I can't put writing this entry off even one day more lest I abandon my blog completely. I've been home about two and a half weeks and the cultural adjustment is coming along slowly.

Coop and I had a heck of a time getting here. I was originally going to meet up with him at our first layover in Morocco, but I would have had to get all of my luggage and him and recheck all. I decided to check everything through to JFK instead. And when I finally arrived there I felt like a circus act trying to juggle two oversize, overweight pieces of luggage, a big duffle bag I disguised as a carry-on, a large and awkward piece of artwork, another big shoulder bag (personal item), these farmer hats that kept poking me everywhere and Coop in his big piss-filled kennel (he had a little accident en route..woopsie). I'll spare you the details of my crisis trying to get myself to a bathroom, get him out of the kennel to clean it and transporting everything to another terminal. The short version involves a super nice Haitian immigrant skycab that was extremely patient and helpful for the bargain price of twenty bucks.

Since arriving I have been crazy busy (or so it feels) with family events, meeting friends and looking for work. Did I mention the nasty case of e-coli I brought home with me? I made an appointment with a general physician who had no idea what to do with me and referred me to the department of infectious disease control who referred me to a gastroenterologist. Life seemed so much more simple in Burkina when there was a 24-hour turn around from diagnosis to treatment. I know what I need. Why don't these people?

My job hunt is coming along nicely. I just had an informational interview with an ad agency here in Detroit. I've submitted applications to a couple of different national parks, and one seems pretty keen on me and my French-speaking ability. I am headed to New York next week for 10 days to meet with a couple of headhunters and hopefully some ad agencies. All in all I'd say that things are coming together.

I get anxiety when I think about going to public places like Rite Aid (or even worse the mall) alone, but I'm going to have to bite the bullet soon. You'd think I had never been to America before or something for how much I psych myself out. The only explanation I have is that being home this time is different because it's for real, and the other times I was on vacation. Who knows though.

Until I find work, you can find Coop and me in Oxford at either one of my parents' houses.

The EndThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

One mud stove training led to 15 more around the village

As I write this, I’m sitting at home on my couch while Mac studies his French on the random single bed that’s also in my living room. It’s been a long week. My friends are counting down the days until they board their planes for flights home maybe leaving this place behind for good. After two years of service and a couple of months of training they are happy to be leaving. And me? My feelings are different. Several people have asked me how many days I have left, and I’m honestly not sure. I know that I fly out on August 5th and that that’s less than three weeks away but I have no idea how many days.

Taking shea soap out of the mold

I feel like I have one foot in and one foot out which leaves me not really sure exactly where I’m standing. After almost three years in this country I feel like I finally understand what I’m doing here; how to speak the language and do good work. It is for those reasons that I tried to extend my time with Peace Corps for a fourth year. I wanted to work supporting other volunteers in the field. Unfortunately the powers that be at Peace Corps here felt that it was time for me to go. And the fact that I’m not going on my own terms at a time when I am ready has made leaving all the more difficult.

Men doing man work digging holes for Moringas

My departure happens to coincide with another training group’s COS (close of service). So as we are all getting ready to leave, we’re trying to make the most of what little time we have left together. We are from different states all over the US, and it’s possible we could never see each again. It is for that reason that I’ve been out to dinner with friends the past five nights in a row and have more that I’ll be going to.

Everyone gets in on making Moringa seedlings

This week is going to be hard and long. It’s my last week in the office at TINGO. Becca leaves on Wednesday. Mac leaves on Thursday, and Adlai leaves on Saturday. The following week, I will be biking across town (30 minutes one way) to the Peace Corps office each day to get all of my COS paperwork and affairs taken care of (i.e., close out bank account, medical exam, final interviews, etc.). I officially COS on July 31st. It’s Clay’s birthday and also the same day he flies out. Then I’ll have five days to just “be” before I (or “we” actually…Cooper’s coming too) actually fly out.

6 different enriched porridges

After my COS date I will officially be an RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) even though I will not have returned yet. Peace Corps as an organization will no longer own me, and the rules that have governed my life for the past three years will no longer apply to me….one of the more serious being that as a PCV we are not allowed to ride on motos. Many a joke have been made by volunteers about riding a moto in circles around the Peace Corps office as soon as COS is official. I may just settle for a ride home from a friend.

I don’t want this to be the last time I write from Burkina, but if my track record is any indication then it surely will be. I’ve left a lot out and still have lots to share. I will be sure to post one final entry (even if it is from America) to leave no doubt in your mind that you’re missing anything at “Meanwhile in Africa…”

This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

The bedroom hut is on the left and kitchen hut is on the right

I don’t know the last time you had a sleepover but I’m betting that you and I didn’t have the same checklists when I packed my bags to go spend a week with my friend Christy. As I sit in my air-conditioned, electrified apartment complete with running water, refrigerator and oven range it’s crazy to me that just a two-hour drive away I spent the past week in an honest-to-goodness thatch-roofed hut in a village (Silmidougou, pop. 2500) with no running water, no electricity and no reseau/cell coverage (actually the more common of the three).

Christy's kitchen hut Before my trip I had to consider things like the availability of food, water and toilet paper. I packed some just-add-water meals we could eat for dinner, peanut butter, eggs, apples and of course toilet paper (none of the above available there). During the two market (as in farmer’s market) days I was there I only saw one man selling a negligible amount of tomatoes and onions and several women selling mangoes, and that was the extent of produce available. There was no shortage of meat though with men selling various pieces of pork, sheep and beef. I did find it bizarre that Christy seems to live in the only village in all of the country where peanut butter is not available for purchase. Instead, the boutique in Silmidougou sells peanut powder which Christy often mixes with powdered milk and eats by the spoonful. Ew.

We drank tea every night at the clinic with the staff/friends

So the real reason for my visit was a recon mission for TINGO to try and to uncover some of the reasons why our market gardening project-slash-irrigated site in Silmidougou has not exactly inspired a frenzy of market gardening like we had hoped. Christy lives in the village with our project participants so the idea was that I would go on “vacation” to visit her. I also decided to do a couple of soap trainings (liquid soap and shea soap) while I was there since we (TINGO) have received requests from women saying their lives would be better if only they knew how to make soap.

molding soap balls

the finished product...lavender-smelling soap balls

liquid soap training

The week pretty much went off without a hitch. It rained Monday night so we were forced to sleep inside which was fine and dandy as long as it was raining and breezy outside, but as soon as the rain stopped the heat and humidity were suffocating. We both woke up the next morning worse for the wear, but we pulled ourselves together and shoved off to begin our shea (as in shea butter) soap training. We had a great turnout with about 30 women and even one guy. That night we squished onto Christy’s twin size mattress in her mosquito tent and slept outside. Wednesday we did part one of the liquid soap training. Then on Thursday we moved on to part two which also included an explanation of how to use the liquid soap. Woops. I guess that is information we should have taken into account before training the village on how to make the stuff. Amid all of the soap-making and a funeral for the death of a village elder my recon mission sort of went by the wayside as I never found myself in a position to get information of any real value. At the very least the soap trainings were no doubt perceived as a goodwill gesture on the part of the villagers and hopefully will help generate income for some of them.

This picture was taken in the prenatal unit of the clinic by Christy on a different day...I guess they want to have their babies there too

On my last day in village while I waited for the TINGO car to pick me up I was sitting at the CSPS (local health clinic where Christy works) with half a dozen pregnant women awaiting their prenatal consultations when a chicken casually sauntered in. No one batted so much as an eyelash. When women got up to walk outside I was sure she would shoo the chicken out, but she just casually walked on by minding her own business while the hen minded hers. It was a classic “only in Burkina” moment and it made me smile. This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I was more impassioned when the incident originally happened weeks ago, but I’ll do my best to bring some of that fire back for all of you now that I’m finally sitting down to write this. The latest going on here when I first started writing was FESPACO (Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougou). It’s the Cannes of Africa if you will, and there were tourists, mostly white people, EVERYWHERE!

That brings me to the point and more sensitive topic of this entry; race. And honestly, since I read The Onion interview with the author of Stuff White People Like, Christian Lander, I realize that it’s actually more of a discussion about class. Unfortunately, in America, classes often correspond to colors. Lander described in his interview that his popular book and website are less about white people specifically than stuff an upper-middle-class-who-just-happen-to-be-mostly-white like. Anyway, for all of my friends white, black and in-between, let this be a catalyst for starting an open discussion about race and color in the US. If we never have the uncomfortable talks, nothing will ever change.

So here’s the story. During FESPACO I did my best to get around and see as many movies as possible. One day in particular I popped in to watch a South African tv series submission entitled “When We Were Black” with two other PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) friends. Before the theatre was even close to full and the show started we began talking amongst ourselves. The newer volunteer began asking for directions somewhere in Ouaga. The discussion went something like this:

PCV 1: Do you know how to get to .

PCV 2: Yes, you go . When you get close you can always ask a Burkinabe….or actually that might not do you any good because even if they don’t know they’ll point you in some direction.

PCV 1: Yeah. Like, “Where does here?” and a Burkinabe will point you in some direction.

Erica: ha ha ha. Yeah. I mean, you could even ask where Albus Dumbledore lives and they would know.

At this point in the conversation the black man sitting behinds us chimes in in perfect American English:

ABM: Really?

Erica: Yes

ABM: Really?!

Erica: Yes really. I should know. I’ve lived here long enough.

ABM: I’m sure you have.

