Peace Corps Journals

2012-02-09 07:55:06

08 Février 2012 FN: 10 An updated wish list Recently, I’ve received a lot of inquiries about care packages and contents, as well as a fair amount of chiding for not putting a wish list anywhere on this blog. Since I’m here in Ouaga for awhile and I’m not currently wanting for anything, this seems […]

Our Trip in Photo’s!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Audrey's African Adventures

2012-02-09 07:12:00

Chantal and I gearing up for Victoria Falls.

Victoria Falls

Crossing the Border Elephant riding in the Zambezi!

WINDHOEK, Namibia:

Here are some photos of our trip. Today we are heading to Swakopmund, for a little relaxing on the beach, and sand surfing on the dunes, before heading to Cape Town next week.

Riding the Bus / Struggles with Tougan / Good Luck Getting Your Money Out of the Bank

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Adventures in Africa

2012-02-08 15:17:00

**This a long post, with several intertwining stories. There’s a few more stories I could add to this, but I’ll write about them in a separate post, as they are equally as long.

Monday, December 5, 2011

So last time I didn’t get a chance to even start my reminiscing about what final events led up to the end of stage…and I probably won’t this time either, as it late (9:14pm aka 21H14 – we use military time here) and I’m just waiting for my computer to finish charging. The electricity has been cutting in and out, which makes it difficult to do anything and to charge my computer quickly, but it’s at 88% right now. Go, computer, go! I’ve been hanging out at the pharmacy A LOT these past few days, doing a lot of computer work. I’ve written tests for both of my math classes -- in fact, two versions of each test! Mwahaha, take that, students who like cheat (aka each and every one of the 120 students in each of my classes)! My two versions of each test were made all with the hope of slightly deterring the amount of cheating that happens…but I really can’t blame them for copying each other’s work. They can hardly help it; there’s so many students crammed into the classroom that they’re practically sitting on top of each other…how can they not happen to see their neighbor’s work or answers? I also made an excel sheet with all of my students’ names for easy grade calculation at the end of the trimester and entered their grades from their previous test and exercises. I leave for Ouaga on Sunday to attend IST (Inter-Service Training) for about 2 weeks. Bien sur (certainly/of course), I will be staying in a nice hotel with internet access, and I’ll probably eat so many hamburgers and ice cream cones that I get sick…but it’ll be worth it. I’ll return to village just before la fête de Noel, so I’ll be able to celebrate Christmas with my villagers…and don’t think that just because everyone’s Muslim here means that there’s no Christmas. Burkinabe know how to take advantage of every opportunity possible, including “Christian” holidays, to have a fête, take a day off from work, and eat good food! BUTTTTT…. before I can get excited about seeing my other volunteer friends at IST, eating hamburgers in Ouaga, celebrating Christmas, and leaving village in general (sometimes it’s nice to get away), I need to give my final (aka second) test of the trimester, correct the tests (over 200 of them), enter grades, and then calculate the trimester averages with coefficients and this whole big mess of other numbers that the Burkinabe school system uses… all this work might kill me. Grading 200 tests is not fun. Not fun at all. Especially when I need to finish it within a matter of 2 or 3 days while still having classes and doing my other work as well, like the clubs I’ve organized and spending time at the CSPS (hospital). I should be thankful, however, that I have the ability to use a computer (aka Microsoft Excel) to calculate my grades easily for me…the rest of the teachers must do everything by hand (sometimes they have the aide of a calculator) for over 800 students. Yikes.

Anyways, a little update on my life in village. I actually have been getting cold. As in I put on a sweatshirt the other evening. And then all the people at the pharmacy laughed at me because “the tubabu is cold” and usually I’m always saying how it’s so hot and I am not cold, even when they have their winter coats and earmuffs on. Also, this morning, I wore pants to school and a light ¾ sleeve jacket over my blouse. Yup, I guess the “cold” truly has arrived, if the tubabu is sporting long-sleeves and pants...during the morning/night, anyways. As soon as the sun is out, it gets hot realllll quick and the cold leaves, not to return again until the sun has set.

