The Rhythm of Village Life

On the drive out to the village, I felt like I was in Africa for the first time again. 

I watched out the window with curiosity and fascination as village life passed before my eyes. People riding their bikes along narrow, red dirt paths to collect water first thing in the morning. Women balancing large buckets on their heads. Children stopping their play to smile and wave as we pass by. A poor donkey, weighed down by a wooden cart filled with yellow plastic square jugs of water. Women bent over in their colorful skirts, sowing in the fields. In their right hand, a daba (similar to what we would call a hoe). In their left, a calebasse (hollowed out gourd, cut in half to form a bowl) full of seeds. In a rhythmical dance, they dig, dig, dig, then use their thumb to spill out three little seeds into the hole. Cover it up. Take one step forward. Then dig, dig, dig again. 

We stopped at an open well. I stared down into the well like Snow White, but I could not see my reflection because the water was 27 meters down. I watched the women throw down their buckets and then start pulling them up by the ropes. They used both arms in long sweeping motions to pull and catch, pull and catch, pull and catch. Their backs bent and swayed, and it was like their whole bodies followed the motion of their arms. They weren't just getting water out of the well, it was like they were dancing. 

Just like the women planting in the field, they danced to the rhythm of village life. 

We found a woman in the act of making shea butter, her hands thick and sticky with the paste.  Another woman, pictured below, was using a long pole to clip leaves out of a baobab tree. The baobab tree is sacred, and its leaves and fruit are highly nutritious. Her children sat nearby, naked except for the string of beads around their waists, an animistic charm to keep evil spirits away. They collected the leaves to put in a bowl, except I caught them eating the leaves instead. Pick one, eat one. Pick one, eat one. The rhythm of village life. 

It was a quiet day, a peaceful day, a normal day in the life of an African in a Dagara village.

Except that today something would change. 

This would no longer be the nearest source of water, which is now a dried up hole.

We were there to install a new well - a closed well, not an open well like the one we saw earlier which can be easily contaminated. This new well with a hand pump would provide clean, potable water like the village had never experienced before. And they had prepared for it. They had formed committees, they had gathered supplies, they had layed gravel, they had selected certain people to take responsibility for cleaning and maintenance, and they sent a guy out on a bike with a megaphone to announce that everyone should come to the well. 

And come they did. 

The women gathered under the shade of a nearby tree, singing and dancing and praising the name of Jesus...

...while the men gathered around the well to watch the installation, which took a little over an hour. 

When everything was finally put together, everyone paused for a moment to gather together and listen to a presentation. First, introductions were made. The village chief and many other important leaders were there, and we honored them for their leadership in the community. However, it wasn't these leaders that ran the show today. It was the church. One church leader named Innocent from a nearby village stood in the middle of the crowd of people and spoke from John 4, telling the story of the woman at the well. Followed by him was a presentation from Rebecca, one of our Burkinabe teammates who also passionately led the women in singing for the previous hour. Although I don't know what exactly she said because it was in dagara, I could tell by the way she held her Bible in one hand and waved her other hand in the air that it was a heartfelt message from the Word of God. Finally, Geoffrey stood in the center and took his turn, telling the people that this well is a gift from God, that he has heard their prayers, and that he saves people who believe in his son, Jesus Christ.

Then, with more singing and celebration, the people circled around the pump as one member of the community was selected to pump until the first water came out. She pumped, pumped, pumped to the rhythm of the clapping and dancing feet. The rhythm of African village life. 

 

When the clean clear water came out, a cry of joy arose from the crowd...

...and there was much thanksgiving! 

Even the children played in the run-off water collected in the drainage ditch, also known as the "kiddie pool" today. 

After singing a thousand songs, shaking a million hands, and sweating a hundred liters, we returned to our city with hearts full. Life for this village will not be the same. No more scooping water out of a dirty ditch that might dry up any day. No more getting water out of an open well that is infected with dirt and bugs. The rate of disease will go down. The morale of the community will go up. And hopefully the faith of the people and the attendance of the church will increase, too. 

"When we see this well, we will remember the grace of God," one village member said well. 

We offered safe, clean drinking water, knowing that people will drink of it and get thirsty again. That's why we also offered Living Water by giving a presentation of the gospel, highlighting the church leaders, and extending an invitation to come back that evening for a showing of the Jesus film with further evangelism. 

Jesus alone satisfies the deepest thirst of our souls, and he comes into the rhythm of our lives, giving us a new song to dance to and a new beat to live by. It's like a new rhythm of African village life, this time with a huge smile on the face.