i dodge the ever present black bags blowing across path.  

as i turn the corner i am greeted by chants of "tubaboo!" and "le blanche!". 

i see a 3-year old girls, her bare tummy in the sun, running towards a courtyard with green, weathered gates, chattering all the while. 

we walk up to the green gate that is pulled wide to allow us into the crowded, dirt courtyard. 

as i pass through the entrance i smell the fermented corn drying in the sun, the dirt, wet from washing under my feet  and the gathered hot bodies. 

i duck underneath the clotheslines fluttering in the wind like flags.  

i sit in a plastic lawn chair, long ago turned red with african mud, their best being offered to their guests.  i feel eyes staring my way, i look to meet the dark brown eyes of a small boy with bare feet.  

i smile and white teeth flash across his dark skin.

the small, naked baby that had been playing in the dirt at my feet in the dirt, turns his big brown eyes to peer up at me.  

he blinks a couple times and stares, obviously torn between his curiosity and fear of these new people.  he gives into fear as big tears roll down his face leaving trails on his dirty face.  

the chattering 3-year old sister picks him up and hands him to his laughing mama. 

 we smile and laugh at the baby's fear and confusion of a person with white skin.  

he is comforted only to look up at our smiling faces, and start to cry again.

the mama kisses the baby's tear streaked face.

"you will learn, she says to us, we will teach you Jula."

this woman who has so many children and has surely lost many. 

this woman who's husband is gone, working in another country for 7 months every year. 

this woman who's husband has just taken a second wife. 

this woman who lives in spiritual fear, of an unloving god.

this woman who loves her babies and cares for her family.

this woman who is filled with joy and laughter. 

she smiles at us and nods as if decided, "yes, you will learn, we will teach you Jula."

~

on the walk home i marvel at the joy and peace around me.  

amidst the trash and rocks, children run around kicking a wad of plastic as they play football.  

chickens, goats and donkeys wander on the harsh ground looking for food. 

women walk for miles with buckets of water on their heads and a sleeping baby on their back.

these people, they are why we came, why i came.

to laugh with the children playing football and calling out my pale skin. 

 to wave at the little ones sitting in the dirt as we pass by.  

to struggle with the other kids my age in the neighborhood as I try to speak with them in my broken French.

to tell them of a love so great, that God Almighty sent His Son to die for us. 

to tell them of a peace and joy that passes all understanding.

i'm afraid that was a little bit of a ramble, but that's what been going on and i haven't really been able to put together a clear thought lately.  so i guess that goes for blog posts also...