Hello again. As you may know, I had decided to say adieu to this blog at the end of last year. My two contracted years of service with Peace Corps had finished, and although I would be returning to Burkina for another year, I thought it high time for a change. Moving from my small village in the North to my new home in the capital city of Ouagadougou warranted a break from cyberspace as I began to get habituated to my new surroundings, my new job, and my new life (for 2011). It has been about six months since the move, and I feel obliged to at least bequeath some small sort of update to those of you still reading this blog. If you would like me to continue to update this on a more recurrent basis, please let me know. Otherwise, you will have to take what you can get. With that, let’s get everyone up to date.

I moved to Ouaga at the end of January, after a month long vacation in America. For those who don’t know, Ouaga(dougou) is the capital of Burkina Faso. The city is about as Western as Burkina can get. Situated smack dab in the middle of the country, it boasts a population of 1.5 million people, and has pretty much anything you could possibly want (if you know where to look). I don’t like taking my camera out around the city but I’m sure if you Google image search Ouagadougou, you will get a better idea of what it looks like. It’s actually quite large, as it takes me at least 45 minutes and a change of taxis to get from one end of the city (i.e., my house) to the other (i.e., Peace Corps office). Luckily taxis, green and usually dilapidated, are fairly plentiful, and most days it isn’t hard to snag one heading in your direction. Downtown, there are lots of great restaurants and cafes, which I try to avoid as much as possible to save money, though I have been known to splurge from time to time. There are also a couple fairly decent supermarkets downtown, which have lots of the luxuries of the West (I’m thinking cheese, meat, wine, etc), but I try not to break the bank there either. Other places around town to spend money at include Eurotex, the large textile warehouse (think Project Runway) to buy fabric to have clothes made, as well as several home stores like Orca, an amazing four-story building that’s the closest thing to a Bed, Bath, and Beyond that this country has.

If you head southwest of the city center and just keep going, after twenty minutes or so, you will hit my neighborhood, a slice of Sector 17 known as Kouritenga. It is here on the edge of town where I live and work. My humble abode is pretty amazing for Burkina (and Peace Corps) standards. I have a private courtyard, which just means my house is completely walled in and has a large metal door at its entrance. Most homes are gated in the city, for safety and privacy, I suppose. Upon entering my house, you see a fairly spacious living room (20’ x 10’) which I have furnished as best as possible on my limited means with a bookshelf, a coffee table, a “couch,” and a few end tables and a chair. By “couch,” I am actually referring to something that more resembles a wooden park bench with cushions on it. Beyond the living room is a smaller-sized kitchen with a double sink and a good-sized countertop. I have added to it a gas stovetop, a small refrigerator, and a few cabinets for dishes and glasses. Off the living room are two bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. I have made the bedroom closest to the front of the house the master bedroom since the bathroom is a wee bit larger, and I use the other bedroom for storage. In addition to the living room furniture, I had a carpenter build a full-sized bed and two bedside tables, and I bought a build-it-yourself armoire from some vendor on the street. My bathroom has a shower (no hot water), a sink, and a real flushing toilet (good riddance, hole in the ground!). Let’s just hope everything stays in working order. My entire house has white tile floors, which makes regular mopping necessary yet easy. I have hired a young woman named Balguissa to come to my house twice a week, once to mop and tidy up and another time to wash my laundry. I pay her 8,000cfa (roughly $16) a month, and she does a fairly decent job at it, especially considering the wrecking ball of a creature that is my kitten. Every morning she (who I have dubbed Lady Waga) has serious fits of friskiness which can only be expressed by tearing up my house and clawing on my curtains. To say she is spoiled is an understatement. Living with a cat has certainly taught me one thing – I am definitely a dog person.

If you leave my house, and walk a block south, you will hit the association with which I am working this year. Yes, I am still a Peace Corps volunteer (as seen by my paychecks), but my primary responsibilities are now concentrated on a local NGO. This organization is called Association Trait d’Union des Jeunes Burkinabe. It really has no good English translation, since trait d’union means hyphen in English, and no one is able to really explain why it’s called that. From here on out, I will call it, as everyone calls, ATUJB (in French, it comes out sounding like “ah-to-ji-bay,” God bless you). At its heart, ATUJB is a youth organization that focuses primarily with kids and young adults who are at risk of HIV/AIDS. While this encompasses many individuals, most fall into one of three categories: street children (enfants de la rue), street vendors (vendeurs/vendeuses ambulants), and sex workers (travailleuses de sexe). Our association, which we often refer to as “the center,” is comprised of a large gazebo in the middle of a courtyard, surrounded by buildings on all four sides. On one side, there is a row of offices where most of us usually work. On another side, there are two large dorm rooms where about two dozen street children sleep every night. The remaining sides house various workshops, where underprivileged young people take apprenticeships in tailoring, motorcycle repair, carpentry, metal work, traditional crafts, etc. The goal of the center is to give kids without homes (or healthy homes), who are at risk of HIV transmission, a place to stay and to provide them the opportunity to go to school and learn a trade so that with time, they will be able to reintegrate into society with the skills necessary to succeed.

The ATUJB team consists of close to 20 full-time employees, some of whom I work with everyday and some of whom I never do. For instance, we are one of 42 associations in Burkina that provides free, confidential, and anonymous HIV testing to anyone who comes in. There are a few individuals who are in charge of testing, but since I work mostly on the prevention side of the fight, I hardly ever work directly with them. Others are in charge of the education programs for the children at the center, which I am not. I would say the team I work most closely with usually consists of about seven individuals, including the president and vice-president of our organization. Our president just got back from a trip to New York City to attend the World HIV/AIDS Summit that happened a few weeks ago, so we are clearly a force of an organization. Both he and our vice-president, a giant of a man, are incredibly nice to work with.

My position at ATUJB is as Technical Support Specialist for its HIV/AIDS program, which sounds more impressive than it is, I’m sure. Basically, I’m involved in two main projects. The first is a UNICEF-funded, two-year long project of HIV awareness activities using peer educators in five different cities throughout the country focusing on high-risk socio-professional groups. We held a training about a month ago entitled “HIV Risk Mapping,” c’est-a-dire, identifying the localities in an area where the risk for HIV transmission is elevated due to a higher concentration of high-risk individuals. The second project is an ongoing PAMAC-funded activity that involves educating prostitutes here in Ouaga on HIV and other STIs. As in any big city, prostitution is a real problem, and the latest information suggests that about 14% of sex workers here are HIV-positive, which means about one in seven are infected. Burkina has been lucky that HIV hasn’t hit the general population as it has in East and Southern Africa, but prevention activities are still paramount to blocking a pandemic in this country. Therefore, ATUJB works with prostitutes to raise awareness of HIV/AIDS, other STIs, the importance of condoms (male and female), how to properly use a condom, how to negotiate condom usage with clients, and basically anything related to their sexual health. We also partner with local clinics to provide free health screenings (including STI exams) and distribute as many condoms and sachets of personal lubricant as possible. For the past few days, I’ve been working on brainstorming new strategies of intervention. Since recently many of the brothels in Ouaga have been shut down, unfortunately many woman now simply take to the streets, so where we could have simply planned health talks at the brothels before, now we have to figure out how to reach these women who no longer have a fixed location. It is actually a fairly complicated situation, and one that requires a new strategy on our part. Other activities I had assisted with include interviews with Nigerian sex workers, surveys with area bars and nightclubs on their clientele, and follow-up and evaluation on various HIV trainings in different cities. I also act as a liaison between ATUJB and UNICEF (who actually interviewed and hired me), documenting for them our association’s activities that they fund.

All in all, I am enjoying my final year in Burkina. There have been ups and downs as with any experience, but hopefully when I look back at 2011, I will be content with my decision to stay. It has not been without challenges. Not to go too deep into detail, but beginning in February, Burkina Faso began experiencing political protests that resulted in military mutiny, a coup, and a complete restructuring of the country’s government. If you want to know more, I’m sure Google would be able to help you out once more. But basically, this means that from February until May or so, the country was under various national curfews and saw destructive protests by everyone from the military, students, and merchants. And since Peace Corps’s number one duty is to protect its volunteers, my life was made complicated for several months as PC placed its own curfews and restrictions on us, which made a daily routine rather difficult, especially here in Ouaga, the epicenter of it all. Also all of our activities at work were for all intents and purposes blocked by sponsors who insisted on waiting out the situation before making the funds available to us. But now things have seemed to calm down considerably, enough to dive into work without wondering when the next protest will happen. And as the political climate gradually cools down in Burkina, so too is the actual temperature, which makes me especially happy. It seemed as though this year’s hot season was much more intense than the previous year and lasted longer. It is still fairly hot, but a few weeks ago, the rains finally began. Now we are averaging perhaps a good rain every three days or so, which often comes with a nice chill in the air. Hopefully in the weeks to come, we will see it raining every other day. Although the rain brings mosquitoes and mud, the benefit of not sweating all the time greatly outweighs any downside. I am excited to finally say I’ve survived my last hot season in Burkina and look forward to more temperate temperatures until the conclusion of my service.

And that about sums up my experience so far this year. We are already at the halfway mark, and I can feel the sands in the hourglass falling swiftly. It won’t be long before I am planning my returning to the States (with a possible side trip along the way), so I need to remind myself to take everything in that I possibly can, to suck the marrow out of every experience left here.

(Let it be known that my internet connection is through a usb key that runs off of the cell phone network, so uploading photos will be very difficult, but if I get the change to have a faster connection, I’ll try sticking up a few photos too)

A Change Is Gonna Come It’s been two years since I came to Burkina Faso. I have learned a lot and have experienced so much – good and bad – during this time. I have but one more week left in my village, one week to say goodbye, to pack up and leave. As the sands in the hourglass continue to fall, I am feeling good about this transition. I have given a lot to this community and they have given me just as much back, but I am ready to step aside and pass the torch to another volunteer. When I leave, a newly sworn-in volunteer will replace me at my site, bringing another point of view and another skill set to offer, which I think is beneficial to everyone. Still, it will be very difficult to say goodbye. There are many people in my village – friends, colleagues, and neighbors – that I will honestly miss. As I start telling people I am leaving, the overwhelming reaction is the same: Don’t go. No matter how I explain it, people want me stay here, which warms my heart and makes these conversations all the more difficult. Of course, I know they will embrace the new volunteer just the same. So what’s the next chapter in this story? Usually, once you serve your two years in Peace Corps, your contract is finished and they send you home for good. Well, my situation is a bit different. I have yet to mention it before as everything was still iffy, but it looks like I will be staying in Burkina Faso one more year. Yep, you heard right. I have extended my contract until January 2012. So what do this mean? I will still be heading home in about two weeks but for one-month vacation, not for good. In mid-January, I will return to Burkina to start my new job in Ouagadougou, the capital, the big city. I will still be considered a Peace Corps Volunteer and still receive my living stipend from PC but I will be working in a partnership with UNICEF and a local NGO called Association Trait d’Union des Jeunes Burkinabe (ATUJB), an organization focused on HIV/AIDS prevention among at-risk youth and sex workers in Ouaga. I will work with ATUJB for a one-year contract, helping to develop prevention activities, to perform qualitative studies on various risk factors, and to creatively document the work of the NGO. All the while, I will be living in a house provided by them in Ouaga. I have known for several months that I wanted to stay for a third year, but didn’t want to stay anything until I knew for sure. It was a long, long process of applications, interviews, and waiting, but I am happy to say it is finally official. I am really excited to start my new job next year. As someone who is often afraid of change, it feels right. I will be using the skills I have acquired these past two years, technical and language, in a new environment. It will give me a chance to explore development work as a possible career path and keep me from having a panic attack looking for a job in America (at least for one more year). It should also be a nice transition back into American life, as I will be living and working in a large city atmosphere, much, much different from my life in Aorema. All in all, I am very content with how things have worked out and am looking forward to next year. There are also about half a dozen others from my training group who have also decided to stay another year, throughout the country, so I am not alone. As for this blog, I am not sure what will happen. I know I have slowed down posting this year, but I would consider continuing if people are still interested. So let me know if you want to hear from me next year. Peace.

So it's been awhile, or as we say here, ¨it's been two days.¨ Unfortunately, I can't really discuss the catalyst for my hiatus on this blog, but rest assured, all is well and fine chez moi. If you would like to know more about it, shoot me an e-mail or message.

With that said, let's try to do some major catching up.

1) Benin & Togo Vacation: I had an amazing 16-day trip down through Benin and then up through Togo. We had some great days on the beach, some really cool hiking experiences, several trips to amazing supermarkets, and enough funny (and often awkward) moments to last for years. If I ever get motivated enough, I'll try to type up a more detailed trip report, but until that moment arrives, enjoy these few vacation snapshots:

Christy and me, spending the day swimming around a beautiful waterfall in Benin

Our beach in Benin

It takes a village...to move a boat...

...and pull in the fishing nets

Beautiful church in a voodoo town, visited by Pope John Paul II on his visit

On one of our hikes in the mountains, our guide showed us how to find traditional paints from different plants, like the yellow pigment under the bark of this tree.

He also showed us lots of creepy crawlies, like this brightly colored grasshopper.

Our beautiful pool with a swim-up bar in Kpalimé, Togo

We built a sand-whale on our last beach day in Lomé. Passers-by were literally in awe of us. One guy actually told us, ¨Je vous adore.¨

2) During our vacances, the new group of trainees arrived in country, something like 78 of them. It is the largest training group ever in Burkina to date. I actually went down to their training site, a town called Koudougou, for most of July to help facilitate. It was quite the overwhelming experience but was also a lot of fun. It really made me think about what it was like when I was in their place. Overall, I think the training went really well, albeit exhausting, but it gave me the chance to meet a lot of cool new people and connect closer with old friends. Their swear-in was two weeks ago in Ouagadougou at the US Embassy and greatly surpassed any swear-in ceremony in the past in terms of swank. All of us facilitators were given jobs to do during the event; mine was as an invitee checker, which was cool because I got to see everyone who came in. The First Lady of Burkina, Chantal Compaore actually attended the event, gave a speech, and mingled among us volunteers at the reception. And talk about a reception - the embassy generously provided, out of their own budget, free wine (from bottles not boxes) and beer (on tap). It was a lot of fun and a great way to celebrate 76 new volunteers. Way to go everyone!

3) Since coming back to village, things have been slow. Its rainy season still, so people are out in the fields working most days, which makes it feel like a ghost town most of the time. I have taken advantage of this and gone into the fields to help, which always gets the funniest looks from everyone around, but you can tell people are really impressed that I am actually out there at all.

Yesterday, we partied hard as Ramadan, the month when devote Muslims fast from sunrise till sunset came to an end. On this final day, known to Muslims around the world as Eid al-Fitr, everyone congregated to the center of the village for a huge prayer at 9am. Even though I am not Muslim, I really enjoy going to these kinds of events, if not solely for the integration aspect; everyone in the village goes and it is a great social gathering. After prayer ends, the rest of the day is spent relaxing and eating 5and eating and eating). You basically go from one house to the next, wishing people a bonne fete, and you are expected to sit down each time and eat. This can get pretty crazy after you have stopped by four or five friends' houses. I went to see my good friend Ynoussa, who gave me a huge bag full of raw beef to cook up for myself later, and then he took me to say hello to the vieux, a respected old man in their family compound who then fed me macaroni and liver (yum!). I then went and ate with another friend Haoua and then with my major. I had bought a bottle of sparkling wine that my major, my friend Ynoussa, and I shared as well (Ynoussa, although the only Muslim in the trio, is not so strict a Muslim as to pass up a free drink). All in all, it was a really nice celebration, despite eating way too much. Hope everyone else had a wonderful Ramadan!

For those of you still reading, I will be out of Burkina for a two-week vacation through Benin and Togo, from hiking and waterfalls to sandy beaches to the origins of voodoo, and I will have details and photos up at the end of the month. Bon voyage à moi!

I’m writing from village today, taking advantage of the cool weather that has followed the good rain that swept through the region the day before last. I have repeatedly opined that we have reached Burkina’s hottest point of the year, only to experience yet another spike in the thermometer the following week, but I truly believe we have hit the zenith. Not to say that I’ll be pulling out the sweaters anytime soon – we may not be in Hell anymore, but we’re still in the waiting room. And that’s what everyone seems to be doing, waiting – waiting for the rains to arrive, waiting for their work to begin. While the rest of the country seems to be getting regular showers now, we have really only seen two good rainfalls so far, definitely not enough to start cultivating.

