Burkina Faso Outreach :: BFOAfrica.org

I've got company!  Susan Dittmer, a long time friend from Jacksonville, FL is here to visit for her third time.  She'll be here a total of 18 days.  Susan, like myself, has her background in Early Childhood Education, so she fits right in with the work.

 
We've been having a great time visiting new kids to inform them they are sponsored.  That's one of my favorite parts of the work.  These families who struggle to survive and kids who may not even dream of being able to go to school suddenly learn that there is someone who chose them by name.  They learn they'll be receiving regular food assistance; if they get sick, we'll take care of them; and they get to go to school or learn a trade.  As we notify them, we've been inviting them for their first food distribution.  This past Tuesday, we had 10 kids who came to my house to write a note or draw a picture for their sponsor.  It's a great way for me to get to know the kids and for them to get comfortable with the scary white lady.  Then they get to go home with a 200lb bag of millet, some dried fish, the local 'soumbala' and soap.  

The other good news is it's raining!  We're actually starting to see green.  Everyone is happily out in the fields planting.  Thank you for your prayers and keep them coming because we need the rain to continue until the crop is in.

Remember that little 3 classroom Christian school many of you helped me build?  Well, in Burkina after the 6^th grade, all students must pass a very important State exam in order to go any further in school.  In addition, if they pass, they receive a diploma which makes them eligible for certain jobs.  It is very difficult to pass.  The students just took this exam last week and it had some very challenging questions to the point that it was televised how difficult the exam was this year. 

Okay, get to the point – they just announced this afternoon that we scored 95%, the top of the District!  That is phenomenal!  The next school had 89% and the last place school had 36% - I’m not trying to gloat over our score; but give you a comparison of how well they did.  Not only that, but if a student scores a certain number of points, he is “admitted” to 7^th grade on scholarship – ALL of our students who passed were admitted for scholarship!  I don’t know yet what percentage usually get admitted, but I can tell you I have known very few children who were over the years; so it must also be hard to achieve.

So, this is a really big deal here because:

1.       Everyone said, “How will the children learn if you won’t beat them”?

2.       The Department of Education asked “Are you sure you will be able to cover all the material if you take time out for Bible lessons?”

3.       They said, you have to make your students come in on their day off to prepare for the exam.  I said, “No, the teachers and students need a day of rest”.  They said, that won’t work.

4.       Most class sizes average 100 students per teacher.  Look what we can do if we limit the class size to 25 (although the school who scored 36% also had small class sizes).

5.       We took in many children who everyone else had given up on or were ‘too old’.  Karim’s Mom said, “his head is empty”.  Karim passed!  Gregoire’s Dad asked me to have his hearing tested because he was previously doing so poorly in school.  We had him tested and his hearing was fine.  Gregoire passed!  Gilbert failed miserably prior to coming to us – we had him in a remedial group – Gilbert passed!  I could go on and on…

6.       The teacher, Innocent, has an 11^th grade education, 2 years of teaching experience, no formal training; but he knows the Lord! 

God absolutely gets the credit here – it doesn’t make sense otherwise.  Sure, I know early childhood education, but what do I know about Burkina education, a whole different beast.  And, teachers with minimal education and no training; but we focused on putting God first so he could lead us and look at the results!  In fact, I’m quite certain based on the 6 points I made above that the whole town wondered how the crazy white lady was going to pull this off; so even they will have to give the Lord credit because they think I’m crazy!

One more thing – each year there is a big soccer competition.  They play throughout the year and end with the big game.  Our little tiny school with 25 eligible players took 3^rd place amongst the other schools each with about 100 eligible players!  No one saw that coming!

If I were home right now I’d be inviting all of you over to celebrate!  The whole town of Yako is offering their congratulations and asking “when’s the party?” and “what will you kill? (i.e. cow, goats, etc. just to clarify!). 

