On wealth.

It’s really interesting to be an American living abroad. My 9 and 10-year-old students in France were obsessed with the United States. They would say it was their dream to live there. Even many adults in France, same thing. Here in Côte d’Ivoire, it’s even stronger. Everywhere I go when people find out I’m American, they tell me how much they want to go there. People outside of the US have this idea that the US really is the land of milk and honey – that in America, one’s life is comfort, ease, joy, and pleasure.

Yet we Americans know this is not true. We are acutely aware that we are plagued by addiction, by aggression, and other symptoms of deep spiritual pain.

I always tell people here that while in the States we have laptops and big cars and nice clothes, we are rich only in terms of material wealth. What we do not have in the States is spiritual wealth – the ability to find joy and appreciation in who we are, each of us, as individuals. And the ability to truly and deeply embrace other people as our brothers and sisters in the human family. I mean brothers and sisters in the deepest sense – that above anything else, we give attention, openness, and care to those we cross in our lives, whether in our family or when passing in the grocery store. Ivoirians call everybody their brother, aunt, etc, no matter what their blood relation. While I find this confusing, an Ivoirian friend explained to me that calling someone “my mom’s friend” makes that person too distant. And she couldn’t fathom why you would want to distance yourself from someone else.

I will also add that I’m happier here than I was in France. My life in Marseille consisted of 12 hours of work a week, coffees in cafes on a beautiful port, walks along the Mediterranean Sea, and traveling in Europe. Here, I am constantly uncomfortably hot, itching mosquito bites, and must communicate in a language I haven’t mastered. (There are no native English speakers here – It’s French all the time). Despite this, in Marseille I carried with me a loneliness that I don’t feel here in a land of such strong fraternity.

I’m jealous of people in Côte d’Ivoire. Writing from West Africa, I think my country is very poor. In the States, we see other people as objects to manage and negotiate. I pray that we all learn to see each other as who we really are: souls deeply in need of love and affection.

I send big hugs to everyone back at home, and miss you much!