PCV 1 then tries to lighten the mood and engage the man in a conversation about FESPACO by asking if he was in town just for the festival or if he had submitted an entry. The man completely ignored him, got up and moved to a different seat three rows in front of us. As you can imagine, there was a lot of tension in the air. I can’t speak for the man, but I am sure he must have been as impassioned as we were.

What the hell did we do that made this man so mad, and what business or right did he have to interrupt our conversation just to be mean? Of course the thoughts in my mind jumped immediately to race. This man thinks I am insulting Africans because I am white, and since he is black he feels that he has that right. Nevermind the fact that he was a tourist visiting a country I call home, and probably speaks zero French let alone local language. For him, color was his privilege here….or so he thinks.

I want to be wrong in that thinking, but his friends did little to make me believe that possible. During the second or third episode, the main character and his wife went to visit white Johannesburg (the show is set during Apartheid). During the scene, they were pulled over by white police demanding paperwork permitting the couple to be in the city. The police then demanded the man get out of the car and dance like a baboon or be taken to jail. Of course the South African man, humiliated, obliged and danced around and made noises like a monkey. The police laughed, and then let the husband and wife go on their way with the looming threat and warning that they were the ones in power.

To say the scene was difficult to watch is an understatement. As I sat there frustrated and angry by a re-enactment of something that most definitely happened, I became ashamed of being something I didn’t choose and can’t change. After the incident, the rest of the episode revolved around the man as he spiraled into a drunken depression. At one point two of his teenage children were talking between each other and one said, “I hate white people.” The other responded, “Me too.” Then out of the audience a couple of not discreet “me too’s” from the black American tourists. Ouch.

As of right now I have started and stopped writing this entry several times. Like I said before, the whole incident was really close to my heart when I first started writing. Here and now over a month later some of the sting is gone and I’ve had more time to reflect, but I still have no answers or profound explanation for what happened. All I can really say for sure is that ignorant people, white, black and in-between, are everywhere. I can only control what I do and say, and I intend to do both with love and understanding. I forgive that man and his friends, and I will pray sincerely that they find some of that same love and understanding in their hearts.

And just a quick follow-up for those of you curious about our dialogue regarding Burkinabe and directions: In this culture, people are so eager to help and afraid to disappoint that the word “no” is almost non-existent. No matter what you ask someone they will almost always answer “yes” whether it’s to run a marathon tomorrow at 5am or if they know directions to a place they’ve never heard of.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

From SolenzoI wouldn't normally do this, but as a last resort I am going to tell you my Air France story here in the hope that someone at Air France will see it and do something to help.

You see, dog kennels don't exist here in Burkina Faso.....anywhere. In fact, dog food is even hard to come by. There are a few grocery stores that import it and charge a fortune. Cooper gets by on street food (rice with sauce, the local specialty to, meat when he's really lucky and leftover bones from whatever I eat).

From Banzon, Banfora, PST and SolenzoWhen I originally decided to adopt the African puppy it was for keeps. And after spending the last two years together I am determined to bring my best friend home with me. So while I was stateside in December for the holidays I dipped into my relocation allowance (money we accrue during our service with Peace Corps to help us "readjust" once we move back to the states). The only problem is that Cooper is big, hence the kennel was big.

Anticipating extra costs at the airport I contacted Air France before my return trip back to Burkina. I explained my situation as a volunteer living in Burkina, my inability to procure a kennel in my country of service, yadda yadda yadda. The people at Air France would hear none of it and were only concerned with the dimensions....which I couldn't exactly give them because I took the kennel apart and put the top upside down into the bottom so it was concave. Based on the length, width and height they quoted me at $450, but said the supervisor at the airport would have the final say.

Unfortunately Detroit Metro is over an hour drive from my parents' house and I couldn't exactly stop on by to have someone look at the kennel before the day of my flight. So the day of Bruce, Robin and I loaded the car up and decided to take our chances. Of course we arrived a couple of hours before departure time, but then we had to wait over an hour to check-in. When the supervisor on duty finally came over she had just finished a heated argument with someone else. I knew my answer before she even said "hello."

It turns out that the nice people at Air France customer service were kind enough to forward a telex of my conversation, and this supervisor woman already had all of the information. She took one look at me and the kennel and said, "I have the telex. They told you $450. We are getting ready to close the flight and I can't deal with this right now." Nothing like customer care. At this point I start to fall apart because all I could think about is how I'm going to have to leave Cooper behind.

From More Solenzo & 2nd year IST picsAfter I nearly started crying while waiting for the next available representative to check me in, the supervisor must have begun to feel bad. She yelled from two counters over, "They told you $450." So I yelled back, "I'm a volunteer and I can't afford it." As I proceeded to check in the lady helping me asked how many bags. I intentionally only brought one (even though I left a lot of stuff behind) so that I could check the kennel as the second. At this point the lady said something to the supervisor who then came over and said, "I can't do two things for you. I can only do one." Huh? This left me in a total state of confusion. The long and short of it is that Air France at some point had bumped me up to business class but never informed me. The supervisor instructed the check-in lady to bump me back down to coach and let me check the kennel. WOO HOO! Cooper will live. I yelled, "Thank you. You're saving my dog," back down across the two counters.

I proceeded to push-run the luggage cart with oversized kennel down to the oversized luggage check. I hurried through security and then down the length of the McNamara terminal and onto my plane. Life was good. Cooper would make his way to America.....or so I thought.

When I arrived in Burkina, my checked luggage came out on the poor excuse for a conveyor belt at the airport in Ouagadougou, but the kennel never showed. I wasn't alone in missing luggage. The baggage claim counter was filled with people in line trying to file lost baggage claims. After waiting for 45 minutes I was the last person in line to give details of the missing kennel. Unlike in America though, these details were all written down on paper with a pen as opposed to being entered into a computer system. The Burkinabe Air France baggage people gave me a bogus file number and two contact numbers and sent me on my way. From Banzon, Banfora, PST and SolenzoIn the days that followed I went back to the airport not once, not twice, not even three, but four times not to find the kennel. Dozens of phone calls on separate occassions led me nowhere. Desperate I filled out some form I found online and mailed it to Air France in Paris. Nothing. Just yesterday I finally wisened up and decided to contact Air France baggage help in the states via Skype.

So far the people have been helpful, but I am not hopeful. They typed the luggage tag number into a computer which pulled up my name. By some miracle I was already in the system (maybe all of those handwritten papers actually went somewhere). The Air France baggage people have since sent telexes to Detroit, Paris and Ouaga in search of the missing article, but it has been over a month and the woman I spoke with today advised me to contact customer relations for a reimbursement.

From SolenzoAt this point a reimbursement really means nothing. I still have no way of getting a kennel to bring my beloved Cooper home. Sorry to have bored you with my kennel troubles, but I truly hope someone over there at Air France reads this and realizes what I really need is the kennel I originally checked over a month ago to arrive here in Burkina. Money for the kennel will do me no good in a country where kennels don't exist.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Market gardening project farmers

Or use hand sanitizer. I did neither last week after shaking hands with several farmers out in the fields at our market gardening site in Silmidougou. It was after 3:00, I hadn't eaten lunch and I was starving, but we were in the car on our way back to Ouaga and I didn't have any running water, soap or even hand sanitizer at my disposal. I rationalized that I would lessen my chances of getting sick by eating with my left hand (considered the dirty one) because I had done all of the shaking with my right. Afterall, it was only crackers and cheese. It turns out that was poor logic and a bad gamble as I came down with a cold that sucked the life out of me Saturday night, Sunday, Monday and yesterday. I am back at the office today coughing up a storm, but at least I have some energy back. Between Cooper being sick throwing up everywhere for the past month and a half and me with this cold, my apartment is a less than inviting place to visit. Although you wouldn't know that judging by the revolving door of guests I've had coming in and out.

Farmer I interviewed for my project SWOT analysis

Luisa and I taking notes from the interview

You see, my place has become a kind of crashpad for both Burkina and non-Burkina PCVs alike. Burkina volunteers come in from the villages and call me when the hostel's full. Then, back in November during my trip to Ghana I had the good fortune of meeting quite a few Ghana PCVs. Four of whom had recently finished their service, did not speak French and planned to pass through Burkina en route to Mali. I offered to help them make their way through Burkina, and so the five us made the trip back to Ouaga together where they stayed at my place for a couple of days. Two weeks later a couple of more non-French speaking Ghana PCVs passing through Burkina stayed over.

Last week I received a call from a PCV from Mauritania who someone had given my number to. He and three others were in Bobo on their way up to Ouaga. Without knowing them I didn't hesitate to offer them a place to stay. That's just the kind of the bond we have as fellow Peace Corps volunteers. You can pretty much bet that any PCV is at least a halfway decent human being....and not crazy (since we're screened for that). Anyway, the four showed up after their five straight days of travel, and I picked them up from the bus station and took them straight to dinner at a restaurant where some of my fellow Burkina PCVs and two RPCVs from other countries awaited our arrival. Between the eight of us we represented PCVs that had worked in four different countries all over Africa. The dinner conversation spent talking about our individual experiences was just delightful (is that an old person word?). The next day I was village-bound for work, but I offered for the Mauritania PCVs to go ahead and continue staying at my place which they did. Then I received a text message asking where I was from in Michigan. One of the PCVs recognized the pictures of downtown Oxford I have hanging up in my apartment, and it turns out she lived there too. Oxford people, former gravel pit capital of the world boasting a population of less than 20,000 people, and here we have two wildcats that just happened to meet on the other side of the planet in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso.