One sad note, just one student, a girl named Nafissatou did not pass.  I’ll find out Monday how close she was.  Of course she is in tears and I’m sure humiliated –PLEASE pray for her.

Thank You for all of your support that made this possible!! 

Every once in a while, something occurs here that is just so bizarre in my American mind that I find myself questioning where I am, as in what planet is this?  I like to share some of the moments so you can get a glimpse of how different life is in a Third World Country in Africa - could be good educational material for you home school Moms.

So, last night, I was awakened by the sound of my dog (Rex) racing after something, followed by the POUNCE.  I jumped out of bed and ran to the window.  Lo and behold, the noise had awakened my fearless night guard, Francois as well.  I yelled, "Francois, what is it?"  "It's a rat".  My dog had taken down a big 'ol rat and there was Francois finishing the job with a rock, beating him on the head 'til he was lifeless.  He picked this huge thing up by the tail and proudly showed me what Rex had done; although he claimed it was a small one.  Well, all I'm saying is if it was any bigger, "it wasn't a rat!"

Now, I see rats in my yard all the time.  It's what followed afterwards that has me rolling in astonishment.  I kid you not, he then grabbed his big knife and starts sawing the rat's head off!  I yelled, "Francois, what are you doing?" to which he responded, "Well, of course I have to cut his head off if I'm going to eat him!"  So, when his shift ended 6 hours later, he happily jumped on his bike with the plastic bag carrying the headless dead rat. 

By the way, Francois is the same one who wanted to catch the frog in my toilet with a fishing line for those of you who have heard that story.  Hope I haven't ruined YOUR dinner. 

As usual, the Burkinabe did a great job of welcoming me back; so I've finally made it back to Yako and happy to be here.

Unfortunately, shortly after I arrived, I received some sad news.  One of the sponsored children, Zida Ibrahim had just died a couple hours before my return, possibly from Meningitis.  He was a gem.  He was a student in our 2nd grade class and I remember well his first days.  He cried until lunch hour then disappeared.  He had run home so we had to go get him and talk him back.  This went on for a couple days; but after the rough start, he excelled.  He was taller than a lot of the kids, so they soon looked up to him.  He became the "chief" of the class.  

I had a bit of a crush on him because whereas the other boys are so shy, Ibrahim always ran up to greet me with a big 'ol smile.  I'll attach  some photos so you can see what I mean.  It's hard knowing he's no longer there, but I'm thankful he must be in the Lord's hands!

I've made it back to Burkina Faso - well as far as the capital city anyway!  There were a few glitches along the way but nothing to cry about.  Although when the NY American Airlines agent was telling me she wasn't going to let me leave the country because my "visa had been tampered with", I thought about crying!  She said I would have to find a way to Washington DC to get a new Visa.  Fortunately, the Lord called the supervisor into the picture and made it clear to him that, tampered or not, the visa was legitimate at least through October.

So, here I am - it's strange - such a completely different world, but I don't feel like I was gone for 3 months.  It's hot but by no means unbearable.  The AC in my truck isn't working, but it hasn't bothered me, so I couldn't tell you what the temperature is.  

I'm excited to finally be heading back to Yako this afternoon and can't wait to see the kids and my employees.  The employees have already called a couple times looking for me - that feels good.

I'll write again after I get settled into Yako.  Until then, have a blessed weekend, Lynn   

Okay, this email is only intended for those who can handle it.  If you read it, your not allowed to say, "Lynn you need to leave there" because we're really fine.  But, it's so wild, that I had to pass it on to a few. 

Wednesday, I came into the capital city with 24-yr old Nichole and 18-yr old Julie.  Julie was to catch a flight to France that night, so we were getting her to the airport.  I also had Boris with us.  I dropped the girls off at the airport to check baggage in early, and Boris and I headed to the market.  While we were there, suddenly there was screaming and shouting and everyone started closing up shop and taking off like a mad mob scene.  “The police and the military are fighting - run".  So, amidst the mob of motos, bikes and pedestrians, we ran to the truck.  I assumed a few cops were in a fight about something and since they carry big guns everyone ran.

