clashing worldviews & the beauty of grace

     As my airplane made its decent out of the clouds, I could see the landscape below speckled with large and small structures alike, many with 2 spires pointing heavenward. As my airplane neared touch-down I scanned the horizon of my new home for the next year and from the airplane windows alone, I counted more than seven of the structures with minarets. As my airplane taxied toward the airport, mosque after mosque came into full view.
     After being picked up by my fellow Advance Team members, we loaded our borrowed sport utility vehicle and slowly made our way through the crazy traffic in town, toward the apartment we were renting. I took in all the sites around me. The streets were lined with liter, motorcycles, market stands, mosques, taxis, goats, wheelbarrows with items for sale, and men in loose, dress like shirts with pants underneath, all topped off with kippah or taqiyah caps; male prayer caps. Scattered amongst the men where women veiled with hijab, or head coverings that coordinated with their brightly colored African fabric dresses. In the crowd, I also picked out a few women shroud in black burqas and a few others with only their dark, forlorn eyes showing through their niqab or face veils. I had arrived in Conakry, Guinea, where the population is roughly 85% Muslim and the remaining 15% a syncretism of Catholic, Christian faith, Traditional African Religion, Fatalism, or Animism.
     Everyday I hear the call to prayer and see a host of people in tiny mosques around the city, on the side of the street, or in offices ceremoniously washing their hands, forearms, head, and feet with water in preparation for their 5 times a day prayer rituals. In some areas of the city, around the time of prayer, all activities cease and traffic comes to a standstill as many people prostrate themselves before their god. In a city where there majority of people have no running water in their homes and the water they do have access to is contaminated with bacteria and parasites, I am left with a feeling of confused-frustration as I see people spending the little money they have on bottled or bagged water or their energy on carting bucket after bucket of water from a well to use for a ceremony mandated by their religion.
     Over the past few months it has been interesting to enter meetings where those we are meeting with eagerly greet my male colleagues, but when it comes to me, at times I am not given a handshake and my presence isn’t even acknowledged even though I may be leading the meeting. I thrive on the challenge of learning about new cultures and I am embracing the diversity of my new home, but praying for God to make sense of all I am encountering in my life where one of my constant companions remains the consistency of changing geographical locations and encountering clashing worldviews.
     As I pass the women enveloped from head to toe, I cannot help but wonder how “she” feels behind the black veil that is heavy upon her and has to be uncomfortably sweltering in the hot African sun. I don’t know why, but I make a point of it to say “Bonjour” to every woman hidden behind the veil of her culture and religion. I never hear “her” answer back, but I persist in my little practice, maybe one born out of my own egocentric opinion that feels “she” has to be angry, alone, or crying out to be acknowledged, but I think it is more than that….
     The 9th month of the Islamic Calendar began just a few weeks ago, ushering in Ramadan; a month of fasting from dawn to sunset for many around me. There is a tangible difference in the Conakry air since Ramadan began. The compulsory fasting (even from water) has left many of those I interact with on a daily basis fatigued, irritable, distracted, and challenging to work with. In the middle of important conversations with governmental officials, about immigration, clearing Mercy Ships shipping containers of medical supplies or medications through customs, training of potential surgeons, locating patients desperately needing help, getting visas for the 1,200 Mercy Ships’ crew members that will pass through Guinea in the 10 months the ship is stationed here, those we are conversing will all of a sudden leave our meetings to wash and pray, they fall asleep, or remain so distracted that we end up repeating ourselves multiple times just to get simple points across.
     The ship arrives in less than three weeks and it has been interesting to try and coordinate many tasks with touchy, lethargic, and unfocused government officials. Much is to be done and the time frame is critically short. I want to get the million things crossed of my “to-do-list” that remain… but more than that… I want people to know freedom from mandated rituals, spells, charms, and legalistic actions...I want people to know the beauty of grace...and the God who loves the oppressed… lonely… forgotten…and hurt, as well as the proud… popular… famous… and strong…the God who loves all equally, whether rich or poor… healthy or sick… black or white…male or female…