That's not all. This past weekend my friend Byron who has been working (not as a PCV) in Ghana stopped in Ouaga on his moto trip to Senegal with his Norwegian friend Jostein. Saturday night we went to the French Cultural Center to see a modern/African dance exhibition. While we were sitting there the man behind us began talking to Jostein. Of all the people, in all the places, it was his uncle who currently lives in the US! The two hadn't seen each other in over two years proving once again, that it is a very small world on which we live.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Justin training our partner staff at organization Tin Tua

I have spent the past three months learning how TINGO's agriculture department operates, and trying to understand how I might help with their agricultural marketing. Anymore I'm not so sure I have any help to offer.

The very nature of a Burkinabe who becomes a farmer (poor and un-educated with no other options) is in direct conflict with TINGO's strategy for capacity building (teaching farmers business skills like marketing in the hope that they will be incensed with the entrepreneurial spirit). It's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Take me for example. I am a marketing person. I work in marketing because it's what I like and what I know. It would serve no one at all to teach me about something like accounting because I am just plain not interested. Sure I am capable of understanding it and it could be financially beneficial to me, but it's not something I ultimately want to invest my time on because up to this point I've gotten by just fine without it. I would much rather pay someone or ask my dad to handle those affairs.Tin Tua trainers practicing a skit

The marketing/business training modules carried out by us here at TINGO seem to force feed farmers without soliciting their input. Last week Justin managed to condense a four years worth of marketing concepts into 2 days to train the Tin Tua training staff so that they can in turn train sesame and cowpea farmers how to market sesame and cowpeas.

George training the sesame & cowpea farmers

Each trainer is responsible for seven villages around the province of Gnagna. On Thursday we accompanied all five trainers into a village to observe them execute a sensibilisation (Peace Corps word that kind of means training).As usual the sensibilisation with over 20 farmers took place under a big, shady tree in the middle of a field- complete with donkeys braying and other animals wandering nearby. The trainers did the sensibilisation in a local language called Gourmanche. I understood nothing, but I did observe that all but one of the farmers stayed awake and actively engaged in the presentation- no easy feat when the temperature is in the 90's. And while everything from the training of the trainers to the actual training itself went flawlessly, I'm not sure about the overall strategy. Unfortunately we won't have any insight on the effectiveness of the sensibilisation until the farmers have had a couple of years and harvests to apply the techniques (i.e., strategically price fixing). So at this point I need to see what I can learn from our partner organizations and farmers who received the same training back in 2005. MaeMouna translating Gourmanche to French during the farmer trainingThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

You heard it here first. Remember when I told you to keep your eyes peeled for Moringa? Well it has finally made it's way into products at The Body Shop. http://www.thebodyshop.com.sg/Moringa.html

Read more about Moringa here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moringa_oleiferaThis is great news. Hopefully The Body Shop inspires others to begin using Moringa in their products. If Moringa blows up like shea butter did then it has the potential to make a huge impact on the condition of the lives of the people here.And sorry I've neglected to write. I was in Ghana last week. It was my first experience traveling alone to another country, and I have to say that I found the experience more interesting than the other times I've traveled. I am out of the office again this week. Justin and I are leaving to do a marketing training session with field agents in Bogande. I promise to write when I get back.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

What do you know about Burkina? What do you know about its president? Not much? Don't feel bad. I couldn't have found Burkina on a map before Peace Corps sent me here. Maybe you'll find it interesting to know how much the people of this relatively unknown country know about the US. My co-workers here at TINGO in the capital have been talking about Obama since I arrived here at the beginning of September, but they are some of the more-educated people in the country. What I have found more interesting is when I have come across people who barely speak French asking me about the election (i.e., a taxi driver upon discovering that I am American).

When I walked into work this morning after a night of intense GMAT studying it was my Burkinabe colleague who informed me that Obama had won. He was up at 4am listening to his radio to hear the results, and he could not believe that he knew before I did. All day long I have received "felicitations" from my Burkinabe counterparts for Barack's win. Everyone is truly in awe at the democracy that is the US and the possibilities that a free and true democracy can create. In a sense so am I. And today I am happy to say that I am very proud to be an American.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

working ducks

Who new ducks could work right? These 3 little muskateers were waddling around the courtyard of a hotel I stayed at last week. There wasn't any pond or water or anything like that so I asked my co-worker Richard what they were doing there and if they were someone's dinner. He laughed and informed me that the ducks were working. The hotel has them there to gobble up any scorpions, snakes and small toads (nevermind the large ones everywhere) that find their way into the coutryard. How quaint.

Tin Tua

So yes, I went out into the field last week. Richard and I made the trek over to the province of Gnagna (about 5 hours away) where I met with our partner organization TinTua. That's how TINGO operates. They partner with associations/organizations in the villages where we want to work.

In a sesame field with George and curious kids (sorghum on left, sesame on right)

Jaqueline, sesame and sesame farmer

TinTua currently employs 7 people and has 700-some member farmers; 5 trainers, a project technician and a project coordinator. The organization works with local farmers on a variety of projects, but I was there to see what they're doing with sesame (as in the kind you find on hamburger buns). So I hopped in a truck with 3 of the trainers who took me out to do a Mr. Rogers-esque expose on sesame. It never even occurred to me how much work would go into producing something so generally unimportant in most people's day to day life. After speaking with farmers (via french-to-local language translator of course) I was shocked at the amount of time and labor goes into it. This is the first year Tin Tua farmers have produced sesame and they seemed pretty happy about the whole thing because sesame fetches a pretty penny....more so than peanuts anyway (no pun intended). Whatever floats their boat I guess. If it were up to me alone I'd say sesame isn't worth it and that its existence isn't worth the work it takes. Then again, sesame is the stuff tahini is made of and I have recently developed quite an affection for that and all of the fabulous things you can make with it (i.e., baba ghanoush). SESAME!

Over the course of the day I really came to love the trainers (Jaqueline, Mae Muna, George). They were quite the fun and lively bunch; Jaqueline and Mae Muna more so than George. The women even wore pants! I am going to try to post an album with the rest of the photos soon. reservoir and irrigation pump

Then yesterday I went with another co-worker, Luisa, to Silmidougou to visit TINGO's/WendYam (our partner) market gardening site there. I saw the fields and the irrigation system, but it's not quite planting season yet so there wasn't much to see. We did meet with WendYam's committee though and I had a chance to ask some questions. irrigated fields- tomatoes coming soon

So it seems there's a huge problem with tomatoes- kind of a tomato black market so to speak. Apparently the majority of tomatoes WendYam sells is to buyers from Ghana. The problem is connecting buyers from Ghana with farmers in their fields. That's where the "coksers" come in. This is a little gem of a word I recently learned that Burkinabe use to describe the middle-men leeches that insert themselves in the transaction process (my co-workers think the origin is English, but the closest only thing it even sounds remotely close to is cock-suckers). Farmers at the meetingAnyway, these guys basically have a system set-up where they zero in on would-be tomato buyers just off the buses from Ghana. I'm not sure how one knows what to look for in a would-be tomato buyer, but apparently these guys have been doing this long enough that they just know. So they greet these guys right off the bus in Ouagadougou and agree to show them where the fields are and handle the negotiation. The farmers we spoke with yesterday estimate the coksers take a 25% cut of the sale. Unfortunately, there's not much the farmers can do about it at this point. I hope to use my time here with TINGO to find a solution.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I’m exhausted this morning. Actually I’m exhausted most mornings now that I have a job with regular hours. The whole transition to Ouaga has had bizarre effects on my day to day life. In village I religiously went to bed at 8pm and woke up around 6am. Here in Ouaga I find myself staying up until 10 or 11pm and then struggling to crawl out of bed at 7am (nevermind the fact that 8 hours of sleep isn’t sufficient for me).

I attribute the addition of both carpet and couch to my life as the reason I have turned into a night owl. It’s strange that two seemingly insignificant things could have such an impact, but they really are responsible for the change. In village I had a concrete floor and hard wooden chairs. We’re not talking the most comfortable amenities to help pass the hours. Going to bed, even if it was too early to really sleep, was the more comfortable alternative to staying awake. That’s the funny thing about living here. It seems as though all of my problems or happiness here in Burkina can be directly attributed to very tangible things (i.e., my door handle breaking off or eating cheese); unlike in America where my life sometimes felt filled with more abstract feelings and issues (i.e., my bff didn’t call me back or feeling loved) rather than anything real.

Work at TINGO has been slow to start. I am, however, in an air-conditioned office with internet access every day (email me) so I have no complaints. Mostly I’ve just been trying to read through past project write-ups to get a handle on what exactly the Agriculture department does in Burkina. My counterpart, Justin, and I are working on my action plan for the new quarter starting in October so hopefully I’ll start getting some soon. Justin, by the way, is fabulous. He speaks English fluently….most people here at TINGO do, and that has really helped me understand the inter-workings of this organization.

And on top of working I all of the sudden have a life besides. I’m going out for dinner with friends (even on weeknights), making lunch dates, going to the gym with girlfriends, starting yoga, studying for the GMAT and researching grad schools. Oh, and from time to time I am also hosting (or boarding rather) volunteers that come into Ouaga. I already explained the impact my carpet and couch had on my life. I can’t even put into words how overwhelmed I sometimes feel by everything else. It’s not negative at all. It’s just a lot of stimuli to process coming from village where there really wasn’t any.

There is something to be said for that though. Now don’t go thinking I turned into some crazy, breathy-voiced hippie, but there really was something spiritual about village life. Maybe it was the lack of stimuli that allowed me to get in touch with other parts of my brain. Whatever it was is definitely not present here in Ouaga like it was in Solenzo. This connectedness to my spirit that I experienced while I was living in village has given me a new appreciation and understanding of the reason why people practice meditation.

