Beginnings II: Bamako

It seems I have lived in Mali for forever. Malians will ask how long and I say "15 years" but then I stop and do the math and realize it is 17 and will be 18 in December.  They invariably will respond, "I kɛra malien" - You've become Malian.

And so when I found the journal entry for my arrival in Mali just this week, it was an interesting read.

Dec 15,1994

      I  arrived here in Bamako at exactly 3:15 pm.  Very exciting  considering  I did my  first [training course] 9 1/2 years ago in  June 1985.  I guess it was spring of 1983 that I decided to do this sort of work (freshman year in college). Who knows  when I first started thinking about  Mali? 1988, 89?  Anyway, it's been  a long path, and it's exciting to finally be here.

      The trip down was as usual: hectic. I took two MK's to the [Abidjan] airport and made sure they got on  their plane to visit their folks in Liberia.   They  didn't know any french, so I had to help  get them  through everything.  Three times the hassle, not to mention unbearable humidity - soaked to the skin and surrounded by wall to wall people.

[I have no recollection of helping these two missionary kids get through the airport and on their plane, though I have done similar things numerous times though usually it is with Africans going to Europe who have never flown and don't know how to fill in the forms, find their gate, etc].

      Bamako is flat and looks a  lot like Sana'a (Yemen), except for the Niger river. All in all it's very nice.  A lot more trees than I expected. The center is super nice. I can't believe my room- it's like a hotel room: a living area,  a desk, a well-stocked kitchen,  a bedroom with a  double bed,  2 nightstands,  and a huge wardrobe with built in dresser.  The floor is tiled with large smooth tiles. There are ceiling fans, lamps, and an AC.

 [In early July this year, I moved back into the same apartment I described above and it was like I had come full circle. It was brand new then and is 17 years older now. This time I had to seriously downsize to move in. One can collect a lot of stuff in 17 years. But it still is a nice place that I will enjoy. I did not mention the view in 1994 but it is on the 4th floor and has one of the best views in all of Bamako of the Niger river.]

      I got out my  Christmas music and put together the little 7" Christmas tree by sister sent me, complete with 10 battery-powered lights, little red globe ornaments, a star and three little ornaments.  I used a piece of gold ribbon  grandma sent for a garland. It looks nice and really got  me in the Christmas spirit, in a way I hadn't up  until now.

       I guess  this is it  now.  I start Bambara study soon, after a little time cleaning out the office.  This means my "formation" is over, now it starts "for real".  It's hard to believe.

      Thanks, God, for bringing me here.  Now it's up to You to do something with my life here. Help me be what you want me to be here.

Beginnings I: French Study (1993)

It seems that I am in a time of transition, with things circling back around in interesting ways. Just two weeks ago, I moved out of my apartment where I had lived for 13 years and into the apartment I lived in when I first arrived in 1994.


Looking back, I have found some of my journal entries from back when I started out on my overseas journey. This one is from the day I arrived in France for french study:

7/22/93

In France, August 1993

      Arrived today in France, eight years after my first SIL courses and a little over 20 years after my folks went to Lebanon.  It's hard to believe that I'm really a missionary now  (as if location really means anything).

      It's 11:20 pm and for some reason I'm still up.  I haven't slept in 30 hours or so.  I left DFW at 5:30 pm Wed (7/21/93) and arrived in Paris at 9:30 a.m.  Took a taxi with all three of my huge bags and my carry-ons to Le Gare d'Lyon.  Had to wait there for 4 hours.  I was really worried about getting all my bags from the airport to the station and on to the train.  A really nice French man ( a porter) helped me find a locker and get change to plug it.  He even took me to information.

      Looked everywhere for an elevator (to get my bags upstairs). Returned in despair to my locker, only to find one 5 feet away.  God provided (in advance)!

      The train ride was fun.  I kept catching glimpses through the trees as I rode backwards at high speed.  I never could get a good look - just snatches here and there, kind of like a movie preview.  Really beautiful scenery.  I literally caught my breath a few times.

      Leaving Oklahoma was strange.  It was odd to have so many things stripped away at once:  car, keys (one by one), library card, Blockbusters card....  I was left feeling naked, as if part of my identity had gone with those things.  I guess keys and cards give you access to places and things, there by giving you some importance.  Your car, of course, gives you total independence.

French Study retreat in Switzerland, Fall 1993

      Didn't really think about leaving until 2 days beforehand.  It was kind of like being in a dream.  Slowly, it sank in.  Not until I was on the plane to France, did I realize "I'm not going to see anyone I know for the next 4 years."

      Scared about the trip and traveling details, but I made it.  God's grace and presence were surely with me.  It's nice to be in the strong grasp of the "Swift Sure Hand" (Stephen Lawhead).  I guess next time I travel it will be easier because I'll be able to communicate some.

It is odd looking back on this time with 19 years of distance. I flashed back to the first train on my trip to France in May this year. And this time I helped someone who did not know any French figure out the train. And I still had more bags than I could handle!

I have identified the stripping away of keys many times since as part of the cycle of going back and forth between the US and Africa. You start with many keys, then "turn them all in" until you have none. Then you go to the other side and get your keys "back" from wherever you left them.

Emptying out my apartment earlier this month and getting rid of 80% of my possessions feels very similar to the stripping away of identity I felt in 1993.

It is comforting to read about my 1993 fears about going to a new place where I did not know ANYONE. Looking back, I can say that most of the people I know and interact with friends today I have made on this side of the ocean.

God is good! May I find my identity in him and in what he brings my way.