If you remember, last month I was planning a three-day regional conference on Maternal and Child Health for six volunteers and 12 counterparts in local language. While the planning was arduous at times, I believe it was worth it. On the first day, we discussed malnutrition – its kinds, causes, and consequences – and learned how to identify malnourished children, allowing our participants the opportunity to use baby scales, arm measurement bands, and charts that follow a child’s age, height, and weight. We also learned about the preventative behaviors against malnutrition, including proper nutrition, hygiene, and breastfeeding practices. At the end of the day, we took a field trip to our local CREN (Centre de Réhabilitation et d’Education Nutritionnelle), where severely malnourished children are referred for hospitalization and rehabilitation. We were given a quick tour of the facility and afterwards had a Q&A with the nurses and mothers about their own experiences. On the second day, we dove into the FARN (Foyer d’Apprentissage et de Réhabilitation Nutritionnelle), the 12-day activity that I performed with a group of mothers and children in my village, where we make an enriched porridge from local ingredients and discuss a different health topic each day. After describing the basics of the program in the conference room, we headed outside to practice cooking different kinds of enriched porridge. Later on, those of us who had already performed the FARN described our experiences – our struggles, our successes, and our suggestions. On the last day, we headed back to the CREN, and the participants, separated into three groups of four, presented to the mothers present a health topic that they had planned the day before. It was quite useful for the counterparts to experience talking in front of a group, and I think most really enjoyed it. Afterwards, we wound the conference down, briefly hitting upon follow-up steps for the FARN, working side-by-side with NGOs in village, and several other maternal health issues not yet covered. We closed with a slideshow of all the photos taken during the conference. All in all, I really see this as a successful undertaking, as both the volunteers and the counterparts took a lot away from it. I know that many, upon their return, have already started or have planned nutrition activities in their own villages.

Unfortunately, I have had little time in village lately to get any large projects off the ground. I went to Ouaga earlier this month for a meeting with an NGO, and I will be going back to the capital on Sunday for three days of training for PSDN (Peer Support and Diversity Network), a PC committee I’ve joined, whose charge it is to empower fellow volunteers by supporting their emotional needs and providing an ear to discuss issues in a nonjudgmental and confidential manner. The week after that, I will be in Ouahigouya for a week of training to be a facilitator for the incoming group of new trainees, who arrive in June. We will be having the largest group of newbies that PC Burkina, I believe, has ever seen at one time – over 75 in total (more than double my group). Everyone is really excited for their arrival but you can imagine how crazy logistics are for so many people. If that were not enough, there will be another group of thirty or so that will arrive in October. Basically, training will be going on for the remainder of my service.

At least I have finally been able to begin Fulfuldé lessons, as I have wanted to do for some time now. To refresh your memory, French is the national language of Burkina and the language I use most often when working or in bigger towns and cities. Mooré is the language of the Mossi, the largest ethnic group and the people that dominate my region; I use Mooré when speaking to people in my village, playing with the children, and shopping in the market. The next most predominant language spoken around me is Fulfuldé, spoken by the Peuhl community. My health clinic services one Peuhl village (called Lembnogo Peuhl, actually), as well as a small cluster of huts on the outskirts of my own village (called Bouna Peuhl). The Peuhls, to the best of my understanding, are mostly a herding community (as opposed to the agrarian Mossi), with a culture and language very distinct from the Mossi majority. Aesthetically, the Peuhls have much more Middle Eastern features with tall, slender bodies, thin noses, large ears, and lighter skin. People often joke that Barack Obama is a Peuhl, and I can absolutely see their point. Linguistically, their voices are usually much higher in pitch, and to be honest the women often sound something like Minnie Mouse. Unfortunately, I have heard and seen firsthand discrimination between the ethnic groups, and the Peuhls are often overlooked or disregarded when it comes to healthcare services. As my market is also one of the larger cattle markets in the area, there are always Peuhls everywhere, and I have always felt, if not shame, then perhaps guilt that I cannot even greet someone in Fulfuldé.

So last month I asked my friend Tall Amadou (at least 90% of the Peuhls in my area have Tall as their family name) from Lembnogo Peuhl to tutor me. We had fixed a date for him to come a few weeks ago, but unfortunately it happened to be the exact day of the bizarre orange dust bowl we experienced (see my previous post), and thus he never came. After that, I was working and moving around so much and the fact that his cell phone was broken and he lived in another village made it difficult to reconnect. But finally, he was able to come by last evening for our first lesson. Although I usually only see Amadou when we do our monthly vaccination campaign to the surrounding villages when he acts as Fulfuldé translator or when he is dropping off/picking up someone from the clinic, he always gives off a really friendly aura, and I like hanging out with him. He spent half the time during our lesson laughing in amazement by the white kid speaking (really poorly pronounced) Fulfuldé and managed to accidentally call another volunteer multiple times on my phone when he was searching for the volume. Nevertheless, we covered a lot in a short amount of time. There are definitely several sounds that are not in English, French, or Mooré (or Spanish or Japanese, for that matter), but some are similar to Arabic sounds, which makes me thankful for those two semesters in college. Still, I know I will always sound like Fez (from That 70’s Show) to them. It was almost impossible to transliterate some of what he said, as 26 letters don’t always cut it, so I was forced to guess a lot when taking notes. I actually took a walk this morning to the Peuhl part of our village (a good hour and a quarter walk from my house) to practice what I’ve learned. I think I really impressed people until the greetings finished and they kept talking and all I could do was smile and nod. At least nearly all of them speak Mooré too, so I could always fall back on that. I was able to ask the kids (who didn’t seem phased at all by their new white buddy) what their names were, and they seemed to understand me fine. Afterwards, I came home, and my Mossi neighbor kids showed me a picture from a magazine I gave them. It was a photo of one those crane games, the kind where you move the metal claw to grab a stuffed animal. They asked me to explain this to them in Mooré. Ha! Nice try.

To give you an idea of what Fulfuldé is like, here’s a short list of things I learned from my first lesson (of course, the spelling is all my own)*:

Good Morning: Djamwaali

Response: Afinyedjam

Second Response: Basifuwaalai or Djamni

Good Afternoon: Awetidjam (to 1 person) or Onwetidjam (to 2+ people)

Response: Noewetirrda (to 1 person) or Noewetirrdon (to 2+ people)

Second Response: Basifuwetai or Djamni

Good Evening: Djamnyali (to 1 person) or Djamnyalodon (to 2+ people)

Response: Noenyalirrda (to 1 person) or Noenyalirrdon (to 2+ people)

Second Response: Basifunyalai or Djamni

Good Night: Ahiridjam (to 1 person) or Onhiridjam (to 2+ people)

Response: Noehirrduda (to 1 person) or Noehirrdudon (to 2+ people)

Second Response: Basifuhirai or Djamni

How’s it going?: Noewadi?

Response: Wala

What’s your name?: Noewieteda? or Noewuni indema?

My name is Erik: Erik wietemi. or Erik wuni inde am.

What do you want?: Dome hadyada?

I want food: Mihadya nyamde.

What do you do (work)?: Dome gollata?

I work at the health clinic: Doctorore gollanmi.

Where are you from?: Tue yurata?

I’m from America: Amerik yuranmi.

I live in Aorema: Aorema wudom.

*The “d”s that I have bolded are not actually pronounced like a “d”, but it’s the closest and easiest approximation. They are more a mix of “d” and “th” produced in the back of the throat. Also, the “rr” is meant to be rolled similar to the Spanish way but further back in the mouth. No an easy language.If that were not enough, I leave you with a couple snapshots from hanging out with the Peuhls in my village. Enjoy!

The kid in yellow was hilarious. He was fascinated with my camera. He also tried to bite all the other kids. He's going to be a handful.

BFBFFs, Burkina Faso Best Friends Forever

One woman invited me into her home to "see how the Peulhs live." Her bed here looked really comfortable actually.

The end of April is close at hand, and I feel this month has flown by in an instant. I have been steadily preparing for a training conference on maternal and child health that I have been asked to help organize in Ouahigouya starting on Tuesday. For the past several weeks, we’ve had to make multiple trips to Ouahigouya, as well as the capital Ouaga and another town named Gourcy, where our formatrice (the woman who will be conducting the majority of the sessions) works. The actual conference runs for three days starting the 27th and will focus primarily on nutrition and malnutrition as it relates to rural Burkina. It will bring together six volunteers and 12 village counterparts to discuss successes, challenges, and strategies for the future. If all goes well, it should really be advantageous to all the participants.

Unfortunately, I feel like I have not done many activities in village lately like I would have liked to do aside from my regular soap-making with the women, but I am certain once this is over, I will be able to direct my concentration back on my own projects. At least I can say I’ve survived my second April in Burkina with only a couple sweaty t-shirts as battle scars of hot season (which is more than I can say of my poor papaya tree). I would guess that I’ve drinking about 4-5 liters of water on average everyday, even more on those scorching 120° days and haven’t lit my stove save once or twice in the past three weeks. I’ve avoided the stove (which raises the temperature in my house a good 5-10 degrees) by changing my diet to that of a woodland creature. A lot of raw veggies or vegetable sandwiches – cucumbers, tomatoes, and green peppers make a great sandwich – plus as many mangoes as I can manage. I try to eat a bag of peanuts each day for the protein but every once in a while, I’ll supplement that with tuna or chicken packets from home. Every market day, I also buy something known as acheke (pronounced a-check-ay or a-keck-ay) which is made from cassava root, with a small piece of fish for lunch. Last week we finally experienced, albeit a month late, that magical event known as “the first rainfall of the year.” Unfortunately, it occurred the same night as something known as “the first time I tried to sleep outside because it got too hot to sleep inside.” So when it started sprinkling around 9pm, I tried to ignore the droplets. I managed to last until around 2am, when it really began coming down, at which point I was forced to drag everything back into my stuffy house. Speaking of wacky weather, I awoke on Thursday and looked out my screen door to see a sky completely orange. When I stepped outside, the air was saturated in red dust and a thick layer covered everything. I’ve added a couple pictures below to help you understand the sheer level of dustitude. It stayed comme ça for the rest of the day. The words on everybody’s mask-totting lips that day were “Sebgo waogame,” or “There’s too much wind” in Mooré. It took me much of the following day to remove the thin layer of dust that coated everything in my house. The wackiness that day was apparently felt by everyone, human and terrifying flying rodents alike. You see, my latrine was taken over Thursday by a small fidgety bat. I thought it might just be confused about the hazy sky, but evidently coming out during the day is a sign of rabies among bats. I wish I had known that then as I edged closer and closer to the creature to get a decent picture (see the shots below of my new, potentially-rabid friend), but a part of me did want to have a Bruce Wayne experience as it fluttered around me, but I rather not fall into my latrine to do it.

Below are the accompanying photos:

There are usually houses in the background

Hazy view of my CSPS

A layer of dust on everything, even my awesome blue plastic patio chair

The chauve-souris, in the flesh

About to strike

So we have hit Burkina's most dreadful month. The month where temperatures reach their annual crescendo and where one cannot move without sweating. The mercury began rising through March, usually hitting 110ish degrees at its peak most afternoons. My house hovers around the 100 degree mark most of the day, only cooling down to about 90 in the early morning. Luckily, I am better prepared for the heat this year with a life-saving fan which I rarely turn off. Without that (and the power does routinely cut off), my house becomes an oven with no air flow and suddenly you're sitting in a pool of perspiration and wondering when it will come back on. Even still, I feel like I have handles this hot season much better than the last. Perhaps it is the fan, perhaps I have become habituated to the heat, perhaps we haven't seen the worse yet (I think all three are true, actually) but I am getting by fine. Je me débrouille.

But as life always brings the good with the bad, cushions the difficult with the easy, the hot season here also corresponds to our mango season. Yin meet Yang. Yang, Yin. The country is becoming inundated with these juicy, sweet fruits, and they make the heat slightly less unbearable each year. There are dozens of varieties of mangoes in Burkina, maybe more, and each brings something different to the table. Large or small, stringy or buttery, the subtleties in taste and texture make mango season a good time to be alive. Everyone has their favorite kind and their preferred method of eating. Some people eat the skins and all, others use a knife to cut the meat into cubes. I tend to peel back the skin with my teeth and then dive right in. My plan is start drying a lot soon, so that I can keep the mango goodness well past the end of the season (that is, if I can keep myself from eating them right away).

Last weekend, almost every volunteer (more than 100) showed up in Ouaga for the COS party, our ritual celebration honoring those volunteers who have reached their Closure of Service and are getting ready to head home beginning in June. It was a lot of fun to see all my friends living in other parts of the country with whom I rarely get to hang out. It is weird to think that another group is preparing to leave. Once they have departed, my group will become the new senior volunteers. For logistical reasons, our group's COS conference and party will actually take place in July, much much earlier than normal. It is far too early to consider the end of the road here in Burkina and the prospect of rejoining American society.

In work-related news, not much has changed in village. I am still actively working with the soap group I helped organize (they have made almost 20,000 cfa in a month and a half, i.e. a lot of fric), and I may expand to form a new group in a satellite village. I have also been asked to help coordinate a regional conference on maternal and child health for several volunteers and their village counterparts that will take place in Ouahigouya at the end of the month, so I've been fairly occupied planning the logistics. There's a lot of work still to be done but hopefully the effort put into it will show during the workshop.

Well, that basically sums up everything that's going on right now and my current place in this crazy world, taking life one day, one degree, one mango at a time.

As it turns out, February has been the most productive month to date for me with regards to actual projects in village. To start, I have begun working with a group of women making liquid soap. This type of project, termed by Peace Corps as an ¨Income Generating Activity¨ gives these women the opportunity to save a small amount of extra cash for themselves and their families. After hearing about successful soap groups from other volunteers, I decided it might be something good to try in my village. I wasn't really sure how to go about getting a group of women interested in it, since other attempts to start these kinds of groups in my village have not succeeded. So one evening, tired of waiting for people to come to me, I decided to head over to my friend Ynoussa's house. He is one of my good friends in village, as well as the President of the CoGes group that I work with at the health clinic. I explained to him what I wanted to do and asked him to explain it to his wife, Alimata, who only speaks Mooré. I knew her better than most other women in the village simply because I often passed by Ynoussa's house to say hi, and I thought this would be a great chance for me to work with her. She said she was very interested inlearning how to make soap and that she could find nine other women to make our group an even ten. From there, it was fairly easy. I decided the quickest way would be for me to buy the materials first and have them women pay me back once they sold the soap. It took only two rounds of soap-making for them to earn enough money to completely pay me back and start generating a profit of their own. In all, we have sold about 140 bottles, and we will be starting our fifth batch of soap this week. The women really enjoy getting together to make the soap; plus, they are all making an extra income for their families.

On the first day, the women whip a product called tansagex in a large basin for 10 minutes. The tansagex is sold by the kilo in the capital. It is basically concentrated soap that resembles shaving cream or marshmallow fluff after a good beating.

After 10 minutes, the women add salt water to the tansagex to make it soluable, followed by small amounts of alternating fresh and salt water to make about 15 total liters of foam.

They let the basin sit over night to allow the foam to dissipate, and the following day we meet back to add perfume and coloring. We then fill up recycled plastic soda bottles with our awesome soap and sell them in the community for 125 cfa each (roughly $0.25). We usually make about 35 bottles per batch but this time we doubled up and made 65 bottles! We then break for a couple days before we meet back to collect money from everybody. All in all, they are very proud of their new business and the money they've made.

Besides helping start a soap group, I have also been incredibly busy planning and finally executing what we in Peace Corps call a Hearth project (in French it is known as a FARN, or Foyer d'Apprentissage et de Réhabilitation Nutritionnelle). This is an activity for mothers with moderately malnourrished children to help rehabilitate them through 12 days of making enriched porridge together and discussing various health topics each day. It requires a lot of planning - finding the children, convincing the mothers, setting dates, getting counterparts to help, gathering materials. I have been trying to figure this out for months. Finally, we set the dates (February 15-26), found 11 mothers to participate with their children, and got the support of all three of the nurses at the health center. We divided the 12 days so that each nurse would help me for four days each. Throughout the activity, we discussed a range of topics which included, basic hygiene, diarrhea and dehydration, nutrition, vaccinations, family planning, malaria, HIV/AIDS, and meningitis. The women were clearly really appreciative of all that they had learned throughout the program. Despite several small hiccups, which is expected for the first time of this quite complicated activity, and that fact that I am still completely drained of all energy, I think it was a good experience for everyone involved. Most of the babies gained about 0.2 - 0.4kg (though one baby gained almost a full kilo) during the 12 days. It sounds like a small increase but most of these babies had not gained (or even had lost weight) in the past few months, and the real results will not be fully understood until after a month or two when we do follow-up weighings with these children. That is when we will better know if the women have kept up what we taught them during the activity. If I do decide to do another Hearth, I think it would go much smoother now that I've already done one, but all I know is that I need to recover from this last one before I think about a sequel.