So my life has become pretty routine, and the days of interesting Burkina stories may be a thing of the past. I am going to do my best to stay tuned in to the little idiosyncrasies of life, but I apologize ahead of time for future boring blog entries….or lack thereof.

PS- I went with my new BFF Emily to a yoga class held by a French grad student at her house last week. Nevermind the fact that yoga is complicated enough in English with a language all it's own; downward dog, lotus and what not. Yoga in French- and it was Frenchy French not Burkinabe French- pas le meme choses (not the same thing at all). Forget about it. Listening to the stream of French phrases I didn't understand was hypnotizing enough to put me in a zen-like state. I just had to keep one eye open at all times so I wasn't relaxing while everyone else was posing. Not a biggie, but maybe not worth the $7 per session.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I’ve only officially been in Ouaga for 4 days now, but it already feels weird. For one thing my office and apartment are on the complete opposite side of the city (a big one at that) from the PC hostel and office where most of the other PCVs hang out. I’m too afraid to ride my bike that far in all of the moto/car traffic so I’m stuck taking cabs. At near a dollar it costs twice the normal price to make the trek across town….more money than it’s worth just to check out who might be around.

So there’s that and also the fact that people in Ouaga are in transit and so are always either coming or going. I have twice caught myself trying to say goodbye in the context of, “When’s the next time you’ll be in town? Alright. I’ll probably be back….oh wait. I live here now. Yeah so just call me next time you come in.” It is very strange to no longer be able to share the trials and tribulations of traveling logistics (i.e., my transport broke down on the way in and the entire drive shaft got sent on a car passing by to be repaired in the next village so I was delayed by 4 or 5 hours).

And life is already too easy for me to not feel like a total fraud calling myself a Peace Corps volunteer. I marveled at the speed and ease of doing dishes with running water the other day. And oh the fridge! I’m not sure how I ever survived without one. I found myself buying food I didn’t need just to be able to put something in it to take advantage of this modern food preservation miracle. And the food! Grapefruit anyone? How about some spinach? What about eggs? Or cheese? Or milk? Beef? Apples? I am in the land of plenty my friends.

And while my life got simple on the one hand, it has become complicated on the other. Having carpet has brought a with it it’s own problems….like how to clean it. I don’t even want to know what a vacuum would cost in this country (probably upwards of $200 for a 1995 model Eureka), and Cooper has already proven he can shed enough to have the floor covered within 2 days. I would make him an outside-only dog, but that’s another one of the problems. Solenzo, Ouaga is not. The traffic I mentioned earlier is just as much a threat to my best friend as it is to me. Honestly, the benefits far outweigh the difficulties, but I’m just saying.

Anyway, what I had really intended to write about though was the last bit of my time in Solenzo. Until I started writing I guess I didn’t realize how much has accumulated in my head over the past 4 days. So Solenzo. My last week in village was pretty slow and boring, but I did find myself taking time to appreciate the simplicity of life there and notice the everyday things a little more. Everyday things like the porter (a youngish guy) on transport sporting hot pink snow pants with one strap hanging down to look cool. Things like Odile and friends sitting around munching on fried caterpillars. Things like receiving a wedding invitation by text message. Things like finding a live bat playing dead on the floor of my shower. Things like having to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to rescue a squawking guinea fowl chick Cooper was terrorizing. It is things like this that have become ordinary events in my life over the past two years. And while I’m not exactly in America living here in Ouaga I can’t help but feel like I’m not exactly in Burkina anymore either. Stay tuned.

Ps- I got a healthy dose of reality while trying to post this entry at cyber café with the slowest internet connection in the worldThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Check out the Oxford Leader article here: http://www.oxfordleader.com/Articles-i-2008-08-27-223517.113122_Snake_takes_a_bite_out_of_Peace_Corps_volunteer.html#222This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I am in Bobo on my way back to village after our COS (Close of Service) conference and party in Ouaga this past week. The conference was a 3-4ish day event where we attended sessions to discuss life after Peace Corps, job opportunities, resume building, etc. It was a good refresher for me and I'm sure it was invaluable for the volunteers who came here right out of college.

As is tradition for every COSing group we had a party thrown in our honor (Thanks Babs and Mac!) after the conference. These parties are interesting because of all of the volunteers that show up. Oftentimes an entire year passes before volunteers from different training groups have met each other (even though there are only around 100 of us in this small country), and this is the one time almost all of us are together.

So now what? Vero and Steph are already gone, and the rest of my peeps are making arrangements for life after Peace Corps, but what about me? Interesting you should ask. Back in Aprilish I had the opportunity of a lifetime fall in my lap. I had already applied and was accepted to a program to teach English in France when my boss Rose came to me with a plan.

Rose acknowledged how great the France program was, but she suggested I forego that to stay and extend my time here in Burkina. If it all worked out as she proposed I would be able to move out of village (Solenzo) a few months early, live in Ouaga and work with The International Non-Government Organization Which Must Not Be Named (TINGO for short) doing marketing. Win-win-win. TINGO is only one of the biggest development agencies in the world. Working with them would be a great asset to my career no matter what I do after Burkina. Four months later that is exactly what I am planning to do.

As it turns out, working with TINGO will be a great asset to my living situation as well. I had the opportunity to see my new apartment a couple of days ago and it seems that I will be living a lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous-burkina-faso-esque life. There is no end to the ammenities in my future including a real toilet, shower with hot water, fridge, stove w/ oven, a/c and more spread across my 2-bedroom mansion of an apartment. I would say that it is nicer than any place I've ever lived since moving out of my parents house in 1998.

Exciting stuff eh? So you probably want to know what this means for you. When will I finally make my return to the states to see you and what not? I will be back for good, promise mom and dad, around the beginning of August next year so I can start grad school in the fall. This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

At the airport bar just before their flight homeI'm in Bobo where I will be spending the next week...more on that later. I went to Ouaga last Wednesday to spend some time with Steph and Vero (my 2 best friends and support system here) before they flew out Thursday night *tear*. We had one last fun-for-all at Desert Rose (a bunch of tables on the corner of a dirt road where you can order beer and just about any (Burkinabe food) with Rene, Bianca and our newfound missionary friends Ben & Reid Wednesday night. As used-to-be-normal Steph shared a grilled fish and the rest of us had that salad lady's rockin' salads and beef brochettes (kabobs for you anglophone speakers). Thursday Steph and Vero spent most of their last and final day in Burkina running around tying up loose ends doing paperwork, packing, getting their eyebrows waxed...the usual.

Me, Vero and Bianca at Rose du Desert

Rene, Steph, Ben and ReidThen Rene, Bianca and I escorted them to the airport to check-in a couple of hours before their departure. After check-in the five of us went to the bar nearby to have one last Sobbra (beer) before saying good-bye. It makes me sad just to type this. Missionary Ben showed up and had the brilliant idea of going out to ice cream after, and I have to admit, it did make me feel a little better about the whole ordeal.

Bowling like champs

Climbing like monkeysSafari-ing like tourists

Partying like rockstarsSaturday I made my way back to Bobo for yet another good-bye. Our beloved Rhadika (a.k.a. Rhad-a-rico) has finished her service and was celebrating her last night here in Bobo. I was going to head back to village Sunday, but I had 2 packages (Thanks Dad and Diana) I wanted to pick up and decided to stay an extra night. And here's where the story gets good.

Rhadika trying to eat MeghannSunday night Ben (not the missionary), John, Meredith, Morgan and I headed to dinner at a restaurant nearby. On the walk home I stepped on something that cut me. I felt like I was being a little over dramatic with the "ow's" when someone saw that what I stepped on was a snake. Now I'm no expert, but all of the Animal Planet documentaries I've seen on snakes made it seem like teeth equal poison. While Ben and John were trying to kill the thing (for identification purposes) I could feel the venom moving up my leg. It felt kind of numbing. By the time they killed it (4 rocks later) the sensation had moved up to my knee. By the time we walked the five minutes back to the office it had moved all the way up my thigh. I decided I should call the Peace Corps doctor...you know...as a precaution even though it was Sunday night and all. Well that's how I ended up at the doctor's office. By the time we made it there my throat had started swelling up a little bit so I guess it's good we went. Anyway, the doctor got the IV going, gave me a couple of shots and made me spend the two nights there. I got out today after lunch and have to spend the next week bumming around Bobo until Monday when I go back for another blood test.

What kills me about this whole ordeal is that the snake was about the diameter of a dry-erase marker and a foot and a half long. We're not talking any python here...or even viper for that matter (although those do exist in Burkina...vipers that is). And while getting bit by a poisonous snake in Africa may seem completely feasible to you, you have to remember that I was in the city walking on a road when this happened. Not just any city either. Bobo is to Burkina what Los Angeles is to the US. It's not even remotely remote. So yeah. That's my story for the month. How I have run countless times through fields in Solenzo and never so much as seen a snake is beyond me. I guess the powers that be figured I needed a little inspiration for a blog....or maybe this was just their way to keep me distracted now that Steph and Vero are gone....or maybe the cosmos have aligned to try to tell me I'm screwing something up. Who really knows. Survey says......

it's a mole viper!This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

You can see most of them by clicking on the slideshow at the right. Pics from my trip to Dogon Country in Mali are here: http://picasaweb.google.com/joshmmitchell/MaliTripThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

do it. Give up your Starbucks Mocha Frappuccino Latte Misto Cafe au Lait for a day to buy a mosquito net for peeps here in Burkina Faso (where I am). Some of my Peace Corps friends are working with a couple of NGOs (Non-government Organizations) that will cover the cost of shipping and help distribute the nets which will help prevent malaria. So get your credit/debit cards out and click on this link: http://www.AgainstMalaria.com/SOSEnfantsBurkinaFasoThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

A little Burkinabeby taste tests the bouille ("bwee")

Really I'm just getting back from Mali, but I want to tell you what I was doing before I left so I apologize for what will probably be the shoddy quality of this entry.