My last few weeks in village have been pretty crazy, complete with mishaps in Tougan and struggles riding the bus, painting my house, celebrating the Muslim fête of Tobaski, getting sick (twice!), not having any money (story to follow), wedding crashing, teaching my neighbors how to make bread, and all the things with school. So before I return to recalling what I was doing 2-3 months ago during Stage, I’m going to fill you in on what exciting adventures I’ve encountered in village, and specifically, riding the bus.

Riding the Bus / Struggles with Tougan / Good Luck Getting Your Money Out of the Bank

I’m quite lucky to live in a village that’s situated on a main road, and thus is along the bus route. I don’t need to bike to a nearby village or to a bus stop or even travel that far at all. I literally walk about 300 feet to the gravel road to get on the bus. The bus (referred to as STAF, because that’s the bus company’s name), usually arrives in Lanfiera around 8am every morning (give or take an hour) and travels to Ouaga, approximately an 8 hour trip. Along the way, there are plenty of stops. The first main stop is in Tougan, the city/village (regional capital of my area) located about 42km away. So, if I have a need to go to Tougan (for example, to go to the bank and use the Internet), I can hop on the bus in the morning, arrive in Tougan around 9:30am, do whatever I need to do until about 4pm, and then get on the afternoon bus to return to village sometime later that same afternoon/evening….theoretically. The afternoon bus departs from Ouaga in the morning and makes the journey to my region, spends the night at the last stop, and then starts again bright and early the next day, doing the voyage in reverse, and in effect, becoming the morning bus that I can take to Tougan/Ouaga. So this is how STAF is supposed to work. But this is Africa. Things are never consistent. Time is flexible. And thus, my experiences with the transportation here have been…interesting…if not downright frustrating…to say the least.

Story 1: Before Halloween I had gone to Ouaga for a meeting with other volunteers to plan Camp GLOW, a summer camp for kids here. Transport to Ouaga wasn’t bad. Long, sure. Hot, yes. Dirty, definitely. Squished, bien sur (there were 2 women, 2 babies, a toddler, and me, crammed into a row of 3 seats. If that’s not squished, I don’t know what is). But overall, not a bad 8 hour ride. Especially compared to the trip back that was to come a few days later. On the way back, the bus kept breaking down and having insanely long rest stops, and before I knew it, it was getting dark and we had first just arrived in Tougan. Technically, as Peace Corps Volunteers, we are not to be traveling at night…safety/security reasons. But the sun was just beginning to set, and my village was only about another hour past Tougan, so should it turn into “night” while on the bus, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I’d much rather just get back to village and sleep in my own bed. Though of course, once we arrived in Tougan, the bus sat. For a LONG time. Soon it was past sunset. The men who man the bus kept saying, “We’ll leave toute de suite” (aka immediately). Ha. Toute de suite. That means nothing here. Burkinabe find nothing wrong with telling someone they’ll be back immediately, and not returning until 2 hours later…. So toute de suite? Take that as you will.

Some nice functionaire guy, who was also on the bus and now waiting like the rest of us, bought cold cokes for me, Vida, and Brooke (the other 2 volunteers from my region who also attended the Camp GLOW meeting and thus were on the bus with me) and we had a nice discussion. But soon it was really dark and past our bedtime. We were tired and crabby. Didn’t really have the energy to endure another hour (or more) of bus riding and plus then deal with finding our houses in the dark once we actually arrived in village. Furthermore, the bus showed no signs of running anytime soon -- the mechanics were busy dinking around with some engine in the front of the bus. Fortunately there are 2 volunteers stationed in Tougan (one guy and one girl; no, they are not married or a couple…yet), so we gave them a call. They came to our rescue, mounted our bags, packages, and boxes of goodies (aka cans of oatmeal and other “necessary” food items we had bought in Ouaga) onto their bikes, and took us to Sue’s house, where we were able to wash the dirt of our faces and spend the night.

