The McConnon-Robys do Christmas in West Africa

How do you write about a month in which every day was radically different from the next, in which you saw your family for the first time in over a year, in which you celebrated Christmas, and New years, and spoke three languages every day and saw your two incongruent worlds overlap and converge for a miraculous couple weeks?

My answer, at least for a while, was that you don’t.

But now, I think I’ve found a few better answers. I could write for hours and hours and still not capture all the smiles, tears, laughter, frustrations and, of course, awkward moments that have filled my last few weeks. So instead, I’ll just share about a few moments, and a few photos, and leave you with the promise that if you run into my family anytime soon, you’re bound to see, hear, and watch even more!

Like a good McConnon, my mother took plenty of photos (which caused a riot or two among the kids in my village, fighting for center stage of the camera lens), and like a good videographer, my dad captured many a moment on video as well. We spent two whirlwind days in my village, where we were relentlessly swarmed by children and continuously welcomed by adults running through the scripted, often minutes-long traditional greeting. (How is the evening? Health! How is the family? Health! How is your body? Health only!…) Many of the kids in my own courtyard had known my family’s faces and practiced their names while looking at the photos on my wall for months before they even arrived, so they were ecstatic to finally meet Akiti, AMora, and Efrancisi in person. The first night my dad braved the village alone with me, while my sister and mom retreated to a slightly more comfortable arrangement in the city near my village. But the second night we had Roby family sleep-over, complete with headlamps and creepy crawlers, and perhaps even bedtime stories – although if we did I missed those cause I think I was out the second my head hit the pillow! By the time all four of us were laying down on some kind of cot/foam mattress, we took up most of the square-footage of my house. It was a cozy night, but one I’ll never forget.

We visited my market ladies in town and made couple Burkinabe/American concoctions…

We washed dishes outside by headlamp…

We had lots of fun (and chaos) with the kids…

We made friends and learned how to communicate without language…

We ate a local dish called “riz gras” from a communal bowl (although we cheated a little and used spoons)…

We danced in the traditional Mossi fashion…

And often made the crowd laugh with our dancing…

And when it was time to go, no one wanted to say goodbye!  But, we were off to the airport to pick up my cousin Kaela, and had a whole different kind of adventure waiting for us ahead: the five McConnon-Robys doing Christmas in West Africa. It certainly was a Christmas I’ll never forget. Like drinking hot chocolate while eating ice cream on Christmas Eve outside our hotel. Or opening each of our presents sent from my aunt Kathy while James Taylor serenaded us from Kaela’s ipod in the garden on Christmas morning. Or singing the entire “IIII’m dreaming of a whiiiite Christmaaas” over skype with the whole McConnon family in Minnesota, swaying to and fro on each side of the screen. How can we ever top that?

Hot chocolate and ice cream in the garden on Christmas Eve. If I look cold, I was! It was probably in the sixties that night.

My family was only able to stay for a fleeting yet incredible ten days, but I was lucky enough to get an extra two weeks with my cousin Kaela before she had to head back to start work in Senegal. Since Kaela speaks French and has already spent considerable time in West Africa, it almost felt like she’d been there with me all along. But now, for two weeks, I had a roommate! We cooked delicious feasts including omelets and homemade French fries and banana bread, played with UNO with the kids in my courtyard, watched Without a Trace marathons on her laptop at night, and started each day after sunrise with some good old Neil Young or Carole King on the iPod and a fresh-pressed cup of coffee.

As you might have guessed, it wasn’t easy to say goodbye; not the first nor the second time around. But after many hugs, and even more tears, I slowly slid back into the rhythm of my “normal” life here, and so far, it’s been a good ride. I’ve been busy with multiple projects going on (more on those to come), been busy laughing and dancing around village with friends (many under the age of 13), and been optimistically looking ahead at the 11 months yet to come.

It’s been a sweet start to 2012. And if it’s any clue on what’s to follow, I’m in for a special year.

Happy new year everyone.