My mural is FINISHED.

It is not perfect.

But I am still super proud of it.

 The whole wall  "An HIV positive woman who takes medicine during her pregnancy can avoid giving HIV to her child"  "Buy and use condoms" 

"You should leave things dirtied by blood in bleach or boiling water" (for 20 minutes to kill the HIV virus)

 "Avoiding HIV/AIDS; Yilou commits to World AIDS day"

(Soon it will hopefully be filled with handprints!) 

So the last few weeks have been full of painting. The AIDS murals (there are actually 4 separate ones taking up the wall) are *almost* done. Aside from a few minor errors in my french I need to go back and correct, a tree I want to add, and some scrubbing of misplaced cement… I’m done!

So it would make sense to post lovely pictures here, but sadly I worked the entire day (literally) before I came into the capital and didn’t have time to charge my camera. I hope that I can get those pictures up pretty soon so you can see the whole thing! It’s not perfect but I’m really proud of it, and my villagers keep telling me that I’m good at drawing and should become a “mural painter”—apparently that’s a job?  Most importantly though, the mural has given me a lot of opportunities to talk to people in my village about HIV and AIDS. I have had over 10 good conversations with groups of villagers about how not to get AIDS while I was painting… and we haven’t even done the sensibilisations yet!

In other village news, Read more »

I bet you probably never learned about Liberia in your US History class. At least I don’t remember anyone ever telling me about the country where Americans took over other people’s land in order to give it to freed slaves and free African-Americans who then enslaved the indigenous peoples of the land they’d took… do you? Liberia’s government is modeled after the US; the people speak English, use Liberian and US dollars interchangeably, and know American R&B music better than I do. My sister said that it’s how one would imagine the US if it were in Africa… and was being rebuilt after a very long civil war. Liberia views itself as America’s baby, but if that’s true it’s a child we don’t are ignorant of and have seriously neglected. To learn more about the country that I just visited, read this brief article: http://africanhistory.about.com/od/liberia/p/LiberiaHist1.htm

In case you’re wondering… Liberia looks like this (a shoe)

And my trip went like this (village, Ouaga, Accra, flight to Monrovia... and back)

 Some pictures from MY TRIP TO LIBERIA

Water pump in the middle of the city (Monrovia) A funny billboard

(also please note that the people in the car are, perplexedly, white)

Kate working On the way to a market (downhill!)

Kate and Carri at the beach playing with their food

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Malaria is a disease caused by a parasite carried by a particular type of mosquito (the female anopheles). If a mosquito with the parasite bites you, it gives you the parasite. The parasite lives mainly in the liver, blood, and placenta, and it causes a whole host of problems. If another mosquito bites an infected person, the person can give the parasite to it. It then goes on to bite someone else… thus creating the vicious cycle that is malaria.Malaria is often called “palu” (pah-loo) in Burkina, short for its French name paludism. Though malaria is active year round, like everything else here, it has its own season. When the conditions are best for mosquitos to breed is after rainy season. August- November there are more mosquitos, and thus more malaria.Simple malaria has signs of fever, chills, body aches, diarrhea, and vomiting. It’s not at all fun, but usually very treatable with simple drugs. If left untreated, however, it can turn into complicated malaria, which includes symptoms like seizures, loss of consciousness, jaundice, anemia, dehydration, and difficulty breathing. Also, death.People can develop an acquired resistance to malaria, but it is especially dangerous for children under 5, who have not acquired a resistance yet, and pregnant women, whose resistance doesn’t have the same affect while pregnant. Despite clear need, there is no vaccine for malaria yet. Efforts to produce one are ongoing, but much of the world that can afford to fund trials is unaffected by the disease. So, they ignore (or remain ignorant of) the need.

