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The following is another excerpt from the story of our travels to Burkina Faso.  Read along as we brave the Metro in Paris, become red with African Dust, and climb rickety ladders to reach rooftops.  Our intent?  To learn more about Earth Roofs in the Sahel and to see for ourselves the life-changing effect of this program. If you’re reading for the first time, you can see the other entries here.

We eventually leave the smoky little café where we first met with Thomas and Antoine, and make our way across Paris to another little smoky café.  Making our way through the city is like a dream.  Architecture I’ve only ever imagined, men and women everywhere with effortless style and intriguing faces.  A scarf casually tossed over a shoulder, a hat set just so, it is hard to pinpoint what exactly makes French men and women appear so incredibly unique.  Later, I see a young man on the Metro who has even perfected the starving artist look.  Big worn leather shoes, pinstriped pants that are too short, a threadbare jacket that his wrists stick out of, tousled hair, rough goatee, and of course, the scarf, the perfect scarf.  I shake my head in awe.

As our friends lead us through narrow streets, I take photos as fast as I can, barely able to wait for the next day, when I assume I will be able to spend some time making more shots.  Jessie talks to Thomas and Antoine.  Every time she asks a question they start discussing animatedly in French.  It usually ends with Antoine shrugging and throwing up his hands.  He concedes, but not without a few sneaky remarks in French, to which Thomas responds with a yell, “You give me no trouble today!”

It is wonderful to see Thomas and Antoine together; Thomas the older genius, in his early fifties, with a better command on English than I have on any other language, but still faltering with his words at times.  Not faltering with his opinions or ideas, however.  Somehow I believe he would be quite intimidating in his own language.  And Antoine, younger, sweeter, always asking if we are doing okay, if we understand, if we are tired.  Ribbing Thomas about his problems with English. Thomas in return mocking Antoine’s age.  In French he says, “Wine is not for children,” he says to Antoine, who is twenty-four, and is someone whom Thomas trusts explicitly.  Or maybe he says, “Wine is only for those who have children,” which doesn’t include Antoine.  It is lost in translation. We love the banter.  Banter feels like home.

Eventually we find the place we are looking for, and we end up spending several more hours, both on this night and during the next day, brainstorming and discussing things that will shape the way our work together is created.  During these talks we see a little more of who Thomas and Antoine are, and a little more of the nature of what they are trying to do.

They emphasize, again and again, that the health of the community is more important than almost anything else.  How mistaken it would be in our “philanthropy,” to walk in and give houses away willy-nilly, causing jealousies and rifts within the villages. It reminds me of a story I heard recently, of a group that spent thousands of dollars to build a fish processing plant for a people group in Kenya.  A people group who, unfortunately, don’t fish, but who traditionally raise goats.  We are impressed, again, by the indigenous nature of what AVN does in West Africa, and the absolute respect they have for the community.

Every once in a while, while we are speaking, Thomas will put his head down to his chest and start muttering to himself in French.   We look around at each other while he is doing this, and take a couple of sips of our Café Crème, our coffee with cream.  (I made the mistake of ordering an Americano at one point and was brought a cocktail.  From then on I just chirped, “Café Crème!” to be safe.)

Finally his head shoots up and his generous eyebrows are at his hairline.  “Un maçon pour une maison!” he practically shouts.  We can’t really understand what he is saying, but he keeps repeating himself. Finally, I pick up the idea.  It doesn’t rhyme as well in English.  The general idea is one mason for one house.  For every house that is bought, the money will be provided for the training of one mason, a job creation and economic boon for any fortunate man to be trained.  We mull over the idea, and then get talking about other things.

Later, as see the program in Burkina Faso with our own eyes, we will see how great of an idea it really is.