The Experience Lingers On...A Farewell to Ken Cressman

Today, I was looking at the picture of our Learning Tour group, which I still posted on the wall next to my desk, reminiscing about our time in Burkina Faso. The invitation paragraph of our blog states, "the experience lingers on." As I looked at the photo, my gaze stopped on Ken Cressman. It saddens me to report that Ken passed away very suddenly last month (I have included Ken's obituary below).

Ken and I remained in contact over the last few years since our Burkina Faso adventure. I especially appreciated receiving Ken & Helen's Christmas letter every year and reading about yet another series of courses Ken had taken or was considering taking. We had several visits over the past few years running into each other at MCEC events and a few other happen chance occasions.

Attending Ken's funeral on January 16, our Learning Tour experiences in Burkina Faso were referenced numerous times. It was a blessing to be a part of celebrating Ken's life and remembering the brief days we shared together in Burkina. The experience does linger...rest in God's embrace my friend. 

Obituary of CRESSMAN, Kenneth Willard
Born February 10, 1935 in Wilmot Township, passed away suddenly on January 10, 2014 at age 78. He was the son of Zenas Cressman (1994) and Mabel Hannah Burkhart (1946). Remembered by his wife, Helen Ruth Burkholder, children Kevin, Sheila, Denise (Mao) and Stephanie (Charles), and stepmother Eloise Cressman. Also survived by six grandchildren, Sophia, Bianca and Avalene Fraresso and Jessamine, Rose-Hélène and Benjamin Le. Missed by sisters and brothers Jean Swartzentruber, Joyce and Kaye Collard, Glen and Ruth Cressman, Lyle and Karen Cressman, Eileen and Willis Freeman. Ken taught secondary school for over thirty years in Campbellford, Simcoe and Paris, Ontario. Following retirement, he did substitute teaching in Paris, Stratford, Kitchener-Waterloo and Cambridge. He also did volunteer work at Waterloo-Oxford DSS near Baden for a number of years. Ken was active in teaching adult Sunday school in his home church and took courses at Conestoga College. At the age of 75, he graduated with a Masters of Theological Studies from the University of Waterloo, to go alongside his Masters of Geography degree. Visitation will be held at the Mark Jutzi Funeral Home, 291 Huron Street, New Hamburg on Wednesday, January 15 from 2 to 4 p.m. and from 7 to 9 p.m. The funeral will take place at Nith Valley Mennonite Church on Thursday, January 16 at 3 p.m., followed by food and fellowship. Private family interment in Nith Valley Mennonite Cemetery. Donations may be made to the Heart and Stroke Foundation or the Mennonite Central Committee (school kits). Online condolences and donation information available at www.markjutzifuneralhomes.ca

A Poem

Burkina Faso

by Margaret Harms

Red dust on my sandals

Dust in my eyes

Heat, hot days, sun every day

Bicycles, motorcycles, pedestrians

Le Baobob green taxis, donkey carts,

Busses and transport, trucks

The old and the new

Hot sun, heat, red soil.

Warm days, warm Burkinabé hearts

Welcoming smiles, warm handshakes

Children’s brown faces beaming

Faces express awe and trepidation,

“I touched a white woman’s hand.”

Her mother smiles approval.

Warmth everywhere.

The market is teeming,

Old people, babies, all ages between

Faces hopeful as they tend their wares

The sun beating down

Shaded only by woven thatched shelters.

Intoxicating smells of fresh produce

Bright colors, red, green, orange, and yellow.

Walls and walls of cloth

Bold patterns and colorful designs,

The tailor awaits.

The African village sleeps

The stunning star-studded night sky

Hovers over sun-dried brick huts,

Mothers and children safe inside.

The shee-p, goats, pigs, and cattle rest.

Under her wings,

A mother hen shelters her baby chicks.

Far away in Burkina Faso

God is watching!

So many stories to tell. We would like to share a few highlights of Burkina Faso, especially Kotura.

Friday morning Feb.25th five of our group and Karim Traore loaded Anne's truck with supplies for the weekend . We left Orodara and headed for the open road towards the Village of Kotura which was the Village where Anne Garber Kompaore lived for 10 years before she married Daniel and moved to Ouagadougou. The rest of our tour group of 17 also left for different villages as well.

