The following emails were sent from Orodara, Burkina Faso, in the course of my four weeks there (Feb. 10-March 8, 2011).

Sent: Tuesday, February 15, 2011 10:17:25 AM
Subject: hi from burkina faso

Aw ni wula! That’s good afternoon in Jula. I just heard it outside the office where i am typing this, along with the sound of roosters crowing, sheep and goats bleating, the caller at the  mosque calling people to prayer, children playing, and the balophone sounding. Its a noisy, lively place, Orodara is. But here its also cooler by far than Ouagadougou, the capital city, and even Bobo-Dioulasso, the 2nd biggest city to the southwest. The flight to Ouaga went well except that i didn,t get much sleep.The self-styled Chardonay Club in the row of seats behind me was going to town and got quite lively thru most of the flight. Then they nearly had to be shaken awake when we landed at Brussels. The first 2 days in country I spent in Ouaga with Jeff and Tany Warkentin and their 3 delightful children. Tany gets a kick out of negotiating the crowded and chaotic streets in her minivan with the standard transmission. I was glad she was driving and not me. I attended the evening bible study with a mostly young college age church. I will see them again and share on the Sunday before i come home. I spent another 2 days with Siaka and Claire Traore in Bobo-Dioulasso and preached that Sunday morning. They clapped after I read them the letter of greeting from Emmanuel Mennonite Church. I also had a lengthy visit with a wonderful young man who is studying at the French language seminary in Bobo, to be a Mennonite pastor. Young people predominate here, in the church as well as the society. I am now in Orodara and have greeted many of the people who remember the Sworas from years past, as well as many new people. There has been a very fortunate change in schedule, in that I will teach my class on the history of Christian mission next week and not this. That gives me more time for the language to come back, which it has in chunks and pieces, though i still stutter and hesitate a lot. I will also visit some of the outlying churches where i used to do theological education by extension. Most of my former students are alive. As i meet these old friends, we marvel and exclaim our gratitude to God that we are yet alive to see each other again, something that cannot be taken for granted in one of the poorest countries of the world. Imagine a country the size of Colorado, with a soil and environment like the hard scrabble country of West Texas, with 13 million people on it, and you’ll understand why daily survival is heroic and why relationships matter more than things.
I spent the morning and lunch time with Norman and Lillian Nicolson  in the lovely village of Tin–pronounced tan, like a suntan–where they are learning the incredibly tough tonal language of Siamou and translating the Bible into it. After so many years of study they have determined that the language has 7 tones, though you would not know that from asking a Siamou person. That”s like asking a fish what water is like. I sat in on some of the recording work, although i only understood the French part, before it got translated into Siamou. Then we talked about the difficulty of finding and living a balance of availability to your friends and hosts and neighbors, and of sustainability, so you don’t get burned out by the intensity of African village life. On top of that, they have a lovely 2 year old daughter, Nadine. Try juggling parenthood, family life and work in a foreign and all-absorbing culture, and you can see how tough that balancing act is.
They lent me time on this computer. Just one more sweet reminder of how being here is all gift, one for which I feel responsible to people here and back home. Thank you for your time, love, support, prayers, care, and more.
Love,
Mathew

 