We got back to the airport to pick the girls up and the plan was to get Boris to the bus station to head back to Yako.  There was chaos in the streets and bumper to bumper traffic.  We'd finally get through a light and find one road after another blocked off.  We were driving in circles trying to get to the bus station and it became dark.  I started clueing in that something more must be going on with the police and military, but really had no idea.  I got to an intersection and saw the road ahead blocked, so I started to turn right when Boris yelled no, go straight.  If I had turned right, I would have driven right into a group of military with machine guns, which is not a good thing.  I had to follow the other cars trying to outrun the military by driving around the concrete barricades and onto the sidewalk.  It was a bit nerve-wrecking because my truck was acting up, it was dark and here I am trying to outrun machine guns, hoping my truck isn't going to die.  We were completely lost as we tried to find the bus station, avoiding military and road blocks.  I finally told Boris, he was just going to have to stay in Ouaga with us and I was going to find my way back to the airport - forget the bus station.  We found the airport and on the next block things were calm and wide open, so we stopped at a hamburger joint called ShowBiz to get a bite and stay put the few hours until Julie's flight was to leave.  Boris insisted on catching a taxi to the bus station, which I was not happy about.  Whatever - stubborn men.  We sat down at the patio tables and ordered dinner. Five minutes after they served our burgers, the owner came running out and yelled "Girls, get inside".  They shoved us inside and started slamming doors and windows shut and turned the lights off, yelling, "They're coming"!  This was the 2nd nerve-wrecking point of the story.  Who are they and what the heck is going on?  The kind owner, a Lebanese man named Omar brought us hot tea "to calm us down" and explained. 

The day before there was a confrontation between a couple police officers and soldiers - some kind of power trip - and they killed one of the soldiers.  So, since 2:00 a.m. on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, the fighting had begun.  At noon on Wednesday, 2 police officers were killed.  Military were burning police cars and eventually destroyed 4 police posts.  About 7:30 that night, while we're hiding out in Showbiz, the gun fire and grenades started going off.  We had to hide behind the concrete partition of the bar and remain silent.  With a peak, I saw soldiers and their machine guns in the street and on the sidewalks just in front of where we were hiding.  It was a short peak as the gun fire picked up all around us.  We did not want to be seen - they could be shooting randomly, not knowing where the enemy was hiding.  That was the 3rd and last nervewrecking point and it only lasted about 20 minutes.  I was able to call my Dad on my cell phone and quietly ask him to get the word out to my Prayer Team to PRAY!  Once I talked to him, I was completely calm.  The military shifted from in front of our building.  The shooting was still all around us, but we no longer had to whisper for fear of them hearing us.  It was between the cops and the soldiers, so they weren't interested in the civilians as long as we stayed out of their way, which I was happy to do.  We contacted the American Embassy to inform them we were there - they told us not to move.  The fighting was going on all over.  Keep in mind just before this all broke out, I had watched Boris head off to find a taxi.  You can imagine my relief when he called to say he had made it to the bus station. 

As the fighting shifted from the front of our building, we began to relax some.  Omar, our friendly Lebanese Showbiz owner started offering drinks for everyone.  By now, we were just us 3 girls, the owner and a friend of his.  There we were, sitting on the floor, in the dark, hiding behind this bar.  Omar kept offering whatever he could to keep everyone calm - beer, cigarettes, tea, even Pringles!  They were so incredibly kind, so we were in a good place. 