The bus breakdown was bad enough. But the whole situation was further complicated by the fact that we had NO money. Had we not had friends in Tougan, we would have had to pay for a hotel, which we maybe could have scrounged up the money for, but still...it’s not easy on the mind to be broke and in an unfamiliar place. Being in Ouaga, we had depleted most of our funds, buying hamburgers and good smelling shampoo. But it was near the end of the month, so we didn’t hesitate too much with our purchases of things to indulge in and to bring back to village. After all, our next living allowance payment would be in our accounts at any moment. In fact, it should have already been in our accounts (according to Peace Corps), but the Burkinabe banking computer system hadn’t yet registered our installment, so we couldn’t withdraw any of our money that was supposedly there. I had had a decent chunk of money on me, but with everyone else’s funds running low, I had been borrowing money to friends, and soon, I had essentially no money either. Like literally, about the equivalent of $5 American in my pocket and maybe another $5 back in my house in village. But here, that’s certainly enough to get by, especially if you’re eating meals with neighbors and friends. While I wasn’t too worried about going hungry due to not having money, I was still quite frustrated that our attempts to withdraw money at the bank had failed – not once, but twice! We had gone to the bank, waited in line for over 2 hours, only then to find out that we had no money to withdraw but were told we could come back the next day and it would be ready for us then, returned the next day, waited in line for a ridiculous amount of time again, and still had no money….oh, Africa….why must you be difficult? But having no money isn’t the end of the world (unless an emergency or something out of the ordinary should arise). I’d just have to be really careful with what I buy…though, when I can buy a plate of beans and rice for 100 CFA, 6.000 mille (aka 6000 CFA) goes a long ways… and also, I’d need to find a day to journey to Tougan – a day when I didn’t have classes scheduled – hopefully, probably, sometime within the next week, and go to the bank then. Not a big deal. A bit of an inconvenience, considering I had just been in the big city for a few days with relatively easy access to the bank, but not a big deal. I could handle coming back to Tougan for a day. In fact, Halloween was in a week, and I’d be back in Tougan anyway, for our Peace Corps Halloween Weekend get-together. Certainly our money would be in our accounts a week from now… Oh yeah, and our bus, the one that had broken down and caused us to spend the night with Sue…well, turns out they got it fixed…eventually… around midnight.

Story 2: Halloween Weekend. The get-together with a bunch of other volunteers stationed in this area was great. There were about 15 of us, plus a few extras who endured a long bus trip across the country to join us. It was nice to see everyone and share our stories of what our first month in village was like. We stayed at a nice-ish hotel, where we had electricity, fans, air-conditioning, showers, real toilets, etc. and took advantage of eating cold yogurt, omelet sandwiches, fried chicken, fresh bread from the bakery, and cold watermelon. Also, I had some caramel apple suckers my sister Erin had sent in a care package that I shared with friends, and so those were a nice treat that helped us get into the Halloween/fall spirit. We drank boxed wine (wine typically comes in boxes here, not bottles, and we like to refer to our boxes of wine as “adult juice boxes”) , danced at the bar/restaurants who played music and had a “dance floor” and all in all, basically just were lazy and sat around talking or watching movies in our air-conditioned hotel rooms.

We were able to make a pit stop at the bank at the start of the weekend, but our money still wasn’t in. So, I decided to withdraw the last bit of money that was still in my account – my crutch/emergency fund. Courtesy of advice from Peace Corps and horror stories from current volunteers who didn’t budget their money wisely, I had the ingenious idea of keeping at least 25.000 mille in my account at all times, but now I had to use that money. I guess that’s why I have a crutch fund, for times like this when bank systems aren’t working and I can’t get my monthly living allowance on time like expected…. 25.000 mille isn’t a huge amount of money, but it was certainly more than enough to pay for my “fun” and hotel room in Tougan that weekend, along with taking a decent chunk of money back with me to village until the next time I could make it to the bank in a few weeks or so. So I had no worries. When the weekend came to a close, we said our goodbyes and headed our separate ways, with some taking their respective buses, others biking back to their village, and still others taking bush taxies. My bus came that late that afternoon like normal, and Sami, Molly, and me took our places on the crowded bus. We waited. And waited some more. I pulled out my book for a while…and then I think I even fell asleep.