Our group photo on the last day of the Hearth

I know, I know. I’ve been slacking. Apparently, I am still in “vacation mode,” despite being back in country for over two weeks now. As most of you know, my family gave me the best Christmas gift in the world – a plane ticket to the States for the holidays (thank you so much again, mom and dad!). So on December 16th, I said adieu to Burkina for three weeks and boarded an AirFrance plane bound for home. I flew about seven hours to Paris, where I waited for another four hours or so in what felt like Arctic conditions without any kind of jacket at all. Honestly, I was physically shaken when I first stepped off the plane. I am ashamed to have spent over $7 on a small coffee just to get warm a bit. After another half hour delay due to snowfall, I was finally headed for America. Although I didn’t get any sleep on either flight (I knew I wouldn’t), I did catch up on some new movies, ate some good French food, and robbed AirFrance of as many mini bottles of red and white wine they were willing to give me. Another eight hours above the Atlantic and then we finally touched down in Washington D.C. It’s always a nice feeling to be on American soil again. After a quick customs stop, I got my bag and headed out. My parents and my brother were waiting for me in classic airport homecoming movie cliché, and it was great. It had been 14 months since I had last seen my family, and everyone looked good (slightly pale by comparison but still good). My mom brought me a heavy coat and hat, as well as some homemade brownies. It was nice to be home. It was really weird to be home at first. I can’t really describe the feeling but the word “surreal” comes to mind. So many cars. Everyone speaking English. Nobody staring at me like a celebrity. So many fat white people. Within a couple days of being home, we had a big snowstorm, leaving us with well over a foot of snow. They said it hadn’t snowed like this in Virginia in December since, oh, about 1918. Another Christmas miracle. It seemed like the days before Christmas went by much slower than those after. Perhaps it is because at first I mostly relaxed at home, caught up on TV shows I had missed, and didn’t do much. But after Christmas I hung out more with friends, ran errands, and checked things off my to-do list, basically sucking the marrow out of America, as it were. I drove to Williamsburg (my college town) one day to hang out with a friend there, and another one of my friends drove up from NC to bring in the new year with me and hang out with the family for a few days. Very cool. I also saw lots of movies with my family while I was home, including Invictus, Me and Orson Wells, The Young Victoria, Avatar, Sherlock Holmes, and I know I’m missing one. I would also describe all the food I ate, but I think that would only serve to hunger and sadden me, so I will just say I ate really, really good food and a lot of it. The snow was almost completely melted when we drove back to Dulles on the 6th. I was just getting used to American life again when it was time to say goodbye. I took back two bags full of food and a head full of great memories (thanks again, guys). The plane rides back to Burkina were as uneventful as the first ones, except running into a fellow volunteer in Paris on her way back as well. We split the cost of taxi back to the Peace Corps house in Ouaga and even lucked into snagging the last two beds in the house for the night without making reservations. Another Christmas miracle, right? Since then, I have been trying to readjust to Burkina life again, and resettling into village for my second year here. I have a malnutrition program loosely planned for the start of February, along with a few other smaller activities scheduled for the coming weeks. Crossing my fingers that I can get into a work grove soon to keep me busy. Until next time.

I am sitting in our Peace Corps house in Ouaga the day before my flight home to America to celebrate Christmas with my family, and I am ready for a vacation. Last week was a very busy week, and it will be nice to have some down time stateside. There is a new tradition in Burkina where each year for Independence Day a different city is chosen to hold the festivities. This began last year in Fada, a city in the East, and this year it was my nearby city of Ouahigouya that was picked. So for the past few months, our little city has been making upgrades - paving roads, constructing new buildings, and painting old ones - all for this one day, December 11th. The highlight of the celebration is a huge military parade to showcase Burkina's strength and pride, in which the entire military force of the country and several thousand civilians take part. Even the President of Burkina Faso and other important government officials make an appearance.

Peace Corps was invited to join the parade, so a dozen volunteers from the surrounding area, myself included, accepted the call to march. Of course, this isn't your typical American parade that includes large balloons of cartoon characters and ends with Santa, so of course the marching is not taken lightly. I would not go as far as calling it goose-stepping, but it is definitely highly militaristic, which means everyone has to practice. The soldiers had been practicing for several weeks, but for us civilians, we all came into town on Monday to rehearse. Like all things in this country, practice consisted of waiting for several hours in the heat, followed by twenty minutes of actual marching. I biked back to village afterwards, as I had baby weighing and other activities to deal with in Aorema. I returned to town Thursday the 10th, as we were required to be in our places to march at 6am on Friday. Thursday turned out to be interesting as well with more than a dozen parachuters falling from the sky, a sight that caused all men, women and children to take off running towards their landing spot.

So we roll over to our position Friday morning a little after six in our awesomely amazing (and not at all frumpy) lime green uniforms. And then we wait. And wait. And wait a little more. It isn't until about 9:30am when the President, a man named Blaise Compaore, shows up. He does a quick drive-by, waving to all the different groups who are going to march. When he saw all of us, the only whities in the parade, he gave us a big smile, which was kind of cool. Then we waited about another hour for the parade to actually begin. All in all, it was pretty tiring but a really cool experience to march in front of the President, the thousands of people watching in person, and the hundreds of thousands watching on TV (as standard television in Burkina has only one channel). I hope we made Peace Corps and America proud. Afterwards, a few PC staff members, including our Country Director, took us all out for lunch, which was really nice on their part. As I wrap this up, I should remind you that this is the last blog post I will write until I get to America. My flight leaves tomorrow (Wednesday) night and if all goes well, I will be on US soil Thursday afternoon. See you next year, Burkina!

Until then, enjoy the following photos, courtesy of fellow volunteer Rob Hartwig, who came to support his fellow PCVs:

Our group photo, during the three-hour waiting period before the parade beganFinally, the arrival of M. le PresidentA troop of 50 horses takes to the street, one of which came from my village Eventually, it is our turn. Don't we look sharp?

What is a parade without baton-twirling, pompom-waving cheerleaders? N.B. this was the first time I had even seen cheerleaders in this country.

Burkinabe veterans marching

Bringing out the heavy artillary

Even heavier

An impressive sight: 6 men on one motorcycle

So I finally have enough time to sit down and type up a summary of my latest adventure, this time in the region of Mali known as Dogon Country (Pays Dogon). I have been back in Burkina for about a week but was too occupied with our mid-service conference in Ouaga to write out this report until now. I'll try to be as vivid as possible, but I warn you that names and timelines may not be exact.

Exactly two weeks ago (a Monday), our quartet met in Ouahigouya, my regional capital and the town where I am currently typing this up. Our group consisted of myself and three fellow volunteers from my training group: Sara, Audrey, and Ilana. Ilana and I greeted the other pair at the bus station here in the evening and then grabbed some burgers at a restaurant in town. After dinner, we split up. Ilana and Sara went to stay in Ilana's village only a few kilometers away and Audrey and I stayed with a fellow volunteer in town.

TUESDAY: We met up again the following morning at around 7am near the bush taxi station. We were quickly greeted by a man in a black cape with a scarlet lining. You know your trip is going to be great when the first person you meet is a man in a cape. He showed us to our mode of transport, an old van that had seen better days. We bought our tickets to Koro, a large town just across the Mali border and found spots on a bench. We sat, eating our breakfast of chocolate croissants and chatting amongst ourselves for maybe two hours or so until the car was full. We then piled inside, about 16 of us, only to wait another hour or so. It was amusing to find out that more people on our ride spoke English than not, as we were in the company of two Nigerians, two German girls, and a man from the Netherlands, which put the anglophone tally at 9 people. We finally left Ouahigouya at around 10:30am, only to have our bush taxi get a flat tire not even three kilometers into the trip. After another 15 minutes or so, we finally started moving, albeit at a snail's pace. As we neared the border we began to make several arbitrary stops, five in total, which ate into our day. We first stopped at a Burkina police station to have our passports looked at, and then we stopped at the Burkina border control to receive our exit stamps. We stopped again at the border to buy our visas, then another time to have our passports looked at again on the Mali side, and finallly a last stop, apparently so a Malian policeman could purchase a bag of dried coconut from a lady in our van. During these stops we took the opportunity to get to know the other whities who were traveling with us. We ended up invited the two girls from Germany to join our party as they really didn't seem to have much of a plan. We finally arrived in Koro, where we met our trusty leader Oumar, a one-of-a-kind guide. It is impossible to fully appreciate Oumar simply by describing him. He is a 31 year old, Dogon-born man whose English has been ¨perfected¨ by twelve years of constant Peace Corps groups coming through. He said 95% of all his clients are PCVs, so you can imagine how colorful his language is. He could have been pulled right from the movie screen, a fusion of Borat and the Crocodile Hunter. As he is used to American ¨troublemakers,¨ he has no problem answering your pointless inquiries with ¨That's a stupid question, shut up.¨ He also has the tendancy to curse like a sailor constantly, always asking things like: ¨Where's the f***ing food? I'm f***ing hungry.¨ I digress. So we met Oumar in Koro and he took us to a restaurant for lunch, where he showed us a map and described what we would experience on the trip. After lunch, we all loaded in a station wagon and headed to our first destination, Telly. It was dark when we arrived at our encampment, similar to a hostel with several rooms and space to sleep on the roofs. It was located at the base of the escarpment, the large flat-topped cliffs that stretched for at least 70km and the focus of any Dogon trek. We had a dinner of spaghetti, some drinks, and then headed to rooftops to sleep under the stars.

WEDNESDAY: We awoke early and took in a beautiful view, the first time we saw the cliffs in the daylight. There was an entire village, now abandoned, built into the sides of the cliffs halfway up. As it is the dry, windy season, the horizon and the cliffs disappeared into a haze of dust in the distance. The morning air has become quite chilly as well, but for us it feels nice to feel cold again. We had breakfast at around 7am, bread and jam, and then began exploring the old ruins that remain. For a brief history lesson, it was the Tellum people who fist built their homes into the rock face to escape predators like lions and enemies nearly 800 years ago. They were later conquered by the Dogon people who continued to live in the cliffs until 70 or so years ago, when families began moving to the their present location at the base. We returned for a rest, then began our trek to the next village 4km away, Ennde. This village, still at the base of the escarpment is Oumar's home village. We had lunch at the encampment, explored the village and then were introduced to Oumar's parents. His father, the oldest man in the village, is apparently close to 100 years old, and we learned that he has had three wives and that Oumar has roughly 24 siblings. His father is quite a busy man! We ate a rice dinner at our encapment there, listened to some music from my iPod, and Oumar made us all some delicious tea. As there were no blankets in this encampment, Sara and I decided to sleep inside, while Ilana and Audrey braved the cold on the roof.

THURSDAY: We awoke ready to tackle the cliffs, as we knew we were going to go all the way up today. After a quick breakfast, we walked another 5km along the base to our lunch stop in a village called Yabatalou. We stayed here until the heat of the midday sun passed, and then we began our hike to the top. Oumar pointed to a sliver in the cliffs, which is how we would climb up apparently. Past a shaky rock staircase and across a couple scary crevices via some old logs, we eventually made it to the top, a moment we had been waiting for. We sat on the edge, looking out into the horizon, the wind whistling around us. It was actually quite peaceful and serene. After a few minutes of satisfaction and photo taking, we continued, now atop the massive escarpment , for another 6km to the village of Bemmatou. It was interesting to see the homes made of stone, as opposed to the mud-brick buildings found at the base. It was clear that when you live on a giant stone, you use what you can find. Also a bit surprising were the couple of TV antennas we could see throughout the village. We didn't stay here too long though, for we still had another 8 kilometers to reach our encampment for the night in the village of Douru. This was by far where we saw the most tourists. There was one large group of maybe 20 middle-aged French people as well as several other smaller groups of Europeans. All the rooms were taken when we arrived, so after our couscous dinner, we had no choice but to sleep on the roof.

FRIDAY: When I awoke friday morning, it was the coldest I had felt in a long time. We had breakfast, then had a quick tour of the village before we were off again. We had a good day of walking, and we were able to see some beautiful sights of the rocks, gardens and landscape along the way. We ate lunch in another village along the way where I was able to take a quick nap. When we made it to the spot where we were to descend the cliffs, the view from there was absolutely stunning. No picture could ever do it justice. In the distance, a tiny village called Nombori was situated on the other side of a small river. Across the river, herds of cattle came to drink from its waters and beyond the herds were immense sand dunes which rolled into the horizon. We climbed down, quite carefully, and made our way to Nombori, our final stop. For dinner, we ate some delicious potatoes with a potato sauce and potatoes on the side. We played a Malian card game known as 151, which was similar to UNO, and then headed to bed.

SATURDAY: When we awoke, we had a quick breakfast like always, then toured the village a bit. Afterwards we headed out onto the dunes. It was so nice to feel the cool sand on my feet, but walking on the dunes was actually much more tiring than I had imagined. By the end, I was wishing we had brought some camels. Then all of a sudden, we spot our station wagon in the middle of the desert. I bean wondering why he was parked in this arbitrary location and why he hadn't park closer. Nonetheless, we piled in the car and began our ride back to Koro. We jokingly asked to see Oumar's house in Koro, and surprisingly he took us there upon our arrival. It was actually a really cool pad, with Dogon blankets, photos and maps all over the walls, and wood carvings around the room. Afterward, we headed to a restaurant where we had our final feast together. We said good-bye to our German friends as they continued their journey to Mopti and we got into another bush taxi, this one much more reliable, and headed back to Burkina. It took us only half as long to go back as it did to get there, and we were able to still made it home in time for burgers. It was a great vacation.

Mud mosque in Telly

View of Telly from old cliff village (mosque from previous photo seen near center)

Monkey skulls were attached to the walls of the old village as a way for hunters to show off their skills

The crack in the rock face which we used to climbed to the top

Rock staircase inside said crack

View from the top

At the top. Ilana, Sara, and Audrey (from the bottom)

Our fearless leader, Oumar (on his cell phone)

Yours truly enjoying the view

The day coming to an end

Poor monkey (really wanted to set him free)

View from the village Yabatalou

Savanna on top of the escarpment

Along our hike

The most amazing view I've seen in Africa so far, which no photo can do justice. This is me trying.

View from our last village (the previous photo was taken from the cliffs in the background here)

Our group shot with Oumar at his house in Koro.

No time to talk, but I wanted to let everyone know that I will be heading to Mali tomorrow morning on a hiking trip with three other volunteers until Friday. So if the internet gods are kind, expect some new photos from the trip, as well as some hilarious anecdotes. Until then!

I know I have been slacking on blog posts lately, but in actuality not much is happening currently. My village is still nowhere to be found, with most people off in the fields harvesting their millet, corn, peanuts, and beans. As no one is around, it is near impossible to plan anything of real significance. But I do have a few activities I am hoping to do once my village repopulates including health funtivities with my primary school and hopefully a malnutrition program as well. This past Tuesday and Wednesday, I went out with one of the nurses on our monthly vaccination campaigns in our satellite villages. In one of our villages, someone gave us a small plot of land for peanuts, so after we finished up, we checked on our crop and did a little harvesting. I had never really known how peanuts were harvested , but it is fairly simple. You just pull them out of the ground, comme ça:

People have given me so many peanuts lately, I don't know what to do with them all. Maybe I should give Planters a call. Anyways, after we checked on our field, we took a hike to see the gold mine nearby. They have discovered a lot of gold throughout our region, which has prompted many people to head to the mines in hopes of getting rich. Unfortunately, the mines are not the safest place to be. Falling into the mines, cave-ins, and mercury poisoning are all plausible dangers while working, and rape and STDs including AIDS are also elevated at these sites as well. Most of the work is done at nighttime when you can more easily see the gold glitter from the lanterns' light, but there were a couple people working when we showed up around 11am. We found this boy from my village sluicing for gold dust that may have been overlooked.

He told us he hadn't found any gold yet.

Our Assistant Nurse, Madame Zongo, is stricken with gold fever.

And the following pictures are unrelated, but not unimportant:

Isn't there something heavenly about light breaking through the clouds? C'mon, you know there is.

At 6am, while waiting for our nurse to head out for vaccination campaign, I caught these vultures chillin on my major's roof.

One of the last storms of the season

Panorama of the countryside near my village, what we call the brousse (the bush)

The rainy season has come to an end here in Burkina (at least up north) and we have moved into what is often described as the mini hot season. The green grass has gradually reverted to the dry amber that I remember when we first arrived. Last week was, in fact, our one-year anniversary. It is hard to believe that I have been living here that long and that I only have a little longer than a year remaining to make the strongest impact I can. I am actually ready for the rainy season to be over. While the rainfall was a nice change, I have grown tired of the humidity, mud, flies, mosquitos, and other critters (I woke up this morning to find a praying mantis in my house) that come with it. Just the other day, I almost ran over a two-foot long lizard in the middle of the road.