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I’ve spent the last few months on and off trying to get an AIDS mural in my community. I spent January running the idea by my Major (numerous times), getting a wall approved, buying primary materials in other villages, and doing research and sketches of what HIV prevention methods I thought would be appropriate to portray. I spent most of February begging the Major to find someone to cement the wall. The one part of the project I couldn’t do myself was the cementing, and the wall is a stucco type thing that you just can’t paint. Well, the guy who did the cement did a shitty job. My Major paid him anyway, but since his payment was the only contribution I asked from my CSPS, I figured it was up to them to decide what he deserved. Besides that, the guy tried to rip me off by saying he needed more cement. Instead of just handing him money (I have learned a thing or two) I went and bought the cement itself and had it sent over. It was sent back. “He didn’t really need it, he said” the kid told me. Great. So here I am with another half a bag of cement no one needs.Whatever. The guy did a shitty job but I can paint it and try to fix the cement drips and it’ll work out, I thought. I did the first white coat with my nurses. I was excited they wanted to help, though they are still asking me for payment… which is getting old. I spent the end of February drawing out all of the grids on the wall and on my sketches. Last week I finished the pencil drawings on the grids and was decently satisfied. There was one place the cement had fallen off but I was sure my nurse could fix it if he decided he could help for free.I started the painting today. I walked to the CSPS with the paint in my backpack. As I laid out all the supplies I’d gathered I realized I’d forgotten the pop bottles to mix paints in. I didn’t feel like walking all the way back to my house to get them so I decided but that I could bring them tomorrow. I looked at the penciled in drawings and sighed. I suppose, I thought, I can just do the outlines today. I went to get water. Of course, we were out. My CSPS never has water because none of the nurses go get it. I made a similar comment to the Pharmacist. This isn’t America, she replied. No, I said, my friend works at a CSPS and they have water. It’s just because nobody here wants to get it. I was getting in a bad mood. Is that pump working? I asked. I’d noticed no one was using it today. Nope, she replied. You should fix it for us. That’s your job, to help us. So you should give us money to fix the pump. No, I replied. That’s not my job. I’ve explained my job to you before. It is not my job to fix your pump and it’s not my job to give out money. She laughed at me. Go to robinet (a kind of pump you pay for) right behind the CSPS then. Yeah, and who’s gonna pay for that? You can, she tells me. No, I think, I really can’t. I really don’t have money to spare this month. I don’t have the money, I say. She laughs at my response. If you’re going to be like that go away from me I quip. I’m tired. I’m just joking she said. Am I laughing? I say a little meanly. She leaves. I walk the 10 minutes to another pump. All of this to wash some brushes. I get all set and realize I can’t see the picture I’m painting if I’m painting. Tape, I think. I can tape it to the wall. I ask my new Major for tape. Nope. Don’t have any. Well, what do you put the posters and papers on the wall up with? I reply. We’re out, he says, ask at the Pharmacy. I go ask. I’m out, she says, ask the Major. Are you kidding me? I just asked the Major, I tell her. Oh, well I have some, but tell him he’s got to pay me back. I take the tape back to the Major’s office. She gave me some, but says you’ll have to pay her back, I say. What? he says. Whatever, I think, I’m tired. I just need a little bit, I say. Do you have any scissors to cut it with? No. he says. You should buy me some.I am so pissed at this point I leave the room. I have asked little in general from my CSPS staff because they’re not that inclined to help. All of the money for this project has come from a grant I applied for, and I only asked the community contribution of the labor for the cement because the grant stipulated there had to be SOME kind of community contribution. All I want is a fucking pair of scissors. I settle for the knife on my pocketknife I’ve been using to open paint cans. I tape up the picture, wondering if it was worth all that and start painting a black outline.As I’m finishing the first picture, more chunks of the cement fall off. A particularly large chunk, the woman’s nose, was what set me off. It’s getting ruined, I say sadly in Moore to the crowd of women who’ve been watching me paint. Mam suur pas noom ye. Another way of saying, I feel like shit. My friend who happens to be visiting someone at the CSPS and another man come to look at what has made me so unhappy: the cement. He cheated you, one says, there’s too much sand in here. He stole your cement. Who is it? asked the other. I told him I didn’t know, the old Major found the person to do it. You should have asked me for help, he said, I would have just sanded down the wall for you. There isn’t much you can do now. Well thanks. That’s really fuckin helpful to tell me now, I think loudly.I was pissed at the guy who cheated me and did shitty cement; I was pissed at my old Major for not making sure it was good, or telling me I had other options, or really just being helpful at all; I was pissed at myself for not knowing, for asking my Major and trusting who he picked, for being cheated… again. What can you do though? I have learned here that when things are bad, you must keep going, you must move on, you must make it work. Because what other option do you have? To quit is not an option. My woman may be missing her nose, my mural may suck, I may not get the awesome project I wanted…. but what can I do about it now? I’m tired of being cheated. I’m tired of being asked for money. I’m tired of my work not being supported or valued. Today, for one day, I am very tired of my life here.Thank God, tomorrow is a new day. Bark Wendnam beeogo na n wa.

Update: After a week of asking two different masons, I finally got the cement patched. I have only gotten one of the pictures (out of 3) painted, but I’m pretty happy with it. There was some minor graffiti scratched into the paint, I’m pretty sure it was a kid. But luckily it didn’t do that much damage and you can’t tell that much after I painted over it, looking at the picture from straight ahead.

HIV AIDS prevention 3:Soaking things contaminated with blood in bleach (also to note HIV can be transmitted by blood)

p.s. I was going to wait until it was finished to post pictures but my mom really wanted to see it now. Love ya, mom!

" 'The World isn't just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding, we bring something to it, no? Doesn't that make life a story?' " -Pi Patel, Life of Pi,Yann Martel

Some photos from March 8th, International Women's Day, celebrated in my village. Sadly no photos from the women's verse men's soccer game... because I played in it :) Women won.

Jillian at my door

My friend Bibata just had her first baby!

Matching outfits are big here for holidays

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Chad.

Yep, that's right... I believe in Chad.

And, I believe in his work.

Chad and his wife Tana came to Burkina the same time as I did. I know them.

Their blog is a piece of often funny, very true, well done art.

It makes my blog sit in a corner and feel sorry for itself.

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In January and February, I did lots of things I don’t remember.

But what I do remember is that in January I went to go visit one of my nearest neighbors, E. Even though we live close, the only time I had been to her site was to drop her off. Her village was having a fete in honor of the village itself. What better reason to party? Originally I had opted out, but as everyone else was bailing I decided to go so that it wouldn’t be a letdown. It wasn’t.

B and E

B, E and I had a great time. First off, it was awesome seeing her village. It’s a lot smaller than mine and she lives IN her chief’s courtyard. How awesome is that? Her chief was really nice to us and her family brought us food. Also, they have a horse!

B wasn't sure about the horse :) At the end of a bike race, a village market (with much eating), and meeting her medical staff, we sat down to some freshly roasted chicken, free beer, and a little bit of free dancing. Dig it.

Back in my village I was still working with a group of 10 CM2 (think 6th grade, but students from 11- 14) students for an hour after school once every week or two learning about health topics. I started this (somewhat) in December. These 5 boys and 5 girls, picked for their French ability, had (I’m pretty much sure) been coerced into coming to listen to my bad French by their teacher, also the director (read, principal) of the school. Which I appreciated in an odd “I reallywant to work with students and if this is the only way I can do it great” kind of way. They were surprisingly helpful and not too often bored (at least they didn’t seem it). School here is largely based on memorization, penmanship, and ability to grasp a totally foreign language (French). I tried teaching techniques from America (like working in groups), but they could never grasp the concept. Each time they just looked at me like I was speaking Greek after the third time I explained it, I wilted a little. So I gave up on that and tried to stick to the basic format of lecturing with kids writing notes. That was a little too boring so I did it along with some more lively Q and A and some “health” games. I thought it was going well.

