I went to visit her a couple of weeks ago: I stepped off of a snowy, Edmonton street into a typical African home. It's not every day you get to do that!
I had told her I'd be there and 9:30 or 10:00 but knew she was African enough that I shouldn't show up right on time. Well, at 10:30 she still wasn't expecting me... and in welcoming, loving, irreplaceable African style she came to the door in her PJs just beside-herself-THRILLED to see me as though she never thought I'd have come (even though we texted and confirmed several times.) If you've never felt that kind of love from a friend you're missing out. And this a 'friend' I'd only met and been in the hospital with for a couple of weeks before she had her girls and went home. And if I go back every week at 10:30 sharp on Monday morning from now until our girls are grown I guarantee you I'll get that same reaction. What gratitude for a friend. They'll never feel deserving of or entitled to, just blessed with and thankful for and full of joy. What great people. As awkward as that heroes welcome might be to some, when you've grown up there and you miss your friends there every day now, the feeling is next to none.
When they aren't in Canada and well-fed with jobs and a roof over their heads? It's no different. On their worst day a friend is a friend and joy is a choice they and their ancestors are used to making in dire circumstances. Christian or not. Clothed or not. {West} Africans are celebrators, passionate 'feelers' and lovers. And I can't help but feel like it should be that way around here more often.
You might think, well is it all fake? If you're reading this and you've been there you're shaking your head. NO It's not like that. I took pictures of our twins that day to share because she'd just had her twins and couldn't make it to the memorial. She and her husband wept. And when she was being wheeled away for her unexpected early delivery of Solera and Solana she was a wreck. Heart set on the fact that it wasn't time. She's the wildest of emoters you'd ever meet this side of the ocean. We wept together and prayed over her tiny preemie babies in the NICU.
The Africans I know and love are bold with their expectations. Soft hearted. Loud and obvious about how they feel. Their anger is lethal. Their joy is boundless. They're really real and really open. And I love 'em. That is all :)
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