For the past week or so, my village has been basically empty, as everyone is out in the fields harvesting their crops. So I have had little opportunity to do substantial work lately but I am hoping to begin activities with my primary school soon. The most exciting thing that has happened lately is a celebration in my neighboring village of Youba known as Rasandaaga. I asked several people the meaning of the festivities but everyone said there is no significance and that it is just for fun. Anyway, it is the closest thing to a Burkinabe parade, with several groups of men, women, and children dressing up in traditional clothing and marching around the market while people dance, sing, and just have fun. It was really cool to see, as the market fills with people packed shoulder to shoulder to watch and partake. The following photos are from the fete:

The men leading the parade

A group of men walking and bobbing their heads in unison

People would come and slip money in their hats. That's Burkina's highest note 10,000CFA, equivalent to about $20 (i.e. a lot of money).

Men playing traditional percussion instruments for the women to dance to

The evening winding down. One thing about a parade in the desert - a lot of dust

Women from the neighborhood known as Yarga. The one on the right is the mother of one of our CoGes members with whom I work.

Random woman from village who wanted her picture taken

This was during the country's recent national I.D. card campaign. This took place inside an old school building in Aorema, and basically the entire village came there to have their pictures taken and order their cards.

Just to show everyone what I have to bike with on occasion from Ouahigouya. Thirteen kilometers with a box from the parents, a stand I had ordered from the carpenter ($3), a duffle bag with groceries and a basket full of veggies. Not the easiest ride.

But everything is worth it when you treat yourself to homemade pizza. I sliced a round loaf of bread, toasted it, and coated it with olive oil and garlic. I added my own tomato sauce and lots of parmesean cheese. Voila!

I often forget I live in an all-Muslim village. I live far enough from the mosque that I can only make out on occasion the sound of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. The absence of swine and alcohol (nevermind the fact that I have taken whiskey shots with my chef de terre in the past) is just a part of life. Never has religion seemed so apparent than during the past few weeks, as the Islamic community celebrates Ramadan. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month-long holiday of fasting from food, drink, smoking and other indulgences from sun-up to sun-down for the sake of God. As I am not Muslim, I am of course not required to fast at all. While I still eat whenever I choose, I have learned very quickly that it is probably best not to do so in public. Every time I go to the market, I usually buy an iced treat, similar to frozen kool-aide. I have found though that now whenever I walk through the stalls savoring my popsicle, I have every single vendor asking me if I am not fasting. But then I think: these guys are bringing the frozen goods every market day from town and they wouldn't keep doing it if I was the only fast-breaking sinner, right? The thing I have about religion here is that it seems no matter what you believe, people do not care. They may be curious, make a joke about it, but everyone here is really accepting, and it is quite refreshing. Just the other day, I was hanging with some men around 4pm, when the call of prayer starts. All the men line up to pray, and afterwards one the men says to me: ¨Why don't you pray?¨ I said it was because I am not Muslim. He then asked me what religion I was, and I replied that I was Christian. He then smiled and said: ¨Oh, OK. It doesn't matter what religion you are. All of them are good.¨ One added bonus for me came from this holiday. While everyone fasts until sunset, it seems that small snacks like cookies and the like are OK to get you through the day, so many people are looking for such snacks. I had been looking throughout my village for someone who makes good gateaux (imagine greasy donuts sans sugar). Thanks to Ramadan, I have found the women who make them. Now it's donuts any day.

On a completely unrelated note, I was suckered into watching a circumcision the other day, which would have been enough there, but it was made 100 times worse by the fact that the patient was 12 years old. During the procedure, the nurse asked me what I as thinking and all I could say was: ¨That is not nice.¨ She said it as common to wait until the boys were older as that is how it was done here. Again I responded: ¨Not nice.¨ And I had always thought it was a quick snip snip procedure, but in fact it takes much longer time than I had thought and involves several shots of anesthesia, scissors, and a needle and thread (as well as a lot more blood than I pictured). It was perhaps a more painful thing for me to watch than that newborn baby a few weeks before, as I could imagine more clearly, unlike the woman giving birth, the pain the boy was feeling (you know that anesthesia doesn't take it all away). But I was impressed - the kid laid there and didn't yell or even cry, while there was a moment when I myself got light-headed just watching it. After seeing that, I really needed a donut.

I have often called the wind a cruel mistress, but I am beginning to think the rain is at least on par with her. Sure, the rain has made the land lush and greener than I imagined Burkina could look and it definitely helps cool the country down, yet we have all experienced the nasty side of the downpour as well. It is clear that the number of bugs has exponentially increased , especially with regard to flies and mosquitos. This is a huge problem (as opposed to a nuisance in the U.S.) because flies promote diarrheal illnesses and mosquitos of course bring malaria, two of Burkina's most serious health issues. My village alone has seen over 1,000 cases of malaria this rainy season so far (note that most cases are not considered serious and that over 90% of the cases in Aorema are easily treatable with medication from the CSPS.

Another serious issue with the rain has been flooding. While I have become accustomed to biking in mud and wading through mools of murk to get into town, last week Burkina saw its worst flooding it had seen since apparently 1919. We were told that over 150,000 people in the capital city of Ouagadougou were homeless, that many people were missing, and that at least three people died because of the inodations. For us volunteers it meant that travel was restricted for the time being, which actually prevented me from going to my major's wedding.

Lastly, the extra foliage that the rainy season has brought has become a perfect place for snakes. A few nights ago while a group of us were out watching TV, I hear my midwife yell that there is a serpent in the brush. Everyone cautiously walks over to her, and sure enough we spot a white snake about a meter long. Now I am not a fan of killing animals (even snakes) and if we were in the U.S., I would have entertained the idea of trying to catch it and release it back in the wild. But considering I live in the wild and the nearest antivenom is possibly three hours away, the two-by-four lying on the ground was looking pretty good. At first thattell someone to find a boy to deal with it, as they are all afraid and probably can tell I want little to do with it. But defending what honor and manlihood I had left, I picked up the wood and started wailing on the poor critter. It took at least 15 good swings to actually klll the snake, and even after we chopped of its head, it was still slithering.

Thank you rain.

Isn't that the expression? I said I would never go into the maternity building after dark. For some reason, babies prefer to be born at night. Maybe they have become used to the darkness in the womb. I don't know. Maybe they just want to wake everyone up. Whatever the reason, I know better than to go near that building after sunset. In my village it seems like every night a baby is being delivered, so our clinic's midwife is a busy woman. She almost never leaves village at all; she is too important not to be there.

There is a situation which occurs every few months or so, where for some reason or another all of our three qualified medical professionals in village have left, leaving me alone. Last Friday was just such a night. It is similar to an eclipse, where everything needs to line up perfectly. My major, the head nurse, was out of town, planning his wedding, I think. Madame Zongo, the assistance nurse, was in Ouahigouya for additional training. And Agi, the midwife who never seems to leave. . . seemed to have left, for some reason. It is like the perfect storm, and I am left to man the dinghy alone.

It was probably around 8pm when I hear a knock on our gate. I was in the middle of waching a movie, (Smokin' Aces to be exact) so I paused it to see who it was. A man on a moto was behind the door, a bit shocked I think to find a whitie on the other side. With my basic Mooré skills, I am able to deduce that there is a woman at the maternity whose stomach is hurting. I explain that I am not a doctor and that none of the clinic staff is there tonight. As a Peace Corps volunteer, it is prohibited to give technical medical assistance since we do not receive training for that. After I explain that to him the best I can, he leaves, and I return to my movie.

Perhaps thirty minutes later, I get another knock, this time from two different men. They tell me the same thing, and I tell them there is nothing I can do. They then ask me to come anyway, just to look. I think to myself that if someone is actually in serious danger, I would regret not doing anything. I grab a flashlight and lock my house, and we walk towards the maternity. I try to ask if she is going to have the baby tonight but I don't understand the response. I was nervous, since all I know about delivery babies comes from television shows and movies. As we get to the building the men stop at the doorway, not actaully going to go inside. Another red flag I shouldn't be here. As I enter cautiously, I hear crying, not the crying of a pregnant woman but rather that of a baby. I walk into the delivery room and see a young woman lying down. An older woman is there as well, which comforts me to know I am not the only one. As I get closer, I see the source of the crying - a tiny baby lying on the table between the woman's legs, its cord still attached.

I realize, lucky for me, the baby had already been born. The mother was moaning quietly and looked in pain. I asked, ¨Your stomach is hurting?¨ She says yes, and then I start to worry. Complications? Could something have happened during the delivery? But then I think, she just had a baby. My stomach would hurt too if I had just pushed that out of me! So I go check on the baby. A little pale but crying alot, which I assumed was a healthy sign. The other woman seemed have handled everything well, but now she was searching the room for something. She needed alcohol, but we couldn't find any, so I head over to the main building to get some from the storage closet. When I get back, she saids we need scissors. Luckily, the word scissors sounds the same in French and in Mooré. I walked to a table to see literally more than a dozen pairs of scissors of different sizes and shapes. Now which are the ¨cutting the cord¨ pair? Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. I used a strip of fabric to tie a tight knot in the cord a few inches from the baby, held the flashlight, and let the woman do the actually cutting, which proved more difficult that I had imagined. Eventually she was able to cut all the way through. Then we lifted the baby and wrapped him tightly in some cloth. I ask the woman again if her stomach was still hurting, and she said no. The other woman says that we are finished, so I congratulate the new mom and head out. The men are still hanging out outside and I tell them that everything seems to be ok. When I got back home, I was so tired. I went to bed, leaving my movie to be finished the next day.

Although I didn't have to actually deliver the baby, it is as close to it as I would like to get here in Burkina. I checked the next morning and both baby and mother were fine and thankfully the assistant nurse returned that morning, relieving the pressure off me. Never say never.

I bet you never thought I would put up more photos either, but you are wrong. Thanks to suspiciously fast internet, enjoy more photos I have taken in and around my village, Aorèma.

This is one of my moringa trees in my yard. It now reaches a foot or so above the wall. This is the kind of tree that is packed full of nutirents. Through harvesting and adding the dried leaves in sauces and such, it can greatly increase the nutritional value of otherwise less healthy meals.

This is a picture of a frog. Sorry it is not a better shot, but they are actaully smaller than a jelly bean. I have never seen a frog so tiny before. When I first saw them, I wondered how flies could hop.

Found across Africa, the baobab on the other hand can grow to enormous size. The trunks of some are wider than a car. They use the leaves of the baobab to make a sauce used for to, a Burkinabe dish made from millet.

I have to give credit to the makers of Shrek. Never did I know how annoying donkeys could be until I moved here. I have been waken up at all hours by what sounds like an asthmatic horse trying to cough up a hair ball.

Women getting water at the well. Whenever I have my camera out, everyone wants their picture taken.

Kids riding a donkey cart. In Burkina, when you have heavy things to move, you don't call a moving trunk, you call a donkey cart. A pretty reliable system, albeit very very slow.

What do people think of when they think of Africa? Yes, people carrying things on their heads. This is nothing. I have seen women carrying on their craniums firewood in bins the size of large trashcans. Pretty crazy.

Really cool lightning over the clinic. I think my neighbors are used to seeing me with my camera whenever a storm comes.

And I leave you again with another one of my favorite recent shots. Right before a storm comes, the wind picks up, turning the sky brown with dust. When this happens, everyone knows to get home fast before things get worse. I got this photo right in my courtyard looking over the wall, as some kids retreat with a bull into the haze of sand. Until next time!

P.S. I made slight changes to my wish list, so check that out. I really appreciate everything everyone has sent. Thank you.

So I've been hanging out in the capital this weekend picking up some clothes I had made from the tailor and running errands, so I thought it would be a perfect chance to use free internet time to upload photos. Unfortunately, the internet here is as slow as in Ouahigouya, so after several hours of waiting, I have only a few photos uploaded. Hopefully, I can add others soon, but for now, enjoy these snapshots from my village.

This photo was taken just at the start of rainy season, so it is just beginning to become greener. I really loved the look of this tree for some reason.

With this picture, I tried to bring out the dignity in cows. I'd like to believe he is contemplating the meaning of life, as oppose to contemplating where he is going to relieve himself next.

I walked one day from one end of my village to the other. It took about an hour, but I got some nice pics along the path. Women at the well. That basin is filled to the brim with water, but girls are trained at a very young age in the art of carrying heavy and awkward things on their heads. Notice how green my desert village has become during the rainy season - a pleasant change of scenery.

One of my favorite pictures I have taken. This is the dam that rests on the edge of my village, the same dam with the crocodiles that I showed in an earlier post. I walked here just in time for a beautiful Burkina sunset. I sat in this exact spot for about half an hour, waiting for the intensity of color to reach its peak before I snagged this shot.

So I have been staying in village more lately, ironically when there is almost no work to be done. It is raining about two or three times a week now. So everyone is out in the fields now, cultivating. In my village, it is mostly millet, rice, beans, and peanuts that make up the vast majority of land.Since everyone is working, it leaves me with nothing to do. But I did just get electricity installed in my house a few weeks ago, which does give me more options. I have been watching more movies lately, that's for sure. I was going to write this blog post ahead of time, but of course the power decides to go out early yesterday morning. That is the one problem with electricity in the raining season: it goes out with most storms.

We did just finish up another national polio campaign. Our village divided up into six teams of two. We met each morning at 6am for four consecutive days. Each team was assigned a specific section of the vilage and we had to go to every courtyard to make sure every child in the village under five years old had been vaccinated. Ask any health volunteer, it is quite an exhausting ordeal. The first day I vaccinated over 200 kids, the following day over 150. I knew four days were not required when the third day we got nine children and the last day none. But the state wants every single child in the country protected. The only downside is that even if there are no children left, you are still made to go out and look for more, which usually results in groups finding a secluded place and just hiding until the 10am return time. I didn't mind it all too much; it did give me something to feel busy, but somehow I was placed for the second campaign in a row with the one man in my village who I do not get along with so well. He always seems to want something from me. But I thought: I should take this as an opportunity to get to know him better and maybe we might actually be friends. Unfortunately, it took only a few hours for him to ask me for a 20,000 CFA (about $40) loan to buy a goat to raise. Hah!

Anyway, I am in town to visit some friends, hang out, buy some groceries, and then it is back to village. I had photos to share, but internet sucks, so I will post them later. Later!

So I am back from my awesome July 4th celebration down south and have a lot to share. Sorry first off for the lack of photos. I have been waiting awhile for a new memory card to arrive from America, so until then I have been having to snatch photos from other PCVs. It should be arriving anyday though and then there will be a plethora of pictures to feast your eyes upon. Until then, my words are the only thing that can soothe you.

A fellow PCV neighbor Ilana and I headed down from Ouahigouya to Ouagadougou last week a two-hour trip I take at least once a month (we took the 5:30am bus). Once there we immediately bought tickets for Bobo, the capital of the southern region. While waiting for the bus to leave we ran into two other PVCs from our group who were on their way down as well. Somehow they convinced us to change our plans slightly. When we arrived in Bobo (maybe 6 hours later), we immediately boarded another bus for the town of Orodara (about 1.5 hours), where two other PCVs from our group live. We arrived in the evening and all (including two other southern volunteers who came in as well, making 8 total) met up for a few drinks and dinner. I learned that our national fruit juice Dafani is only the second best in the country (it will never please me like it used to) and that it is easy to order to with oseille sauce and rice with peanut sauce but actually quite different to order rice with oseille sauce.

The next morning we awoke early, ate an omelette breakfast and then hit the road for a 60km (about 37 miles for you yanks) bike ride from Orodara to our destination of Banfora. The road we took was really quite pleasant, only a few big hills to tackle and beautiful villages and lush greenery all along the way. Towards the end, we biked past the famous sugarcane fields that stretch to the horizon. I couldn't believe we were still in the same country. It felt more like Ghana to me, since the only Burkina I know is the quasi-desert where I live. We left at around 8am and arrived in Banfora at almost exactly noon. Banfora seemed like an interesting town, somewhat different from what I expected being the tourism capital of Burkina, but there were many nice hotels and restaurants to cater to these guests. We stayed at L'Hotel Canne a Sucre, a nice hotel with ¨ties¨ with Peace Corps. In all, there were about 20 of us there to celebrate. For the 4th, we woke up and headed to a popular restaurant called McDonald. Where else would one eat on America's birthday? I had a really great omelet and French toast (I...uh...I mean, freedom toast) and washed it down with fresh passionfruit juice (really tasty). Most of the day we spent in and around the pool. For lunch we ordered some of the best brochettes (like kabobs) I have ever eaten here and for dinner we munched on hamburgers and french fries (uh...freedom fries). All in all, it was a fun fourth of July. I found out later that I had accidentally swam with my cell phone in my pocket, which caused me to have to buy another one, but my new one is better, so no big deal.