They liked the games, but I don't think they really learned much else. This past month we’ve started presenting to the other classes in the school. Basically it’s a mess because the kids have never done public speaking in groups before. They didn’t know what to pick to talk about when we tried to come up with topics. I didn’t realize the teachers hadn’t expected me to teach them health and let them do the sensibilisations (teachings) on their own. They had expected me to give each child something to say and to practice the presentations each week. Go figure. Well, at least I know what they're thinking if there's a next time. A group presenting to the youngest kids It’s going as OK as can be expected for my inexperienced mistake. The kids are pretty forgiving (much more so that the critical teachers) and are doing their best falling back on knowledge about hygiene they learned in other classes. Though last presentation (in Moore) I caught a kid talking about malaria. Interesting, I thought, considering we had never done anything on malaria. :) Well, at least his information was right even if less relevant to the presentation. We have 7 presentations all together, 3 of which have been finished. The kids are tired of presenting the same material, but are hanging in there as much as 6th graders can. Rather mostly because the director is making them. But who knows, maybe they’re teaching their younger brothers and sisters to wash their hands before eating. Just maybe.

Another pic (They suck because I couldn't use the flash) I also went to visit my friend B this past month up north (Yep, the same one). Many people I know live near her site and I’d yet to have visited any of them. I was supposed to be headed up Valentine's morning. I made it late that night, but only after a minor nassara miracle and some food poisoning. I don’t know if you know this, but food poisoning SUCKS. I finally got to eat some nachos only to throw them all up the next morning. Merry Valentines to me. The miracle was that the buses were running an hour late, but I was invited onto an entirely full bus (never happens), to a VIP seat no less, at the time I was supposed to be leaving… because they thought I was a tourist. I don’t play the nassara card, but if they’re gonna give it to me when I have food poisoning, I take it.

When I finally got there it was too late to bike to B's site so we stayed in the big village near, in C’s very nice house. (Teachers, man.) Anyway, it was super nice of C to let us stay. The next morning we biked to her site. Which I loved seeing! It was super close to this big village, but there aren’t suburbs here, it was 100 percent village.

She lives in a family courtyard, but the courtyards up north are completely different from in my village. It’s hard to explain, but there are a lot more walls involved up north in the family courtyards; ours are more round and open. Her family was decently nice to me, but sometimes pretty harsh to her. She had a hard time finding a niche with her family after the first volunteer left and most of them are still confrontational, much more so than anyone but the most curmudgeon in my village.She copes much better than I think I would.

Also, it was clearly apparent that living in a family courtyard like B’s meant very different personal boundaries. People tried to leave us alone a bit out of respect to me, but people still walked into her tiny courtyard without knocking and sometimes even into her house. It was very hard for me to get used to anyone in the house and anyone showing up unexpectedly. What if I was changing? What if she was peeing? Apparently, they didn’t really care that much.

People don’t always understand my boundaries in my village, but they have ALWAYS respected them. Sometimes they even leave my courtyard alone a little too much (partly because many people think I’m sleeping any time I’m in my house, because that’s all they use their houses for.) But I also never have anyone into my house ( the exceptions being my very best village friends, repairmen, and the kids for a movie once because it was raining). Even the youngest kids learn quickly that inside is off limits. But, then again, that’s something the volunteer before me and I had in common, so my village had already learned to respect her rules. I loved the visits from people at B’s, but it was a lot for me to get used to. B and her Yabba (Grandmother) Though B’s “family” can be a little rough, she has some great people in her village. She’s neighbors with a teenage girl who takes care of her elderly grandmother. These two seemed to be more like B’s real family. They both had great senses of humor and seemed like “good people” people. The people we passed in village seemed genuinely glad to bet chatting with her (she is the best Moore speaking volunteer in BF…. Deal B, it’s true), and her village medical staff didn’t seem to know how lucky they’d got in getting B as a volunteer. An odd assortment, her nurses, but they get things done much better than the ones at my place. She also has them figured out really well so she gets a lot of collaboration.

B does some super awesome projects, too. While we were there I tried (and failed) to help her paint signs for her CSPS (village medical center) showing things like malaria stats. She was very kind, but will (I’m sure) be fixing it with a paint marker. I’m not so good at the detailed stuff. B painting signs The most inspiring project came late the second night I was there. One of her (many, at least 3 I think) women’s groups was meeting. Starting an hour later than their weekly ritual because it had been a “day with much work” (and you know it’s a lot of work if these women say so!), the women gathered each other. Twenty-something of them got together in a circle. As they started chatting, I sat near B who translated and explained the group. The leader, a very forcible and likable woman sat topless in the flashlight scribbling numbers and looking at names. Each woman, B explained, brought 100 CFA (think 20 cents, but it means a lot more here) every week to put in the box.

Earlier that year they had sold neem cream, a lotion like pomade made with leaves of the neem tree that repel mosquitos. This cream both helps decrease the rate of malaria and increases the profit of women in the community… especially cool. The women saved all of the profit from the last malaria season in the box. In addition to the money given each week, they have saved quite a bit! The best part is, once a month (think if I remember right B?) One woman gets to take out a whole 5 mille CFA (10 dollars to you and me, a small fortune to any woman here to get all at one time). This is, in a sense, her payment. She can spend the money any way she wants and does not have to pay it back like a loan. It is more money than most (or maybe any) of these women have ever saved at once in their lives.