Sent: Monday, February 21, 2011 10:17:30 AM
Subject: more news from Burkina Faso

Hello friends and family,
Thanks to Norman and Lillian Nicolson I have some computer time again, and on their computer. It is hot today–one can hardly drink enough water. And dusty. Everything is a rust red color, including me. Its the dry season, and will be until June. But that makes getting around easier than when it rains. So with the help of Nicodeme  Coulibaly I have been to visit some of the churches and people where I used to do basic Bible teaching. One visit was to the home of his parents, Philipe and Marte, in the little settlement of Badara. I recorded their greetings and testimony on my camera. We also went to Banzon, where Pierre Drabo still lives, though he is the only one remaining whom we knew there. But many new people have joined them. Both churches now have a part-time Burkinabe pastor who is primarily farming, like they are. They have also grown much, and have even planted other churches. This is their doing, not so much that of the missionaries. We foreigners now play more of a supportive role, under the direction of the national church.
The Jula has been coming back to me in chunks, so on Sunday I preached in the Orodara church, in Jula, while my former language tutor, Kalifa Traore, translated. We had to stop and straighten things out a few times, but it worked. Today, I started the class on the history of Christian mission. A few people helped me out the few times I got stuck, and I blundered big time over the words for haircut. It came out more like head cut–or decapitation. But we all got some good laughs. Otherwise, they said it went well.
Two Jula words explain a lot here: Barika and Bonya. Barika is related to the Hebrew word Baruch for  blessing. It is in Arabic, too. I asked the class today to define it, and they said, blessing, power, grace and wellness. Bonya means honor. Bonya is both an expression or result of Barika, as well as a channel of Barika. So people here carefully and constantly cultivate a crop of honor, or one might say there is an economy of honor, and thus, barika, by the ways they treat each other. There are greetings for each part of the day; you acknowledge and thank people for the work they are doing, even if it is in their own house or field, you give blessings for each time of the day and for every stage of life, and you return them in kind, as well as saying Amen and May God catch that blessing, while touching it to your heart or your head.
My health has stayed well (Alla Barika, the Burkinabe say), and if anything, I am on track to come back heavier than when I left. The Burkinabe are very generous, and they are always convinced that I can always eat some more, even when I am not.
A special treat was visiting (and of course, eating) at the home of our former host in the nearby town of Dieri, Gaousou Barro. Soon after, he fell very ill. I visited him in the hospital. It seems a stomach infection also opened the door for a malarial flareup. But I hear he is doing much better today. Some of us helped him buy working cattle a few years ago, but they died some time back. Things are hard, especially in the tropics.
By knowing that you are thinking about me and praying for me, that helps me make my tiny little contribution here all the more. Maybe the biggest contribution I am making is simply to honor them by being their guest, and by the way I am their guest, thus increasing their supply of Barika. In all their greetings they ask, How is your family, because people come in chunks and groups, not just singly, or alone. I give the customary response: They are in peace, and they greet you. I greet you for them, too, with some customary blessings:
May God give us peace.
May God let us see each other again.
May God give us Barika.
Peace and Barika,
Mathew Swora

 

 

March 3, 2011

Dear friends  and family,

In less than a week, Lord willing, I shall be home.  I am thankful for
how well my health has held up, with the exception of some
respiratory-allergy stuff, not uncommon for dry season: sniffles,
coughs, occasional congestion.  My time with the church has wrapped up
with the exception of sharing twice in the Ouagadougou church this next
Sunday.  I have also just finished up my input for the missionary team
retreat.  What a difference a few decades makes!  On the whole, the
average age of the team is older, and the members more experienced than
when we were here.

My host and I counted up visits to 10 churches during this sojourn.
Back in 1988, there were four.  I could have visited 13, plus small and
interested groups in about 5 other villages.  Of particular joy to me is
to see how many Burkinabe are moving into leadership, and those, like
Siaka and Claire Traore, and Abdias Coulibaly, and Mahdou Traore, who
are teaching the next generation of leadership.  Mahdou is also a
missionary, sent by the Southern Senufo churches, to partner with the
missionary linguists reaching the Northern Senufo.

ENTHRONED UPON THE PRAISES OF ISRAEL……

In my visits to the churches, the music and dance during worship put
chills up my spine and brings tears to my eyes.  No one, Thank God, ever
told the Burkinabe that they could not dance in church.  So they worship
from the feet on up.  None of the Western dualism for them that
separates body from spirit.  Women who will barely look a
stranger–especially a man–in the eye give themselves over in
unself-conscious abandon together, beating the earth with their feet,
shaking their shoulders, bowing, shaking their heads and rising to raise
their arms, as their voices raise the roof, to the support of the
balaphon (like a xylophone) and the drums, tapping out multiple but
overlapping rhythms.  The words from Psalm 22:4 come to mind: God is
enthroned upon the praises of Israel.  Depending upon the tribe and
culture, some men or a man might also take his turn to lead a song with
similar physical and vocal abandon, but universally, the women, in
coordinated and well-rehearsed choirs call down the power–or BARIKA–of
heaven, and everyone is blessed.  Body, soul and spirit are thus united
in a foretaste of the mighty raucous, rolling clouds of joy around the
throne of the Lamb, in The Revelation of John, chapter 7.  It is also in
keeping with the worship notes of the Psalms.  If the mountains, seas
and forests do not join in the praise of their Creator, it is not for
lack of trying by the worship choirs of African women.