The word got out that there were 3 Americans trapped in Showbiz and other Americans started calling to assure us they wouldn't leave without us.  There was a wonderful hotel just across the street.  I had hoped to be able to get us there for a room.  But, each time I would consider it, the gun fire would get closer again.  After 4 hours of this, it was obvious we weren't going anywhere that night.  So, we all curled up on the floor and tried to sleep.  From about 2:00 to 4:00 a.m., there was little gun fire so we were able to get a few winks in.  We thought maybe it was over, but it picked up again at 4:00.  I gave up and tried my best to sleep.  At 8:00, people were out in the streets and it was as if nothing had happened except for 3 white ladies spending the night in a hamburger joint with 2 Lebanese guys.  We headed straight for the Embassy.  We learned several had been killed but civilians mostly just wounded from stray bullets.  The military had released 600 prisoners from the main prison to spite the police.  Effective except that meant there were now convicted criminals roaming the streets.  Oh well - we were able to get a room at one of the missionary houses so we could take showers and have a safe place to stay until we were cleared to return to Yako.  The fighting continued sporadically the next couple days.  But, within the walls of the missionary compound, it just sounded like the 4th of July.  There was a forced curfew at 6:00 pm, but we had access to homemade pizzas and cokes (not bad). 

Looking back, Nichole and I said how it seems so unreal, like it was no big deal at all and as if it never really happened.  We were able to joke about all the funny moments and were amazed that in the midst of what should have been very frightening, we were able to laugh.  Most seasoned missionaries are used to real war, so this really was nothing for them.  I remember the nerve-wrecking moments, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared. 

We finally made it back to Yako.  Poor Julie, the 18-year old, obviously missed her flight and couldn’t leave until Saturday.  That's a major bummer for an 18-year old who has been living in Burkina for 3 months, just wants to see her Mom and had to go through all this.  But, she made it home for Christmas and returned to work with us another 3 months.

My parents are sending out a newsletter about the school etc.  Let me know if you don't get a copy.  It's dull compared to what just happened but far more cheerful!  Thanks for letting me share my story, Love, Lynn

August 2003

Well, I’ve just had the most heartbreaking experience of my life and would have been home in St. Louis by now was it not for God having different plans which I’ll tell you about later.  I arrived at the Ouaga hospital Friday afternoon after hearing from the hospital that the “grandmother” was not capable of providing patient care to Lucie – she needed someone else.  I was taking over Lucie’s care accompanied by 17-year old Josie who would assist with laundry and Moret to French translation.  I found Lucie, our severely malnourished, dehydrated, raw-bottomed 19 month old,  worse again and now with a tube through her nose to her stomach, an IV in her head, and one eye swollen shut from the IV.  The missing layers of skin on her bottom and upper legs did not seem to be healing.  I had 3 “Mama” roommates, 1 seeming to be in charge – let’s call her Queen.  She made it very clear they were not pleased with Josie and I being there.  I’m not sure, but they may have initially thought I was not staying but leaving this 17 year old to care for Lucie.  When I explained I was staying, they shook their heads, clearly saying – Yeah right, let’s see how long the white woman survives.  For a couple hours, we had no Doctor or nurse, so I was winging it with Lucie.  Can I give her water?  What does she want when she cries?  Am I to give her medicine?  And of course, the Mamas made it very clear when they disapproved of what I was doing.  I could hear the word “Nasara”, white woman, followed by laughing, and knew they were talking about me.  When the nurse arrived (let’s call this one The Barker), she also was very unhappy, commented it was better when the old woman was here by herself (not possible), and chewed Josie out.  She also may not have realized or believed I was staying.  Fortunately, instead of upsetting me, it ticked me off and challenged me to “just show them”.

At 6:00 p.m., the Barker lectured us on making sure the cerelac was ready every 6 hours, before she arrived to put it into Lucie’s tube.  She dragged Josie to a room where she harshly instructed her how to prepare the cerelac.  She also demanded to know why we did not have gloves and cotton with us for hygienic purposes, and then showed us how to apply the mercurochrome (sp?) to her raw skin morning and night.  Poor Lucie just quietly whimpered through it all – she didn’t have the strength to cry.

