The Perpetually Unraveling Community

Dancing the Virginia Reel.

I was very touched by the number of responses to my request for comments from those who read the blog last week.  Some strangers and then friends, some from kindergarten and University who keep up, along with others I have met at other times in life.  Thank you for the encouragement to write another 200.

It is at the time of milestones that one feels inclined to reflect on the passage of time, or in the case of living here, the passage of community.  I can say now as an International worker who has been in the same place for 4 years, the meaning of the word 'community' has evolved for me.  Rebecca and I are very intentional about creating community around us.  We did so in Poughkeepsie and Baltimore and we have done so here as well.  The difference is that an expat community is somewhat unique.  It sometimes seems like a very intensely-colored fabric---a scarf or stole that is being woven together at one end as rapidly as it is fraying and disappearing at the other.  At any moment it will be the same length as any other moment, but the pattern will be entirely different.  

And so it is with our communities.  I marvel at how fast they have changed over the years and yet seem at every moment to be in some way stable.  There is on the front end of the scarf the continual welcoming and inclusion of newcomers and simultaneous heart-felt Adieux for friends who are leaving for good at the back end.

One is only a newcomer until someone else newer arrives, then the first newcomer begins to take on roles of responsibility in the community and its sustenance.  At nearly 4 years Rebecca and I find ourselves in the company of a very few people who have been here longer than us.  There are a few 'senior statesmen' life-time generational missionary families and a few expats who have married Burundians and now call this home, but by and large we are the oldtimers here.  I realize that as time passes we will near and eventually find ourselves at the unraveling end of the scarf and the threads of our lives here will fray away leaving a continually mutating communal pattern making and unmaking itself here in Burundi as people come and go.

Maybe this image was particularly poignant to me because we had one of our famous folk dances this week.  We decided it was about time again as the last one was back during Valentine's Day.  We put the word out and although we heard from many that they would not be available, we found ourselves hosting an enormous crowd including several newcomers to Burundi.

Although this was at the end of the week, Saturday, I will start there and work back.  Now since this is about the 10^th such dance we have had since we moved into this house with the large living that can be converted in a ballroom, I think they have been gaining in reputation.  It is not uncommon to have someone contact us to let us know they would like to be there even if we do not know them. 

The tradition of doing a folk dance was one we inherited from a missionary family named the Carrs.  They hosted a Scottich Ceilidh from time to time which was a lot of fun.  We inherited the house and the tradition of holding dances here.  Their particular favorite was “Strip the Willow” which for us Americans became the “Virginia Reel”.  We usually end our parties with this one, and it seems to fit aptly the community I described above that makes and unmakes itself--continually progressing forward and unraveling at the end.

The dance also includes a potluck so after a few sets of dances we share food together.  We had--all told--at least 50 people there including kids.  The kids have their own party with movies, trampoline jumping, and join us for an occasional line dance like “Cotton-Eyed Joe.” 

What I like about this kind of party too is that it brings together quite a wide cross-section of the different communities in which we interact from MCC team members, to missionary friends, fellow parents at the Ecole Belge, and a sprinkling of visitors to the country brought by others.

On this particular occasion we were happy to welcome a new family of 6 here, a husband and wife team of physicians, Joel and Janet, and their 4 children, Hannah, Leah, Samuel, and Josiah.  They are around the ages of our kids and a bit older.  They are preparing to spend 6 years here helping to teach clinical medicine to students at Hope Africa University.  It was great to have them and I felt a deep sense of their faith commitment that has brought them out to serve here.  I am sure we will come to know them better in the years ahead.

For such a large group we asked our cook Marcelline to work on Saturday and help us with clean-up and watching David (especially since Rebecca and I have to call and teach the dances.)  I also asked her to take some photos of the dances this time and she took a lot of great photos of the dance and potluck that I am posting on this blog.

The party began about 4 and ended around 8:30.  Preparation takes hours as it involves moving all the furniture out of the living room, as well as food prep. [Rebecca says: a HUGE thank you to Naja who washed a million dishes and kept me company while I prepared our potluck contributions. Your friendship kept me cheerful all day!]  Oren was quite helpful this year with cooking and made a 'secret' chocolate cake with our service worker Jennifer that was quite a hit. (The secret is beets.)  Clean-up is also a two hour process of putting everything back and cleaning up various kid food messes.  But there is something very satisfying in cleaning up and reflecting on the joy of the time together.

There is also something unique and mysterious about a community that dances together, especially this kind of structured social dance based on dancing figures and interacting with almost everyone.  It goes beyond what happens in conversation or sharing food.  I wish I could say what it is that is special, but it seems to be such a ritual expression of what community is--a vibrant changing, evolving pattern of relationships that create and dissolve themselves in the perpetual rhythm of living in the moment---the present experienced, instant by instant.  The steps don't change in the Virginia Reel but new dancers join each time we dance it here, often barely able to keep up with the unexpected shift of unfamiliar patterns, while the more experienced ones encourage them along in the routines that are as comfortable and instinctive to them as a well worn path.