On a more somber note: Everything you hear about rising global food
prices is true, at least in Burkina Faso.  And everything you hear about
the degradation, exhaustion and impoverishment of tropical soils is also
true.  Few now are the big black-skinned yams, the length of your arm,
that used to fill trucks to the point that their axles protested with
loud squeals as they lumbered down the road.  The soil is too poor now,
I am told.  Everything you hear about rising fuel and fertilizer prices
is also true, at least here.  Burkinabe farmers are adapting and
scrambling, doing such things as intercropping grains among their fruit
trees or doing intensive gardening, but it’s a scramble to stay ahead of
needs and challenges.  On top of that, the former-and-somehow still
current President of Ivory Coast, Laurent Gbagbo is doing everything he
can to punish those who insist that he lost the last election there,
which is just about the rest of the human race.  So he has ordered
electrical power cut off to Burkina Faso, because the northern tribes
who oppose him and his crew are related to the Burkinabe and the
Malians.  Ouagadougou now has a regular schedule of daily blackouts by
neighborhoods.  When power or phone service or internet get cut here in
Burkina Faso, it is now often blamed on the chaos in Ivory Coast.
But as the Burkinabe say, Am be deme-deme, Alla Barika la–We muddle
along by the grace of God.

Peace and Barika to you,
Mathew Swora

AT A LOCAL MOSQUE

We all need friends. “No greater love has anyone than this, that he lay down his life for a friend,” said Jesus. So it was with much joy that we accepted the invitation recently extended by Sheik Ahmed Taajir and Abdi Moalin, the administrator of the Umatul Islam Mosque in Minneapolis to a dinner. “Bring forty of your [Christian] community leaders and we’ll bring ours for a dinner together at a time that works for you,” they said.

As Mike Netterer of SALT (Somali Adult Literacy Training) put it, “We should have been the first to invite you, since you are the more recent arrivals.” But Lord willing, we will reciprocate.

So on the evening of Saturday, July 18, 2009, representatives of various south Minneapolis and Phillips Neighborhood churches, ministries and agencies gathered at the mosque and were treated to food, friendship and an informative presentation on Islam and peaceful coexistence by Sheik Abdisalam Adam of the Dar Al Hijrah mosque.

Coexistence between our different faith communities is not only possible, it is imperative, he said.

In his presentation was an invitation that we guests take seriously, to work together with them on matters of peace, health care, community welfare and fighting poverty. It helped to have people representing some of the agencies and churches already involved in such community matters, such as Urban Ventures, Messiah Lutheran Church and the Center for Changing Lives, and SALT, plus some other ters and leaders who already have experience in starting and running inter-faith organizations, sports clubs and tutoring programs.

But the evening was not just about programs, presentations and plans. Over the generous dinner there was time and opportunity for people of both faith communities to meet and talk about personal concerns in common, such as education and careers for women, health and family.

I was also asked to share for about ten minutes on peaceful coexistence. Because coexistence and tolerance can be such weak, vacuous concepts in mainstream American culture, I felt led to ramp up my thoughts and talk instead about hospitality, in its Biblical, Kuranic and pan-African senses. After my talk, we presented Sheik Ahmed and the mosque with a book about Minnesota history, and the various people and communities who make Minnesota what it is, because they are now part of the ongoing Minnesota story.