I had really only been in village for a week before I was to leave again for the aforementioned trip to Mali. Of course Theo was only able to schedule the formations (umm, in English I guess it'd be like a training) I've been trying to do for the day before I left so I had all week to sit around and do nothing (except plow through Harry Potter book #5). Here's what went down.

The highly motivated and attentive Moussa Kongo women (remember the mud stove?) were up for whatever I wanted to come and do with them. So being the small and poor village that it is with malnourished kids running around everywhere I figured it couldn't hurt to give a healthy dose of info on nutrition (i.e., rice and/or millet (yes, the stuff we feed birds) is not a sufficient source of vitamins for little Burkinabebies). Easy right? Yeah, well let us not forget the whole language thing. And anyway, who the hell am I? I'm certainly no expert on the matter.

I knew I wanted someone from the local clinic to talk, but it was Thursday by the time the actual formation was confirmed (this doesn't always mean anything) for Saturday. And with less than 48 hours to go I was feeling totally unprepared to educate local village women on malnutrition with Theo only as a translator.

Thursday. At this point, two formations (trainings) in two different villages had been scheduled for Saturday. Oh, and Theo dropped a bomb that he had business to take care of in Bobo and wasn't going to make it. That meant that I was going to have to bike the 12K in the 100+ heat (yes, I'm whining) and attempt to teach a non-French speaking (or English-speaking for that matter) group of women about malnutrition. What!? That or I could have just blown them off which would have been totally uncool even though that sort of crap happens all the time here.

Enter Friday. I was finally in Solenzo on a day when my friend Elizabeth was scheduled to take her 6-month old baby, Abduli, to the clinic for baby weighing so I tagged along. The night before, Odile and I had made up a batch of enriched porridge (bouille pronounced "bwee") for Saturday, and I figured I might as well talk to the clinic about possibly selling it to mothers that come in for their monthly baby weighings.

Opportunity knocks. It turned out that the certified midwife, Madame Kinde, at the clinic has charge over all of the villages in my province (Banwa) and is responsible for organizing baby weighings in them. After pitching the whole I-think-you-should-sell-enriched porridge thing I casually (or maybe not so casually) mentioned that I had formations (trainings) planned the next day and could really use some help explaining malnutrition and the importance of diversifying a baby's food intake after the age of 6 months. Well, color me happy Madame Kinde was all about it. She was even willing to give me a ride. Score! I told her I'd have Theo call her to discuss the logistics.

Okay, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself. One, because the whole thing happened rather organically (does that make me sound like a tree-hugging hippy? I'm not.), and two because I set something up all by myself. I know I didn't single-handedly save the world here, but when it comes to making arrangements to work with other Burkinabe it's usually Theo who sets it up. So I went straight from the clinic to the cotton union office and relayed the info to Theo and asked him to call Mme. Kinde. 8:00pm rolls around when I see Theo next and ask if he's talked to her. Nope. He said she didn't respond, but I thought that was total b.s. I pressed him more and he reluctantly sent her a text. At 11pm we still hadn't heard back and it was looking like I was going to have to bike 12k and give the bloody formation all by myself even though I had already arranged someone who was perfectly willing and capable of accompanying me. I wasn't thrilled.

Saturday. By the time I roll myself out of bed at 8am on less than my normal 10 hours of sleep Mme. Kinde has already passed by Theo's to ask when we should go. Hallelujah! At 9am the most beautiful woman in the world, and my saving grace Mme. Kinde, picked me up and we sped off to give our formations.

The first village was Dinkoro and it was my first time working with the women there. A member of the cotton union, Kapri, was the one who asked me to come. We had 22 women show up, and they all seemed really engaged in what Mme. Kinde had to say about malnutrition (i.e., after 6 months start introducing other foods to your baby's diet, etc.). Then came my part. I held up the pictogram I made to explain how to make enriched porridge and Mme. Kinde explained it. The recipe calls for millet, black-eyed peas, peanuts and sugar and it involves some grilling and grinding until it turns into a powder which can then be used to make the porridge. After explaining how to make the powder we actually demonstrated how to prepare the porridge (heat water, mix and wait for it to boil) with the powder Odile and I had prepared and then gave everyone a taste and they really ate it up. Success!

Madame Kinde whips up a batch of enriched porridge

Well if you've read this far I haven't lost ya yet so I'll try to make the rest snappy. As soon as we finished up in Dinkoro, we took off to Moussa Kongo and did the exact same formation all over again. We had 24-27 women show up there and most had worked with me on the mud stove the last time I was in town. Success again.

Dishing up the porridge in Moussa KongoThe reality of that day is that I actually did very little besides introduce myself and hold up a poster. It was all Madame Kinde. Even so, I did my job and feel really accomplished about the whole thing. It could have been me acting like an expert in something I know nothing about and reading to the women directly from a book, but why? Madame Kinde is a perfectly knowledgeable resource that lives right here in Burkina, speaks the local language and understands how to explain things in a Burkinabe context. All I did was recommend the points I thought we should cover. That and I made a poster with beans glued to it. So really this was just another example of helping the Burkinabe help themselves which they'll be able to continue to do once my time here is up. Amen to that.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I haven't written much because there hasn't been much going on. Hot season has hit Burkina full on. I think I've seen it as high as 113 degrees in Solenzo. My appetite is completely gone and I am spending inordinate amounts of time sleeping. In addition to the standard 10 hours of sleep per night (or a combination of that and tossing and turning) I have added on an additional 2-hour repose during my days. What am I even talking about right now?? You see, there really isn't much going on.

I guess I must have over-exerted myself at the beginning of the quarter when Courtney came to Solenzo. He brought with him his plastic fruits and vegetable (banana, orange and carrrot) to help with my Moringa demonstration.

Moringa is a tree that was brought over to Africa from India blah blah blah. What's important is that this tree a shit-ton of vitamins and it's our job to convince people to use it. First though, we have to teach people what nutrition is. Words like protein and carbs are useless in smaller villages. Oftentimes we need to speak using words action words like energy, strength and sickness prevention to help people understand the importance of the various food groups. Lucky for me, I live in a big village (or as some of my friends argued this weekend a "town") where I can work with the more affluent community and cut right to the chase about the individual benefits of each vitamin contained within the various parts of this tree; leaves, stems, flowers, seeds and seed pods, roots and stalk are all edible.

In addition to plastic fruit, Courtney was also kind enough to bring a handy-dandy laminated copy of a comprehensive powerpoint Moringa presentation in French. Because all of us (Ben, Courtney and I) are basically illiterate in French, we decided beforehand which parts of the presentation we would explain and which we would ask for participation in helping go through it. This turned out a great way to involve everyone and prevented us from just reading, or butchering rather, exactly what was written on the slides which we all hate.

During the presentation we explained the various uses of Moringa. It can be eaten several ways and we made sure to put emphasis on the fact that it has the strongest content of vitamins in powdered form. We also explained how to properly prepare the powder to maintain the vitamin content. For example, the leaves must not be dried in direct sunlight. We suggested an income generating activity for a women's group could be to prepare and sell Moringa powder to the local pregnancy clinics and in the marche. In fact, this is already being done in other parts fo West Africa as Leslie and I saw it being sold while we were in Ghana in pretty snazzy containers for about $5 a piece; not an insignificant amount of ligidi ("money" in Jula) for here.

The tree can be used several other ways as well (i.e., live fence, animal feed, dye, to purify water), but we focused on its nutrition content to enourage our participants to begin using it. And while Burkinabe are probably the best farmers in the world at getting the best tasting fruits and vegetables to grow in this desert wasteland, we did explain to them how to plant and cultivate Moringa trees. One of the better selling points of the tree is that it grows very quickly. After only 6 months my trees were almost as tall as my house. Granted, we're not talking maple trees here. I can put my hand around the circumference of the stalk, but they're producing leaves which is the end goal. The trees are also hard to kill. Cooper has sat on a couple and snapped them right off at the base of the stalk, and they've grown right back with regular watering.

I'm not sure how much or if we affected change at all, but at the end of that presentation I can say that I'm happy we at least got the knowledge out there....along with some seeds. Rainy season is coming quickly upon us, and if just those seeds at least make their way into the ground in Solenzo I'd be content. The next volunteer can reiterate how to use them. As for you my friend, keep your eye out. I believe the FDA is in the process of approving the use of Moringa oil in cosmetics in the US. Talk about it now and you'll be ahead of the curve. For more info visit www.moringanews.org ou bien www.treesforlife.org. I'm headed back to village for a couple of weeks starting today. Miss me. Love me. Call me. This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Playing with cow poop to make fuel efficient cook stoves is "A"-O.K. with me

It's Saturday morning, I've been up since 7a, I've got the worst garlic breath from the green beans I had last night at dinner and I can't bring myself to do the work I came to the office to do so I figured I'd write here instead.

