A Sabbath Day to Remember

Sitting with Marcelline as guests of honor at her graduation party.

The activities of the past week seemed to all fall disproportionately on one day.  Not that a lot did not happen the rest of the week, but Sunday stands alone as a day in which we were relationally and culturally stretched well beyond our comfort zones.  The good news is that the children, especially, held up well in all of the difficult circumstances in which they found themselves, especially in places where they were to be on their best behavior*.

But I will get to Sunday soon.  I just want to recap our week briefly since I last wrote from Kigali.  My trip with our area director Mark Sprunger and program assistant Felix went well.  We were able to have several important meetings both with our local volunteers (Ruth, Krystan, Bethany, Annie) as well as all of our partners. 

It was good to see them all doing well in their assignments.  I was also aware (painfully) that Ruth and Krystan will complete their assignment in April of this year and discussions about finding replacements for them was actually underway this week.

Our partners were doing well and one of them Friends Peace House had a change in leadership.  We had a big meeting with them which included several leaders in the Friends Church and others.  The photo is of our group after the meeting.  The mzungus are me and Mark Sprunger with Krystan on one side and Bethany (our SALTer) standing front and center.   This was just prior to us proceeding to a feast of Rwandan food at a local restaurant.

We returned to Bujumbura on Friday without incident.  I don’t know if it was because of the new car, but the trip between Kigali and Bujumbura only took about 4.5 hours, that is fast (but I did not feel like we were rushing).  I was dead tired when we got home and wanted to just veg out, but a very persistant person who wanted to by our old car came over and convinced me to sell.  So I have completed now both the transaction of buying a new car and selling our old one.

Saturday was a somewhat uneventful day, no ballet or yoga, but Jodi did come by to stay with us about noon.   David started running a fever during the day so we laid around at home but in the afternoon all of us went to the Marché de Noel.   This is an event put on by Oren and David’s school (Ecole Belge de Burundi).  It is a very popular event with food some entertainment by the children and many stalls that sell great handicraft style Christmas gifts (as well as some imported stuff.) 

Since David was sick when we went we put him in our jogging stroller and walked him around.  It was fortunate since it rained lightly through most of the event.  It gave it all a bit of a gloomy feel.

I could say that the weather on Saturday was a bit reflexive of Rebecca and my moods after nearly a month of very hard work.  But Sunday was not to be our day of rest.  In fact, it was more of a grand finale of responsibility and obligation, but as is often the case for such days, it did give us more insight into what it means to live and work in this context.

The day began with church where Rebecca was preaching.  It is great that she has been asked to preach more frequently there as her messages seem to cross cut well through the cultural diversity of our international church.  Her now nearly 4 years of experience in Burundi also gives her the capacity to bring very relevant testimony to her messages.  I am including her comments on her experience preaching below:

This Sunday, I was assigned to preach the third in our church’s advent sermon series. My topic: how God reconciled himself to us, and how he calls us to be reconciled to one another. I chose the famous Christmas passage on the angel’s announcement to the shepherd on the night of Jesus’ birth. What really struck me was the mighty potential of that celestial army, who could have easily been expected to come to earth and deal with sinful humanity once and for all, in an invasion on that Great and Terrible Day of the Lord. Instead, God himself infiltrated behind enemy lines, and the only invasion we knew was the invasion of his birth as one of us. This marks the beginning of God’s process of reconciliation and demonstrates as well as anything the posture of God towards his enemies: giving up power, dignity, rights, even the right to speak and defend himself.

It is a challenging picture of the posture we are called to take as we are faced with conflict. Even if we are right in an argument (especially if we are right!), we are called to lay down our arms as we approach our offender, to go behind enemy lines, to ask for compassion, and to go seeking reconciliation. From personal experience, the power to not resist evil with evil is something we must train for. And every interpersonal conflict we face gives us the opportunity to ask God to form us into ministers of reconciliation, with the courage to face and love our enemies by following the vulnerable example of Jesus.