I include a written version of those thoughts below:

“It is quite an honor on my part to have received this invitation to share some words about peaceful coexistence and living together. I hope that my words will bring honor to God and to everyone here, especially our gracious hosts.

“But I must begin by acknowledging a cultural thing, related to my upbringing, something which I have had to unlearn over the years. In my individualistic American culture, we commonly think that to coexist peacefully and be good neighbors simply means that we let each other be, that we keep our noses out of each other’s business, that we stay out of each other’s hair, because, as the American proverb says, “Good fences make for good neighbors.” That’s often what we mean by the word, “tolerance.”

“But that’s a very empty and even negative way of approaching being neighbors and co-existing peacefully. It can even lead to the worst-case example that Becky and I experienced with some neighbors when we lived in a suburb of Detroit some years ago. A couple living next door to us may have thought they were being good neighbors by simply refusing to even acknowledge our existence. Whenever they left the house they would march straight toward the car, and never even answer any word of greeting from us or anyone else.

“One day I was playing in the yard with our two daughters, who were three and six years of age at the time. I had a big cardboard box over my head and was chasing them around the yard. It was all very silly and undignified, but they loved it. At that very moment, the neighbor lady left her house and glanced over in my direction. I felt somewhat embarrassed and waved to her, but she immediately turned her face toward the car, with a cold, stony expression, and kept on walking. Here was a simple invitation to join us in being human, even to share a smile at my expense, and she turned it down. Now Detroit is a tough town, and perhaps she thought she was protecting herself from the complications of relationships. But in that idea of neighborliness and coexistence, all sorts of fears and misunderstandings can flourish and grow.

“But that is the mainstream idea of coexistence with which I grew up, in mainstream American culture. And I didn’t really recognize that for the problem it was until Becky and I lived for several years in Burkina Faso, in West Africa. There we were effectively adopted by a Muslim family of the Jula tribe, who took an interest in helping us learn their language, their culture, and how to coexist peacefully and enjoy living and being in that country. The head of the household is a man named Gaoussou Barro. Becky and I were given his family name: I’m Moussa Barro, and she’s Korotoumou Barro. One of the things they used to teach us the language and the culture was their proverbs. One proverb I remember said, “Brothers who have sweet tasted honey together should also share bitter lemons.” Another said,“Even the teeth and the tongue don’t always get along.”

“After a year or more in Burkina Faso, I thought I was getting the hang of being a good neighbor when we went on vacation in the neighboring country of Ivory Coast. From there we sent Gaoussou and his family a post card. Three days after our return from there, Gaoussou came to visit us. He didn’t look very happy. I asked him, “Did you receive our post card?” He said, “Yes. But that’s the only way we knew you were out of town. You didn’t come around ahead of time to let us know you were going anywhere, and how long you’d be gone. And then, after you came back, you didn’t come around to tell us you were back. I had to come here to find that out for myself.”

“’Even the teeth and the tongue don’t always get along.’” But whenever we do bite our tongues, its mostly an accident, right? And when does the tongue ever say, “Okay, teeth, I’ve had enough of this. I’m off to find another mouth; you’re on your own for eating and talking.” No, the teeth and tongue are committed to each other for keeps, for someone and something much bigger and greater than themselves, despite their occasional mistakes and misunderstandings. And so Gaoussou, his family, and us remain committed to each other and in contact. The last time we saw him, he said we were like, “Same mother, same father.”

“What I’m talking about this afternoon is something stronger, warmer and deeper than peaceful coexistence or even tolerance as my American culture understands them. I’m talking about something stronger, higher and deeper, more strenuous, challenging and rewarding than the negative peace of just staying out of each other’s hair. Its a value that is very important in the Bible, in the Quran (which I have studied, at least in an English language translation), in Gaoussou’s culture, and, I believe, in Somali culture as well.

“I saw it demonstrated one night, again in Burkina Faso, when I was coming home and noticed that one my neighbors was also home. He was a truck driver, so he was often gone from home. But when I saw him that evening seated on the front porch under a light bulb eating his dinner, I greeted him and welcomed him back. He invited me to join him for dinner, which I accepted because it was a rare chance to visit with him, but secondly, I love the food in Africa.