Each woman will receive the money once and then they will circle through again. B is hoping that with increased profits from this year’s neem cream sales the women will be able to “win” the 5 mille more often. It was a beautiful thing to watch. While the women clearly liked and respected B, it was also clear that the group was their own and could now be easily run without her. It would (and will, I’d bet 100 dollars on it) continue long after she leaves. It was honestly the coolest thing I’ve seen in my PC experience.

(There are no pics of this, but memories are better)

Not every volunteer can do neem cream, or a womens group, or an IGA (income-generating activity), or a savings group. Nor should they. But B’s combination of these and the motivation of her women was a perfect fit. This, I remember thinking, is what it’s supposed to be. It gave me hope that not all development work is shit. It certainly isn’t to those women.

Leaving B’s gave me new inspiration to go back to site with. I know my village has many challenges, and I’ve come to an understanding I will have no great projects to look back on. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on working with the people I’ve come to know and love. I rode the bus back to Ouaga and then made it back to site.

The raw material (not exactly like I wanted it, but it'll do nicely) At site, besides the kids and the other projects I’m starting to plan for later on, I’m doing a mural about AIDS. This was supposed to be done in December (World Aids Day, AIDS month, etc). Gives you a sense of time here I guess. Well, it’s partially my fault, but I’m glad it’s finally started; I’m nervous it won’t look amazing; and I’m glad to finally be DOING something tangible. Kuddos to my last Major (read: head nurse and local work partner) for letting me have a whole wall to work with! (Oh, by the way, I also got a brand new Major a week or so ago. The 2nd one I’ve had for the last year or so left got a new one of those again... 3rd one’s the charm?) All of my 2nd Major's belongings... AKA how a "rich" Burkinabe moves homes

The wall is, and paintings are going to be, huge. Some of my nurses helped me paint the white backgrounds. They weren’t the best painters (most people here have never painted a wall in their lives unless it’s their profession), but I was SUPER exited they just volunteered to help. It is the FIRST time that has happened on one of my projects. Though I tried not to take it too hard when they asked for payment in the form of Cokes and Fanta afterwards, I made a joke out of it and they didn’t seem too upset I wasn’t giving in. I do think they enjoyed the painting despite their serious faces in this pic.

My nurses painting the start to the mural Right now I’m in Ouaga making plans to go to Liberia (via Ghana) to visit my sister at the end of the month. Seriously, I’ll be back in Ouaga like the 27th to get on a bus to get on a plane to GO see her (and, um, Liberia I guess)! A thousand thanks to everyone making this possible (which mostly is you, Kate). My PC friend just asked me to ask: Does your awesomeness know no bounds? I don’t know if I have an answer for them. :)

I am also making loose plans for going to Ghana with my parents and then having them visit my village in June. How lucky can a lady get?I have no time at the moment to type to you all about the time I got lost the wilderness for 5 hours, the day there was no sun, and further conversations with Alimata my rice lady. Trust me, they’re good stories, but they will just have to await their proper telling. Stay tuned.

All my love (and I miss you people!)JK

Water (canary, goblet, bidon: clay pot to cool water, cup, plastic carrier)

Rice for sale in packets or by the tin can full

This is where I buy a lot of things in village. It's the closest you get to a store :)

You just tell the guy behind the counter what you want.

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Me and the kids christmas morning

After church

Dancing at Verro's house

It took over three hours to download these pictures. Please (for the love of my sanity at 2 AM) enjoy!

This one's for the people back home.

I’ve realized there is a lot I forget to tell you guys or that’s difficult for me to explain. I forget that many of the realities I deal with everyday make no sense to you, because I forget that they are not “normal” or thought of in Americaland. And, sometimes I just feel weird posting about the honest realities where anybody with internet access can read them. Anyway, we’ll start here...

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So this is what happened.

While I was in Ouaga I offhandedly realized I had to pick up next month's money from the poste (think bank). There were rumors of a devaluation of our money and I didn't want to be caught empty handed. Also, I was running low on funds. I had to squeeze it in before I went home. 

I walked in with my friend around 9 am. There was some confusion as to what we were supposed to do as usually you just walk up and see where to put your ID in the line on the counter. But after listening to someone explain, we took a number from the pull (which I had often thought silly before as no one used it) and sat down to wait. I saw I was 70. High, but it could be worse. Surely several other people had been in in the last hour. Ding! The number counter switched. To 1. Fourty-eight minutes, much cussing in English and one phone call to the PC money people later, we decided to leave... they were on 8.

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So many of you are probably wondering what Christmas is like here. The answer is that it is much more simple.

To start with, it's cold. At least at night and in the AM. I had to suck it up and buy another blanket because I kept waking up 3 times a night shivering. I also have to wear socks until at least 9am and heat up my bucket-bath. It probably only gets down to 65 or so, but it feels about 20 degrees colder to me. (Everyone else here is wearing earmuffs and parkas if they can afford them. Seriously.) I do NOT remember ever being this cold last year. I'm gonna turn into a popsicle when I get back next year. I miss how pretty snow is though. The kids here would go crazy over snowballs.

It's also surprisingly un"christmas-season-y". No Christmas music or carols, which really makes more of a difference than you'd think. Though I heard a Justin Bieber's new Christmas song on the BBC (first "new" song I've heard, and it was weird) and I am listening to itunes now, which is amazing. No shops or hurried shoppers, just a market day that's a little busier than normal right before the fete. Ouaga, the capital, is a different story, but it always is. Commercial Christmas, gaudy tinsel and fake trees were everywhere on the taxi ride in this morning. It's sickening really. (Though to be honest, I would have totally gone for Christmas lights, but seeing as I don't have electricity anymore...) In village there is no hurried or rushed or busy anything. I remember having a lot to do and go to at Christmastime in the US. Time here is just different.