Rebecca did mention as testimony in the sermon some of our more difficult meetings we have had with some local Burundians who have wanted partnership with MCC and have approached as if was a matter of entitlement and were somewhat menacing in their requests.  Dealing with ‘Christians’ here, especially pastors can be disheartening on a number of levels.  And does remind us that the Gospel preached by evangelists may not be the one heard by the poor who see the real ‘Good News’ as a connection to riches from the west.

But all of this has been an opportunity for us to learn patience and to try not to assume the worst about the motives of others which we may not understand.

Rebecca received many kudos for her sermon that seemed to strike a chord with many this season, especially with regard to conflict and opportunity for resolution among colleagues at work.

The day was hardly over after church.  Actually we had brought our swimming gear with us and we went directly to the beach afterward for a quick swim and a bite to eat.  This was Mark Sprunger’s last hour in Burundi and since the Lake is near the airport and the church, we decided to have a last meal together there before he headed off to Addis Ababa about 2pm.  Rebecca and kids stayed and swam when I dropped Mark off.

At this point in the day I would have been happy to go home and relax, but in fact we had two other social obligations that ended up being quite a study in contrast.  The first was a birthday party for one of Oren’s Burundian classmates and the other a ‘graduation party’ for our cook Marcelline at her home (outside her home actually.) 

The first party was in an upper middle class neighborhood and the very as the classmate’s family was in the construction business.  The party included the rental of the de rigeur bouncy castle and the kids seemed to be having a lot of fun.  Oren is now able to be quite social in French with his friends.

The second part was about 15 minutes away in the quartier populaire of Kamenge.  That is to say a very populated poor part of town.  It is also known as an area of a lot of banditry and other criminal activity. 

Nonetheless, Marceline, as many others live there and she really wanted us to be at her party.  This was a party she was obliged to give herself as head of household and an orphan.  But finishing high school is a big deal and I think many expected her to throw one. 

The purpose of such an event is to share food and drink (fantas) together, a kind of potlatch provided by the honoree. 

Having mzungus present was a huge deal and we were of course ushered to the front of the event to sit on the couch of honor beside Marcelline.   We actually left Oren at the Birthday and only brought David.  In fact our biggest concern was how to control our kid in this very formal, kid unfriendly event.  (In that we had to sit still for several hours listening to speeches and smiling and drinking fantas.)

Rebecca again provides her synopsis of the events as they transpired there as well as some reflection:

The Walls that Divide Us.

One might imagine that making a friendship or a professional connection with a low-income Burundian might be dangerous to us as foreigners. In fact, what we are learning is that such connections are actually much more dangerous to the Burundian in question.

This week, a friend of mine told me that her cook had quit her job—out of self-preservation. Over the weekend, a group of armed men broke into her little house in one of the slums of Bujumbura. They beat her and demanded money. She told them that she didn’t have money. But they insisted that she must. “You work for a mzungu, for someone at the embassy. We know. We’ve followed you. You must have money!” they said. And they beat her more, thinking they could get more out of her. Eventually they settled for stealing everything in her house, except for the clothes she was wearing: pots, pans, her stock of beans, and every other stich of clothing in the house. So this woman decided that she could not go back to work on Monday. She’s left the country to be with relatives across the border for a while.

It’s appalling to imagine how the poor rob from the poor, robbing them naked. But this is an extremely common story. In fact we know almost no wealthy people who have been robbed, but we know at least 10 poor people personally (including some of our staff) who have been robbed in this kind of way. And one of the main things that puts people at risk is the perception of association with wealth (mzungus). We have to think very hard whether it is worth it for us to go and visit our house-staff in their homes: they both live in different slums where security is very bad. Really, we’ve only gone when there is a dire situation of illness, and the staff member needs money or transport to the hospital.

