Rocking Along

At the end of most workdays when we were living in a village in Côte d'Ivoire, I would walk over to my neighbor Mr. Gabriel, who was sitting under his mango tree, catching the breeze off the lagoon.

He'd bring out a stool for me, and we would sit and chat, in Adioukrou, in French.

We were there to learn the language and culture and help them translate the Bible into their language—spoken by about 100,000 people at the time.

We recorded stories and had someone explain them to us in French and figured out how to say things based on the stories.

Then we went around the village using what we learned, trying to communicate, which involved a lot of pointing and laughter, mainly at my expense. I provided endless entertainment.

Little by little over a period of years, we learned to speak the language.

Mr. Gabriel marveled at my way of life as much as I did his. For example, he was amazed I walked anywhere since I had a car. "If I had a car, I'd take it to pee behind my house!" he said.

We laughed a lot together.

And I sensed a kindred spirit even though we came from very different worlds.