Never felt so white

[Photo: Introducing Max - our friend's pet turtle (not a nasara)]

When our neighbours ‘King Davey’ and ‘Boris the Curious’ see us leaving or returning home on our bicycles, they start yelling “nasara, nasara, nasara”.

This means white person in a local language called Moré. For the three and four-year olds, respectively, seeing two white people is an event well worth telling everyone about. They then race over to us and offer a limp hand shake (sometimes forgetting which hand to offer).

Their nicknames – our inventions – are a good description because Davey (le Roi) thinks he owns the street, and Boris (le curieux) is incredibly mischievous and curious. Both are adorable.

Every day, I (Jon) spend a couple of minutes explaining to them my name isn’t in fact ‘nasara’. I repeat my name several times until they join in the game and I think they have memorised it. I then say “bye bye” which is coincidently the same words they use in Moré to say goodbye (not sure of the origins of this, but I presume they have just borrowed the English).

Davey and Boris then say “Bye bye ... (pause) … nasara” before racing off.

For children, the use of the word “nasara” is not an insult; it is simply a funny word. But during a typical day, a couple of adults (mostly young men) will say “nasara” as we walk past, which is meant to insult. Sometimes we stop and try to talk with the people. At other times we simply ignore it and keep walking. (Being referred to as “nasara” really, really bugs Cathlin.)

There is also the extra African francs added to food prices and constant hassling for a hand-out to serve as constant reminders we won’t ever really fit in.

We also have stories of how generous and polite the people are here. The man who guards our house on Sundays while we are at church (great time to rob a missionary), calls me 'le patron' (the boss) despite attempts to get him to call me Jon.

But even though I’ve progressed to warrant the special hand-shake - ends with a click of the fingers - with some of the nationals, and I visit their houses and we spend hours talking, we are all aware our circumstances keep us separated.

It is no doubt the most commonly quoted ‘difficulty’ of being a missionary in the region, even when the missionary has dedicated their entire life to the people.
The experience has, however, helped our ministry enormously. It is a constant reminder that the ultimate goal is to do ourselves out of a job, by training Burkinabé to take over the work.

If the ministry involves teaching English to open job opportunities and help people secure a better future, then we should be teaching potential teachers to take over this work. If the ministry involves sharing the good news of Jesus Christ, then we should be striving to take a back seat by strengthening Burkinabé to take over this work.

Jon