Africa- Blog VII

Written August 14, 2008
Bouake, Cote d’Ivoire

We flew about an hour north of Abidjan and then drove to the village of Lomibo. My purpose was to see HIV/AIDS treatment in a remote area of the country. In those areas, the effort has to be home-based, because there often are not clinics. The reality is that, in areas like this, the government is not a significant factor in the lives of the people. The culture is governed through a hierarchy of village elders. Since the 2002 crisis, areas like this have essentially been cut off from all health care.

Lomibo looks just like one would imagine an African village. When I arrived, I was met by the village elders. These are men who appear to be in their late 60s or early 70s. They dress in traditional African raps. The most senior wears head gear that designates him as such.

The Chief Elder of Lomibo

Something I’ve found true in meeting men of this nature is the need to let them size you up. If you pause and gain eye contact for just a second or two, their eyes tell a story and a connection can be made. Without that moment, it is hard to establish a rapport. With the difficulties of language interpretation and culture, it is hard for them to know if they trust your words. I saw that play out in Lomibo.

After a series of introductory activities were conducted, I was asked to speak. I put my remarks into the context of their 2002 crisis. I told them I had come to understand how heavily it had weighed on them. I linked to HIV/AIDS by saying that, to prosper again, they need to be healthy. HIV/AIDS is stealing the health of many of their young people. It is not just killing them, it will hurt the village and its ability to recover as well. I expressed my belief that God has given us bodies, and we are expected to take care of them. “Every person needs to be tested for HIV/AIDS. If you test positive, you need treatment, and you can live a positive and productive life. If you don’t get tested, you can’t be treated.”

My remarks where being interpreted, but I could tell the elders were getting it because they would nod their heads in affirmation. After I was finished, I walked over to a chair sitting at a small table in front of them and had a medical technician prick my finger and squeeze a tiny drop of blood onto the HIV quick-test strip.

When I had finished being tested, volunteers from the audience were invited to be tested. To my great pleasure and to everyone’s surprise, the Chief Elder stood and walked to the table for testing. There was an audible stir in the crowd of people who had come from three different villages. When he was finished, the second most senior person did the same thing.

The U.N. health people said they had been doing these village education sessions for a decade and hadn’t seen a village elder do that. Tim Ziemer, the National Malaria Coordinator, leaned over to me and whispered, “that’s real leadership.”

When the testing had been concluded, the elders said they had a gift for me. They brought out a very colorful robe and ceremoniously rapped me in it. They then placed a colorful cap on my head similar to the one the village elder had worn. They told me I was being made an honorary village chief. They designated me with the name: Nanan Kouakoo the First. I was later told that Nanan means King. Kouakoo is roughly “crowned on Thursday.”

While being provided such an honor feels a little conspicuous, I could tell it was a serious gesture for them and I want to treat their expression with the dignity and appreciation it deserves. (However, I will likely stick with the simple title of Secretary for now.)

Secretary Leavitt wearing traditional robe and cap.

After the ceremony, all the women in the village began to chant and dance. We all got into the spirit of it and had quite a moment. Many of the women wanted to dance with Nanan Kouakoo the First, and I was more than willing to accommodate. It was an experience I will not ever forget.