“After I sat down in a chair next to him, his wife brought out a pot of thick millet porridge, called to. For dinner, you take pieces of that and dip them in a spicy vegetable sauce. She removed the lid and I saw that it had a skin over it, which meant that it had been cooked a few hours before, and had cooled enough to eat. Also, I saw that the skin had not been broken, so obviously no one else had eaten any of it.

“So I asked her, “Were you expecting someone to come by for dinner tonight?” To which she replied, with the most puzzled, quizzical look on her face, “Whenever we cook, we always set aside a pot of to just in case a visitor shows up.” I’m glad she didn’t ask me the next question, which I just read in her face: “And don’t you?”

“What I’m talking about is hospitality. Again, in American culture, hospitality is simply thought of as the art of hosting guests, like knowing where to place the fork in relation to the plate at the dinner table. That’s all very good, but it still falls short of the full-blooded value and virtue of hospitality in the Bible, the Quran and your culture.

“In the Hebrew Bible the people are told to welcome and host the sojourner and the one seeking refuge because “such were you in the land of Egypt.” In the Christian New Testament we are told to welcome sojourners and strangers because, by doing such, our ancestors in the faith have “entertained angels without knowing it.” That refers to our common ancestor, Abraham—Ibrahim–and the story in both the Bible and the Quran, about how he welcomed guests who turned out to be divine messengers with a promise of blessing for him. And as Christians, we are told to receive everyone as though they were Christ himself, because Jesus said, “Whatever you do for the least of these, my brothers, you have done for me.”

“I think of hospitality whenever I see people in much of Africa shaking hands, after which they often touch their chests, right by their heart. Have you seen that? I asked an African friend why they often do that, shaking hands with someone and then touching their chest with the same hand. He said its a way of saying, “I receive you. I receive you into myself, into this vulnerable, tender spot called my heart, where you may dwell at great reward to myself, but also at great risk. Hosting you inside myself can be a great joy; but it can also hurt at times.” Because “Not even do the teeth and the tongue always get along.”

“This time together tonight is, I hope, the start of more such times, in the sacred spaces of our churches, our homes, and even in our hearts, as well as in your sacred space here. I believe I can speak for all the Christian pastors and leaders here when I say that you all are just as welcome in our churches as I feel in this mosque. Its not an accident that our worship spaces are called “sanctuaries.” And I do like my many other African friends and touch my heart to say that I’m willing to take the risks of the teeth and the tongue in exploring not only living together peacefully, but of hospitality together in the fullest sense of the word. And I speak again for all of us in saying, in advance, thank you for this invitation and this encounter, for your hospitality and generosity which honor us so well.

“Both of our communities believe in a God who rules the affairs of nations and who works through them, even when they try to resist him. So I believe that God has brought our communities together here and now for reasons that will bless both of our communities, reasons for which we will go forward from here changed, no longer as we were when we came in. May God bless you.”

On the weekend of July 14-15, we at Emmanuel Mennonite Church were blessed with the visit of Siaka and Claire Traoré, of Burkina Faso. Becky and I had known them since the years 1986-88, when we lived in “The Fatherland of Upright People,” which is what the name Burkina Faso means. In those years, Siaka and Claire had just returned from seminary in Bangui, Central African Republic, for Siaka to serve the Mennonite churches of the province of Kenedougou as pastor and president of the Evangelical Mennonite Church of Burkina Faso. In the years since, Siaka had also recently finished a stint in the capital city of Ouagadougou, working with the Mennonite Central Committee as a resource person available to churches, agencies and governments in the areas of peace-making, mediation and reconciliation. Now they both are in Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina’s second largest city, working in church planting. As of my last correspondence with Siaka, I have come to understand that there is a group now meeting, the first-fruits of what one hopes and prays will become a movement, and the nerve center of Christian leadership to come. Siaka has also taken up again his former post as president of the EMCBF.