I plan on going to church for a service Christmas eve (apparently a 3 hour long service because "we really want to thank God") and then again on Christmas morning- undecided as to if it's gonna be Catholic or Assemblies of God. It's kind of nice to have the focus of Christmas be more legit, but it would be a lot cooler if I could understand what they were saying. As much as I try to work on my Moore, it's still "bilfu-bilfu" (very little). The singing and dancing and drums, at least, will be worth it. I love those drums. I think all churches should have African drums, especially for Christmas.

The rest of my day will most likely consist of partying, which here means being given lots of dolo and good food by neighbors. I am also planning on showing the neighborhood kids How the Grinch Stole Christmas on my computer and making popcorn (sadly, no TV dinners available). Some traditions are worth keeping :)

I am really missing my family as expected, and America's own version of Christmas. But my village is really excited I'm staying with them to celebrate and that makes me happy.

Wherever you are in the world, the birth of that Jewish kid who turned the world and its expectations upside down is still something to celebrate, no matter how you do it. I miss you all and I wish you a Christmas full of love, laughter, and a full heart.

Sincerely, JK

That's Moore for: you smell like a monkey.

Kidding ;) It just means "my pictures".

So I am in the big city because my friend AK's parents are visiting and I wanted to meet them. Turns out they are awesome. Also, I have some time before I catch my bus to download photos for you all. Sadly I don't have any of my birthday fete in village (we ate a whole sheep!) because my camera died and I couldn't find the cord to charge it. Here are some of the best of the last few months (Tabaski, mid-service conference, and thanksgiving).

Feli carrying arround her baby sister

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The first project of From Daniel's Tears is selling Burkina bracelets. From Daniel's Tears partners with Eternal Threads to have green bracelets made by girls in Nepal rescued from trafficking. All the proceeds from selling these bracelets goes to the orphans in Burkina.

$1 to provide income to the girls in Nepal$2 goes to two different orphanages here in Burkina

Quite possibly, the BEST THREE DOLLARS you ever spent!

You can buy one for yourself or a hundred for your friends, church, or group to sell. (From Daniel's Tears is working on a video that will aid in advocating for Burkina's orphans.)To order send an email at yakorphans@gmail.com or send an email to Cami at camiwarning@gmail.com. Also, visit their Facebook page called 'From Daniel's Tears'.(Taken from http://burkinaorphanage.blogspot.com)

I found this while looking for pictures of "scorpion carriers" for you all (Google it). Funny how things work out sometimes.

When you live alone, are the only one around that speaks your native language and have no electricity you tend to have a lot of time to just, well, think. About everything.

I think while I bucket bathe, while I walk to work, while I'm at work, while I cook, while I wash my dishes, while I sit by the road with my friends, while I wash my clothes, while I sweep my yard... pretty much any time I'm not busy (and sometimes even when I am) there is simply time for things to tumble around.

My news sources, the BBC between 7 and 8 am and old magazines my parents send me, often leave me with questions or thoughts that I write down as a list to look up when I get internet. Here is a look at some of what has been on my To Google list lately:

Better, easier malaria tests Post about malaria coming soon

Holy people setting themselves on fire for political freedom And what did happen to Gedhun Choekyi Nyima?

This UNdestructable soccer ball PC Burkina is trying to become one of the donation sites

Barak about Burma (or is it Myanmar?) Made the BBC lead story a bit ago.

Sexual Abuse and Violence in Sub-Saharan Africa This one speaks for itself. Also hope to post on this sometime.

Today was an incredible reminder of how undeniably blessed I am. In fact, I've found that I can't think too much about all of my blessings because I feel so undeserving it gets overwhelming. But it's not because I am comparing myself with those around me-- Dear God, thank you that I have food to eat tomorrow-- or making a list of things I like at all.

It's because I know you.

Well, mostly. For the thirteen Russians who have somehow stumbled across this blog, I have to make an exception. But for the rest of you, who do know me personally-- whether I met you for a great day or you have spent my whole life looking out for me-- you made, and continue to make, a difference in my life. And, cliche as it sounds, if you really think about it: it's the truth. Our lives are meant to interact with other people's and that is what makes them so complex. And so beautiful.

Originally I was going to post about my day and the turkey, but my heart is fuller than my stomach tonight. I decided instead to thank God for those people who have been a part of my life and to share part of that list with you all.

I am thankful for my family: who are my foundation and who choose to love me no matter what. My parents: who taught me everything I know (even if it's not all they do); my brother: who I love more than he knows; my sister: who I still want to grow-up to be someday; and my grandma st.john: whose life is full of inspiration. I am thankful for all of my friends near and far, young and old, (you know who you are): whose smiles, hugs, tears, and words make up my story; without you I would simply cease to be able. I am thankful for my peace corps people (stage october especially): who are the only ones who will ever really get it. I am thankful for my adopted Faso family members: who keep on teaching me day by day. I am also thankful for my many mentors present and past: teachers, professors, camp councilors,coaches, and those people who just let me be in their world for a while-- many of whom may think they fall in this category, but have little idea how big of an impact they really made-- whose wisdom continually leads me to my self; without you I wouldn't have made it this far. I am thankful for my church family who continues to talk to God about me and give me love. And maybe most on my mind this thanksgiving, I am thankful for those of you I met for a season or a day, and may never see again, who nevertheless made a dent that stays.

There are too many names I've forgotten in my 24 years, too many good things done that will never be acknowledged, too much love, really, for one person.

No matter what, it really is a wonderful life.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Nearly everything

Formerly known;believed in, once I saw the World.Not anymore

white. Or black. All just reflected shades of gray. (Orgrey, dependinghow you see it.)I saw,

momentarily, sideways in your look,death’s reflection upon the livingand I knew you had seen

the World isn’t

round— not even oblong—and certainly not flat. All the time it changes shape.It is no wonderanymore,

why so manycheck out of itto begin with.

