of the day, so we had to put some effort into finding one to go all the way back to the guest house. The third taxi we asked gave us a reasonable price, so we got in the taxi. I sighed as we rode home, bumping along in the taxi. Going to the market is hard work.

African Bush

Please pray for those that call this rugged and tough land their home.

Fulfulde Proverb

Fulfulde is a very interesting language. It is not without its difficulties, but I know there are more difficult languages even in this country. My classes are going very well. I am having a blast in classes; I am motivated to study and do my best; and my tutor says I am doing well enough to surprise him. That is encouraging.

Today I learned a Fulfulde proverb that is straight to the heart of Fulani culture. It is beautiful and I wanted to share it with you.

Kangal yehata to berne hida.

It means the legs don't go where the heart does not love/want. In Fulani culture it is used when someone comes to visit and you ask them why they have come. They reply that they would not have come if their heart did not want/love the people. It struck a deep chord with me because it describes my place in this culture. My legs would not have brought me here if my heart did not love these people. I am so content being here, even through the difficulties because God has given me a love for these Fulani.

Think about it. Where is your heart leading you?

Superjourneyman in Ghana

This week has been such a spiritual encouragement. We have been learning from our regional leadership, guest presenters, keynote speaker, and fellow missionaries sharing their testimonies. I have really enjoyed getting to know my fellow journeymen, other missionary couples and their families. It has been a time of rejuvenation, recooperation from the constant heat, and eating some awesome fruit. The pineapple here is amazing. The people in this picture are journeyman with me serving from Senegal to Niger and many countries in between. Please lift them up in prayer by name: Me, Rucker, Eric, Tara, Jana, Carrie, Mike and Nate. Blessings upon you!

Please pray for us while we travel to Ghana

It is time for our yearly regional meeting for West Africa and I am very excited. I will be able to meet many of my colleagues that serve across the map and learn many new things. I hope to be challenged in my Faith and thinking in a very real way this week. Please pray for: * Our missionaries as they travel by land and air * Our hearts to be ready and open to be challenged by the Holy Spirit * Our workshops to be educational and informative as well as fun * Our leaders and presenters to be filled with the Holy Spirit * And that we would all be safe while staying there. I post these because I know the faithfulness of all my prayer partners. Thank you so much! I promise to post pictures when I get back! Danielle