Before I even went to Ghana I had a small success in a village called Moussa-Kongo. The success was work. One of the men on the cotton union board (my host organization) members, Theiry, is from the small village and requested I come and teach the local farmers a composting technique to help save them money on fertilizer. Theiry is the only member of the board that I have always felt didn't take me seriously, and I figured it was because I was a female and/or my French sucked. In any case, I was really looking forward to the opportunity to prove myself to him in his own village, and sure enough that's exactly what I did.

Theo gave me a ride on his moto to the small village located about 12km from Solenzo. When we arrived the cotton farmers had all of the materials and were ready to get to work so that's exactly what we did. Of course, in a small village like Moussa-Kongo a white person can't go unnoticed for a long and before I knew it my small compost formation took on the feeling of a theatrical event for over a dozen random local kids and adults like. No problem. The more people that learn how to create compost the more effectively I've done my job right? Win-win. A local stomps on the millet stalks in the compost pit to break them down

So the compost formation went swimmingly and I decided to capitalize on my celebrity status in this small village and asked to speak with some of the women. It didn't really matter who, but there were a bunch that were hanging out by the well that had helped with the compost formation hauling water so they seemed like a good target. Sure enough one only needed to say that the white women wanted to speak with them and the women came running. I took the opportunity to explain the benefits (i.e., more fuel efficient and time saving) of using mud stoves (rather the the 3 rocks women normally cook over) and that I would be willing to teach anyone interested in learning how to construct the stove. There was enough interest that the women agreed to gather all of the materials (straw, cow poo, termite dirt and water) that night so I could come back and do the formation the next day.

The next day when I headed back to Moussa-Kongo I didn't know what to expect. Many times people will tell you they will do something even if they have no intention of doing it so as not to let you down. Other times people agree to doing something by a certain day/time only to actually do it days, weeks and sometimes months later or not at all. So you can imagine how pleased I was that these women had everything ready to go when I arrived the next day (less than 24 hours later). We got right down to business making the banco (muddish stuff) through a series of translators; me to Theiry in French, Theiry to some other guy in Jula (a regional local language) and the other guy to the women in Moore (yet another local language). You've all played the game telephone right? Surprisingly nothing got lost in translation and the banco came out fine.

Measuring the termite dirt for the mud stove banco

The banco had to sit for a few days so I went back to Solenzo and went back a few days later with Ben, Veronica and Odile in tow. This time we biked the 12km to Moussa-Kongo. Anyway, with Odile as a translater (the woman speaks Jula, Bamu, French and Moore!) we got to work constructing the stove. Of course, my side looked like crap so Odile insisted on tearing it down and re-doing it herself. I guess when it comes to created turd-shaped logs I'm lacking. Then, when we were 2/3 finished this woman that makes canaries (big clay pots) showed up out of nowhere and taught us a different and quicker technique. And that my friends is really what my work is all about- people helping themselves with the skills and resources they already have.

Odile rebuilds the sidewall I did a shoddy job on

When we were finally finished some 3-4 hours later the women wanted to sit down and talk for a minute. Then something came up about a gift and I started to panic. You see, some NGO's (non-government organizations) will pay people to teach how to do something that will improve their lives because many aren't motivated enough to take time out of their lives/work to learn something otherwise. Unfortunately it's that sort of "if it ain't broke, why fix it" complacent mentality. So I started getting worried that the women were going to want a gift since they took time out of their busy, mundane lives to learn how to improve them. It turns out I couldn't have been more wrong. I learned that these women weren't just random people at the well but an actual women's group. And what was more is that they were so happy with the formation that they gave me 2 chickens as a thank-you and asked me to come back anytime to give other types of formations. I nearly started crying. It was a huge success moment for me in my service here and it felt good. The women then escorted us to the main road pushing our bikes and singing for us along the way and when it was time to say our last good-bye we put the chickens on Ben's handlebars and rode away.

This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

view from the Cape Coast slave castle

even sheep like to enjoy the ocean

I'm writing you from Accra, the capital of Ghana and home of this year's African cup. I'm here on vacation with a couple of other volunteers.

Our trip started in Ouaga where we boarded a bus and embarked on what should have been a 21-hour bus ride. To give you an idea of how accurate that estimated travel time was, an hour into it we had our first breakdown (20 minutes) where a belt and the air-conditioning simultaneously broke. The belt breaking I handled gracefully, but the a/c going out in 100+ degree weather with 20+ hours of ground to cover, not so much. So we continued along in our sweaty stink box of a vehicle breaking down every 45 minutes.

Most of the time it was a quick fix (15-45 minutes), but there was one breakdown around 11pm where the car completely died on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Most everyone exited the bus, preferring to sit in the humid sticky fresh air to the sticky stinky bus air. So it was there on the side of the road, after 15 hours (oh, minus 1 so 14 hours technically) of the sweatiest, stinkiest bus ride ever that I laid down in the dirt for a nap while we waited for the bus company to send a new bus. Of course, in the third world that means that we had to wait for another vehicle to pass our broken down bus and drive the 1.5 hours to the bus station to inform the new bus to come and get us. Why someone couldn't just use their cell phone I have no idea, but being in the middle-of-nowhere-Ghana maybe there wasn't any rezzo (cell service). 3 hours later the new bus showed up, and I lifted myself from the dirt, brushed my ass off and jumped on the nearly spanking new and super air-conditioned bus with a sense of relief.

A quick air-conditioned 10 hours later we made it to our final destination of Accra. En total, it was 27 hours of mostly terrible travel that should have only taken 21. And while most volunteers complain about how awful the bus trip is I definitely think we take the cake for the worst overall experience.

So the bus trip not so great, but Ghana- definitely great. Immediately after crossing the Burkina / Ghana border the differences between the two countries were evident. For one, everything is in English. I can't tell you how often I see signs in Burkina with French I don't understand. All of the sudden I found myself in an Africa I could understand; literally.

It was also immediately evident how much more developed Ghana is than Burkina. I guess that's what having access to a waterway versus being landlocked does for a place. The first thing I noticed on the Ghana-side of the border was that while the roofs of houses are all still corrugated aluminum, they have 2 sheets peaked like a triangle instead of just having a sheet of the metal thrown flat on top like we do in Burkina. The other thing I noticed right away was the variety of beverages. In Burkina I have a choice of Coke, Fanta (oh, or Fanta Cocktail), Sprite or tonic; no diet, no juice. Here in Ghana Pepsi has made it's mark right along next to Coke. Diet Coke is also available, not to mention Red Bull, Fanta in an assortment of flavors, cream soda, juices of all kinds and a million other drinkable things I can't seem to remember.

Here in Accra, my friend Leslie and I are staying with an RPCV (returned peace corps volunteer) who since her service in Ghana near 15 years ago has obtained her Master's in the US and then returned back to Ghana to start an NGO (http://www.womeninprogress.org/) and also to help women here export quality handmade products to the US (you can buy them here http://www.globalmamas.org/). Anyway, this woman, Renae, hires volunteers to help out with various aspects of her organizations and has a guest/volunteer house on her property where she is so graciously putting us up during our stay in Accra.

I'm sure we would have passed through Accra anyway, but our main purpose is for Leslie to take the GRE (which she is actually doing at this very moment) so she can get on with her future in grad school. Huh. Not a bad idea. Don't you worry about me though. While I'm not taking the GRE or GMAT any time soon, I am sussing out plans that will eventually lead to grad school. With the majority of Peace Corps volunteers pursuing their Master's how could I not? Anyway, tomorrow we head west along the coast to Cape Coast before continuing on to Busua Beach where we'll finally be able to get in the water (it's too poopy here;literally). More later.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

After I posted my last entry I realized that I had completely forgot to mention anything about our safari. That's probably because there wasn't much to tell. It was lots of driving (approximately 7 hours) and not a lot of action (collectively 15 minutes); kind of like trips up north as a kid where we would drive around Lewiston in Pa's sedan at dusk looking for deer until it was too dark to see anything but pitch black.

The little action we had included some elephants, cobas (cross between antelope and horse), warthogs, bare-assed baboons, a crocodile, giant jack rabbit-looking things, deer and the carcass of a recently killed coba (the work of lions) all running away from us- except for the coba carcass of course. That's it. It was definitely not the Animal Planet exposé I had hoped for.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Finally, finally I've made it back to the city to recount the tale of what went down mid-February. So what happened was this....It began with our softball tournament in Ouaga. The Peace Corps Volunteer team chose to play in the non-competitive / "fun" league against high schoolers rather than the competitive league against air force and military guys. We still got our butts kicked.....half the time anyway (our record was 2-2 at the end). My favorite part was when this pint-size little pip squeak started trash-talking before our game and I shot back that I wasn't going to feel bad when we beat the crap out of them, and then his team of little guys totally schooled us. It was really a sad (but funny) state of affairs our rag tag team of PCVs.

Anyway, the real action started afterwards when Veronica, Steph and I decided to head east to do a safari "under the radar" (we didn't inform PC or take vacation days like we were supposed to). Well wouldn't you know it ended up being one of the few times PC announced the beginning of our EAP (emergency action plan) due to a march protesting rising operating costs for business in Bobo (in the west). We ignored the first phase of the EAP and let PC think we were in our villages assuming that it wasn't anything terribly serious as has been the case in the past. Well then our office in Bobo was apparently mobbed by any angry crowd of protesters as they marched by. That's when PC called Vero (warden of the Bobo region) to help with phase two of the EAP. At that point we had to turn ourselves in to alleviate any worry about us being in Bobo (our assigned regional capital). It was pretty much the one and only time us good-goodies really broke any rules and we felt (still feel) really guilty. In the end we were not only not punished, but we were also given a ride back to village in an air-conditioned PC car as opposed to taking public transport (for our safety of course).