Sleeping arrangements were me on the tiny bed with Lucie, and Josie on the hard floor with a blanket to lie on.   Although the toilet is a hole in the ground, I’m thrilled to see there is another one besides the first one I had been in with swarming maggots.  I was also shocked to see a shower head.  It smelled like urine, but was better than a bucket.  The mosquitoes were very bad, so I prayed for protection against malaria.  The heat was tolerable.  We were up at midnight for Nurse “Barker’s” routine feeding and medication.  Throughout the night, Lucie wet the bed we shared, had diarrhea, and whimpered for a tiny drink of water.  I can’t imagine what diarrhea is like on a raw, horribly sore bottom.  Sometime through the night, a nurse banged on the door and yelled “temperatures” to which everyone jumps to find thermometers and take temperatures.  Fortunately, I saw the action and was prepared for this drill.  By 5:30 a.m., the floor cleaners made their rounds – everyone scrambles to pick their bedding and belongs off the floor and leaves the room or crawls onto the bed while they finish.  I didn’t sleep a wink in my new surroundings.

After Lucie’s 6:00 a.m. feeding, she vomited bucketsful several times.  With no “patient care”, Josie and I handled this on our own.  Josie was out early to wash the soiled clothes and blankets in our bucket and gets them hung on a clothesline.   Unpreparied, we waited anxiously for them to dry as I had to get creative with towels, etc. to lay under Lucie.  She cannot have anything on her raw bottom.

By then, we had somehow won the women over – I guess they just needed to see we could do it.  The queen began to talk to us which seemed to give the others permission.  Of course, the Queen was the only one who speaks French; so it was no big party.  But, she even offered us lunch as did one of the others!

Throughout the day, I caressed Lucie’s arms and face, talking to her as quietly as I could, and using a wet cloth on her palms all of which she seemed to enjoy – she lay still and either opened her eyes or whimpered lightly when I stopped.  I loved it when I put my finger in her hand and she gripped it with the little strength she had.  I was trying to convince myself that this all somehow comforted her.  Other than that, she just layed there and thankfully slept quite a bit.  I tried to switch her to different sides so the eye swelling would transfer from one to the other.  Unfortunately, eventually both eyes were nearly swollen shut.  When she whimpered, I knew she wanted water.  I had to sit her up on her raw bottom and hold her head so it wouldn’t fall back in order to give her tiny sips.  When she was done, she slowly lifted her hand to swing at the cup so I’d know.  She seemed so strong for such a weak girl.  I guess I’d be tough too after what she’d been through.

At the 12:00 tube feeding, I explained the vomiting to the nurse.  She suggested possibly she'd been feeding her through the tube too quickly and took a slower approach.  I thought this was successful until mid-afternoon when the vomiting began again and the diarrhea was increasing.  The mamas stayed at their own little beds just watching.  However, it gets bad enough that one of them even went to look for a nurse – none were to be found.  I was alone because Josie was trying to keep up with the laundry.  By 5:00 pm, I was in the shower, crying and praying.  I didn’t dare cry in front of the mamas or Josie.  I prayed because I didn’t think I could handle this and yet I can’t stand the thought of leaving Lucie or leaving anyone else with her.  The “grandmother” did not comfort Lucie at all – just let her lay there, even attempted to hit her once when she cried.  The others informed me she didn’t even wash the soiled clothes?  I know I need to do this, so I’m praying and crying out again for God to heal Lucie or take her quickly and to comfort her in the meantime.  Why does she need to continue suffering like this?  God, do something. 

At 1:00 a.m., Nurse "Barker" asked me to bring Lucie to her medical room.  Her IV has spoiled and needs to be replaced.  She also takes her feeding tube out, stating it needs to be replaced.  She applies a tight tourniquet to her wrists, looking for a vein, sticking a needle in her wrists, attempting to draw blood.  When this doesn’t work, she tries the other wrist, her ankles, her neck, head, and chest.  With each prick, Lucie lets out a pitiful “mama” that sounded just like a little lamb.  I try to ignore the feeling of nausea, but soon fear I’m going to pass out and have to leave the room.  It passes and I can return.  The nurse finally gives up, says she cannot find a vein and sends me back to the room with Lucie – no IV, no feeding tube.  I’m not sure what she is intending, but I’m so thankful.  At last, I know the Lord is intervening.  Either he wants to heal her without all these tubes and needles or wants her to die in peace.