So, when our cook Marcelline invited us to her house this Sunday evening, we had to think hard about it. The occasion: her successful completion of secondary school. She was not able to finish school earlier because of tremendous hardships in her life, especially the death of her father. But after she had been working for us for a year and a half, we talked to her about building her capacity and what we could do to help her. She is very intelligent and still single, so she really has room to improve her educational level. Together we decided that she could try to finish her secondary school diploma by going to night school after work., and we paid the tuition. It was very draining for her, but she succeeded in jumping through all the hoops and finished with good marks.  So, according to local custom, she threw herself a big party. The party would start at 4 pm and she instructed us to come then, and prepare to leave by 5 pm for security reasons. “You know my neighborhood,” she said.

We came in to the neighborhood through a back road, as Marcelline suggested (so our car would be less obvious) and had to pick our way through compounds to get to the entrance of the tent. We passed by the shell of a mud-brick house, just two walls still standing around a pile of fallen bricks. I wondered if that was the house where a 6 year old girl had been killed two months ago when the house collapsed after a heavy rain: another casualty of poverty, where the family couldn’t afford to keep their house repaired and lost a child.

Finally we reached the door of the makeshift tent, constructed right outside her small house, blocking the whole muddy street (many of the tarps were recycled UNHCR tarps for refugees, now rented out as a small business!). The typical rows of chairs were set up, facing the front of the enclosure, where all the living room furniture had been placed as special seating for the VIPs. We were led to the long sofa (Paul, David and myself) and waited to see what would happen, trying not to stare at the rows and rows of smartly dressed poor people staring at us. Finally Marcelline appeared, wearing a gold satin evening gown and a hairstyle that would have put Princess Amidala (Star Wars 4) to shame.

There was an emcee who announced each part of the program, a brief homily from one of her pastors, and a delightful group of 5 dancers from Marcelline’s youth group. Then the fantas were distributed to all of us. Marcelline was very nervous as she sat in the middle of our family – she had never been the center of so much attention, I think. She asked for help to stand and raise our glasses, to signal that everyone could share their beverages. Then heaping plates of food were brought out to some of the VIPS – Marcelline and her friends had been cooking all weekend. We were invited to serve ourselves from a laden buffet table, in full view of everyone. By this time, it was already 5:30 and we had stayed beyond the curfew Marcelline had set for us (and we were late to pick up Oren). But we were caught in the logic of the situation: Marcelline needed to speak and introduce us to all of her community and be sure they knew how we had supported her in finishing her degree. So, she spoke, and then I spoke, and then Paul spoke. I praised Marcelline’s determination in the face of hardship, and also called the community to support young women like her. Believe me, never come and serve in Africa unless you can be prepared to give a formal speech at any moment!  Finally, Marcelline was able to excuse us and we made our way back through the households to our car, at 6 pm, when it was still not quite dark.

In fact we did not really feel that we were in danger at any point. And it was thoroughly necessary to help Marcelline celebrate. What we hope is that Marcelline’s association with us will prove to be a lucky break in her life that will help her in the future—and not put her in danger at the hands of unscrupulous thieves who probably live right around the corner.

When we left and picked up Oren we were ready to be done for the day.  We had a quiet evening at home bathed the kids and put them to bed. 

It was a long week and the thought of one more before our vacation is difficult to think about.  We are relieved to have  the long evaluation process and follow-up done, but I think it probably opened up as many new cans of worms as it closed old ones.  I think  we are entering this Christmas season more mentally worn than any of the others we have had here.  We do have a nice little break planned in Tanzania, more about that in a few weeks though.  For now we are slouching along toward the end of the week... (looking forward to our Christmas Party folk dance on Friday, for anyone in Burundi reading this, don't forget to come!).  

*I put an asterix in the first paragraph about children's behavior to mention that David did manage to pee on the Birthday party hosts couch during a nap, knocked over one stemmed glass of coca-cola on an honored guest at the graduation party, and then knocked over a bottle of pineapple wine all over Jodi's stuff in her room when he was chasing a lizard.  But at least he did not throw any tantrums.