The next day, Christy, Ilana, Christie-Anne and I made the trek out to see some of the natural sites this region is known for. As we were biking we passed by a pizza place that is said to have some of the best pizza in the country, so we placed a lunch order and continued on our way. We visited two sites. The first, known as the domes, are a series of megaliths formed 1.8 billion years ago. We knew we made it when we someone has spray-painted ¨domes¨ on the side of one of them. Subtle. They were pretty cool and fun to climb, but some in our group were less than impressed. While standing on top of one of them, Christy-Anne asked, ¨So where are the domes?¨ From there we walked a little ways to the next site ¨les cascades,¨ the waterfalls. While hiking around them, I found a really cool batcave full of the noisy creatures. I wanted to harness my inner Bruce Wayne, but we were already running out of time. We found a pretty spot, changed into our swimwear and chilled out under the falls for half an hour or so. Schistosomiasis, schmistosomiasis.

It was a really fun mini-vacation, but I was happy to get back to village. Of course nothing is ever so easy and we waited about 5 hours for our bus to Ouaga to leave, which caused us to arrive after midnight and made some of us search for other lodging since the transit house had filled up during that time. Nevertheless, during our five hour ¨layover¨ I managed to buy my new phone and also found some white chocolate from France at a gas station nearby. This past week, the electrician came to my house to install power. Finally, I can officially say that I have electricity in my house. It is amazing but really strange. Please correct me if I am wrong, but I think I am the only health volunteer in Burkina with electricity. I need to go shopping for a decent fan now. Also strange, my major's wife just had a baby girl a few days ago, and I didn't even know she was pregnant!

I feel like I should be in a confessional right now: ¨Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last blog post.¨ I wish I had more of a reason for this procrastination, but isn't that reason enough. The rains have finally arrived, with two good showers this week. I have planted some trees in my courtyard and have also begun growing 40 moringa trees from seeds that I will eventually distribute out to the population as part of a nutrition training. It is really awesome to finally see more green in this semi-desert where I call home. Patches of grass have sprouted around the shallow pools of rainwater that collect throughout the village, each reminding me of a tiny oasis which beckons the sheep and goats to indulge themselves. Unfortunately, my courtyard has yet to see any grass and seems content in staying a muddy mess.

This morning we have a really great rain that lasted several hours. I am often in awe of the storms that come in, never realizing what a storm in the desert looks like. Inevitable, before the rains ever arrive, the winds sweep through carrying brown clouds of dust and sand. I saw an enormous one come through today at least four or five stories high, swallowing several villagers running back to their homes. It reminded me of The Mummy, when the airplane is being chased by the wall of sand created by Imhotep. I always have to run inside my house to close my windows in order to keep my house from looking like a dig site at Pompeii. Visibility is literally only a few feet in front of you at times, and if you are unluckily caught outside for any period of time, sand gets trapped in your hair, your mouth and everyone else you could imagine. But then, only a few minutes behind, the water soon catches up and pulls down with it all the dust in the air. The times when it is raining are some of my favorite times in Burkina. It often cools down over twenty degrees, dropping into the low 70s within a few minutes time. And when it really pours, the sheets of water on the ground reflect the white sky and it looks like a thin layer of snow if you squint your eyes. Of course, trying to bike into town immediately after the rain has fallen can prove frustrating for the impatient. This afternoon, I had to actually get off my bike and walk with it for fifteen minutes, as I trudged through ankle patches of mud and puddles of rainwater. I eventually made it, albeit through a different path than I normally take. I kept having to ask each person I saw ¨Ouahigouya sure?¨ (¨The path to Ouahigouya?¨) Luckily, I was not lacking in help, for everybody was outside working the fields as I passed by on my muddy bike.

I am now on my way to our Fourth of July celebration, taking place in the lush southern region of the country in a place call Banfora. Probably the more touristy side of Burkina, Banfora is home to one of our greatest natural treasures here, several beautiful waterfalls which everyone says I cannot miss. I will be reuniting with several other PCV friends for an Independence Day I surely will not forget. Now if only somebody brought sparklers.

By some stroke of luck (or Karma), the internet is not only free today (yes, free), it is also fairly fast. So in an effort to pay it forward, I have dedicated this post to more pics from Ghana. Enjoy!

We tried to get some Dixcove kids to pose in a canoe. I don't think everyone understood.

Each canoe is actually made the old-fashioned way: hollowing it out of one really big tree.

Voilà moi, after hiking up the top of the mountain overlooking Busua Beach (evidently the property we were on with this great view and several bungalows is own by a German man who runs the local gold mine. Danke schön.)

Ghanaian man in traditional dress walking across the beach. You definitely see more Western-style clothing here than in Burkina.

Christy in the role of monkey, when our canoe trip proved simian-less.

Relaxing on our canoe ride while our guides to all the work. Thanks William & Mary Crew Team!

After our trip up river, we learned how palm wine is made.

Christy, showing off the latest trend in footwear on the runways of Milan.

Me, standing in front of giant bamboo stalks. It was a pretty cool site to see. Nighttime on the beach.

No, I am not talking about the Hindu cause and effect cycle in which the effects of all life's deeds actively shape the past, present, and future. Today, I am referring to one of my three satellite villages, those villages which lack a health clinic and must share the CSPS in my village. Because these other villages do not have their own health clinic, it is usually the case that they are much more motivated and interested than the village with the CSPS. Because they often receive little attention from the health clinic besides monthly vaccinations, these are great places to focus one's attention. This weekend was all about Karma.

I had mentioned to my major that I would like to do sensibilizations (health demonstrations) in my satellite villages for said reasons, so he helped plan a few activities with my nearest village, Karma. Karma is located about 3 or 4km away and is another Mooré-speaking village. I had been there a few times to help out with vaccinations and was eager to return for more activities.

This Friday, we had our own vaccination campaign in Aorema which took up most of the morning. When this wrapped up, I ate a quick lunch (lettuce, cucumber and cheese sandwiches) and then headed of to Karma with my major around midday. The destination was an alphabetization class, one of the learn-how-to-read-Mooré classes for illiterate women. When we arrived we were greeted by around thirty-five women clapping their hands and singing us a welcome song. Their appreciation was immediately palpable. The major introduced ourselves and we got to work by asking the women what they want to learn. We ended up with a list that included family planning, HIV/AIDS, malaria, and meningitis. This was going to be a long afternoon.

So we took the priority topic - family planning - and my major began talking about the different options women had for ¨spacing their pregnancies,¨ which had all the women amazed. And then he handed the floor over to me, as he took the role of translator. Using a handy picture book (called a boite à image in French) with images related to family planning, I began telling the story of ¨our family,¨ who has five children and one on the way and suffers from the constant stress, sadness, and poverty that comes with having too many kids to take care of. It was great to see the women were into the discussion. At one point I showed a picture of a woman breastfeeding her child and asked ¨What do you see in this picture?¨ One woman answered ¨A healthy mother breastfeeding her baby.¨ I said, ¨Yes, and do you think this is a form of contraception?¨ Immediately, the group began quietly discussing this among themselves. After a few minutes, the same woman responded: ¨No, it is not.¨ When I told them that they were wrong and that by continuously breastfeeding their baby, day and night, they could not get pregnant again for about six months, they were all in complete shock. The woman who had answered for the group clapped her hands together in surprise and began giggling from excitement. It was really nice to see that these women actually learned something completely new that day. We continued with the rest of the topics and several hours later, we finished, and another round of songs began, this time thanking us. I made it back home feeling really great about it all.

Saturday morning, I awoke early. We left my village at around 7am to head back to Karma. Today we had another sensibilization on a much larger scale. Our focus today was solely HIV/AIDS, and it was geared towards the entire community. We had a theater troop come in from another neighboring village, and my friend and fellow volunteer Christina from that same village also came to help out. By the time we began our presentation, after setting up all the seating and sound equipment, there were at least 150 people there. Overall, I think it went really well. I couldn't follow much from the theater group since it was all in local language but I did catch the phrase Mam data fo (¨I want you¨) during a chat between the main guy and girl and the girl refusing his advances. The people seemed to really enjoy it, and along with talks and demonstrations from my major, Christina and I, I think they definitely took a lot away from our presentation.

It was great to see so many people interested in what we were doing. You could tell that for the majority of these people, most of this information was new to them. I am excited to have another year and a half to prepare several more sensibilizations and other activities with Karma and the other villages. But after all the work this weekend, all I really want to do right now is crash. Until next time. Peace.

So I don't have much news to talk about. Rains are beginning to come, which means it is slightly cooler but much more humid here. I gave my major a ware game board (a game played across Africa under various names using seeds or stones which one ¨sows¨ around the board; also known as mancala) as a gift from Ghana, but now everyone comes over to play against the whitie. Most have no clue that I played the game a lot when I was younger and can manage well on my own (¨A banga ware,¨ they say, ¨He understands ware¨). Besides that, not much else is new, so I thought I would take a moment to give you a glimpse at some of the funny (and often awkward) moments from my recent vacation from Ghana, while they are still relatively fresh in my mind. Shall we begin with the awkward:

Christy and I were eating one day at a restaurant with margaritas on the menu and I have been that I wanted one for a long time. I also know after living in Africa, that just because it is written, doesn't make it true. I also read somewhere in my guidebook about negatives in Ghanaian English, but I didn't pay much attention. So I walked up to the waitress and the conversation went something like this: ¨Hi, can you make margaritas?¨ ¨No, we can't.¨ ¨Oh, so you don't have any?¨ ¨Yes.¨ ¨Oh . . . you do have them.¨ ¨No, we don't.¨ ¨Oh . . . OK.¨(Cut to me walking away awkwardly)When we were in the reserve looking for monkeys, our tour guide was quite entertaining. Every time we heard a monkey howl, we stopped but when we didn't see anything, he felt the need to point some random thing out as a sort of consolation prize for the lack of monkeys. ¨Look at this tree.¨ ¨Look, a bird.¨ ¨See here (pointing to his arm), mosquito.¨This same guide forced Christy and I to put on large and rather painful rubber boots which I could tell Christy wasn't too excited about. Neither was I. But half an hour into the trek we came across thousands and thousands of black ants that were crossing the path in front of us. There were so many, it looked like a stream of oil several feet wide in our way. Our guide said ¨Now we have to trot,¨ as we all ran across to the other side. Our guide then turns to us with a smile. ¨Now you should be glad you had the boots.¨One time in a tro-tro on the way to the beach, we met a man named Joe. Now Joe was a really nice guy who was very helpful for us. He even helped the blind man in our van when he had to go to the bathroom. The blind man is another anecdote altogether (he couldn't see to keep his arms and hands to himself and almost got to second base with Christy accidentally). Now Joe lived in Spain for five years and so he spoke Spanish. We had a small conversation in Spanish, as I tried to switch my brain from French. It was a rather basic conversation, where has asked me about my work and what not. He told me he loved Enrique Inglesias (I said I prefered Shakira) and then he said ¨Oh, Enrique is so good-looking, isn't he?¨ ¨Um . . . OK.¨ Lessen learned: don't speak Spanish in Ghanaian tro-tros.Now the currency of Ghana can get confusing since they recently revalued it but people still use the old way and it can be especially confusing if you are use to dealing in CFAs like us. We were in Kumasi and went to a public restroom. I waited outside and when Christy came out, the man said, ¨You owe 1,000 pesewa.¨ ¨1,000! What! I hope you like taking Obruni (whitie) money!¨ She handed him a cedi (about one dollar, or 10,000 pesewas) and was about to leave when he told her to get her change. 1,000 is actually only ten cents, not a dollar as she thought he was demanding.There was a bar/restaurant near our hotel on the beach that we ate at a couple times. It was a Rastafarian place with big pictures of Bob Marley and marijuana leaves painted on the walls. And I don't think it was a coincidence that the cook's name was Stone.On our walk to Dixcove, we passed by an old woman near the fort. She stopped us and said in broken English ¨This man, he be putting me down.¨ So I turn to the guy and say ¨Hey, that's not cool. She is a nice lady.¨ And then the old woman started cracking up and grabbed my hand yelling ¨I am a nice woman! I am a nice woman!¨ Then she asked for some money. Ha, not that nice.We walked to Butre three km away we had to climb up a pretty steep hill. It has just rained and so the pathway was not only steep but also muddy. By the time when we got to the top our feet, mostly Christy's, were covered in mud. We told our canoe trip tour guides about it later, to which they replied, ¨You didn't take the stairs?¨ Needless to say, we took the stairs on the way down.Hope you enjoyed this. I had hoped to put up some more pics but the internet is running really slow today, but I will try next time.

After the longest bus ride of my life, I am happy to say I have returned safe and sound to Burkina after spending my first real vacation since I arrived six months ago. My friend and neighbor during training Christy, and I spent one week gallivanting across Ghana, travelling by bus and tro-tro (bush taxi) from the northern border all the way south to the gorgeous palm-lined shores of Busua Beach (which lies just west of Takoradi where the coast comes to a point).

It started last Wednesday as every good vacation should: with a 16-hour bus ride, from Ouagadougou to Kumasi, the capital of the Asante kingdom. The bus was actually the nicest I have been on in Africa with relatively comfortable seats and air conditioning, but it could not make up for stopping every twenty-minutes for police checkpoints and bathroom breaks. But we finally pulled into the Kumasi station at around 12:30am on Thursday morning. We got a cab and headed straight for the PC Suboffice which is used as a hostel for PC Ghana volunteers as well as those PCVs from neighboring countries. We crept into the house and hit the sack right away. If you did not think we were torturing ourselves at that point, we awoke the next morning only to begin part two of our trip: another 6 hours hopping from tro-tro to tro-tro, making our way to the beach. We finally arrived Thursday evening and were lucky to find very few tourists, so it was easy to snatch up a hotel room from a nice place named Dadson Lodge for 12 cedis a night (about $12, 1 cedi = $1)

The next three days we spent relaxing on the beach and exploring the surroundings. The water was beautiful and the waves were supposedly some of the best in Ghana for surfing. We thought at first we were the only whities (called obrunis, in the local language Twi) on the beach, but we eventually discovered that they were all at the other end of the beach where the nice resorts were located. It still felt like we had the whole beach to ourselves, and it was great getting to know the locals rather than other tourists. It was a pleasant change to have the mutual understanding that comes with visiting an English-speaking country. We ate at several nice restaurants and sampled the street fare as well. Staples include kenkey with shito sauce, fufu in groundnut sauce, rice, and beans, but Ghana is also known for such delights as fried chicken and fried rice, which I packed myself full of, not to mention fresh seafood like tuna and shrimp, which is hard to come by in land-locked Burkina.

We also took one day exploring the neighboring fishing village of Dixcove, which still harbors a17th-century British fort and another day trekking to Butre, a village 3km in the opposite direction, where we took a canoe trip in search of monkeys. We didn't find any monkeys, but we befriended the two river guides that accompanied us. (One said he was certified in CPR and First-Aid, in case of emergency; the other told us he was certified to "entertain people.") When we asked about palm wine, the traditional hooch of the area, they took us on a walk through the bush to meet a friend of theirs who actually makes the goods. We were able to get a look at how they make palm wine and got to sample some as well (which I actually prefer to our local Burkina brew known as dolo, or millet beer).

After the beach we headed back up by tro-tro to Kumasi, home of the Asante people, the largest market in West Africa, and a record number of bootlegged DVDs. We only stayed here for a day and a half, and it definitely wasn't enough time to get comfortable enough with the city. It is the closest thing to America that I have seen in six months, reminding me a bit of San Francisco with its steep hills (vis-a-vis Ouaga's flat terrain), and the entire vibe of the place is much more western and much more developed, which I think can actually be said for the whole country in comparison to Burkina. The market was overwhelming to say the least. Sprawled out across several city blocks, we continuously seemed to get lost in its labyrinthine passageways. It was an experience if nothing else. Coincidentally, we ran into a Swedish/French couple at the market that we meet the week before in Ouaga while applying for our Ghanaian visas. Our last day we actually left the city and went on a half-hour ride west to the small Owabi Wildlife Sanctuary where we actually did see (and hear) monkeys, as well as many species of birds and butterflies. Then we headed back to the city and got together our things to start the long journey home, which ended up taking nineteen hours (two hours of which was waiting for the border to open and then another hour and a half getting through the border). But it is nice to be home again, to familiarity, where I don't have to think in English anymore when talking to Africans (never learned how to do that) and the money makes sense to me. At least I have ten "new" movies to watch when I am back. Here are just a few pics from our vacation:

Fishing boats at Busua Beach

Me and a palm tree, the only shady place on the entire beach

We we told a local guy we found a shady spot to chill on the shore, he responded: "Oh, you mean the palm tree." Obviously, it has a reputation.