During their visit to Minnesota, Siaka and Claire got to see at least twelve of Minnesota’s famous ten thousand lakes. They really must come back to see the remaining 9,988 some day.

During worship that Sunday, Siaka brought the message, about the essential unity of peace and the gospel, and Claire led us, on the djembé which they gave to us as a gift (Thank you!) in a Dioula language song, “The Grace of God.”

After worship, Claire and Siaka shared their testimonies of their faith, spoke about the challenges they face as church planters and evangelists, and about their hopes for the future.

That evening, we hosted all who wished to come to greet, dine and visit with Siaka and Claire. There was more singing in Dioula, led again by Claire. Then the drum went to the Ethiopian members of Emmanuel and they blessed us with songs in their language (Amharic) and style. Thus God brought two ends of Africa together on our back porch in friendship, the joy of music, and the worship of God.

Many thanks also to Rod Hollinger-Jantzen, the U.S. Director for Africa Inter-Mennonite Mission, in Elkhart, IN., who did the lion’s share of the translating, and who drove and accompanied Claire and Siaka all throughout their travels in the U. S. and Canada. Thank you! Merci beaucoup! Aw n’i tche!

Une Visite de Très Loin

Au mois de juillet passé nous avons été bénis par la visite de Siaka Traoré et sa femme, Claire, du Burkina Faso. Nous les avons connus dans les années 1986 à 1988, quand nous avons vécu au “Pays des Hommes Intègres.” A cette époque-là ils étaients tout juste rentrés du seminarie biblique à Bangui, la ville capitale de la République Centraficaine, pour que Siaka puisse servir les églises Mennonites, dans la province du Kénédougou, en tant que pasteur et président de la dénomination, L’Eglise Evangélique Mennonite Au Burkina Faso. Il a aussi récemment passé six ans à Ouagadougou, dans les domaines de paix, de réconciliation et de médiation pour les églises, les agences et les gouvernements Ouest-Africains, sous l’agence de la Comité Centrale Mennonite. Couramment, Claire et Siaka habitent Bobo-Dioulasso, la deuxième plus grande ville au Burkina Faso, travaillant pour l’évangelisation et l’établissement de nouvelles églises Mennonites. Il y a dèja un groupement de croyants avec eux qui font les prémices d’un mouvement, un centre névralgique de dirigents à venir. Siaka a repris la poste de président de l’Eglise Evangélique Mennonite au Burkina Faso.

Lors de leur visite au Minnesota, ils ont vu et compté une douxaine de nos fameux dix mille lacs. Ils nous croient qu’il en rest neuf mille, neuf cent, quatre-vingt- huit à voir quand ils reviennent nous rendre visite.

Lors du culte, Siaka nous a porté la parole, une prédication concernant l’unité essentielle de la paix et l’évangile. Ensuite, pendant l’école de dimanche pour les adultes, Siaka et Claire ont donné leurs témoignages de leurs vies chrétiennes. Ils ont aussi parlé de leurs ministères, des défis auquels ils ont à faire face, et de leurs espoirs pour l’avenir.

Le soir, nous avons acceuilli beaucoup de monde chez nous pour saluer, pour diner, et pour bavarder avec Siaka et Claire. Nous avons chanté des cantiques Burkinabés en Dioula, avec Claire au tambour (le djembé qu’ils nous ont donné comme cadeau-Merci!). Des membres Ethiopiens d’Emmanuel Mennonite Church ont pris le tambour dans leur tour, et ils ont chanté des cantiques chrétiennes dans leur langue, l’Amharique, et dans leur style. Alors, Dieu a ainsi réuni les deux bouts de l’Afrique sur notre véranda en amitié et en la joie de la musique, de mème que dans l’adoration de Dieu.

Nous remercions aussi Rod Hollinger-Janzen, directeur du bureau Américain d’AIMM (Africa Inter-Mennonite Mission), qui les a conduit partout dans leur voyages aux Etas-Unis et au Canada, et qui a fait la plupart de la traduction pendant la visite. Soyez toujours les bienvenus!