Church, Communion and "Making Friends"

This morning Tori invited 9 of her favorite African neighborhood friends to church.  Only one of them regularly goes to church (she usually attends one of the other churches with which we work).  I was so proud of my daughter.  On the way to church in the village of Aflantan, the kids all busted out singing some African worship songs (even though they don’t all attend church regularly, these simple songs are familiar to a lot of people).  When I looked into my rearview mirror, Tori was seated smushed in between several friends with the biggest grin on her face.  I was so proud of my little girl.  

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I was noticing the Communion service today.  Yes it looks nothing like it does in suburban America where I call home.  The wine was old and stored in an old ½ liter soft drink bottle.  The “cork” or “stopper” for the bottle was a folded-up, used cigarette carton stuffed down into the bottle.  We’re one-cuppers here (not by doctrinal preference, but just because).  Today the “cup” was a shot glass traditionally used for the local brew.  The “bread” was a small package of flavorless imported cookies all broken into small pieces.  It was all set up on this crude, rickety wooden chair.  When the Communion leader closed out the prayer after everyone had partaken, he examined the amount leftover into the shot glass, and poured it back into the soft drink bottle.  In other places I’ve worshipped, they’ll just gulp down the remaining wine.  Anyway you play it, it’s SO different, but still the same celebration of the Lord’s death, His life and His covenant with His people all over the world (as different as we all are!)

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Tonight, I spent several hours with a couple of good men from Dandihoue going to the home of another church member’s mother.  We were visiting the mother (not a believer and also separated from her husband) because her daughter is a prospective bride for one of our mutual dear friends (a church leader at Kaiteme).  When we got there, before the mother came into the mud hut room where we had been seated, I was going over with my two friends on how to exactly talk to this elderly woman about her daughter and this man’s relationship.  Our run-through got interrupted and I had to improvise (dating vocabulary is not something I spent a lot of time on during my language learning years).  So when the mother arrived, I permitted my friends to talk first.  They then nodded for me to address the mother and say a brief word on behalf of our mutual friends wishing to receive the parental blessing.  I said a phrase that immediately gave me the impression that I had butchered the language (or worse, corrupted the sense of what I was trying to say).  I was wanting to acknowledge this couple’s relationship and tried to state it in a way that I thought was culturally appropriate, all the while linguistically treading on thin ice in a context of love, relationship, marriage, etc…(lots of rooms for blunders!)  I turned to one of my companions who had already stepped in to explain what this white guy was trying to say.  Soon afterward, the mother left the room to find another relative with whom we were also required to see.  During her brief absence, I inquired about what exactly I had said that caused the surprised reaction on the mother’s face.  

My gracious friend: “well, uh….it’s no big deal, really.  I corrected your error.  She understands now.”  

(Not what I wanted hear).  

I incredulously asked but not really wanting to know the answer: “what on earth did I say?”  

He replied: “when describing their relationship, what you said gave the mother the impression that they were already engaging in sexual relations with each other, and that it had been this way for a long time!”  

(Oops, another language blooper for the blog)

My friend said, “but you have a chance to say it differently when this girl’s older brother comes in.”  

“Her older brother?!” I whispered with great shock.  “Well, then, quickly tell me how to say it the right way.”

He said, “tell the brother that this couple is wawa xlo*.”  

With my vast (!) knowledge of the Aja language, I queried, “but isn’t that just saying that they are ‘making friends’ with each other?”

My friends both laughed as the mother and brother were entering the room.  My friend smiled back and said in a hushed voice, “in America, don’t you become friends before you get married?”

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Another fun day in Benin!
-Randy

(*in Aja, it sounds like “wah-wah-hlo”)