Mali Trip: Brothers and Traditions
What a time of praise! In at least 3 if not 5 different languages!
It is Sunday, so we made our way to the little church building with kids joining us along the way to hold our hands. At church, they had me pray for the offering, which this group gave generously out of sacrifice. Then there was a time of testimony where Mamado's Mum said that today she decided to follow Jesus! Mamado asked to pray that her heart would follow her words.This was followed by prayer request. Douda gave a report of giving. Mamado then gave a message, with Douda translating into Bambara (the trade language of Mali), over the Lord's Supper. To end the service, the 8 believers, the missionaries, and I took communion. What a sweet time to remember Christ's death and resurrection! His grace and mercy! His call to go! I was able to take communion with my Malian brothers!
After church there was a giant feast of rice, chopped up pig (bone and all), and eggplant that mixed altogether in a sort of greasy, soggy, rice mush. Then came the favorite time of dancing and singing and community. The dancing went on for hours, with me joining in occasionally. I was offered the communal shot of tea, that was more sugar than tea, creating a sticky syrup that hung to your ribs going down. Walking back to the house I had a kid on each hand until we got in sight of the house and raced them the rest of the way. I played more Frisbee until we were rained out and then more deep conversations with Tom.
The Requadts have several traditions that I feel I will sink into when I am out here. These traditions keep them American I feel. It speaks of "home" to them and ensures their roots. I say this only because I want to try and make a conscious decision to be a Malian as much as possible, but I feel as if being a true Malian is impossible for me, in which case I too will fall into traditions that keep me connected to America. These traditions aren't bad, just not Malian. On Saturday nights, they do pizza (homemade) and a movie. On most Sunday nights they do waffles. These traditions taste wonderful, but I'm not sure I want to have a reminder of America every week, but I don't know if I could truly live without a tradition that speaks of my upbringing. Is it possible for me to completely abandon all of my American-isms and turn completely Malian? I would love to say yes, but my gut tells me no. It tells me that I will need some reminder, some connection, something to distract me from the hardships that is Mali.