The dance was the highlight for me, but it was not the only event worth noting of the week.  Actually the week did not start out nearly as well as it ended as David went to bed Monday with a fever and could not go to school.  To make matters worse, the car engine was not sounding good so I knew we would have to take it in and be without it for a while. 

Our strategy for Monday was for Rebecca to stay home with David while I took Oren to school and then dropped the car off during work.  This meant that for the rest of the week we had to get around by taxi or public transport.  Generally when we were travelling as a family with the kids we took a cab.  But when I was going to work alone I took the mini buses (matatus) that are used for public transport here.  I have to say it is quite an adjustment to go from the driver's seat of a Toyota Fortuner into the back of a minibus crammed in with 19 other people. 

But I think it may be an even bigger adjustment for Burundians to see a Mzungu riding the bus as I often get some odd looks.  On one occasion when I wanted to get off I said to the conductor in Kirundi “Nsigare ngaha” (let me off here)  To my horror the women sitting next to me who was doing her best not to stare, suddenly burst into shrieks of uncontrolled peals of laughter that did not end even after I got off the bus and it pulled away.  At first I thought I had spoken incorrectly but I realized in talking to my colleague at work that the whole episode was probably so shocking to her that she could not control her reaction.  (It is good to know that I am still basically a freak around here after 4 years.)

But I do like to take the bus for a change and for 25 cents it is a great way to get to work. 

Tuesday was probably the nadir of the week.  It began when I dropped Oren off at school.   David was still sick.  I stopped at the gate to talk to some friends mometarily and got behind him.  When I got to his class with his bag I found him sobbing with the somewhat exasperated teacher trying to console him.   His fit was because I had not arrived with his pencil bag when he walked in the door.  But the bigger problem she said was that he was not communicating very much at all in class and seemed perpetually "on the moon." 

This has been an anxiety of mine: that Oren isolates himself in response to not understanding French well and does not really pay attention or participate, which exascerbates the problem of poor comprehension.  After school I had a talk with his teacher about what to do.  She was adamant, despite my doubts, that he understands almost everything she says.  But he is timid to engage.  I asked what we might try as a strategy to open him up and she suggested having him do a show-and-tell a few times of something he liked.  I said we would try it.

On the way home we talked about what he could do and although he was really opposed to the idea he made a poster of a brachiosaurus and labeled it with many facts about it all written in French. 

On Friday he brought it to class to show the class.  To my dismay the teacher was sick and the directress of the school was subbing.  Rebecca did tell her the situation and she apparently was very supportive of Oren as he made his presentation. 

I don’t know what happened but all I can say is that when we picked Oren up from school he was beaming, and for the first time ever took the initiative to tell me what happened in class, how he did his report and all the other kids cheered for him, and how well it went. 

I was really happy for him and I think we will try it again this week as it seems to be a breakthrough to have him talk to the class in this way.

Actually Oren has had several social victories.  He has a new Burundian friend from school whom he has invited over several times and gone to his house as well.  He has also advanced a partial rank in karate (has a yellow stripe on his belt. )  He is not great at all, but in all of these situations he is immersed in French and seems to be able to adapt and participate.

David was sick until Thursday when his fever began to break fairly regularly.  We did use one malaria test kit on Wednesday despite the fact that we rationally knew it could not be.  Fortunately it was negative.

By Friday he was completely well which was perfect timing as we had an advisory council meeting slated for Friday morning.  Our time with our advisors was good and they challenged us to use them more, perhaps to do some monitoring visits of our partners.  They are a very encouraging trio.

Friday after school the kids both had Mother’s Day gifts when I picked them up.  Since Rebecca was not with me I was able to convince the kids to hide them until Sunday.  Oren only hinted once about a surprise gift  “You didn’t find anything around the house that looked like a painted mixing spoon did you?”  But Rebecca acted surprised on Sunday morning and the kids were very proud of the gifts they made. 

Church and small group were great and we even went out with our Danish friend Naja and her two kids to Ubuntu for pizza after small group. 

In all of our encounters from the square dance, church, small group, and dinner with Naja it reinforced in me the vital sense that I feel about our community here.  You learn to make close attachments quickly here and then to let go of them when the time comes.  But the feeling I have of being with friends here is very rich and I feel a great sense of gratitude for God’s provision in surrounding us with people that care for us and that we can care for.

Prayers this week would be welcome for our Partners retreat which begins on Thursday.  We will be in Rwanda with them until Sunday.  

For more photos of the square dance click here.