After about 3 hours of driving we saw a sign for Kotura. We turned onto a dirt road passing cashew and mango orchards. We were dropped off at the village and Anne continued on to her house to arrange lunch. We were given a tour of the village and then had lunch with Anne. After lunch we had a rest and then went on to see other villages.

That evening we had dinner over an open fire and later we sat around the fire and listened to their African music and they shared and testified what the Lord has meant to them. As the evening went on and when the music and dancing stopped, we were asked the question "and what are your challenges?"

What could I say?

After spending a week with our brothers and sisters in faith and seeing their way of life and the struggles they have I was completely speechless. Nobody else in our group said anything , so I responded about my sheltered Waterloo County Ontario farm boy life and shared my feeble testimony.

The next morning we were off to the village that had a serious fire several years ago which had destroyed many of the grass roofs and buildings. Our congregation sent funds to help replace some of the loss, however, the money was sent to the Mennonites in the village but the Muslims didn't receive any support . The Mennonites were able to rebuild but the Muslims needed to raise their own funds. The village leaders had always been very disapproving of people who left the Muslim faith and became Christian so one would think that this would cause more division among them, at least some very hard feelings, but no, the leaders of the village said if this Christianity is that big that they send money from Canada to help, then we will no longer oppose any one who accepts Christianity.

This left a very big impression on me; not only had we helped restore some of the damage in the village but healed a very large division in an entire village!!

Thank you so much ,Norm Dyck , Deb Froese and "Mennonite Church Canada " for planning the "Learning Tour".

Submitted by Leonard and Clara Bauman

Post Burkina Faso happenings

Since my return from Burkina Faso, I have been asked to be the speaker at the men's breakfast in our church (no gratuity for a home body who speaks). Interest was very good with many questions. So was the food. We have someone who is a great chef for such events. I took some items with me which I have yet to distribute to my family and gave an outline map of Africa made of wood that I had purchased from one of the vendors who came to the guesthouse with items for sale. The women in our church have not been happy that they have not heard me speak and have asked me about it. So did one man who missed the breakfast. I tell them that I do not set the agenda and they are to go higher up (aka the ministers) as I just work here. Norm will be with our church on May 1 when he is in Ontario to attend the sessions of the Mennonite Church Eastern Canada. The Warkentins will be with us on June 19 when they will be in Ontario. Since our pastors will be away that day, I will be worship leader and be responsible for the administration of that Sunday. Welcome to these events. There must be flights from western Canada to the airport at Kitchener.

What Difference Can a Church Make?

Foyer Evangélique Mennonite de Ouagadougo, the Mennonite Church of Ouagadougou, began as a church plant nurtured by Mennonite Church Canada workers Jeff and Tany Warkentin to provide a place for university students to live and worship. Most university students leave familiar rural lifestyles behind to pursue higher education in this city of almost 2 million people. The change can be overwhelming.

The Foyer began just as Paulin Diarra finished high school.  He arrived in Ouagadougou with nowhere to live.  “I thank God for this Foyer,” he says.  “You can’t have success in your studies if you don’t have a good place to live.”

Another student, Zacharie Ouédraogo, agrees.  “Because of the Foyer, we have a place where we can sleep in peace, study and relax.”  He says that living together with other students in the building that serves as both a church and a residence has allowed them to pray and study the Bible together.

“It’s a place where we are taught to live together, to appreciate our differences and to abide in our faith,” says Johanna Dakio.

And it’s a place where future leaders are taking shape.

Rules of the Road

Hold on...wait a minute…wait …a…minute…go!

Traffic did not merge in Ouagadougou; it lunged.  Cars, mopeds and bicycles careened around corners and through intersections like a swarm of bees. Or maybe a Madrid stampede.  On one occaision, the bumper of a car flying around a corner brushed against the skirt of a woman riding a moped.  She seemed to take no notice and the baby on her back continued to sleep.

Rules of the road didn’t appear to exist. Drivers, beware.  Change lanes or cross intersections at your own risk!

The speed and urgency of travel was quite a contrast to the leisurely pace we sensed from those whom we met in the markets or anywhere else where they had their feet firmly planted on the ground.