Next thing I know, it’s been over an hour since we loaded the bus, and the bus hasn’t moved. In fact, the engine is no longer even running. Everyone’s still sitting in their seats, as if the bus is ready to leave any moment now, but then I hear some guy say something about the bus being broken and that a new bus is on the way. No way. You’ve got to be kidding me. Bus troubles again? Two times within a week? No way. This couldn’t be happening. I wake up Sami and Molly, and we decide to get off the hot, smelly, overcrowded bus and see if we can figure out what’s going on. Is the bus indeed broken? Is another one coming? If so, when? Within the hour? Or in 5 hours? Are we better off just spending another night in Tougan? Or should we wait for this bus so we can return home tonight? We all had things to do in village the next day, me especially, since I had class at 7am. I really couldn’t just “spend the night” in Tougan again and not show up for school. But maybe we could find someone with a car or truck to take us back to our villages tonight or early tomorrow morning…or maybe someone from our village could come pick us up. But wait. Who has a car? The chances of finding a person that evening who actually owns a vehicle was slim to none. Oh Africa. Once again, things are more complicated than they should be. After a bit of waiting and some discussion, we decided to pull our bags off the bus and wait at Yogurt Place (so called because it has thee BEST yogurt ever in little plastic sachets!), conveniently situated right next to the bus stop. We figured we’d maybe eat some more yogurt and give the bus an hour to either get fixed or for a new one to show up, before we’d give up, call it a night, and go back to the hotel. Some of our friends who weren’t planning on leaving until the next morning were still at Yogurt Place from when we had said goodbye over an hour earlier, and when they saw us walk up, the reactions on their faces were priceless:

“What are you doing here? Did the bus come back for something?”

“Uh, no. The bus actually hasn’t left yet.”

“Oh…we didn’t notice. So. Were you sitting on the bus all this time?”

“Yup. We were.”

“I’m sorry.”

We chilled for a bit, tried our best to relax and not be overly frustrated with Burkina’s transportation systems, and did indeed eat some yogurt as well as my watermelon – we were hungry, plus I didn’t feel like lugging a watermelon around with me anymore, so I figured it was best to just eat it up. Yogurt and watermelon: not a bad supper. We were just about to call it quits waiting and march back to the hotel when another bus rolled into town. Wow, they weren’t lying! There actually was another bus. And it didn’t take 5 hours for it to arrive. In Africa, this sort of occurrence could be considered a miracle! We packed up our bags, headed to the new bus, and attempted to climb on. But they (the bus staff/employees? If that’s who they were?) proceeded to push us away and tell us this was the wrong bus and we should quickly find our places on the other bus. What? But isn’t that bus broken? What is going on? Why is there another bus here if it’s not to take us home? Why don’t we ever understand what is going on in this country?!? Much to our dismay, the new bus refused to let anyone on, and 5 minutes later, it drove away. But everyone was making a mad dash towards the broken bus, which hadn’t moved, started its engine, or even had any mechanics dinking around to try and fix the problem the entire time we had been waiting. We were hesitant, but made our way towards the bus also. We climbed up the steps of the bus, but that was as far as we went, despite the crowd of people behind us pushing and shoving to get on the bus also. You see, before we boarded, we had a few questions/concerns. Molly took control of the situation and her conversation went something like this, with its literal English translation making everything all the more frustrating and simultaneously, ridiculously hilarious:

Random guy on bus: « Madam, il faut entrer. » Madam., you must enter. (i.e. enter the bus)

Molly : « Primèrent, j’ai une question. Est-ce que, on va partir ? » Firstly, I have a question. We will leave?

Guy: « Oui, trouvez un place.» Yes, find a place.

Molly : « Le bus n’est pas cassé ? » The bus isn’t broken?

