Broken flipflops
Walking out of a meeting with a school director, my left flipflop broke. These are sentences that I say where I live in West Africa. These past two years have taught me one thing. Relationships are key to success and longevity of the work God has for me here. The school director has become a dear partner in education and sister in Christ. She has a huge heart for the gospel to reach the children in her neighborhood. Her passion is contagious. We had a wonderful time sharing what I hope to do in the future with the kids and how I want to use Bambara for their literacy skills in French. She shared about a young lady who would also like to learn how to read who is in need of some one-on-one time. I jumped to the chance to be a part of her journey.
Now back to my flipflop….
I have mentioned my taxi driver before in another blog and I used him to get to the school this morning. He came on time, and we hopped onto the bumpy road for my meeting. I got my cultural lesson on kola beans and how people give them to people going away. White ones mean that they had good times with them, and red ones means there were hard things that happened in their relationship. This is a way to indirectly talk about conflict and express gratitude. The direct-culture in me found this fascinating. He said though the best option is to give three white beans and one red one. The good and the bad mixed together. I promise I am coming back to the flipflop...
He waited for me during my meeting which happened much later than planned since the director needed to do something with the young lady that helps her around the house before arriving. I am beginning to cherish the waiting… the relationships around us are more important than time structures. As I walked out of our meeting, excited about what is to come, there were several boys sitting by my taxi. They always shout “Tubabu” when I pass by (“white person”). I always greet them in Bambara and continue my way. Just as I was about to step into the taxi, I noticed my flipflop missing a key piece that holds the plastic cord in place. Shoot… My taxi friend quickly reacts and pulls out a tool from his glove compartment along with some wire. He fixes it enough for us to stop by the market near the school for me to get new ones.
The poor shoe vender is sleeping when we arrive. The heat of the day around noon is unbearable. I gently greet and ask for to see the shoes in size 41 (roughly size 10 in American standards). “Keme-keme”, I say (meaning 500 cfa in Bambara roughly a $1.00). He has one pair left! I slip them on and pass him the change. Back into the taxi we go with two working shoes. I really don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been my ride for the day. I usually have to walk a bit before finding a taxi after my time at the school. We arrive to my home and I calculate the fare. He has been coaching me on best prices :D Crisp clean bills leave my hands and into his pockets as we say goodbye. I say the normal blessing: “My God give you good business”. “Amina” is his response.
All this to say, both of these two relationships are key for my work here. One gives me access to literacy outreach. The other offers key cultural insights and helps me I am in a real tight spot. Thank you, Madame E. and Monsieur S. for how you care for me. May God bless you and encourage you!