I got the scoop on what really went down at our Bobo office. The protest/march took place through the streets of Bobo tearing down every traffic light in its way. As they passed our house/office some of the volunteers in Bobo went outside to watch. When the crowd saw white people, they turned their attention on the few volunteers and ran full force at them. The volunteers retreated into the courtyard and helped the guard hold the door closed. The angry mob started throwing large rocks over the courtyard wall. Our guard suffered a head injury that required stitches, our courtyard lights were broken and the glass on the house door was shattered, but that was the extent of the damage. I guess in the end I was relieved to discover that Peace Corps as an organization was not a specific target. Our volunteers were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There was another march that took place yesterday, but it was well-organized with police escorts and passed peacefully without a problem. So things here Burkina in are back to normal. However, with Omo (like Oxyclean packets jumping from 50cfa to 75cfa) la vie is indeed cher.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

I only have a minute so I'm going to post an article about what's been going on here lately. Please don't worry. I'm en route to village where I'll be safest until this whole thing blows over. If all goes well I'll be back in two weeks with a good story for you.

This article was shared by FBF's (Friends of Burkina Faso) secretary Michael Kolber.

BURKINA FASO: Food riots shut down main towns

Photo: Brahima Ouedraogo/IRIN

Rioters took to the streets in Burkina Faso's second city,Bobo-Dioulasso, in February 2008 protested rising food and fuelpricesOUAGADOUGOU, 22 February 2008 (IRIN) - Riots over the costof living hit three major towns in Burkina Faso this week, asituation which has raised fears among some observers about thepeaceful but impoverished country's stability.

"This reaction was expected," LaurentOuédraogo, secretary general of the ConfédérationNationale des Travailleurs du Burkina (CNTB) told IRIN, statingthat the riots happened after anger welled up because ofconstantly rising prices for basics like food, cloth and petrol.

"Misery does not wait and you see people witnessingeveryday rising prices and they do not know what to do.

Thesituation is like having matches near cotton that can catch fireat any moment," Ouédraogo said.

Protesters first swept onto the streets of Bobo-Dioulasso, thesecond largest city in the country, on Wednesday, when theyattacked government offices and burned, shops, cars and petrolstations.

Protests continued in Bobo on Thursday when 100 people werearrested after a government delegation dispatched to make peacewas stoned by rioters.

Similar protests erupted the same day in Ouhigouya, the thirdlargest town in the country hundreds of kilometres north ofBobo-Dioulasso, and in another town in the west of the country,Banfora.

Government premises, mainly those of customs, taxes and streetlights have been destroyed or burned by the demonstratorsincluding merchants and traders who took on the streets todenounce mounting costs of taxes and goods.

The riots come two weeks after a government announcement that itwas imposing "strong measures" to control the priceof food and other basics which it said had increased by between10 and 65 percent.

Life was returning to normal on Friday but soldiers, paramilitaryand police forces could be seen at strategic points throughoutall the towns and cities, as well as in the capital Ouagadougou,which had not seen any violence.

Speaking live on national television on 22 February, the Ministerof Finance and Economy, Jean Baptiste Compaoré blamed highoil costs for the country's woes.

"The government is working to find solutions, but thesolution must be regional if we want a sustainablesolution", Compaoré said.

The government has confirmed it has been releasing emergencystocks onto the market to try to keep prices down. Somegovernment officials said that informally customs has beenblocking exports of grains and cereals, although this is not anationwide policy.

The government also says it has also lowered taxes on some basicgoods by between 30 and 35 percent.

Photo: Brahima Ouedraogo/IRIN Damage caused to a shop by Bobo-DioulassoCompaoré suggested the government having"dismantled" fraud techniques used by traders toavoid paying import and export taxes was the cause of theviolence. "This is where it is painful for them,"he said.

The Africa Flak blog, which is written from Ouagadougou,reported on 22 February that some local press has blamed newgovernment taxes for the high prices, which the government"strongly denies".

Other parts of the local media "claim that the newreforming Prime Minister has struck down much of the culture ofbribes that the customs agents had set up with larger foodmerchants and grocery distributors" the blog reported.

Riots over high food prices have already erupted in BurkinaFaso's Sahelian neighbours Mauritania and Senegal thisyear which are unusual in the region for being highly dependenton imported wheat and rice, products which have become moreexpensive worldwide this year.

In West Africa that situation is being compounded by unusuallyhigh food prices because of a disrupted growing season in someparts of the region in 2007 and reports that traders are hoardingstocks at markets in northern Nigeria, Ghana and elsewhere.

Another West African country, Guinea Conakry, is deemed among themost unstable countries in the world by conflict analysts, inlarge part because of five successive nationwide anti-governmentriots over the last 18 months sparked by mass discontent over therising cost of living.

bo/nrThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

We had been pleasantly cruising along in the high-70’s (max 84) since I arrived back in Burkina until, overnight, the weather gods decided that it was time to crank it up a notch to 94. It’s heating up and February is too early. I haven’t had any time to mentally prepare. I was in the pre-hot season mode of enjoying my last month of sleeping indoors on a real mattress with a blanket and not sweating even a drop during the days and out of nowhere WHAM! 94 freakin-degrees on my thermometer. With temps today reaching 98 it seems that ready or not here comes hot season.

Last season I left all of the windows and my door open all of the time to let the breeze, or hot wind rather, circulate in my house. The past couple days I’ve been experimenting with locking out the heat by closing all of my windows and door. It has been sort of depressing to be cooped up in a house in the dark with my one flourescent bulb buzzing when rays of sunshine are just chomping at the bit to get in, but I did discover (thanks to my handy dandy indoor/outdoor thermometer) that this ultimately keeps the house 6-10 degrees cooler. I’m not fooling myself though. This may only work until the really real hot season of 100+ degree weather 24-hours a day sets in. Then, windows open or closed won’t make a bit of difference because my clayish banco walls will absorb and hold the heat all hours of the day. K, that’s my rant. Thanks for reading.

With one year down and one to go I’ve been constantly having the following dialogue with myself:

Hard-working-Motivated Me: What the hell have you accomplished over the past

year?

Slacker Me: Learning French damn it, and how to live here

like a real Burkinabe. And I’ve done the whole cultural exchange

thing. I mean, I have a blog. Do you know how many Americans know

what Burkina Faso is now just because I live here (hint: look at the counter at

the bottom of this screen- forget the fact that the majority of the 3000+ hits

are not unique visitors)? And I’ve totally introduced American culture to

Burkinabe by just being here and being all-American me wearing pants and capris,

petting and feeding my dog, jogging and generally sharing information about

how we do things (usually differently) in the good ole’ U.S. of A. Oh, and

Theo loves macaroni and cheese all because of moi. That says something

right?

Hard-working-Motivated Me: Wow. So you’re fooling yourself

to believing that if you complete 2 of the 3 goals of Peace Corps then you’ve

done your job. How can you live with yourself on the government’s dime

knowing that you didn’t really “help” anyone.

Slacker Me: I

still have a year left. Afterall, why do today what I can put off

until tomorrow?

So yeah. That’s where I’m at on a daily basis still not making a ton of headway. I was just about to go into a litany of excuses of why I can’t tell you about all the world saving I’m doing, but then realized that those are all they are….excuses. The truth of the matter is that while I’ve been here I have done some stuff….some real honest-to-god-world-saving stuff, but the majority of my life here has been and will likely continue to focus on the latter 2 of the 3 goals of the Peace Corps Act:

1. To help the people of interested countries in meeting their needs for trained men and women

2. To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served

3. To help promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of all Americans

And honestly, through my commitment as President of VAC and my role as a trainer to new volunteers I’ll be content with what I will have accomplished by the time I leave here. Who am I trying to convince anyway? You all think I’m brilliant just for being in Africa.

There’s a really good NYT article I’ve been meaning to share from a retired regional director of Peace Corps (South America I think). You can find it by following the link below. Note: the author fails to make any mention of the last 2 goals of the Peace Corps Act. IT’S 2 OF 3 PEOPLE! That’s the majority! Whatever I have to tell myself right? Still the article brings up some food for thought and it’s worth the read so have at it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/opinion/09strauss.htmlThis site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Alright. Truth be told I've only been in Solenzo for about a total of 24-hours, but so far it's good to be back. Odile picked me up at the gare (bus station) which was a nice surprise considering the alternative of schlepping my ridiculously heavy bag the three-quarters of a mile through town to my house on foot. Seeing Cooper was of course a highlight. Who wouldn't want to come home to the happiest dog in the world? Then I spent the better part of today cleaning my house which was covered in a half-inch of dust. As I did it I experienced a small amount of satisfaction bent over, ass-up cleaning my floor with a rag and bucket of soapy water. It wasn't cleaning the floor so much as the realization that I do it the same way every Burkinabe woman does it. Yes, I am bien integre.

Even though I'm only a little over half-way through this experience I can't help but feel like the rest of the time I have here is going to fly by. I really only have the next 3 months to get real work done before hot season. Once temps start reaching and staying in the 100's it's hard to motivate myself let alone anyone else to do anything. And immediately following hot season is rainy season when Solenzo becomes a ghost town while everyone is out in the fields every day from sun-up till sun-down. After hot season I'll have about a month (or two if I'm lucky) to finish up any projects before everyone heads back out to the fields to harvest the crops they worked so hard on planting and caring for during rainy season. That's what the year has in store for me in a nutshell.