So many people have mentioned that they love the Q and A posts from students I have decided to ask all of you to send me questions I haven't answered yet and then I'll make a blog out of them! Whoever sends me the best question will win a postcard from the BF from me! (So exciting right?) So get to thinking and send me as many as you want! I'll put the good (and appropriate) ones up as soon as I get enough.

Look forward to getting all your queries at my email address, texted to my phone number (if unknown ask in email), or in reply to this blog.

A lot has happened since I wrote last; most significantly, I have been in Burkina more than a year now and I seem to have gotten over the struggle with my (very American) expectation of achievement. I have decided to do what I can with what I have where I am and let that be enough-- screw everybody’s expectations, including my own.

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I was eating dinner at my kitchen counter, shoveling it in as if it was the last spaghetti in the Faso, when over the pounding base of dance music down the street I heard a soft noise outside my door.

I don’t get many visitors that aren’t local kids, always wanting things, and breaking things, and stealing my heart anyway. I was oh so ready to yell at them (it was too late to be bothering the  white lady). When I looked up I saw it wasn’t my kids, but instead a woman I know from around town standing there with her chubby baby, Noel (born, you guessed it, Christmas day). I stopped, mouth open, mid-Moore thought, and then tried not to look shocked as I went out to greet this rare grown-person visitor.

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Check out some of my old blog posts with new photos added :)

Me and some village Tanties My Major (head nurse at our local village medical center) Gerard playing with my soccer ball In my house

Waiting

There’s no sound more glorious than the first DROP,when the stars hide and skies shower prayers back,answering the outstretched who wait barefoot,because it’s been long enough to let go.

...

This is a poem I wrote a while ago, but I feel like it's more true to my experience than anything I could write now. My words just don't work like they should when I try to convey life here. I know it's difficult for you all to understand what I'm doing here, but my hands are tongue-tied whenever I try to get it down. It's too vast, too raw, too everything. I promise I'll keep trying. Miss you guys.Peace.

My really awesome friend Heather who always sends me the best letters recently sent me these inquiries from her 3rd grade class last year... sorry it took so long to get them up!

1. Does Burkina Faso have national symbols and an anthem like the US?I admit… I had to google it, though I was pretty sure they did.The national symbol is their coat of arms, which, today, looks like:

Burkina Faso does have a national anthem, but it's all in French. It was written by former President Thomas Sankara and is often called Une Seule Nuit. Here are the lyrics in French!

2. What do kids in Burkina Faso do for fun?They play! They love to play games like tag, and hide and seek, and a game kind of like hopscotch they draw in the dirt. They also like to talk, and do headstands, and wrestle. They like to do all sorts of the same things you like to do! They really like to run around and dance though. That might be the most fun thing, dancing. Oh, or soccer. Lots of kids like to play soccer, too,

3. Why did you choose to go to Africa? Well, I asked for them to send me here for a lot of reasons. One is because I already knew a little bit of French and that is one of the languages they speak here (just like the people from France)-- nobody speaks English in Burkina Faso at all! I also wanted to go here because there are a lot of countries with people living a lot different than how we do in the US and I wanted to live like that for a while. Also, I have wanted to go to Africa ever since I was little; I never really told anyone, but I did. I like it here in Burkina Faso, but Africa is a big place so maybe one day I’ll get to see more of it!

4. If you could stay longer than two years, would you? That is a very good question, and the answer is: I don’t know! I really like living here, but I miss my family and friends back in the US a lot, too. (Cross that bridge when I come to it…)

5. What is clothing like in Burkina Faso?It’s usually very different than what we wear in the US. In the village where I live, women wear big pieces of pretty fabric tied like long skirts, and shirts made from the same pretty fabric or just regular t-shirts. Men wear pants (women never ever do!) and nice shirts, or t-shirts. Sometimes the men wear shirts made out of the same fabric as women, or long shirts that go down to their knees over pants (called a boubou). Women often wear scarves wrapped around their hair, and sometimes men wear hats if they’re a certain religion. (Anybody know what Islam is?) In the cities sometimes people dress just like we do in the US, but I’ve never seen anyone wear shorts—ever!

6. How do they celebrate big events? Parades? Parties?Mostly people dance and eat really really good food! Weddings are really big celebrations, especially if one family is rich, and people celebrate holidays the same way. I love parties here!

In other news...

I miss my sister. She was actually not that bad to have around J I’m sorry America sucks sometimes. Come back to visit me and we’ll see the moro nabba thing and the singing nuns and then it’s straight to Ghana. And I won’t even bring a guide book if you want. (By the way my sister has a blog of her own: http://krumikate-adventure.blogspot.com where she writes much more often and more interesting things than me. If you’re real nice and tell her how you know me, so she knows you’re not just some creeper, she might let you read it.)

I am actually busy with work at site right now, so that’s a happy change of events. Though it’s not what I want to be doing (sensibilisations are essentially lecturing people), it’s at least something. Did a very entertaining one on condoms last week (all the women giggled when I blew it up into a balloon) and a rather boring (but necessary) one on child nutrition. Most exciting is the one I did one in a small village 3k away from mine because the women were knowledgeable, and attentive, and generally very Tantie-ish. ( “tahn-tee”: a big ol Burkinabe woman—or just one with a big heart—who mamma’s you, also means “Auntie” and can respectfully refer to any woman you don’t know.) I’m still working on: a men’s sensibilisation and getting men to volunteer to help me “teach” it, setting up a health class at the school this year and getting a women’s group together by the end of next month or so. At the end of a year (a month from now) I thought I’d be a lot farther along, but I’m learning that accomplishing things, feeling like I’ve “made a difference” may be my own idea of what I am supposed to do here.

