Before arrival, I had read that Côte d’Ivoire was about 50% Christian and 50% Muslim. When I think of a numerical split like that, I imagine, because I’m American, that people may identify with a faith, but they are not necessarily practicing actively within that faith. As far as Côte d’Ivoire is concerned, my assumptions were false. Based on what I have seen, people here are regular worshipers of whatever religion they believe in. When I ask students, “What are you doing this weekend?” The typical response is, “Going to church” or “Going to the mosque.” So, since everyone belongs to a house of worship, these organizations do many things, including hosting English clubs.

I recently met a young guy who has spent some time in the US, specifically Vermont! He was part of the Young African Leaders Initiative program, which gives students scholarships to travel to the US for experiential learning. He lived with a host family in Shelburne, took classes at St. Mike’s, and swam in Lake Champlain. I wish I had met him in VT because at least I would have had one friend upon arrival.

One thing to know about this place is that the phone/data plan does not work like the US, where you sign up for a plan and keep paying monthly in perpetuity. Here, it’s the opposite. You pay per month (or even per day if you don’t have enough cash), and if you don’t make an effort to pay (or know when your monthly plan ends), your internet and phone go dark, usually at the most inconvenient time—for me, that inconvenient time turned out to be on the way to church that Sunday in a neighborhood with unpaved streets and giant rubble piles in the road, so big that my Yango driver refused to drive there.

As the Yango driver instructed me to get out of the car and walk up the hill in the neighborhood to find the church, I flipped on my phone for directions to the location I had saved. No internet means no Google Maps or saved information (because I did not download the map in advance). Only seconds after the Yango peeled away, I was lost because my new friend never told me the exact name of the church, only the directions. I walked up the hill, asking strangers about the unnamed church.

I tried to text the friend who had invited me to church but had no signal. After wandering around the street for an awkward amount of time and drawing attention to myself as being COMPLETELY out of place, I finally saw my friend who came looking for me on the street. I’m glad he found me because I never would have found his church, mainly because it had no characteristics of a church. It had no roof, doors, electricity, plumbing, or real walls. I believe it was in the process of being built, but it looked closer to an earthquake devastation zone.

The English club was in the bottom space of this building, which lacked both natural light and electricity. The ages of club members ranged from 3 years old to about 60, and we played some games and enjoyed practicing English together.

My favorite moment of the day came when we played one of my favorite card games called Slapzi. I passed out 5 double-sided cards to each person. On the cards were photos of everyday things in the US (e.g., different clothing items, animals, food, sports equipment, etc.).

In this game, everyone looks at their cards, and the moderator asks a question, and the people need to find a card that matches. For example, “something lighter than a tennis ball” could be dice, a feather, a penny, or a thumbtack.

Everyone looked at their cards when I asked them to find “something they wore on their head or hands.” It took people a while to look, and although I knew there were cards with mittens, goggles, various types of hats, and glasses, nobody was jumping to a match with their cards. Finally, a woman at the back said, “I have it!” She held up a photo of a cardboard box. When I looked confused, the entire crowd agreed with her. Yes, you do wear a box on your head here.

Clearly, we need a set of African rules for this game.

After the club, my friend asked me to sit on the bench at the entrance and he did not specify why. I suspected that either I was going to be offered a meal or get converted. After about 10 minutes on the bench, I was starting to get nervous. Finally, my friend walked up with a bag in his hand. He said, “This is a gift from my church to thank you for coming today.” It was a large, cold bottle of Orangina. That is genuine gratitude.