My Travels Have Strengthened Me by Yolande Bouka
In the past few years, I have been blessed with many opportunities to travel the world either for academic or professional purposes. On those trips, I was able to see breathtaking sceneries, meet inspiring people, and ponder on my life, my identity, and the gospel.
I am so thankful because I remember, and have come back from every single one of my trips with, deep insights. I remember the people, the places, and events which have added to my life. Yet, events are only the results of decisions we and others make. Those decisions are the biggest and most important steps in our learning process on this earth. How many times have some of us looked back at the different paths we have taken in our lives, only to be amazed to see where we stood at that present time? Never in a million years would we have thought that one simple decision would have led us to where we were.
I have experienced the marvels of the beauty of a sunset seen from the beaches of Morocco; felt the spirits of the long gone Moors in the Castle of Alhambra in Granada, Spain; felt the strength of medieval castles in Southern France; and enjoyed the poetic harmony of the mountains of Switzerland. But the greatest marvel of my world has been to feel and to see the love of an African mother for her child. What I’ve learned from Africa, I will never forget. And I’ve gotten great insight from it. It had such a strong impact on my life that I’ve decided to share with you some of the journal entries I kept during this journey.
One entry reads in part: "What could I say about Senegal? The facts: dates and names have never been as important as the attention paid to the intellectual process, the critical thinking, and analysis capabilities mixed with the appropriate amount of sensibility required to truly feel a situation. Africa, my Africa . . . . It would be so hard to get a sense of the depth of my feelings towards you if you didn’t know who I was. But who is Yolande Amavi Fouwa Bouka? Those who really know me, know that beneath my strong armor, there is an ocean of dreams, pain, hopes and sorrow. In fact, every single beat of my heart sets the tempo of a scale of feeling imperceptible to the ears of those who are unwilling to listen or who are too narrow-minded to understand the complexity of its melody." My music is the music of Africa.
At one point, on my last trip to Senegal, I got confused. Senegal is 98 percent Muslims, and as I interacted with my brothers and sisters, people often questioned my faith. Why was a strong African woman like me a devout Christian? Why had I decided to give into the God of the white oppressor? Why wasn’t I Muslim like the rest of my Brothers and Sisters? At first, I was taken off guard. What was I supposed to answer to this question, full knowing that after first entering Sub-Saharan Africa around 1040 C.E. (after the birth of Christ), Islam had become popular in Black Africa only after the beginning of colonialism as a way to oppose foreign invasion? After much prayer and meditation, the simple answer came. We all had the same God, but my faith, and my testimony was not anchored in historical facts. It was deeply rooted in my personal relationship with my God and Savior Jesus Christ.