A lesson in respect
The background: Bilolo, an average sized village, lies 160km south of us
along the Cameroon border and is home to a wonderful missionary family who
are working on getting the local language on paper with Wycliffe. The
village is in the rainforest and there are a number of pygmy camps
surrounding the village within a 50 km radius. The missionary lady also
happens to be the sister of our neighbor here in Gamboula. They asked if it
was possible for us to hold an agroforestry seminar in their village to help
the people. We gladly accepted the invitation and an evangelist we worked
with in Bayanga rode his bike 150km in order to visit all the pygmy villages
he could the week before the seminar to get them to come to the seminar.
When it came time to get things ready for the seminar last Saturday we
realized that the vehicle we had planned on taking (a Toyota truck that
could seat 5) was not available and that our only option was the project
truck which comfortably seats 2. This was a problem because we had planned
on taking Constant, the agri supervisor and Chrysler whose native language
is that of Bilolo. Normally, it is these two guys who give the seminars and
so we wanted to go down with them so they could give the seminar and we
would do the trouble shooting. With the back of the truck full of trees we
would all have to go in the cab. Not likely. So, early Sunday morning it
was decided that I would go and Darren would stay behind. Partly because my
Sango is good enough to teach in and Darren doesn't feel comfortable
teaching yet and partly because his spirit was telling him to stay behind.
The trip: On the 5 hour trip down I was neatly sandwiched between two guys
and when I say sandwiched, I mean we were literally cheek to cheek.
Constant wasn't so bothered but I think Chrysler was a little uncomfortable
at first. You can't be tense for 5 hours though so eventually he relaxed.
We arrived in Bilolo around suppertime Sunday night and the seminar started
promptly at 7:30 on Monday morning.
The seminar: We had 73 participants. Unbelievable! We had eight pygmies
representing 5 different villages. They walked over 40km on foot with
nothing but the clothes on their backs. We also had 3 guys from Nola, about
35km south as well as a few others from north of Bilolo. Amongst the 73
were a few soldiers from the village, 3 chiefs and 3 women. Quite a mix.
The first day went well and I was asked to teach 2 of the lessons. One
lesson I wasn't being too clear so Chrysler came to my rescue and we team
taught. I also did a lot of the writing on the black board since I have the
best spelling, especially when Constant was teaching (he didn't do too much
school).
Monday evening I had a long chat with Constant on the porch of the house I
was sleeping at. He proceeded to tell me his family history, about his
parents, about his own family, why he divorced his first wife, etc, etc. He
gave me some real insights into how you go about taking a wife and we talked
about me and Darren's marriage, what marriage means to us, how good of
friends we are. It was eye opening for the both of us and a good cultural
exchange. It was really dark and I could only make out his teeth so it was
hard to read the expression on his face.
Tuesday started rather loudly as we tried to get the village participants to
agree on a place to make a tree nursery. The second day of the seminar is
all practical stuff, planting trees, making compost, making a nursery,
dividing trees, and forming a bureau, or group to stay in contact with us
here in Gamboula. It seems that the village is split into two factions, the
north and the south and they have a hard time working together, or deciding
where to put their nursery. Half wanted it in the south of the village and
the other half wanted it in the north. In the end my solution was for the
group to start forming the bureau while Chrysler and I, the 'nursery
experts', went to look at each place so we could come back with a judgment
of which
site was the best. It worked very well and our decision was well accepted.
The rest of the days work went beautifully with the soldiers in attendance
swinging machetes side by side with the pygmies.
It was all over by 2:00, after a lunch of gozo and pig meat in oil. I
survived 2 days of eating only gozo and oil (no pig for me please!). We
were initially planning to overnight in Bilolo Tuesday and then head home
Wednesday, visiting villages along the way. For some reason Constant was in
a rush to get going, maybe before another rain messed up the roads. By 3:30
we were in the truck and on our way to Dede, 4 hours away where we were
going to spend the night. When we got to Yantchi, an hour from Bilolo we
had to stop at a barrier. A lady came out and asked us for a ride to
Gamboula with her small child so they could go to the hospital. Constant
said yes and here starts the lesson on respect.
I knew as soon as I saw this lady that there was no way me and her and her
baby could sit in the cab together. So I made up my mind to sit in the back
of the truck with Chrysler and give the lady the front. I wanted to do this
for two reasons. One, it was just getting dark and we were entering an
uninhabited stretch of road that for two hours took you through the
rainforest with it's towering canopy of trees. We had next to nothing in
the back so I knew I would be able to stretch out. Secondly, I wanted to
show respect to this woman and her kid by having her take the front and the
white lady take the back. Well, this did not go over very well. I climbed
into the back and right away Chrysler was telling me no, I had to take the
front seat. I, in my stubbornness, said NO. There was a group of people
gathering around the back of the truck to watch our little scene. I should
have relented but I had already made up my mind and well, I am stubborn.
Chrysler finally relented but when Constant, our driver came around and saw
me he immediately said no way Madame. I told him I was strong enough, we
discussed it back and forth and finally I promised him that if it was too
rough I would shout really loud for him to stop and I would trade places
with the woman. He still wouldn't relent so I asked him, "Constant, do you
call me Madame?" "Yes", he said. "And you call me that because you respect
me?" "Yes", he said. "Well then if you want to call me Madame, then
respect my decision to sit in the back". With that, he got in the truck and
off we went.
I had such a lovely time in the back of that truck. I found something to
lean up against, stretched out my legs and I took in the sounds and sights
of the wild rainforest at night. Hundreds of lightening bugs flittering
around lit up the night sky and lightening in the distance gave everything a
dramatic effect that made you think, wow, Lord, you are truly amazing to
have created all of this. It will go down as one of my most memorable
moments in life.
Just before arriving in Dede, our stop for the night, we were stopped at
another military checkpoint. Constant came around to the back of the truck
to have a word with me and find out if I was dead yet! He said I had put
sadness in his heart because I was riding in the back. In this culture
there are very important rules as to how you treat people more important
than you and having someone who you think sits above you on the chain sit in
the back of a truck breaks all the rules. I assured him that I was having
the time of my life; I had been singing, I slept a little and that there was
no reason what so ever for sadness!
Yesterday morning we loaded up the truck for the rest of the trip back to
Gamboula. This time we had a lot more people with us in the back, all on
their way to the hospital and I heeded Constant's wishes and rode in the
front. It also helped him save face because if the folks in Gamboula saw me
riding in the back he would have heard about it! I did however get a good
chance to talk with just him. I said that he puts sadness in my heart. He
asked me why. I said that when he calls me Madam, it makes me sad. He was
puzzled by this so I continued on to explain. (There is a word in Sango
'legue-oko'. It means a few things but one meaning is the same way, or
way-one.) I told him that we have traveled together twice, legue-oko. We
have eaten the same food, we have worked hand in hand, done the same work
and we are the same age. I told him I didn't want to sit above him, that we
are essentially the same. He finally got it when he said, 'so you want me
call you Angela?'. Yes!!!
So now we are trying to be on a first name basis. This is going to me a
hard thing for him but it is a lesson for both of us in respect. I will
find ways to respect him in his culture and he will try and show me respect
in my culture, using my name. Maybe next time he slips and calls me Madam
I'll just call him Monsieur!
Next Saturday Darren and I are off to Kenya for a few weeks of meetings and
five days on the Indian Ocean in Mombassa. We will be using internet café's
and I will try not to write so much next time.