I’m even more excited the next morning.  Queen suggests I get in the food line with everyone else and get some of the hospital food to try feeding Lucie with a spoon.  All the mamas and I line up outside the nurses station with the dish we had to bring from home and receive a bowl of porridge for Lucie.  I’m still not sure what was in the porridge, but Lucie actually ate half the bowl!  I held her on my lap while she ate – I’d learned how to pick her up without hurting her bottom.  I wondered if her mother ever held her.  I put some porridge in her water also because she’s drinking a lot more now.  The swelling is gone from her eyes and she seems much more alert.  Wow – I’m sure God is going to perform a miraculous healing!  We just needed to get rid of all the tubes and needles.

By noon, something changes.  Lucie’s eyes are different.  They are still open, but they don’t seem to be focusing, like she’s in a coma or something.  I try to feed her again – she no longer uses her hand to tell me no, just keeps her lips closed.  Soon, the buckets of diarrhea begin over and over.  I go find a nurse to tell them about the diarrhea – he tells me “That’s not good.  I’ll get some medicine for you.”  He never comes.  Another nurse had said they would try another IV – not that I really wanted them to – but he never came either.  I’m starting to get the picture.  About 3:00 pm, Lucie starts a constant whimpering groan; she’s now lying completely still; she doesn’t seem to be responding to anything.  I finally break down.  Lucie is dying and all I can do is watch.  The Queen wasn’t in the room; but the others went silent.  One comes over and tries to comfort me in Moret.  Queen returns and obviously the others tell her I’m crying.  She comes straight to me, sits down, and kindly tells me I shouldn’t cry; I need to be strong for Lucy; if she dies, she will be with God.  Somehow, this calms me down somewhat.  She asks the other ladies to go get a Dr.  Apparently, they had already tried, because they explain something to her, she accepts, and no Dr. – what were they going to do anyway?  Queen also asked them to turn the fans on, I’m sweating buckets; but apparently the nurse also told them to keep the fans off as Lucie’s body was now very cold.  It’s pretty clear, the doctors and nurses know there is nothing else we can do; but are afraid to tell me.  All I can do is hold her hand and caress her face, praying constantly that she is not in pain and that this will go quickly.  At one point, I could swear she looked at me.  At another, I know she tried to grip my finger again – this was the comfort I needed.  During the last hour, water and some foul stuff continued to come up – I’d hold her head up so she wouldn’t choke on it.  At 5:05 on Sunday, August 10, Lucie took a painful breath, followed by a deep sigh; one more painful breath and it was over.  I announce to the silent, now respectful mamas, “C’est fini”.  I went to the first nurse I could find, fortunately one of the very kindest – I couldn’t talk, but she said “C’est fini?”  I nodded and she offered kind words – the only one who didn’t tell me not to cry.  I returned to the room, doing my best to keep my crying under control, and wait for the Doctor. 

A jerk of a Doctor, arrives 20-30 minutes later, never acknowledges me, checks her heart and pulse, and leaves the room.  I find some nurses to find out what we do with the corpse.  It’s our responsibility.  When they realize it will be a minimum of 2 hours before Ruth arrives from Yako to get us, they decide I can carry Lucie to an air-conditioned room to prevent the quick decay.  Although Queen continued to remind me not to cry because Lucie is now with God, she is very kind as were several nurses and a Doctor.  Even the phone center girl is incredibly kind as I go to call Ruth to come get us.  Josie and I then sit in the air-conditioned room alone, waiting.  At least I can cry here.  Ruth arrives and I carry Lucie’s corpse home on my lap the 2 hours to Yako – it wasn’t as morbid as it sounds.  In fact, I found myself still patting her back as if I could comfort her.  Once in Yako, its 10:00 and a torrential rain has begun.  We drive Lucie to her Father’s village where there is no electricity, so it’s pitch black.  In the pouring down rain, I hand Lucie to a topless woman who they had awakened from her sleep (no idea who she was).  The Father knew better than to approach me.  And that was that.