I miss you all, like always. Can you believe it’s been 11 months? If you haven’t gotten a letter back from me after you sent me anything in the mail it’s because I lost (most likely threw away—sorry!) your address. Please email it to me! Thanks to everyone who’s kept up despite my sucky communication via email. Emails should be a bit better responded to (though not necessarily quickly) now that I can save them to my computer to write back.

A special shout out to my Baba (that’s Moore for you, Dad,) who puts up with me doing stupid things and not being able to say I love you on the occasion of your being old(er). I miss you most. Happy very belated birthday.

So here’s what happened: Spent almost all my money on vacation (and got quite a bit of it stolen as well) Got back to village, lived on the equivalent of 15 dollars for 2 weeks and waited to get paid Called PC to make sure I’d be able to get money (without checks) in the big village north of me… they said sure thing Knocked my phone into a bucket of water and, of course, had no money to fix it or get a new one Went to the big village north of me to get money after the beginning of the month. After half an hour walk to the post, 3 hours sitting and trying not to get frustrated, and lots of paperwork, I was told it would take 3 more days. (And I couldn’t call PC to help figure things out, because I didn’t have a phone.) Walked half an hour back to the bus. Missed calling my Dad for his birthday L Borrowed money from another volunteer to pay my electricity bill and a trip back to the big village in 3 days to get my money Went back in 3 days: still no money… still no phone Borrowed a volunteer’s phone to call my mom to tell her I was alive Tried to go to Ouaga the next day was too late to catch the bus company that was close enough to walk to get money (no extra money for a taxi at this point), decided I’d go the next day rather than walk 10 miles Got up early, packed, and the waited at the bus stop. The right bus came, but it stopped too far away. I ran after it yelling at them that I was coming. The guy looked at me and shut the door. (Very angry things I think about that man). Cried because at this point I was really stressed. My villagers freaked out I was crying and hitched a ride for me (don’t worry, mom, hitching rides is safe and common here)—which ended up saving me the bus money (which comes in handy later...) Got to the post (ie bank) and… the computers are down. We can’t get you any money, they tell me, let alone checks. Seriously?! Yes… seriously. Used the money from the bus I didn’t take to get a taxi most of the way (and then walked the rest of the way) to the Peace Corps office. Talked to 3 different people and they called the bank to get everything straight. Went back to the bank after kunch (lunch is from noon to 3 pm) and ended up having to borrow another volunteer’s phone to call PC again for a number I didn’t have that they needed. Finally got my checks and about 15 minutes later, my money! Never been so happy to have money in my LIFE!

I have been astounded these past couple weeks at people’s kindness, despite the stress of worrying about every CFA. It gave me new faith in people here.

(And no, grandma, this is not to say that I need money, just that I was stupid and then got screwed. I do have money, I just couldn’t get to it.)

The things that I get myself into, I tell you.

About a month ago, the lead story on BBC was the famine in Somalia. As I listened to the voice on my borrowed radio, I felt sad— for the people, for the suffering, for the unimaginable choice between staying and starving or leaving everything for the unknown. I was also angry once again at the brokenness of everything in the world. (People have said that eventually this anger will turn into cynicism, but for now, I still get angry.)

And I’m still angry because it wasn’t until people were dying in multitudes from hunger, fleeing for their lives as refugees, that we were hearing anything about anything in Somalia.

The media says that the rulers of Somalia are responsible. Not that they caused the famine exactly, but they didn’t do much to stop it either. I can’t claim to be an expert on Somalian rule (who can?), but it’s clear the people in charge of Somalia have continually said no to NGO and relief assistance and that seems to be the main argument as to their fault right now. As far as I know, however, they are still saying no and things are happening anyway – not perfectly (welcome to aid in Africa), but happening all the same. The difference is people informed by media pressuring their governments to do something.

The people in charge hold their share of blame, but the fact that this became all that it is should not be blamed entirely on them. The media has its own responsibility. Not that they caused the famine exactly, but they didn’t do much to stop it either.

Famine is not a sudden disaster; it is a crisis that can be prevented. Estimates place the beginnings of the Somalia famine last year. Where were the reporters then? (Were the children just not skinny enough yet?) Media has a responsibility to all of humanity— including Somalians. The media matters today more than ever. In the blink of an internet eye, a story can change entire countries, governments, and ways of life… or not. Why must the media wait until it’s almost too late to be the heroes? For those dying, it is too late; they don’t want heroes, they just want to live.

…

Soon, Somalia too shall pass, replaced by a newer, shinier, sexier story than starving people in Africa. After all, thousands of people die every day from hunger and malnutrition and it never makes the news. We wouldn’t watch it.

Americans only look at people’s suffering so long before they can’t or won’t or don’t anymore. We get bored in one way or another, change the channel, and move on. Sensational news reporting is still to blame, but one must ask: isn’t it the same blame shared by a people who don’t ask for anything more? We don’t care about “could-be-famines”. We are, in our own way, responsible.

I’m not sure I would have cared as much about this last year. Maybe the only reason I do now is because I know it could happen here in Burkina, and no one would notice the old woman with kind eyes who sells me onions every marché starving to death. Maybe my anger is just selfish. But maybe it’s more than that, too. I’ve started to realize how many stories are lost, how many people are forgotten, and how much pain I omit from my life simply because I don’t want to be bothered.

Something to think about.

Wẽnd na kõnd bãane. Peace.

*This article was written with little research, as no news source besides the occasional BBC radio newscast was available at the time of writing. The author is aware that certain knowledge may be inaccurate or incomplete and it’s certainly old (article written 17 August). These are just her opinions and, as always, they have no relation whatsoever to the opinions of the Peace Corps or the United States Government.

Oh my, what to write.