British fort built in the 1600s in the village of Dixcove

View of Dixcove from said fort

Christy and I in Butre

Learning how to make palm wine from our guides/friends (blue shirt and white shirt)

Man carrying sugarcane down the beach

Fishing canoes in various stages of production (each is carved from a single huge tree)

I have one hour and four minutes before this machine kicks me off and the ¨z¨ button has been replaced with a ¨w,¨ so now there are two buttons for ¨w¨ and I keep hitting the wrong one because the ¨z¨ on the French keyboard is actually in the exact spot where the ¨w¨ is on the American one. Please replace any ¨z¨ you see with a ¨w¨ from here on out, unless otherwise noted and forgive the typos that will inevitably follow.

It has been a week or so since my last post. Throughout the week I always find myself thinking about different things to write about when I get to the cyberposte here in town, but then I arrive and forget everything I wanted to say. I really should start writing things down. Thank you for all the Easter greetings. I celebrated with my fellow volunteers in the area and my major and his wife. Like every holiday here in Burkina, this one involved the routine trips from home to home where we wined and dined until late. It was fun, but boy was I tired the next morning.

My boss, the Health APCD, arrived on Wednesday for a site visit in Aorema. It was a really nice visit, where I was able to show her my house (which she called mignon and I agreed) and the CSPS, and she met with my major and some of the French-speaking CoGes members to discuss my life, my home, my adjustment, and our plans for the future. It was a nice change to be able to express my concerns and thoughts fully with someone who 1) speaks English and 2) understands as much as possible what we are going through. They even drove me the 2km to my market, which was trop gentile.

I am always afraid to write things done here, knowing that often things don't work out the way they are supposed to here. For instance, I have know since I arrived in January that my village would eventually be getting electricity. I haven't really talked about that because who honestly knows when that will happen. We have had the poles in place since before I came, but these things never commence as planned. But now, two neighboring villages have been hooked up with current and Aorema is slated to be next. I have in fact heard that the village 2km away Youba where my market is located is receiving free power until Aorema's is installed. This would tell me that we should be getting electricity relatively soon, as in a matter of weeks. At the moment, no health volunteers have elctricity in their homes, so you can imagine how interesting this situation is. I think it would really be a win-win-win for everyone. The CSPS would have power to have lights for nighttime births, etc.; I would have outlets for a much needed fan, as well as lights to read at night and a way to charge my phone, computer, etc.; and you all will have better blog posts to read because I will have more than an hour and four minutes to write something up. I believe each outlet will cost about 3.000CFA, which is about $6, and they plan on putting 2 outlets in my house. After that I can not imagine paying more than 3.000CFA each month for the power. A small price to pay. Let's hope I did not jinx the whole thing by writing it, and that it will be realized (there's the z) relatively soon.

In other news, I am leaving with a friend on the 29th to go on a short vacation in Ghana. I am super excited to be able to see the ocean and escape the heat for a few days. I should be able to post one more blog before heading out, so until that time, I will leave you with this anecdote:

A villager asked my major why we only vaccinate little children, and my major told him: ¨Think about a tree. When it is a small sapling, you need to water it regularly to make sure it grows strong and healthy. But when it is fully grown, do you still need to water it?¨ The man shook his head, no. My major continued, ¨No, you do not. People are like the trees, and we need to water the saplings.¨ (I thought was a really insightful way of explaining things)

So some how I have made it through the long three weeks that was IST, or In-Service Training. As you know, I spent one week working on language here in Ouahigouya, a second week in the capital, and a third week back in Ouahigouya again. It was an exhausting training and I am glad to be back in village (even if I don't know exactly how to start).

The problem is like this. We are of course in the hot season where temperatures reach in the triple digits. This will last for about another month or two. And then the rainy season comes. And during this time, everybody is working in the fields with their crops. It is their livelihood here, so you can imagine how busy people are during this time. Thus, it is very very difficult to do any grandiose projects because nobody will come and everyone is too tired. So basically the best time to start these larger projects is after the rains and thus in the fall. So basically I have until June-ish to do any projects that I want to do before rainy season. Also I am going on a much needed vacation at the end of this month to Ghana for a week, which understandably cuts into my time but also is drastically needed. So where does that leave me?

It leaves me confused with little time to figure out what I need to do. But I do have ideas about what I want the next few months to look like, my ¨plan d'action¨ so to speak.

I want to go on Monday and talk to the director of my primary school in village about setting up some times when I can come in and talk a little about health topics that relate to the students. I think this si easiest for me because the older kids should understand French enough that I don't need to bring someone to translate. Perhaps if I can get a twice-monthly health class going, that should give me several discussions before school gets out for summer.I want to find and interview the several women's groups that supposedly exist in Aorema to discover what their greatest needs are. I have become very interested in the formation of small savings and credit clubs, which teach groups to save and loan money among themselves. Because right now people have very little money (foods supplies are running short and their harvests don't come until the fall), it would make sense to wait until they have more money to start this, but I would like to at least get to know these groups and discuss their options for after the rains.The one good thing to do during the rains, obviously, is gardening because you don't need to water anything (though most people are actually too busy in the fields to take advantage of this). So my plan is when I get back from vacation to start hardcore growing of moringa seedlings. For those of you that do not know, moringa (known as ¨arzen tiiga¨ or paradise tree in Mooré) is an amazing plant that has highly nutritious leaves and is ideal for hot climates such as in Burkina. It is great to add to sauces and children's meals to add extra nutrients, since malnutrition is a huge problem here. So I want to start growing a lot of morninga and possibly start my own vegetable garden in my courtyard when the rains come.Those are the main things I want to work on in the next few months. I also hope to work with my CSPS staff during their vaccination campaigns , baby weighing, and the other regular activities at the clinic. I think once things get going, it will be alot easier to keep the momentum going, but right now it feels like I am try to push a boulder that won't budge, an enormous rock that has never moved an inch.Anyway, I'm here in Ouahigouya for the weekend, hopefully celebrating Easter with my major, one of the handful of people from my village who celebrate it. Hopefully, I can figure out how to get this boulder rolling when I get back. Happy Easter and Passover to all! Until next time!

Well, my week's training here in the capital is coming to a close. We leave tomorrow to head back to my regional capital Ouahigouya for one last week of formation. It's been a busy week full of field trips, good food, and new people. Allow me to explain.

This week we have visited several of the NGOs (non-governmental organizations) that work in Burkina. We visited the World Health Organization, Plan Burkina, Unicef, and Catholic Relief Services (CRS). While some weren't applicable to my service because they do not work in my region, they were all pretty interesting to learn about what they do and tour their offices. I especially enjoyed the Unicef presentation which focused on breastfeeding and the importance of exclusively breastfeeding to six months of age and complimentary feeding beyond that. We also got to meet a volunteer who has extended her service for a third year to work with CRS. It was really interesting to hear her point of view.

As I have mentioned before, food is never better than when we're in Ouaga. We ate Mexican at the Country Director's house one day, Thai at the SED APCD's (head of the small enterprise development program) house, as well as burgers, shwarmas, acheke, as well as my favorite frozen treat: Fan Milk. There are lots of boys who push coolers full of the stuff. Burkina's equilivant of the ice cream man. You can buy FanChoco (which tastes like frozen chocolate milk, 150CFA = $0.30), Lait Vanille (which tastes like frozen cake batter, 100CFA = $0.20), and several other fruit-flavored ice treats (50CFA = $0.10).

In other exciting news, we received a brand new Health volunteer last night. She was a volunteer stationed in Madagascar but if you have followed the news, political unrest has caused PC to evacuate from the country. While some PCVs there returned home to the US, others have been placed in other Sub-Saharan African countries. Because French is required for our country, only one girl had enough French fluency to be placed here. Ironically she went to high school with Christy from my stage. So last night, Christy and I, along with the Country Director Doug and two other staff members drove to the airport to pick her up and welcome her to country. It's excited to everyone to have a new volunteer join the group.

Today, I woke up and headed to the bureau for moto training. Although we are not allowed to drive motos, we can request permission to ride on one with your counterpoint for specific reasons such as vaccination campaigns in satellite villages or such. Of course, while 12 year old Burkinabe are allowed to drive motos, we need to go through training in order to ride on the back of one. But it was fine, actually kind of fun. Afterwards, I went back to the house, changed my clothes, then headed to City Hall. The daughter of one of the language teachers during stage was getting married, so a group of us went. Because moto training ran late, we actually missed the ceremony, but we were able to attend the reception and had some good food, such as chicken, salad, sheep brochettes, fries, rice, and to, washed down with some delicious bissap. It was really a cool experience and a nice closure to the week. As we head to Ouahigouya tomorrow, I am excited to get back closer to home. I hope to post again in a few days from there. Wend na ko-d nidaare!

So here we are. Back in training again. I arrived in Ouaga two days ago, along with the nineteen other PCVs in the Health sector. Before that, we were split up for a week among our regional capitals for additional language training, myself and three others spending that time in Ouahigouya. It feels a bit weird to leave village for three weeks after having only been there for a few months and a part of me feel guilty, but I have to remind myself that this training is hopefully making me a better volunteer.

We had dinner last night at the Country Director's home. Nothing short of amazing. I have just one word for you: Mexican. We had tons of chips and salsa, followed by burritos with ground beef, and a great fruit salad with fresh pineapple, mangoes, apples, and strawberries. I ate way too much, but it was completely worth it.

This morning we took a trip to the World Health Organization and had an interesting discussion about vaccination campaigns, mosquito nets, and malaria, among other topics. Each volunteer also had a villager from their sites who arrived today to participate in the training for the next couple of days. My CoGes president arrived without incedent, along with the other counterparts from the Ouahigouya area.

Besides that, not a lot of news to report on this end. It's nice to have some different foods, rooms with fans, and showers for a short while.

The past few days have worn me out. It began Friday morning with a polio vaccination campaign in my village. My CoGes president and I went to each section of my village administering the oral vaccine to as many children as possible. He gave me the option of forcing the kids mouths open as they are crying and screaming or marking their pinky fingers with a sharpie to keep track of whose received the drops. Of course, I chose the marker, which was a good call considering that most of the kids were terrified. It didn't help that many children still didn't know me. I may as well have been a white devil to them. That lasted until 1pm or so until I returned home to get ready to bike into Ouahigouya.

The next morning I caught a 9am bus to the capital, Ouagadougou. Every two years, this busy city gets even busier as tourists from all around the world come to FESPACO, the largest and most famous film festival in West Africa. I stayed there for 4 days, watching a total of 8 movies that included films from Burkina, South Africa, Egypt, Ghana, Senegal, and even America. Some were really interesting, like Drum, a South African film about an African journalist during the apartheid in Johnannesburg in the 1950s. I also saw a great Senegalese documentary about a Muslim singer whose country shunned him for making pop music with religious themes. There were also a few number of duds, like Zimbabwe, a South African film that looked like a home video about of a woman who wants to crosses the border from Zimbabwe illegally for a better life. I couldn't tell you how it ended because we walked out an hour into it.

All in all, it was really interesting to see so many different African perspectives of life on this continent. I also walked around a lot, so I gained a much better understanding and comfort level of the layout of this sprawling city and ate a lot of good food too (but spent way too much money in the process). But I am happy to be home, back in my village. Besides, I have less than two weeks until I leave again for a three week training session in Ouahigouya and Ouaga. Oh and mangos are beginning to come into season. One word: amazing.

So I have begun taking Mooré ¨classes¨ this week, racking in a total of twelve hours.  Unfortunately for me, it is not at all an ideal situation for me to learn the language, despite what all my fellow villagers tell me.  Allow me to break it down for you.  I have gone every day Monday through Friday for three hours to a class known as ¨alphabetization,¨ which is another big (French?) word for a school for Mooré-speaking women to learn how to read and write Mooré.  Thus, my class has about 30 women and me, the only one who doesn't speak Mooré.  There is no French spoken, so I don't have the benefit of having translations of what is written, and I honestly have learned practically nothing. Yet people continue to tell me that if I go, i will pick up the language eventually.  Ha!  I think I have studied enough languages to know that it is impossible for me to learn this way.  But I have continued to go because at least I get to interact with the community more, and it should help my integration.  But I am still on the look out for someone who speaks French in my village who can tutor me for an hour or two a week (with pay of course).  Even the women in my class think I am doing a great job because when it's my turn, I can stand up and read what the teacher has written on the board, despite not understanding a single word of it.  The only useful day was when they were learning how to write the numbers and do simple math problems because I was able to work on my Mooré numbers a bit.  But once they found, I could do four math problems in about a minute, everyone now tries to cheat off me!  Whenever our teacher gives us problems or an excercise to work on, I have women in every direction trying to see what I've written down.  One woman even passed me a blank sheet of paper so I could do the work for her!  But at least it's something to do, and people seem impressed by the way I can fake some Mooré.  But faking is not helpful to me in the long run.  I can't be as useful as I could be to these people if I can't communicate.  And while most volunteers seem to rely on other people to translate for them, I would really like to master the local language as much as possible.  I think when my boss (my APCD) comes to visit soon, I will talk to he about the tutor and maybe she can help me figure something out.Other things that have happened this week:I was sick for a day and a half.  I don't know if it was something I ate or dehydration but whatever it was, I didn't feel good.  I will spare you the details, but I will just say I slept very close to my friend, Mr. Bucket.  I am 100% better now, so don't worry.Some PCV friends came out to my village to lunch and we visited the crocodiles again.  We saw maybe four or five.  The dam is drying up, so I think they are getting a bit more nervous.We had vaccination campaigns in my village and the surrounding villages, which meant biking in crazy amounts of wind.  It literally feels like some gusts are of tropical storm force, blowing dust everywhere.  One morning it felt like I was biking through water it was so strong.  But at least we vaccinated 100 plus babies against polio, measles, yellow fever, and other illnesses. They are suppose to finish my latrine and shower today, so I will finally have one to call my own.  It is kind of embarassing having to walk all the way across my compound, passing by all the other people sitting around, to my major's toilet with my toilet paper in hand.  I might as well announce it: ¨Attention everybody, just FYI, yes, I am going to the bathroom now.  If you were wondering where i was going with this toilet paper, yes, I am going to the bathroom.¨

Things have started to pick up lately, as my Etude de Milieu (first three months at site) begin to wind down. I have just about one month left before I am to return with my fellow health volunteers for three additional weeks of training. After returning from that at the beginning of April, I will be able to actually start planning projects and working more. These past couple of weeks have been packed with activities.

I have been helping out with our vaccination campaign here in Aorema, writing down names and dates for the different vaccinations inside each person's carnet, a booklet that keeps a record of all their medical histories. Most of our vaccines are for young babies under 11 months and include the likes of polio, measles, yellow fever. We also give vaccines to pregnant women. All these are subsidized by the government and are given free of charge to the population. We begin this week to do vaccinations in the three neighboring villages.

I have also participated in two sensibilizations this past week. This is just just a fancy (French?) word that means giving a presentation or demonstration to tach about a certain health topic, like when dental hygienists or nurses go to elementary schools with a giant toothbrush and a set of large plastic teeth to show the kids how to properly brush. This is a key aspect of my job here - to organize and perform sensibilizations. Both of these I attended, one led by my major and the other by the midwife, were focused on going to the CSPS for vaccinations, prenatal consultations and childbirth. I saw a lot of things that I can work on to improve. For one, they lasted about 3 hours each, way way to long for busy moms who ended up talking, sleeping, or walking out half-way through. They need to be shorter, more dynamic, with a much more focused topic. At least there was a fair number of women who turned out, about 50 or so at each.

I begin Mooré ¨class¨ tomorrow, so I am looking forward to that. It isn't actually a tutor like I wanted but rather a group of illiterate women who go to learn how to read Mooré. SO I don't think I will learn specific vocabular and grammar like I had hoped, but at least I will have the exposure with the language more.

So that's about all the exciting news about my job. At some point in the next four weeks, I need to gather all the info for my Etude de Milieu, write it up, and type it up to turn in to my APCD, the boss. This report is basically a mixture of demographic, geographic, and health-related information as it pertains to Aorema and is due when I go for training in March. I also plan to make a trip to Ouaga the capital to attend FESPACO at the end of February, Africa's largest and most famous film festival that takes place here every other year, as well as to pick up a box that has finally arrived that was sent from the US in November! Until next time. Wend na kod nidaare!