We sometimes made our way from place to place in a van, which was in relatively good shape other than fold-away-seat that was more inclined to fold than seat, but we often rode in taxis.  Our taxi drivers were inventive. They made use of vehicles that we in North America would likely relegate to the junk yard.  Such waste!  In Burkina, any running vehicle had a purpose.  We found windows that refused to open, doors that would only open from the outside (or didn’t close all the way) and seats with broken springs.  Bungee cords, anyone?  We heard lots of clunking, inhaled odours of gas and oil and marvelled at the resiliance of our bottoms.

A Burkina flag proudly hung from every taxi’s rearview mirror.

Transportation in Ouagadougou was a curious mix of resourcefulness (recycling) and fearlessness – not for the faint of heart, but thrilling.

The Kingdom of Heaven is Like...

The Kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, or like yeast…like a treasure hidden in a field, a merchant in search of fine pearls, or a net thrown into the sea, catching fish of every kind…

On several mornings, Learning Tour leader Norm Dyck offered small tidbits of these Kingdom parables, inviting us to consider what insights they inspire.

The Kingdom of heaven seems to be found in small and seemingly insignificant places, but within each lays the capacity for something far greater.  And maybe we don’t focus enough on the small things, or the tiny seeds we plant through our everyday activities and the way we choose to live.  Maybe we don’t always recognize the seeds that are planted in us.

I like to think we planted seeds of encouragement among our brothers and sisters in Burkina by travelling such a great distance to visit; everywhere we went we sensed an appreciation for our efforts.  Somehow, though, I suspect being in Burkina planted just as many Kingdom seeds in us.

Each morning before the first rooster crowed in Ouagadougou (and yes; there are roosters in this city of 2 million people, and chickens, and donkeys and goats…), the call to prayer or adhan rose from a nearby mosque.  Allah is the greatest. I testify there is no other God except for Allah…

It was one of five calls-to-prayer daily although, admittedly, I was so caught up in my activities that I rarely noticed the others. The early morning adhan quickly slipped under my skin. Although I couldn’t determine whether the words were chanted in Arabic or French, they reminded me of God’s presence and created a kind of longing in my soul for the intimacy of prayer.

It was also a solemn reminder that although the world has generated a culture of fear around Islam and some interpretations of the Koran (seems to me that some interpretations of the Bible generate a culture of fear too) those who practice it are indeed devout.  Prayer is a publicly prescribed part of their lives.  Perhaps some Muslims pray because they are expected to, but I suspect spending a couple of hours a day on one’s knees will eventually create a connection with our Creator.

The call to prayer and thoughts of Islam remind me once again of Othniel’s sermon and his question; did Christ come only for Christians?  

Doesn’t God speak to us all, regardless of our beliefs, wherever we may be standing? Or kneeling.

Language Barriers

Although I cannot carry on an intelligent conversation in French I was surprised at the number of French words or phrases that popped into my head after arriving in Burkina. Chapeau. La fenêtre.  Fermez la porte. Pourquoi? Qu'est-ce que c’est?...not that any of those particular examples were of much use to me.

Bonjour, ça va? Le famille? Good day. How are you? The family? These are typical greetings that I learned to extend to everyone we met.  That was easy enough to do, but most people responded with a further barrage of French far beyond my capacity to understand.  Non parlez français, I'd say, and they would offer a smile or a phrase like petite anglais, but communication usually faded. I couldn't connect with them and it was frustrating.

Being in Burkina made me wish I had paid more attention in language class.

I’m used to striking up conversations with relative ease, but that skill was lost to me during the Learning Tour. I wanted to know how Othniel, the preacher who blessed us with a sermon about Jonah at Foyer Evangélique Mennonite de Ouagadougou on Sunday, came to speak with such passion. (His sermon was translated for us by Pastor Calixte Bananzaro.) I yearned to discover something about Othniel's background and how he came to be where he is, why he is studying law instead of theology when he is obviously so gifted. 

I wanted to ask the old man on the corner outside of the marketplace what he thinks of as he sits on the street all day, and if he has a family, but I didn't have the words to open doors to that discussion.

Conversation is a delicate art, nuanced by body language, facial expression, intonation and even the ways in which words are strung together. Although there were several French-speakers in our group willing to translate for me – and I am grateful for their help - I could not follow these translated interactions closely enough to recognize the signals that might lead to deeper conversation and more meaningful connections.