Well, first of all, I saw my sister off as far as I could through security last night and now she is safely on the first of a few planes that will eventually take her back home to grad school, work, and "real life" in DC. I made sure she has plenty of snacks, so no worries.

As to the last two weeks? Only Kate and I will ever really know every detail of that journey...

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Wedah: a fruit that tastes like the candywar heads. Amazingly addictive. (Also this picture looks like a very funny face and I dig it.)

Alice and Jillian (Sawadogo kids)

Earning my blisters

My PC volunteer friends (Shout out Wendy!)

Guys who wear staw hats. Pierre, who used to be our village pharmacist

The kids that come color (props to whoever thought to send Star Wars. They don't know it but they love the pictures!)

Kids love to read

Laurent Feli and Gerrard (more Sawadogos)

Eating pintad, Alicia's birthday, and people like Al

Rain. Oh my God, Rain!

Fresh, awesome, mangoness

Carepackages because Mommy and Daddy love me



My sister is commminnnngggg!!!!!! TOMOOOORRROOOOWWWW!

I'm not excited or anything.

Two weeks of adventure and vacation. No real plans other than to backpack around, see some cool stuff, and spend all my CFA. The Krumrei sisters take on Burkina Faso. Bring it!

Alima eyes me sideways on the bench.

"So how is it," she asks in Moore, "you wash clothes in America?"

Yesterday she saw me go to the pump with a determined look and a basin full of clothes on my head; three hours later she saw me coming back with red knuckles and a sunburn. She must have kindly surmised I don't do my wash by hand in America.

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I don't know how many people believe it, but most people know that saying about how when you look into someone's eyes you can see their soul. In Burkina, I think you can look at someone's hands and see their heart.

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OK, so I promise that later I will actually post a real blog post, but for now I've been working on this. I partnered with a teacher at Franklin middle school (where my mom teaches) to talk to some American kids about what I'm doing and about Burkina. These are the questions they sent me and my answers. I still have a few left to answer, but my friend needs her computer back and I figured I'd

Marche Old man selling salt   Vaccination My neighborhood My rice lady Alima Cutest baby picture yet Very chill old lady at the CSPS Women waiting at the CSPS (check out the sharpened teeth!) Women at the maternity One of the stagaires (training to be a midwife), in a rare moment of laughter Guy who sells eggs Marche on the road Back of marche Mango season My favorite lady at the marche counting

I have been getting so many packages and letters I thought it was about time I said THANK YOU so much! :D I have all sorts of things to share (and to eat)! Thank yous are coming, but slowly... Burkina Faso doesn't move at the same pace as y'all, especially mail. Love you all and will try to put up photos whole I'm in Bobo.

Ne ye zabre (Good evening), Or I guess Ne ye windyga (Good afternoon/day) in your neck of the woods! I'm currently in a village in western Burkina for a few days of training. It's interesting to be in a totally new place. (They don't even speak Moore here; it's all Jula. I know NO Jula. Not even one thing!) Though I'd rather be at site -- gosh do I miss it! I am safe and happy and getting in

Dear people: There seems to be some kind of misconception in Americaland that I am "saving africa". I am not, for the record, saving anything or anybody let alone a whole continent. (I also wish to express clearly to those who insist on calling me one: I am not a missionary. At least, not in the common conotation of the word.) From my conversations and letters, it has occured to me that many of

When youre new to a language everyone laughs at you. You cant figure out why theyre so so mean. Sometimes it make you yell mean words in english bqck at them and storm back to your house and blast christmas music while you until viciously attack your courtyard with a broom. Or maybe thats just me. But then there comes the day of enlightenment: The day  you start to realise you  dont know a few

 My entire stage (people I went through training with)   Women in the maternity   The end of handing out over 2000 mosquito nets  Kids coloring in my hangar  Women who work at the CSPS  Mama and baby (fav. pic so far)

19 February 2010 The first thing I remember thinking is: I’m gonna shoot those damn pintards. The pintard  (just say it like you’re from Boston: “pin-tahd”) is an extremely dumb, loud, tasty bird my neighbor happens to own. I am becoming more and more confident pintards are headed for extinction like their friends the dodo. The second thing I remember thinking, is that I must be getting up late

This is me (and you all didn't really think I was in Africa...) in my "bedroom" before I painted it. This is my house and part of my courtyard. (Probably not like you pictured, right?)

I am here and I am safe. There is so much to tell. I feel like I've been here months instead of days. It's amazing and hard and I love it. Please send mail and email. Internet is difficult to get, but when I do get it, it means so much to get mail! I love you all, JK

I am in Philly. Staging is just OK, but the other volunteers are awesome. I really am starting to feel like I fit in with all these crazy people :) Leave for Burkina tomorrow and I'm SO ready to go. Love you all. Miss you already!!!

   Most days I can't help thinking about how much I love that this is my life; I’m actually going to Burkina Faso! I’m all: I can’t wait to go to live in Africa and work with the Peace Corps and not have electricity or running water! Let's go already! Those days rock.    But there are also days where I get so stressed and overwhelmed that I suddenly understand why people think you have to be

   My mind is still trying to comprehend that in two weeks I will have ONE more day left before I fly away to go live for two years in Burkina Faso. The break down goes a little like this: Oct 12 be at the airport WAY too early in the am, fly to Philly,       orientation in Philly, meet my training group Oct 13 fly to Ouagadougou (Burkina Faso) with my group Oct 15 more intro stuff, move to

   So hello. And welcome to my blog. I don't really know where to start. Beginnings are always awkward and I've never done this whole blog thing before, but I suppose I have to start somewhere--so here's where I'm at right now.    I leave in just over a month to start this ridiculously awesome thing called my life in Burkina Faso. I'm excited, nervous and overwhelmed, but most of all at this