“What guy studies art?” Pierre asked. A few of my friends and I had gone to the soccer field to practice. It was the dry season, and dirt billowed up around our feet with every kick. I shrugged my shoulders in response and dribbled the ball downfield. “Why would you go to America to play with crayons?” Michael yelled as he ran past me. I passed the ball to him. He took a shot on goal. Achille, our goalie, lunged for it. Just before he kicked it to centerfield, Achille said, “Drawing around here is one thing but to go halfway across the world for a little hobby?” All the guys thought my passion for drawing was stupid or, at best, a hobby. I drew in secret now, avoiding their comments at all costs; but I couldn’t escape them now. I was going to America to participate in a study of talent found in economically challenged countries. With a 95% unemployment rate, Burkina Faso definitely qualified. Regardless of what the guys thought, I had to go. Now, almost a year later, I’d learn
Thoughts on life and faith