Not being able to communicate freely gave me a new appreciation for what Mennonite Church Canada workers face when they choose to serve abroad, and for what newcomers to Canada endure as they struggle to converse.  

Language is a vessel of connection that I've always taken for granted. Without it, I felt lost.

Experience in Burkina Faso

I am so excited and happy that I had the chance to experience what Africa is all about in just 10 days. I really enjoyed my time being with the group from Canada. I enjoyed traveling through Ouagadougou, Bobo and Orodara. The group that went on the bus with me got to experience a couple of problems with the first bus we were on it had some problems 2 different times. The first 2 times we had so electrical problems which they fixed in about 5 mins one of the bus drivers came back on the bus to grab a fan belt which they somehow were able to start the bus up again. Then the same thing happen not more then 10 mins later or so. Then the bus driver and some other guys got out and started it up the same way again. Then we were off on the road again. Wow that is defiantly a great way to experience travel in Africa. Tany was also on the bus with us and she told us this is how it is a lot of the time traveling in the buses. I didn't mind all the problems cuz it made is think that we weren't in Canada anymore for a couple of days. Then once we got to Bobo we got to the Claire's guest house. Then after lunch we we got ready to go to Orodara we had to wait at the bus stop for the next bus to take us. As we start to drive to the outside of the city we have a bus that is having stick shifting problems but thank God we were able to make it safely to the bus depot that we could change buses and not get stuck out in the middle of no where and end up waiting for someone to come and get us.

Unsettling Complacency

As the last flight of my trip descended into Winnipeg, I listened to the U2 classic, “Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For”. At risk of being sentimental, I would say that that song captured a lot of what I saw on this trip. I went with ambivalent expectations without a really clear reason for doing so. I didn't know what I was going to find, and what my experience would be like. And although some of what I predicted did happen, I also found myself thinking in ways I had not expected.

In group reflections on the many conversations we had with different church members and leaders, many people mentioned how inspiring it was to watch these people at work. They faced so many difficult challenges and obstacles in their context. Animism is prevalent. The large Islamic population is not always tolerant of Christians. And yet these Mennonites carry on anyway, working at the seemingly futile tasks of bible translation and church development. And then, consistently, these conversation partners would turn to us and ask, what are your challenges? Every time, our group hesitated. I think we found it difficult to answer in the face of that kind of dedication and determination to make a change. This left me unsettled. After each one of these conversations, I was left with a knot in my stomach. Why? Because the challenge we face, as a Mennonite church in North America is apathy. It is a lack of courage to work within our own contexts and inflict change on them. We love going to other places and being inspired by what others are doing there. But what about here? What are we doing in each of our communities and neighbourhoods?

I did learn on this learning tour. I did engage, and I did grow. But it wasn't in the ways I expected. I was impressed by what I saw from the Burkinabe people. And I was unsettled by it. And so the question I come away with, and I would like to see others wrestling with too, is the one of what now? We are back home. We interacted with a people of resistance, a people who struggles to change what needs changing. And they asked us how we face our challenges. I would name our challenge as complacency. Now, after that experience, how are we going to face our struggle of complacency? Are we going to allow ourselves to remain unsettled and to learn in unexpected ways, even in our home context?

This is Africa

TIA. This is Africa. It’s a phrase Steve and Vincent offer with wry smiles, based upon previous experiences on this magnificent content. These three simple words pop up when activities don’t unfold as planned, when tires blow apart on the highway, or when internet connections lag.

We had hoped to keep you up-to-date with our activities on Mennonite Church Canada’s Burkina Faso Learning Tour, but sporadic internet connections have disrupted those plans.  Many stories have taken shape over the past 10 days and we do want to share them with you, so stay tuned. We will continue posting after we have returned to Canada.

In the meantime, thank you for checking in – and for your patience.   This IS Africa!

Under the Baobab

Under the Baobab

They gather in the shade of a baobab, about 20 men and women of all ages, some with babies on their laps.  They are here to learn how to read Siamou, their mother-tongue.  Moussa, the teacher, guides them through a series of pronunciations and leads them into words that eventually create a story about a man and a woman who are caring for their sheep.

The sentence structure and progression reminds me of the “Dick and Jane” stories that I learned to read with, but the activities in this reading material directly connect with life in Orodara.  The subject matter creates immediate interest among the students and they are eager to learn.

