A Call to Prayer

Everyday at 6am, my alarm clock is the 30 min Muslim call to prayer, “L’appel du Muezin”, calling all good Muslims to prayer loudly above the city.  There are about 8 mosques in the small suburb I live in and each morning at 6 am, and 4 other times throughout the day, you can hear the muezzin calling the city to commit to their Muslim duty of 5 times daily prayer.

And when I hear the loud, abrupt, Arabic chants through my window, I curse my host family for building their home next to a mosque.  Then  I wake up, open my bible, and pray to my God as well—for my family, my friends, my life, my purpose, and just simple thanks and adoration of the one who’s opened so many doors for me.  It’s become an interesting reminder that prayer needs to be at the forefront of my day.

One of the beautiful ways in which an Islamic country has made room for my Christian faith.

Coming to a completely Muslim country, I didn’t know how, or even if, I would be able to express my faith.  Speaking with the Peace Corps representative before I received my invitation to Guinea, she asked me considering how important my faith was to me, would I be willing to serve somewhere where I would be unable to express my faith openly or attend a regular place of worship.  Since leaving my church in Atlanta and due to my transient work as a flight attendant, I’ve been on a journey of finding what it means to practice my faith outside of a traditional church setting, something that had been engrained in me since I became a Christian. 


Again, all things come together :-)


I emphatically assured her that for me church is not a building or a congregation, but inside me.  Wherever and however I build community sharing and building faith is church –across oceans or next door.  But as I said those words that I deeply believe, a hint of fear rose in me wondering what it would be like to live somewhere where practicing what you believe is not free.  I internally began to prepare myself for the worst of that possibility.  

I have never been more amazed at how this is the complete opposite of what has been true for me since I’ve integrated more and more into this community.  I have had opportunity after opportunity to talk about my faith, and it has all been initiated by Muslims seeking to know more about why and how someone could ever believe in Christ as God. 

And in the process I’m learning more and more about Islam and what they do believe.

I didn’t realize that Muslims are just as evangelistic, if not more than, as Jehova’s Witnesses.  Each night before I eat with my family, the grand l’imam of Dubreka comes to have an hour (or more) long conversation with me about why I should be Muslim.  Once he found out that I was Vai (my family’s people, a tribe in Northeastern Liberia), he couldn’t understand why I was not Muslim, because Vai people are traditionally Muslim.  My French is limited in conversations of this depth so they don't get very far, and don't explain much, but the conversations are nevertheless interesting.  Here is a snippet of our usual conversations (translated into English for your reading pleasure):

L’imam:  Fahtu Sylla!  Why are you not Muslim?

Me:  Why are you not Christian L’Imam?

L’imam:  What kind of question is that Fatou? Because there is no other way, so why are you not Muslim?

Me:  I believe there is another way. I have a relationship with Christ. I believe God lives inside all of us.

L’imam:  But how can you have a relationship with Christ, he is dead.  And God cannot live inside of you!

Me:  I believe he still lives through us.

L’imam:  (he ignores that last statement) But your family is Muslim, how is it that you have left your faith?

Me:  My family converted to Christianity when my great grandfather wanted to become a politician in Liberia (Very interesting story!  Ask my family or read, “The First African Diplomat”….good stuff).  

L’imam:  (again ignoring my last statement) You need to marry a good Muslim Guinean man.

Me:  But how will I marry a Muslim if I’m Christian?

L’imam:  Christ was a prophet and  good so you can still marry a Muslim.  Then you can become Mulsim.

Me:  I don’t believe that Christ was a good person or a prophet, I believe he is God.  

L’imam:  God cannot eat, God cannot sleep, God cannot live, God cannot run, God cannot love, God cannot cry….God is not human!  So how can this be true.

And the rest of the conversation is us going back and forth on this last point until he realizes the comedy of it and we laugh.  He tells me I’m difficult but he likes me because I speak candidly and he will return.  And he always does, sometimes with pamphlets like a good evangelist.  I mostly continue the conversation because, though unresolvable, it’s good French practice and I get a clearer picture of the Muslim faith.

Though this conversation seems futile, it has had a ripple effect.  My 13 year old little sister, Mah Benti, who I have noticed has been listening in on my conversations with the imam, walked with me to the market after dark one night on a mission to buy some fried plantain.  The following conversation ensued:

Mah Benti:  Are you Christian?

Me:  Yes, I am Christian.  Are you Muslim?

Mah Benti:  Yes.  Because my family is Muslim.   I am a Sylla and because I am a Sylla, I must be Muslim. 

Me:  Do you pray at the Mosque?

Mah Benti:  No.  But I love church.  Because I love the way Christians pray.

Me:  Have you been to church?

Mah Benti:  No, we  are Sylla and so we are Muslim.  But I don’t pray at the mosque.

She changed the subject, but I have much more time to find the other pieces to that puzzle :-)

Every other night I have long conversations with my little brother Modia, in which he either talks about hip hop and breakdancing, development in Africa, France, or Islam.  Mah Benti is of course always close by.  The most recent conversation was about how it is impossible to know God.  I relayed I know God because I talk to him as my friend and I read of his nature in the bible.  I know God because I can see his creation and we are made in his image.  I know God because he has shown himself to me in a million different ways.  My question was is it not the same for you?  This was met with repeated exclamations that I was silly for thinking one could know God.  He is God!!  No one knows him!!  One of my mother’s chimed in on this one, “Of course you can’t know God you silly girl!  He is God!”  This one finished with Mah Benti telling me I would go to hell if I didn’t pray and give to others.  Again the convo always closes with laughing and eating :-)

I was completely surprised to find a little old church about 6 blocks from my house!  I went to the Catholic service a few Sundays ago.   It was long, stuffy, boring, and I could only understand about 30% of it, but it was great meeting and seeing that Christians do exist here!  C’est bien!   As I walked up to the church a few Sundays ago an hour early, I met 3 young men sitting on the steps outside.  I sat next to them in silence, until one of them, on his phone, began playing the Sister Act version of “Joyful, Joyful” on his phone in English!  I started singing immediately and we became quick friends.  His name is David, as I’ve noticed that the Christians I meet all have Christian names versus African names. 


I also met a lovely young lady named Helene Mamy whose mother is Liberian and father is Guinean.  She grew up in Guinea, but is from the forest region which is the part of Guinea on the border with Liberia.  It’s about a 14 hour drive from where I am now.  She told me that the church was built in 1904 or 1905 by a Lebonese man.  But it was later abandoned.  The students who come from the Forest region to Dubreka to study at the University for the Arts re-founded the church.  So most of the members are young college students!  My kind of people.  Not only are they Christians and founded a church far from their home in a Muslim town, which warrants to me some praise and respect, but they are all involved in the arts!  Acting, writing, singing, music, film studies, literature studies, etc.  I can’t wait to find out more of what it’s like to live in a Muslim community, yet practice Christianity.

The way Christianity and Islam interact with one another here is interesting, and I’m beginning to find they are more fluid than I originally believed.

It’s amazing how when you know who you are and what you believe, you can give yourself the liberty to open up to other cultures and beliefs.  Fear is the exact opposite of love because it keeps you from loving people who are different than you.  Fear breeds isolation. 

In these little chance meetings, I’ve seen even more how God is everywhere and in all things.  He’s in America, in Knoxville, TN, in Atlanta, and in Guinea—seeing that his child still has a community of faith surrounding her.

Open yourself up to see God in unexpected places.

Because….

Well just because :-)