Yesterday, I measured the day in kilometers, 52 kilometers to be exact. I biked these 52 km, roughly 32 miles, with a group of volunteers to visit the village of Zogoré, where a fellow PCV from my training group lives. They had a huge celebration there as a way to raise awareness of AIDS, with traditional dance troops and even an all-female bicycle race. We each chose a different women to root for, and out of the twenty or so racing, I actually picked the winner. I think I should head to the racetrack when I get back to the States. While there, I met a volunteer from Japan working out of the Ouahigouya area. I was able to practice my crumbling fragments of Japanese on her. It was a lot of fun, and I actually enjoyed the 30 plus miles it took to get there and back. Now let's hope I have the energy to get back to my own village today. I certainly don't have any left to continue this post.

So a while back, I was told that there are crocodiles in the area. Ha! The closest thing to crocodiles I have seen are the countless number of little lizards which crawl over everything outside and are especially found of racing across my porch and clinging to my house in the midday sun. As you can see in the photo to the left, they are everywhere. They are also completely harmless, like 99 percent of all African lizards, and although quite annoying, they definitely cannot be confused with its larger and more fearsome cousin. But finally, after so many people have said they exist, I have proof. I have seen my first ¨wild¨ African animal (if you don't count the lizards and birds). A few weeks ago, I was brought to the local dam about 1km from my house by a fellow villager. When we arrived, he pointed across the water to the other side. ¨You see? There they are!¨ I, of course, looked across the water only to see a flock of birds along the bank, but as we rode our bikes around to the far side, it became more apparent. We do have crocodiles here! We saw about six that day (out of about 50, they say), lounging out along the shore, most probably between five and six feet in length. Of course, my village friend wouldn't let me get anywhere close to them, so obviously I had to return a few days later to move in closer to the crocs and snap a few pics. All the men working at the dam watched with concern as I inch my way closer and closer to the animals. Apparently in a nearby dam, two women drowned in the water last year and the crocs ate their bodies afterwards, so I'm sure the men didn't like me moving in closer, but I kept a good running distance in case the need presented itself (it didn't, thankfully). Many crocodile ponds here in Burkina and across West Africa are sacred, and while I haven't heard them talk about these crocs as such, I am sure everyone respects them enough to keep their distance.

In other news, I have one last photo to share with you to give you a better picture of where I work. If you have followed this blog, you know that I work with a group called CoGes (Comité de Gestion), as well as with the local health clinic, called the CSPS, here in Aorema. In the photo here to the left, you can the four buildings that make up the CSPS. This picture is taken right by my house, so you can see how close I am. From the left, we have the maternity in the distance. The next building is where patients can stay if they need to spend the night to be observed. It also houses our abulance (rare for a CSPS), which costs 10,000 CFA to use (roughly $20). The next building is the main building, where the office of the head nurse is located and where patients come for consultations. The last building on the far right side is the pharmacy where they store and sell around 80 to 100 different medications most commonly needed. The metal pole that you can see is for electricity, which we have yet to obtain. They usually put in the poles and the lines long before they actually get around to dishing out the juice, but perhaps at some point while I am here, Aorema will get electricity. The cable that you can see goes from the CSPS to my compound, so if Aorema does get power, it appears I would be able to get it too. It would be nice to have a light at night and an electric fan when it's hot. Until then, it's candles and hand fans.

It is cold! And I'm talking bundle yourself up in a winter jacket cold. Of course, I only brought a thin sweatshirt with me to Burkina. It's Africa. How cold can it get, right? Well thanks to the harmattan winds that blow from the Sahara, pretty chilly. Of course, because of these powerful gales, biking riding has exponentially grow to be the bain of my existence, at least during the headwinds that I have to face everytime I come back from Ouahigouya. I have quickly learned that the wind is a cruel mistress, who will turn on you whenever she gets the chance. This past Thursday and Friday we had a vaccination campaign for the surrounded villages that do not have a CSPS. Of course, the winds were the srongest I've seen them and my major was on his moto the entire time, crawling at a dismal pace while I struggled to keep my bike's momentum. It was perhaps 6km or so to the other villages which felt more than 60 to me. Anyway, enough of that.

I know it has been awhile since my last post. I had planned to do a nice lengthy one when I was in the capital this past week. I had gone to visit with friends, pick up packages, and watch the presidential inauguration at the US Embassy, and the PC house we stay at in Ouaga has wireless internet, so I thought it would be ideal to get something grandiose accomplished, but I put fair too much faith in the power of wireless. The connection was so slow, I couldn't get any work done. So here we are instead, at my cozy internet café in Ouahigouya, which I actually prefer much better. And with that, allow me to show you around my house.

Welcome to chez moi. It is a quaint, two-room, concrete house with a half-built latrine outside. Pictures of the exterior will come once it is presentatable to the world and finished to my satisfaction. I will try to describe in as much detail what you are looking at with each picture. Let us begin in my kitchen/living room. In this photo, you can see the bulk of what I call the kitchen. I had a carpenter build the counter, which set me back about $50, including varnish. I have two bowls which sit in holes on the top to act as sinks. The teapot is, not for tea, but rather as a faucet, watercan, and any other job I need in for. The burkinabe use these kinds of teapots in lieu of toilet paper. You can see my white four-burner stove which connects to a gas tank in the corner. It works rather well for my needs. The bottom shelf contains my most used cooking essentials on the left and my utensils, bowls and such on the right. The metal trunk (a cantine in French) houses more food stuffs (care-package goodies) and protects them against any insects or other creatures that might try to nibble their way in. The thing hanging in the corner is a set of calbashes that I made to keep my fruits and veggies out of the grasp of bugs as well. And the light-blue thing to the right of the picture is my trash can.

The next photo is a close-up shot of the ingredients I use most often when cooking, enough to keep them out on the shelf. From the left, I have two pots that I use for boiling water, cooking pasta, making sauces, and popping popcorn among other things. I have several small cans of tomato paste which I use to make spaghetti sauce. I have two jars of Burkinabe peanut butter which I have filled at the market inside old jelly jars. Next to those is the honey which I use to sweeten the peanut butter. The other whitish bottle is vinegar which I rarely use, but you never know. The flat round disc in front is the closest thing to real cheese that we have. It is called Laughing Cow, and is something like cream cheese. Luckily it doesn't need to be refridgerated and is a great source of calcium (which is often lacking in my diet here). The yellow tub in front is Blue Band, not butter but not margarine. I am sure that it would kill a man in large quantities, but it's the closest thing we have to butter here. To the right of that are all my spice bottles from the US, which I go through quickly. Since I cook a lot of pasta, I use garlic powder and oregano beaucoup. The tall white thing on the far right is salt, a coarse sea-variety which comes from Spain. It is quite nice. Behind that, I have my bottle of the palm oil, the cheapest and least healthy option for oil you can buy here. One of these days I'll splurge on vegetable or canola oil, or, don't hold your breathe, olive olive. These are the staple ingredients in my Burkina diet. As we move around the room, you can see my lit pico, basically a beach lounge chair that is built stronger, which I use as a couch. It is actually quite comfortable. An organization which provides work for handicapped people that another PCV works with here in Ouahigouya makes these for about $50 each. In the corner I have my water filter and a terracota pot (called a canari) which I used to store my drinking water, since this keeps it much much cooler than my filter. Some days, it feels like my water came right out of the fridge. On the back wall above the lit pico, you can see my map of Burkina Faso that Peace Corps gave us and as well part of my world map. You may not know this about me, but I love maps, especially antique ones. I spend a lot of time just studying the maps I have, planning my next adventure. Moving right, this is my table, where I eat and read and study. You have a better view of my world map and my map of West Africa. Yeah, I like maps. I made a make-shift bookshelf out of a cardboard box, which houses several PC books, as well as French books, travel books, and magazines. I also have a framed picture of my family in Paris that I keep on top of my books. I paid about $15 for the wooden table and then drapped an old pagne (piece of clothe) over it. The blue plastic chairs I book here in the marché, and are actually some of the nicest and most comfortable kind of chairs you can buy relatively cheap here. I think at some point I want to buy a few more chairs to keep outside, since currently these are the only two I have. But these work for now. I think I paid maybe $7 for each one, so it didn't dig into my budget too much. In this next photo, you can see the door to my bedroom, and what might look like a large trashcan. Since people here usually burn their garbage or throw it anywhere outside, garbage cans are not usually used for trash. It is actually contains my water. I have a young girl come a few times a week, and she fills up a smaller jug and make several trips between the pump and my house until it is full. She also washes my clothes once a week, and I pay here 500 CFA (about $1) each week for here help, which is actually 500 CFA more than my coworkers pay their water girls, so it works out nicely for all involved. The red bucket next to it is what I fill up to take my bucket baths each day, sometimes heating up some water on those especially cold mornings. I also have a broom leaning against the wall, which I don't use nearly as often as I should. This conlcudes the first room of my house. Take a moment to sit, breath, and take it all in. The next room, my bedroom, is about half the size, which made getting good photo angles a challenge, so I have only two photos to share. This corner of the room is where I keep all my ¨stuff¨. My suitcase on the left acts as my dresser where I store all of my clean clothes. In the corner I made a make-shift table out of two boxes which I use to organize all of my toiletries. The cantine (have you been paying attention) has random papers, as well as my any valuables I own, which I always keep locked up inside just in case. On my walls, I have a long mirror with some other family pictures squeezed along its borders and another world map. Did I mention I like maps? The door to the other room is just to the right of the mirror; you'll have to use your imagination. Finally, this last photo of my house is my bed. I used to have an actually mosquito net hanging over my bed, but then I realized it was much easier to simply leave my matress inside my bug tent. It has worked act rather well. The matress ran about $30 and it simply a large slab of foam inside a covering. By the following morning, I usually have a nice impression of my body when I wake up. Despite this, it is actually very comfortable and beats sleeping like most Burkinabe do - on the floor. The blanket on the foot of the matress is actually a length of really nice hand-wooven and hand-dyed fabric that was given to me by my host family when I left my first village of Somyaga. And with that, I have covered basically all the important parts of my house. I hope I haven't bored you too much. Oh, and did anyone catch my little play-on-words with this entry's title: Toto was not only Dorothy's dog but also a popular 80s band who had a hit song entitled ¨Africa.¨ No, ok, just checking.

Wow, it's been about two weeks since moving into my new home, what the French and Burkinabe call l'installation, or settling-in, so to speak. Some days have flown by and others drag like a tugboat pulling the Titanic, but all in all, I'd say it's been an interesting couple of weeks.

To start, my major has been back and forth between our village and Ouahigouya several times for meetings and training, so things have been so much more slower than I had originally planned. I get up most mornings around 6:30, get cleaned up and spend the first part of the day, from 8:00 until 11:00 or so, at the CSPS. Most days I bring my French grammar book and study, sit in on consultations (which I can't understand since it's all in Mooré), and hang out at the pharmacy. To give a picture (before I actually put up pictures), the CSPS is the local clinic I work with and is comprised of several small buildings. There is the main building where consultations take place and treatments and vaccines are given out. There is a seperate building, the maternity, where pregnant woman give birth. Our pharmacy attendent (la gerente in French) just gave birth there a few days ago. Jokingly, the midwife said she should name the baby Erik and asked why I wasn't there for the delivery. Ha! I think it a little soon to be naming babies after me or stepping anywhere in the proximity of the maternity during a birth. Back on track, there is a another building simply full of beds, where patients can spend the night for observation if necessary and there is a small pharmacy with maybe a hundred or so medications. One day I was able to help the CSPS do their end of the year inventory of their these medicines, recording the amount and total prices of each one left in supply, a process taking over three hours.

Aside from these basic tasks , my number one goal during these first three months is integration. This may seem like an easy task, but I have learned quickly it is ten times more difficult but ten times more important than I had previously thought. When you can't communicate as fully as you want and you feel like the spotlight is on you everytime you step outside, it is easier to shut yourself inside your house than face the world. I have people coming to my door at any hour telling me I have to go here or there, greet so and so, do this or that. It is something I knew would happen and have tried to use it positively as a way to expand myself, practice the PC virtues of patience and flexibility. I know eventually down the road, I will have my own activities planned, know the people in my village well enough to go greet them myself, and have an understanding of the language to go beyond ¨Good morning¨ and ¨I speak Mooré a little.¨

I did have a great moment last night actually that calmed my soul for lack of a better expression. After sitting it on consultations with my major, he asked me if I wanted to take a walk around the village. It was at my favorite time of day here in Burkina; it was about 5pm, the sun was beginning to set, but not quite yet. It's the cooler season here, and the gusts of wind which chill the average Burkinabe felt to me like a summer evening on the beach if you closed your eyes. We walked around and greeted people, and along the way we met some of the CoGes members I also will work with, who tagged along with us. I met the elder from the oldest neighborhood in Aorema, the ones who started the village, and he was more than welcoming. As we walked by people who called me Nassara (the Mooré word for a white person or foreigner, not malicious but a bit distancing), I could tell that the men would correct them. ¨His name is Erik. When you see him, call him Erik.¨

So yeah, that's where things stand in this crazy melange that is my life. I'm here in town to celebrate my friend Ilana's birthday and get some groceries. It is nice to know I can go a week in village and not go crazy though and, because I forgot to take money out last time I was in town, get by on less than $2 if I have to. Other good things so far include: real loaves of bread (not bagettes) and orange ¨popcicles¨ in the local marché, my major and his wife treating me to lunch when I visited his home in town (as well as three beers, a glass of champagne, and some dolo), perfecting the art that is spaghetti, a bag of peanuts for 5 cents, and the almost completion of my own shower and latrine, gradually understanding more of what people say, and popcorn.

Good afternoon all, or Ney Windga in Moore, the local language I am learning here. I have been in Burkinq for a week and a half and there is so much to tell. I am using a French keyboard, so excuse any typos I make hereafter. Last Sunday, the health volunteers (like me) moved out of the mqin city of Ouahigouya and into one of three small villages surrounding the city. My village is called Soumyaga and it has about 5000 people or so in it. It is about 8km outside the city and it takes about 30 minutes to bike into town. This is actually the first day I biked back since last Sunday.

I live in ... you guessed it ... a mud hut. It is probably about the same size of my bathroom back home. Everyone lives with a host family until the end of December. My family's name is Sawadogo. My father is named Seido, and he has three wives. I've only met one but she is really nice. She just laughs everytime I speak Moore, as do most people. I talk with my host brother Seyouba the most. His French is great and he even knows some phrases in English. He is 19 and seems like the coolest kid in our compound.

Our compound (one of five in the village) has about 150 people living in it and is impossible to describe. Once I feel more comfortable, I will take some pictures and put them up here. There are always about 15 to 25 children around my door staring at the crazy white guy. Sometimes it is fun; sometimes it gets annoying. There are also tons of chickens, roosters, lizards, and donkeys outside my door.

The typical day for me begins at about 5:30 or 6am, when I am awoken by the sound of either women pounding millet or the roosters crowing. I take a quick bucket bath (i.e. throwing water on my myself, soaping up, then splashing more water on myself) then I eat breakfast (bread and tea usually). We usually meet around 8 or a bit earlier to begin French class. I tested into the Novice High group for French, but I am picking up more and more each day. Moore is also a lot of fun to learn, and people are amazed when you can speak their language! After language we have technical training for most of the rest of the day. I am learning about the Burkina health care system and how local clinics operate. By the time we finish it is usually about 5:30pm and then I go home, take another bucket bath, eat dinner, practice French and Moore, do French homework, and go to bed about 9:30 or so. I know it's crazy early!

It's nice that I have another volunteer Christy who lives about 20 feet away from me, so that is extremely helpful. Funny story: the other day she dumped a mix used for a ceremonial drink around her toillet (i.e. hole in the ground) because she thought it was used for cleanliness after using the bathroom. Speaking of lost in translation, my host brother told me so,eone was going to do my laundry a couple days ago, so I gave it to him. Then when we got to our meeting place he handed it back to me. So I had to carry a bag of dirty laundry with me the whole day!

Anyway I have to go soon. This week might be busy for me. We are going back and forth from village to Ouahigouya and also to the capital Ouaga, so I don't know the next time I'll post, but I am reading your comments. Thanks guys, you are awesome! Oh and I have a phone but I have to figure out the whole deal with charging it, but I'll post that in my contact info as well soon. But know that all is well. I was sick one day but better now. It is in the high 90s at least but bearable. I just drank my first cold Coke in a week (yes we have Coke), so I'm good. Talk to everyone later. Peace!