Lillian Nicolson, a Mennonite Church Canada Witness worker to Burkina Faso has spent a number of years studying the tonal nature of Siamou and creating orthography for it. She developed the lesson books the teacher is using.

In this particular “classroom”, the process isn’t easy, for a number of reasons.  The students have never read before in any language and the concept of symbols on a page to represent the world around them is a new one. Some students are distracted from their studies by their babies, whom they carry on their backs, or by their other young children, who play in the background and creep nearer, presumably to get closer to the small group of foreigners, a handful of participants in the Burkina Faso Learning Tour, who have come to watch the class.

In addition, there is a wedding celebration less than 100 meters away.  Drums, a balaphone, a xylophone constructed from gourds and carefully carved wood slats, and the sounds of laughter and happy voices almost drown out the teacher’s voice.

It isn’t easy to learn, but they come.

Trapped!

It’s a trap!

Or at least, that’s what it feels like. The mosquito net is suspended from the ceiling with four hooks and ropes, and the bottom edges of it are firmly tucked beneath my mattress.

When I wake up at night to use the bathroom, I have trouble pulling the net out from under the mattress and for a few panicky moments, I do indeed feel as though I’m trapped.

It seems odd to bother with these nets or slather myself in heavy-duty insect spray; I’ve seen only a couple of mosquitoes.  The nights here are practically insect-free - a dramatic contrast to the Manitoba summer nights I'm used to.  But Manitoba mosquitoes don’t carry a risk of malaria.

God for all People

We welcome all people as our friends. This is a rough translation from French of a comment I’ve heard from several Burkinabé in public – and in church.  During the service at Foyer Evangélique Mennonite de Ouagadougou today we sing in a variety of languages to represent all of the people present in the service.

We sing in at least six different languages, including several indigenous tongues, French and English.  Apparently this is a regular occurrence. It’s a delightful show of the hospitality we’ve encountered during our stay.

“Did Jesus come just for Christians?” asks Othniel, the law student who presented the sermon through translator and church pastor, Calixte Bananzaro.

It isn’t a rhetorical question; he encourages people in the congregation to respond.  And they do.

Christ came for everyone because the Lord wants everyone to be saved.

In the beginning we say that God is for everyone. If I confess that Christ is God himself, I will say that Christ is for everyone.

I think that a Christian is one who accepts Christ. And whatever is your mother tongue, if you confess Christ, you become Christian.

Othniel’s sermon is based upon the Book of Jonah, a man who resisted God’s instruction to warn his enemies in Assyria that the judgement of God would be upon them if they did not repent.

God wants even our enemies to learn the truth.

God is for everyone, so we should be too.

I hear and see this gracious acceptance in church, but I also witness it in the wider community, where I can’t tell who is Christian and who is not.

Oddly enough, I feel safer and more welcome here than I do in some parts of Canada.

To Market, to Market

The Dassasgo Market is alive with energy and colour. Individual vendors are jammed together under tarps of corrugated tin or scrap lumber selling everything from natural medicines and plastic products to fabric and hairstyling services.

Bright green peppers, garden-ripe tomatoes, red onions, cucumbers and other vegetables are arranged in neat piles on mats. A veritable salad of aromas fills the air.  I’ve never been in a supermarket that smelled so fresh.  

Vendors, almost exclusively women, sit on mats or lean against posts that support tarps shading their wares, cheerfully bantering back and forth, inviting visitors to purchase their produce.

Bonjour, ça va? Greetings come from everyone, including the children who shyly follow us and extend hands of greeting.  One small boy runs back to his mother, wide-eyed, to show her the hand that I, a pale, Anglo-speaking woman have touched. She bursts into laughter and sends me a warm smile.

The marketplace, I think, captures something of the essence of the Burkinabé.  

A Whirlwind Start

Lack of time and internet connectivity has limited posting during our travels. We’re in Burkina now, with a high speed internet connection. Here are a few highlights:

February 17, 2011

Winnipeg International Airport

Margaret, Nettie, Tina (Katharina), Steve, Natasha, Norm and I (Deb) met at the airport this morning to head for Toronto. Jake, Margaret’s husband, is going out alone on a three-day retreat to pray for our safety and for blessings on our tour.