I'd also like to use up my vacation days to see more of West Africa. On the itinerary so far is a planned hiatus from the hot season to enjoy the beaches of Ghana. I will also be planning a trip to visit Dogon country in Mali. And in Burkina I have yet to get all the way up into the Sahel in the north where camel rides are all the rage and out to the east to visit the game reserves where lions roar at night. If any of this sounds like something you're interested in then it's time to get packing. I'll meet ya at the airport.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

or "Thank You!". Thank you thank you thank you to everyone for everything you did to make my trip to America the vacation of a lifetime. Chances are if you're reading this blog that you're one of those people. If you know me, then you know I'm not the girly, gushy type, but I must say that I've never felt so loved in my life, and it was all of you that made me feel that way. So thanks again and a million times more. I will never forget all of the love, attention and generosity you shared.

Whew! Now that that's out of the way let's get down to business. I have an unfinished entry I started the night I arrived in America, but I could never seem to sit down and get it to come out right or as eloquent as I would have liked so I'm scrapping it. With the help of a quote from Shawshank I can pretty much sum up what I was trying to say. It's in the letter from Red on the outside after spending the better part of his life in prison:

I can't believe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an

automobile once when I was young. Now they're everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.

Other than the pace of life moving at warp speed everything else was pretty much the same as I remembered it. Although, I did uncover a new found intolerance for complainers. It honestly made me cringe listening to some of the things Americans consider problems. It's not that I'm all self-righteous because I'm "suffering" or see suffering or anything like that. It's actually to the contrary. I don't see suffering, and sometimes I have a hard time recognizing it when I do. That's because no one here complains about anything no matter how hard they have it. People here just go on about their lives as if things like getting malaria is just a fact of life like a cold or doing homework on the side of a road because it's the only light in town is no big deal or getting up at 5am to pull water from a well for the entire family's showers is just what you do. So to you complainers maybe rethink your perspective. I have a feeling you're just bored and have nothing better to talk about, and frankly, I don't want to hear it. Sorry if that was soap-boxy, but damn.

The only other thing I would say about my trip home is that I really realized how endless the possibilities in our fabulous country are. I mean, do you realize that you can get cherries when it's snowing? Yep. Fresh cherries right at your local grocer. Infrastructure, ladies and gentlemen, is a remarkable thing, and it's what made transporting cherries all the way from some country in South America to my grocer's produce section still fresh for me to purchase and enjoy smack dab in the middle of winter possible. Wow! Really. Wow! Take time to sit back and appreciate a marvel like that for me once in a while. In America it's not how or if it's possible, but what and when. There is so much to do that even I couldn't keep up with it all. In fact, I really dropped the ball on staying in touch with my friends here in Burkina because my mind was in so many places at once. I guess I now have the perspective to cut you all a little slack for doing the same from time to time.

So now I'm back in Burkina and quite content to be here. It really is home for me, and America really was just a vacation. It didn't feel much different from the times I flew back to Michigan when I was living in LA so I guess I was sort of used to it. I'll be in Ouaga for a week sorting out a little passport issue (I lost my PC one and am here on a tourist VISA- no biggie) and preparing for our VAC meeting next week before heading to village.

This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Stage 2007 has officially come to an end. We packed up and cleaned out what has been our home for the past 9 weeks in Ouahigouya (5 for me) on Thursday and caught an early ride to Ouaga Friday morning. The swear-in ceremony for stagiares was an evening event held at the Ambassador's home that same day. I felt like a proud parent as I watched my trainees dressed in traditional Burkinabe clothing as they took their oath. The whole affair was done just right from the garden and tree lighting in the yard to the outstanding appetizers and beer on tap. My own swear-in ceremony paled in comparison. Sunday all of the stagiares shipped out to their villages to begin their two-year service here in Burkina.

At the moment I'm in Ouaga doing mid-service medical exams and our 2nd year in-service training. I'll be here through Thursday tied up with that. Then I head back to village for a few days to hang out with Cooper and maybe give some compost formations before catching a plane home. If nothing inspiring hits me to write before then I guess I'll just see ya stateside.This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

12.20.07: Touchdown in America land of the free, home of the brave 12.20 - 12.30: Staying at rents in Oxford (house # has been the same since inception, email if you need it)12.23: 12 Bars of Christmas / Christmas Caroling Bar Crawl in Royal Oak organized by yours truly with a little help from her friends. Get the details here: http://www.evite.com/r?iid=FESNMZMFBGYRSPLAXGHL12.30 - 1.1: Chi-town staying at The Drake Hotel (http://www.thedrakehotel.com/)12.31: New Year's at Plan B (www.planb-chicago.com/)1.1 - 1.6: Denver1.6 - 1.10: Home sweet home back at the rents1.11: Short 1-day rendezvous in Casablanca at a fab hotel by the water compliments of Royal Air Maroc This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

So I’m having a little anxiety about coming home. It’s eerily similar to what I was feeling before leaving to come here a little over a year ago. I would tell everyone that I was nervous but equally excited for this adventure. It’s bizarre that going home has conjured up the same feelings. I wish I could say that my excitement to see friends and family is more overwhelming than my anxiety about all the things that are going to seem foreign to me, but that’s not the case. I seem to feel both equally.

I’ve been gone and almost completely out of touch with US culture for over a year now. I have no idea if my low-waisted, flare jeans are as “out” as stonewashed, elastic waistband jeans or if, god forbid, stonewash jeans are actually “in” right now (there’s no way elastic waistbands have made a comeback….have they?). I have no idea what’s going on in the news and if firefighters ever managed to extinguish the fires or if San Diego has burned down completely. I have the brain of an infant when it comes to technology. I don’t even know what an iPhone looks like.

The same is true for breaking research. For example, pomegrant juice was all the rage for all of its antioxidants when I left. Am I going to come home to find some outrageous claim that researchers have discovered a link between the miracle juice and kidney failure?

And sports, well…..I never really paid much attention to them before I left so I’m not much worse off now. I will say that I have a Lion’s game on my itinerary, and I hear they’re at least decent this season; so far anyway.

It really is mind boggling to think about it. And then there’s me. I don’t feel much different, but no sane person could move from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles to a village in Africa for a year and not change at least a little.

My biggest fear is that I’m going to lose it when I see someone throw something like a cottage cheese container out. It’s not that I’m a big environmental freak. It has a lid for crying out loud. What if you need it later to store something black-eyed peas or rice? You see what I’m getting at?

When other volunteers talk about their vacations home to America they uniformly agree on the following observations:

· EVERYTHING is clean

· I forgot what carpet was and how great it is to walk on it

· It’s really hard to see all of the things that go to waste (from throwing food out to the amount of money people spend on things they don’t need)

Cleanliness and carpet I can handle; in addition to bathtubs, hairdryers, driving, ice cream, pizza, sushi, grocery stores, television, Blockbuster and most of the rest of fabulousness that is America. I just hope I’m not too judgmental about the ridiculous amounts of money my LA friends have spent on designer clothes and accessories when people in Africa can’t even afford decent healthcare. I hope I’m jealous just like I would have been before I started slumming it.

Anyway, I’m currently reading another Bill Bryson book (The Lost Continent) where he revisits America by taking a roadtrip all over in search of the perfect small town. I especially liked the following observation:

“And as for American closets, they seem to be always full of yesterday’s

enthusiasms: golf clubs, scuba diving equipment, tennis rackets, exercise

machines, tape recorders, darkroom equipment, objects that once excited their

owner and then were replaced by other objects even more shiny and

exciting. That is the great, seductive thing about America- the people

always get what they want, right now, whether it is good for them or not.

There is something deeply worrying, and awesomely irresponsible, about this

endless self-gratification, this constant appeal to the baser instincts.”This site is unofficial and not-for-profit. All content is mine and does not reflect the opinions, policies or position of any institution or individual(s) mentioned herein, including the US Government, the Peace Corps, the Government of Burkina Faso, or its citizens.

Courtney, me and PC Burkina Director Marily

Michigan Congressman Tim Walberg & me

Sarah, Cat, Courtney & me at US Ambassador's home Official duties called me to Ouaga today. Several US government officials were in town and requested to meet with some of the volunteers here in Burkina. I was invited because one of them was Congressman Tim Walberg from the Seventh District of Michigan (and I'm obviously from Michigan).

I came down from Ouahigouya yesterday for the 7:25 am meeting at the Ambassador's home this morning. For our part we (4 volunteers and the Director of Peace Corps Burkina) basically formed a receiving line, shaking hands and exchanging "how are you's" as a dozen or so people filtered past one at a time. We, the volunteers, were instructed to mingle and chat until exactly 7:50 am at which time we would be shuffled out so the official people could do their official things. We were also informed that we should grab food on our way out as we would have probably been too busy mingling to eat anything before then (which we were).

Sure enough at 7:50 am on the button an executive aide came over and gave me the wrap-it-up-as-in-stop-talking-right-now look. I said my "goodbye nice meeting you's" mid-sentence and hurried over to the food table to grab a croissant before being whisked away to the ground floor of the Ambassador's home. It was really the most forced and awkward transition I have ever been a part of, but I guess it was totally standard as government protocol goes. Anyway, the other volunteers and I enjoyed our breakfast and watched CNN on the jumbo-size flatscreen while we waited for the "all clear" to make an exit. Yep, all in a day's work.

I am having a great time living the life in Ouahigouya, but this short excursion to Ouaga was a nice break. I'm headed back later today in the comfort of a Peace Corps car with air conditioning. Ahh the good life!

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