For a minute, it really upset me to hand Lucie over to people who obviously did not care (how could they have allowed this to happen?).  But, I quickly remembered, it was just a body.  It finally hit me – it was over.  God came through.  Lucie is now sitting on his lap, knowing what it is to be loved at last.  I still ball when I think of how much she suffered.  The images of her those last 3 days will probably never go away; but I am so thankful I was there during her final days and, yes, very happy she is now in Heaven.  I’m looking forward to seeing the new Lucie someday.

So, Sunday evening, I was thinking it’s just too hard here.  I’m calling home Monday and planning my trip home.  There was a nagging part of me that thought, “oh, but what if there is another – I want to be there.” 

The very next morning at 8:00 a.m. Ruth asked if I was ready for another trip to Ouaga.  Assuming she was joking about all the noise during the night, I said maybe; but she was serious.  Our newest orphan, Barkwendi (meaning Praise God) had come to us the Friday before, 8 days old and weighing 3 lbs.  During the night Sunday, she did not eat at all, never woke up, never cried, and never urinated.   So, back to Ouaga I go, now with a 3 lb. still baby on my lap.  She was admitted Monday afternoon and discharged Wednesday afternoon – PTL!  She’d had an infection that was preventing her from eating, which of course was making her very weak.  She had been born at home, apparently prematurely, and per the Doctor had a problem with the umbilical cord which had filled her body with infection.  If we had not brought her in, she also would eventually have suffered from malnutrition.  But, she was now eating well, pooping up a storm and cute as can be.

The neat part was everyone at the hospital knew me now.  By the time I arrived Monday, everyone had heard about Lucie.  People were stopping me everywhere to offer condolences – the guards at the gate, the nurses, the doctors, the guy at the restaurant who cooked me an omelet each day, the girl at the phone center, my old roommates who were still there.  Everywhere I went, I had people to talk to.  They all wanted to know why I was back.  Everyone said “Didn’t you drive to Yako last night?”  When I explained why I had returned, they responded “Bon Courage”.

Ruth stayed in town this time since we assumed it would only be 2 days.  She helped during the day, and I stayed with Barkwendi during the night, sharing the bed with her now.  My new roommates were fine – I did a few things wrong (by their standards) and got the treatment again, but it wasn’t as bad as last time.  It didn’t help when I struggled with the French when they’re trying to tell me what I was doing wrong.  This time I did all the laundry.  Imagine me with my bucket full of soiled diapers and sheets heading over to the washing area (a small courtyard with 2 clotheslines and 2 faucets) to wash with all the Mamas!  You can imagine the looks I got.  They have this idea that white women are to be served, not to serve.  I’m sure I didn’t do it exactly like I was supposed to, but I managed.   It’s a pretty humbling experience, knowing everyone in the whole place is watching every move you make and criticizing everything you do differently from them; but hopefully I earned their respect by doing it.

PTL – I’m now home in Yako.  Unfortunately, we don’t anticipate getting to make up sleep with 2 babies here now.  But, hey, they’re healthy babies!  I’d love to take off and spend a few days in Ouaga again just for a break.  Please pray I can make this happen some time over the next couple weeks.

I’m sorry this is so long and dramatic.  The whole Lucie thing kind of had me loosing it and I just feel better if I can tell people the whole story.  I think it’s therapeutic.  Thank you for your prayers that got me through, got Lucie to Heaven, and the healing that’s taking place in Barkwendi.

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