Jake, thank you for this inspirational support. I don’t know about the rest of the crew, but I feel blessed already.

Toronto International Airport

A late lunch at Swiss Chalet and we were off to the boarding area to meet up with Josh, Len and Clara, Ken, Edgar and Ruby. We’ll catch up with Vincent and Marie-Eve in Paris; it’s more practical for them to fly directly there from their home in Quebec.

Ken tells us that he does not smile for the camera. We are going to prove him wrong on this trip! See, we’ve already begun.

February 18, 2011 

Paris France, De Gaulle International Airport

Jerry, he said his name was. Jerry with a delightful Irish accent. “Can I buy you a coffee?” he asked.

Margaret, Tina (Katharina) and Nettie and I were standing in line at illy Espresso in Paris at the de Gaulle International Airport , debating how we would pay for our morning java with no Euros in hand.

“Visa,” I said. How else?

And that’s when Jerry stepped in. “I’ve been in that boat before,” he said, referring to our lack of the appropriate currency. Jerry was on his way home to Dublin, Ireland after four intensive days of IT meetings in India. He treated us each to a latte and wished us well for the rest of our journey.

“We might not be able to pay you back, but we’ll pay it forward,” Margaret said, referring to a popular movie with a noble theme. It’s a movie that Jerry knew about too.

What compelled Jerry’s kindness? Maybe he was drawn to us because something about us rang a familiar chord with him - the bright (Irish) green Learning Tour t-shirts Margaret, Tina and Nettie wore (Engage, Grow, Learn), or because of the slight reddish tint in my hair. Perhaps dear Margaret with her kind face and lovely grey hair reminded him of someone he knew. But in the middle of an airport where almost everyone spoke French and we didn’t, it was a delight to meet Jerry and to experience his hospitality.

Thanks, Jerry, wherever you are, for the cuppa and a kindness that warmed our day.

African Airspace

I can’t tell you how awe-inspiring it was to visibly recognize the moment we entered airspace over the continent of Africa. In this photo, we’re heading due south. One can almost imagine the rest of Africa’s shape unfolding ahead of us and to the east and west. Red, red soil. Magnificent.

Air France Flight 538, somewhere over North Africa.

Ah, the bathroom lineup. Always long but never boring. That’s where I met Lucas. Lucas, a young Polish man in his late twenties or early thirties, was on his way to Niamey, Niger, our one stop before Ouagadougou. He and about 20 others were going there to monitor the fairness of an upcoming election.

After hearing about our Learning Tour, he referred to his work as a different type of mission. “We’re there for humanity, for political fairness and human rights.”

Thank God for peacebuilders, whatever their profession!

Welcome to Burkina!

More red, red earth with splotches of scrub grass and shrubs. If it hadn’t been for the large palm tree, I could have imagined the place to be southern Alberta during a dry spell. But the air smells different here, almost sweet. The scent reminds of the delicious curried chicken and red pepper lunch we had on Air France.

The atmosphere here is different too. Though the sun has set and almost frenetic energy bubbles through the streets, which we careen through at high speed in our taxis. Vendors dished up food from large metal bowls, men darted around cars at stop lights with wares to sell. Bolts of beautiful fabric hung from pegs. Everywhere people on bicycles and motorcycles zipped through the streets at high speeds. Despite barred windows on lean-to style shops we spotted huge clusters of motorcycles parked by the roads unattended.

I took a number of photos until an airport official politely informed me – in French (and I actually understood!) that I was not to take photos of the airport.

But wow! Are we glad to be here! The smile on Josh's face says it all.

Becoming the...church?

Many in our group are wearing bright green t-shirts with the slogan “engage, grow, learn” emblazoned on the front. As other curious travellers and airport security see our t-shirts the question invariably comes: “what does it mean?” “Where are you going?” “Why?”

And it’s great to hear the responses that our group in forming in these conversations: “We are going to learn from church.” “We are visiting our mission workers and hope to learn about their work.”

As we wait for our final flight to Burkina Faso, it is wonderful see the connections growing in the group. New friendships being formed, the “Mennonite game” has made a few rounds and common friends have been discovered and a few possible common relatives...from a scattering of individuals we are becoming a team...more than a group...could we call this church?