This is Africa

Africans have an unusual way of greeting you after returning from vacation. After spending a month in the states most of my friends and acquaintances welcomed me back with the same phrases:

“What’s the news from America?”

“How is the family?”

“You look refreshed. You have become young again!”

“Wow, home must have been good! You have gained so much weight! Really, you look great!”

To Nigeriens, a vacation’s worth is measured in pounds gained. Gaining weight is a compliment to the voyage. It shows that work was exchanged for relaxation and stress for indulgence. Like most compliments given in any culture, it can be used regardless of truth. Some people, particularly American women, have a hard time handling this compliment. I, on the other hand, embrace it. After all, it would be a terrible shame to come back to Africa from an American holiday lighter than when you left. Thanks to Slurpees, barbeque, burritos and the #1 combo at Chik-Fil’A, I successfully traded in my cares for a couple additional pounds.

I had forgotten how much social activity in America revolves around meals and beverages. I spent a lot of my time catching up with old friends at familiar restaurants. My daily routine was breakfast, then coffee, to lunch, afternoon coffee, to dinner and finally out for desert, usually with a different person/group of people at each place. While doing my restaurant and coffee shop circuit, most people would eventually ask how it felt to be back. I knew that it felt great to be in America, but I had the hardest time explaining why. Most people were ready to fill in the blank for me, noting that 15 months in Africa is a long time. The simple answer was usually the burger in my hand or the friend across the table. It was not until I returned to Niger that I was able to put my finger on the exact reason America was so refreshing.

When I started this blog I titled it “Fruit Growing in the Desert: Ministry in a Muslim Nation, Business in an Impoverished Nation.” The title shows my desire to encourage spiritual and economic growth in a country where it is so desperately needed. These are also the two areas where change is hardest to affect. Aware of the challenges, or at least aware that there would be challenges, I came to Niger with hope for change. However, as months went by that hope was replaced by an acceptance of the status quo, or what I like to call “DiCapprio Syndrone.”

In the 2006 film Blood Diamond, Leonardo DiCaprio damns the continent with three words:

This

Is

Africa.

This statement of defeat is used to acknowledge everything he knows needs fixing but will never be fixed. Outrage at government corruption, child soldiers, AIDS, starvation and a general sense of injustice are silenced with each repetition of “This is Africa.” Speaking as a resident of Niger, I can attest that this attitude begins to settle in with each month passed in Africa. The status quo becomes at first tolerable, then acceptable, and finally the standard. Hope for change still exists, but hope is slowly rocked to sleep with the gentle lullaby of “This is Africa.”

The best part of my month spent in America was that my hope for change was shook awake. This reveille was inspired by a variety of people and circumstances, but is ultimately boiled down to a fresh encounter with the power of the gospel. Can Africa change? I have to believe so. To deny Africa the possibility of change is to deny the very gospel I preach. To accept the status quo is to reduce Jesus to a teacher and the Bible to moral code. This is Africa… This is Niger… This is Niamey. Were it left up to men those places would be like the phrases in which they are mentioned: defeated and incomplete. But in Christ we have hope for change. We have hope that those places can be redeemed and transformed. Things will not always be as they have been. This is Africa… ready to be made new.