Bonjour everyone! I am safe and sound here in Ouahigouya, Burkina Faso. I only have 10 minutes to type this up, so I'll make this short. We arrived safely in Ouaga Wednesday night, but unfortunately one of my bags ways delayed, but I should get it within a few days I'm told. After an overnight in the capital, we crammed into a bus and made our way to Ouahigouya, where we will remain for most of the next three months. The people here are super friendly, and I am practicing my French daily with them (Moorè training begins tomorrow). It pretty hot but not too bad, very dusty, but the food has all been really good: chicken, apples, bananas, and lots of rice dishes. Anyway, my time is running out; I will post again the next chance I get with more details, but do not worry. I am safe and having a blast!

So I've got some free time today at the hotel in Philly, and I thought I'd write another short post. I got in at about 10:30am yesterday and made my way to the hotel. I found a couple PCT at the airport, so it was cool to have someone to find lunch with and talk to. We began our extensive information sessions shortly after 3pm with introductions and icebreakers and group activities. It seems like a really good group of people. There are about 30 of us in total, mostly all in our 20s. There are no older volunteers, but there is one young married couple here. The majority of us here are in Health, but there are some doing Business as well. Our meeting lasted till after 8pm, with information about risks, concerns, fears, expectations, and logistics for arriving in Burkina. Afterwards, we split up and headed for dinner, then ice cream and a drink. I called home from the hotel payphones and got to bed around midnight.

I woke up this morning around 6:30am, ate a quick breakfast, then we met downstairs at 7:30 to head to the clinic. I got my Yellow Fever vaccination, as well as my first Mefloquine pill for malaria. I only have to take it once a week, so it's much more convenient than other daily kinds. I definitely felt a little funny from the medication, somewhat loopy, but now it's all good. But let's hope my dreams are not as intense as everyone says they will be. And that brings us to now. I have to be ready at noon to leave, and I still need to repack some things and shower. Until next time (in Burkina this time, I promise).

So this is it. It's my last night at home. My last night in my own bed. I leave tomorrow for Philadelphia for staging, and then I'll be heading for Burkina Faso on Tuesday (by way of Paris). I am pretty much all packed up and ready to go. As much as I'll ever be. I've been able to talk to and see many friends before leaving, to which I am grateful.

But to those friends and family members I haven't talked to, I just want to say goodbye, and I hope that you all stay in touch. I've heard there are times when every volunteer gets really lonely, and they value the messages they receive. So this is an open invitation to write - whether its here on my blog, via e-mail, facebook, snail mail, calls, or any other way you can think of - even if you don't have much to say at all. Just dropping me a line from time to time will definitely make my day. And I'll try to get back to you all as best I can (please be patient with me though). Also, if for some crazy reason, anyone happens to be in Africa in the next 27 months, please let me know. I'd be thrilled to see you and show you around! If it's not in Burkina Faso, I do get vacation time to travel. Anyway, I better wrap this up. I still have to finish packing, hoping not to forget anything. Take care everyone, wish me luck, say a prayer, and next time I write, I should be on African soil finally (or maybe in Philly, but probably not).

I officially have less than a week before I am to report to Philadelphia for staging. I have been so busy lately, gathering my supplies, visiting friends, and running 20,000 different errands. Let me apologize to those friends of mine who have sent me messages, emails, etc. Sorry! As you can imagine, things are getting so crazy here. Hopefully, I'll be able to get back to you all before I go. I still have a long list of things I still need to accomplish before I leave. Plus my computer has decided to get sick on me, which is why I haven't updated anything lately. So that has complicated everything. Luckily, one problem is fixed, but it's still not perfect. I am pretty sure my laptop will not be making the return trip with me two years from now.

This past weekend was quite jam packed. I left Friday to drive to North Carolina to visit one of my best friends before I leave. It was great to just hang out with him and his friends, and I managed to see the ocean one last time. I drove back Sunday morning, just in time to arrive at the party my mom had planned for me, which ended up lasting till dark. All in all, it was a fun weekend, but now I really have to focus to get everything done in the six days I have at home. I know I'm going to forget something.

I received my "Staging Kit" a few days ago. This packet has all the information about my PC orientation in Philadelphia. First of all, I have a flight scheduled on Monday, October 13th at 9:27 AM on US Airways from Richmond to Philadelphia. I arrive in Philly at 10:35 AM, and must be at my hotel and registered (as an official Peace Corps trainee) by 2 PM. From 3 - 7 PM, we have training sessions that include: a Welcome and Introduction to PC, Anxieties and Aspirations for Service, Managing Risk, Politics in Practice, Reflection on Commitment to Service, and Logistics and Departure/Arrival Information.

The next morning we must be ready to leave by 7:30 AM to head to the clinic in order to get the necessary vaccinations. Afterwards, we have lunch and check-out of the hotel. Buses arrive for loading and departing to the airport at 1:30 PM. Our flight (Delta) departs Philadelphia at 6:45 PM and arrives in Paris at 8:25 AM the following day (Wed Oct 15th), a 7 hour 40 minute flight. We are stuck in Paris until our next flight at 4:10 PM when we fly from Charles De Gaulle to Ouagadougou. The flight should take about 5 hours 35 minutes, and we should land in the capital at 7:45 PM, local time.

I was bored last night and stumbled upon a couple videos from The Amazing Race 12 when they traveled to Burkina. This first video (8:37) shows the "Roadblock" where competitors had to milk camels in order to receive their next clue. Hopefully, this is not part of my daily routine:

This other video (1:38) focuses on the "goth" couple in the race and their reflections to Burkina Faso and the Burkinabe (the people of BF). Enjoy:

If you go to YouTube, you can see the entire episode, broken into 5 chunks. Just search for "Amazing Race 12 Episode 3." The next next episode is from BF as well, but I can't find it on YouTube in full.

This post is meant to be an in-depth guide to sending me mail during my service. While my address is listed under the "Contact Me" tab on the left, there is simply too much info to include everything on the sidebar. This entry is also available under the "Important Posts" tab on the left side of the page for future reference.

While Burkina Faso has a pretty reliable postal system, occasionally problems do occur. So you may want to send me inexpensive things in the mail, since there is no guarantee that these items will arrive. If sending me a package, it is recommended that it be shipped in a padded envelope if at all possible, as boxes tend to be taxed more heavily. Boxes also can be expensive on your end ($50-$100 sometimes), but I will definitely love them. If sending me a postcard, it is best to put it in an envelope or else it might end up on some postal worker's wall. All mail ($.94 in stamps for lightweight letters) and packages can be sent to the following address:

Erik Durant

Corps de la Paix

Ouahigouya 01

01 B.P. 392

Burkina Faso

West Africa

Other tips I have heard to ensure packages reach me include addressing them to "Brother" or "Father Erik Durant," using red ink somewhere on the box, and drawing religious symbols on the outside. Some people, whether religious or not, are very superstitious about this sort of thing. If you want to use any of these ideas, go ahead. It definitely can't hurt.

No matter what, be sure to write "Airmail" or "Par Avion" on the outside of envelopes and packages, or else it could be sent by boat and never reach me. If you plan on writing me a lot, numbering your letters (or at least dating them) will help me keep them in order and know if any become lost in the mail. Also, it is a good idea to include a list in each package you send of everything inside. That way, in case someone decides to open a box, take something, and then reseal it, I'll know what's missing. Speaking of which, if you have to fill out a form describing the contents of a package, try to be as general as possible, such as "educational media" or "personal items", so as to not entice anyone.

PC does not recommend that costly items be sent through the mail. For lightweight but important items (airline tickets, important documents, etc.), DHL does operate in Ouagadougou. If you choose to send items through DHL, you will use the same address as above. (the phone number for the Peace Corps office in Burkina Faso is 226 50 36 92 00 should DHL need this information). You can call a DHL office near you for more information on how to go about this.

If you can't or simply don't want to send me letters or packages, that perfectly fine as well. I won't think any less of you. I always appreciate emails (ecdura at gmail dot com) or posts on my blog, of course. But remember, depending on my internet situation, I can't guarantee a speedy response.

So I thought it would be useful to share my tentative packing list for Burkina. I know reading other volunteers' lists has definitely helped me out a lot. I still have a little over a month to go, so this list is not at all complete. I haven't even really thought about clothes yet. But I'll keep updating this list, and I've added a link to it on the main page under the "Important Posts" tab on the left so it can be accessed easily for future reference. I'll try to be as specific as possible and provide links when appropriate.

People have already asked me what they could send or do to help. I'll probably post a seperate "wish list" once I arrive of goodies and other useful things, but the toiletries and food stuffs on my packing list that will eventually run out (i.e. floss, toothpaste, face soap, powdered drink mixes, etc.) are always very appreciated as well. You can never have too much of these. So let's get started.

Just so you are aware, I have to fit everything into two checked bags and a carry-on. The two checked bags can weigh no more than 80 lbs total, with no more than 50 lbs in any one bag. For my two checked bags, I have one standard 27" suitcase and a 60-liter internal frame backpack (North Face Terra 60 Pack). For my carry-on, I have one of my favorite purchases, my solar backpack that can charge any electronics or batteries that I bring (Voltaic Backpack). Despite the hefty price (PCVs do get 35% off, thanks to me), I am so glad I got this. No matter what my electricity situation is when I get there, I can be guaranteed portable and efficient power for my electronics. Now that I've discussed my bags, I can now dive into actual items. Again, this list isn't complete as of yet, so don't look at it and wonder why I'm not bringing this or that. I'll probably be bring "this" and at least two of "that." Here we go:

CLOTHING

1 pair of good Sandals (Chaco Z/2)1 durable but cheap digital watch2 pairs of Rx eyeglasses, 1 pair of Rx sunglassesShower shoesRunning shoes2 hats2 pairs of jeans16 pairs of underwearA couple belts and ties2 pairs of casual shorts1 pair of athletic shorts8 button-down shirts (short and long sleeved)lightweight jacket5 pairs of slacks7 t-shirtsA couple pairs of socksSwimming trunks

TOILETRIES2 tubes of toothpaste (Colgate with Cavity Prevention)4 toothbrushes (Oral-B)2 packs of floss (Oral-B Satin) 4 sticks of deodorent (2 Gillete and 2 Degree for Men)2 bottles of face soap (Neutrogena Clear Pore Cleanser/Mask)1 bottle of hand sanitizer1 bottle of bug spray with 23% DEETHaircutting razor (thanks Mom)Assortment of OTC medicationsPlastic soap dishNail clippers, tweezers, etc.Lip balm (Burt's Bees)

GEAR

Multitool (Leatherman Blast) Bungee cords2 water bottles (Nalgene)Compass and thermeter keychainMosquito tent (Tropic Screen Room Mosquito Tent)2 carabinersSleeping bag (Marmot Aspen Ultralight - available only at Dick's Sporting Goods)UmbrellaHeadlamp (Princeton Tec Fuel)Comfortable mountain bike seatBike helmet

HOUSEHOLD2 flat full bedsheets with 2 pillowcasesPillowOven mit/pot holdersKitchen knifeTowels10" light-weight frying panVegetable peelerCan openerSpatula4 paring knives Knife sharpenerMesh laundry bagsTravel sewing kitBox of safety pins3 cutting sheets (like thin cutting boards)Small mirrorZiplock bags (various sizes)Plastic tupperware (various sizes)Scissors

ELECTRONICS

Laptop computer (Dell Inspiron 600m) - 4+ years oldDigital slr camera, lenses, memory card, and batteries (Canon Digital Rebel xti)Portable DVD player (Sony 8-inch DVP-FX820)DVD collectioniPod nano and speakersRechargable batteries (AA and AAA) and charger (Duracell Mobile Charger)A few blank CDsHand-cranked radioCheap, portable speaker for Ipod (Altec Lansing Orbit)2GB flash drive

MISCELLANEOUS

Duct Tape Games (2 decks of Indiana Jones playing cards, UNO, frisbee, etc.)Eyeglass repair kit and cleaning suppliesFrench/English dictionaryWest African guide book (Rough Guide to West Africa)Powdered drink mixes (Kool-Aid singles)World mapMap of West AfricaPictures and picture frameComputer lockHandheld fanGifts for host family

This past week has been extremely busy. Besides working almost every night at the restaurant trying to save up as much money as possible, I've had lots of little things to get done. First off, PC needed several forms completed and mailed to them for my new Peace Corps passport and Burkina Faso visa, which meant getting 4 passport-sized photos taken as well. After that, they needed me to e-mail them an updated resume, as well as an aspiration statement that will be read by the Burkinabe staff. This aspiration statement basically just lets them get to know me better by describing what I expect to get out of this experience and what my plan is to succeed at my job and properly adapt to Burkinabe culture.

Other than that, I've just been busy reading up on Burkina Faso and what I need to pack. I've been doing a lot of online purchases, getting a big backpack, a pair of good Chaco sandals, a new computer battery (yes I am taking my computer), and my favorite new purchase - a solar backpack that can charge electronics using the sun's energy. It will be able to charge my iPod, digital camera, and cell phone (yes I will probably be getting a cell phone). There is still so much more stuff to get together. I just hope it will all fit in my bags. Packing for two years seems like an impossible task.

So I have had a day to let it all sink in that I am actually going to be moving to Burkina Faso in just over 7 weeks. I couldn't sleep at all last night, as my mind was a swirl of emotions. It probably won't fully hit me for a few more days that this is real. It's definitely not where I thought I would end up. I'm much more comfortable with southern and eastern Africa than I am with West Africa. But I guess PC is all about stepping out of (or maybe redefining) comfort zones, and I am not one to refuse a challenge. My major worry though is the language. PC recommends two years of college-level French for anyone going to West Africa. I took one year in high school about 5 years ago. Everyone must test at an intermediate level by the end of training. I am sure others will have little French knowledge as well, but then there will be those who are probably fluent. In addition to French, we will be taught another indigenous language, so grasping French quickly will mean more time to work on the second language, the one I will probably be using more often. But I went to the library and checked out every French book they had and hopefully with those, some guidance and books from brother, and my experience with Spanish and languages in general will help me pick it back up quickly. I only have 7 weeks to soak it all up.

From what I have read so far, Burkina Faso seems like a great place to volunteer. Even though it's one of the poorest countries in the world, it is supposedly one of the safest in all of Africa, and the people there (the Burkinabe) are some of the friendliest you'll meet, so they say. It isn't really known for amazing wildlife like the south or east, but its people make up for it. Most volunteers live in rural villages with no electricity or running water. My job as a Community Health Development Worker will involve working directly with the Ministry of Health to help train and ensure the continued function of the village health center management committee and educate others on HIV/AIDS prevention and reproductive health, Malaria, and malnutrition. My official counterpart will be the head nurse there. It sounds like it's going to be a really interesting, difficult, and rewarding job.

More to follow soon. I am still processing everything, and I have so much to do before October 12th. Learn French, visit friends and family, buy clothes and gear, loads and loads of paperwork, and so many other little things I haven't even thought of yet.

I just found out I've been invited to Burkina Faso! I checked my toolkit this morning and found out that they mailed my invitation two days ago, and when I checked my mail today, there it was - a large packet of information from PC. The very first page read:

YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Country: Burkina Faso

Program: Community Health Development Program

Job Title: Community Health Development Worker

Orientation Dates: October 12-14, 2008

Pre-Service Training: October 15 - December 19, 2008

Dates of Service: December 19, 2008 -

December 19, 2010

I now have ten day to accept or decline this invitation, which of course I will accept. It's definitely not where I thought I would be going to, but I can't complain. I don't know much about Burkina, or even West Africa at all, so it will be interesting to learn more and post more here about everything. I do know they speak French, which means I need to majorly refresh my very limited French skills. I have read it is one of the safest countries in Africa, which should comfort some people (like my mom). Anyway I need to get ready for work but I'll post a lot more info tomorrow. I'm so excited!!!

So I got a reply from my Placement Officer this morning who gave me some not-so-great news. It seems that I am still nominated for the same program in Africa that I have been since the beginning but that the departure date has moved from November 2008 to January 2009. He said I know hear from by the 1st of December about my invitation. This was a complete shock to me. As you all know, I have been ready to leave for months now, but now I have to wait an extra two months. But I don't want to dwell on the negative. Sure I have to hang around here for another couple months, but there are also some good things that come from this as well.

1) spending Christmas with my family

2) more time to save money

3) more time to get in shape

4) spending Thanksgiving home

5) more chances to spend time with friends

6) arriving in Africa towards the end, not the beginning, of their summer

7) being able to see the entire next season of The Office

Those are just a few things I have thought about since getting the news about two hours ago. So yeah, a little disappointing but not the end of the world. You will just have to put up with my lame and boring posts until then.

On a side note, it was my Dad's birthday this weekend, and we all went horseback riding. This was my first time riding a horse in probably 15 years, but except for a slightly sore rear, I think I did pretty well. I felt like Indiana Jones, and that's all that matters.