Guy: « Non, c’est prêt. » No, it’s ready.

Molly : « Qu’est-ce que c’était le problème ? » What was the problem?

Guy: « Il n’y a pas des problèmes. » There weren’t any problems.

Molly : « Pas des problèmes !?! Puis….pourquoi nous avons attendu beaucoup de temps? » No problems ?!? Then…why we have waited a lot of time?

Guy: « Oui, c’est nécessaire de attendre. » Yes, it’s necessary to wait.

Molly : « Mais pourquoi ? Qu’est-ce que la raison? » But why? What’s the reason?

Guy: « Madame, s’il vous plait. » Madame, please.

Molly : « Donc, on va partir maintenant ? » So, we will leave now?

Guy: « Oui, toute de suite. » Yes, immediately. (But we all know what « toute de suite » means in Africa…anything from 5 minutes to 5 hours….)

Molly: « A quelle heure? » At what hour?

Guy: « Ce soir. Madam, il faut asseoir.» This evening. Madam, you must sit down.

Molly: « Mais, à QUELLE heure, exactement? » But at what hour, exactly?

Guy : « Je ne sais pas. C’est n’importante pas. » I don’t know. It’s not important.

Molly: « Non, ça c’est très importante ! » No, this is very important.

Guy : « Oui, ça va aller. Il faut entrer. » Yes, it will go. You must enter.

Molly : « Ca va aller…quand? » It will go…when ?

Guy : « Oui. » Yes.

Molly : « Quand? A quelle heure ? » When? At what hour? (Molly is practically yelling at the top of her lungs…)

Guy : « Madame…» Madam…

Molly : « Encore, je demande: QUAND? A quelle heure ? » Again, I ask/demand: WHEN? At what hour?

Guy : « Madame… »

*awkward silence while Molly glares ferociously*

Guy : « Cinq minutes » Five minutes…

Molly : « Ok. Merci. Je peux asseoir maintenant. » Ok. Thank you. I can sit down now.

Molly’s conversation/argument to find out when/if the bus was leaving definitely ranks as one of my top ten stories in Africa so far. We couldn’t help but to laugh until our stomachs hurt once we finally took our seats, and even to this day, we still find it amusing to reenact the bus situation and imitate Molly and the man she argued with. It’s probably one of those times when “you had to be there” but whatever… it was funny…at least for us. Surprisingly, the bus did actually leave “toute de suite”…as in within 20 minutes after we took our seats, and we were able to make it home that night. Oh yeah, but that hour ride to my village in the dark was rather terrifying. I now fully understand why Peace Corps rules state that we are not to travel at night. There’s a very good chance we could die. If bus rides aren’t scary enough during the daytime to begin with, due to horrible road conditions, random animals standing in the middle of the road, and drivers who speed along like they’re Nascar racers, try riding the bus at night…when there’s absolutely zero light to see anything, whether it’s large potholes or donkeys sleeping in the road. Yes, the chances of an accident occurring are very, very high. I’m still shocked that I made it home safely that night. I also have come to the conclusion that, while in Africa, I will not in the least bit miss amusement parks or carnivals. I have my own roller coaster and thrilling action rides here, in the form of public transportation… Public transportation: it gives Disneyland a run for its money. Whether bus, taxi, or donkey cart, they’re all guaranteed to leave you thrilled…if not fearing for your life. Plus, considering that public transport lasts much longer than your typical ride on a roller coaster or spin on the Ferris wheel and is also significantly cheaper (i.e. an 11-hour bus ride for $10 American), it’s not a bad deal: you definitely get your money’s worth…along with a few bruises.

Story 3: So this mishap was my own fault. I’d like to blame Africa, but I can’t. I’ll admit I screwed up and should’ve been thinking more clearly, but I’ve learned my lesson. I now know that Sundays are not a good day to go to Tougan. And hopefully I’ll never forget that. Here’s what happened: It was a Saturday morning, and while painting my house, I get a phone call from one of my education supervisors in Peace Corps. He asks about some forms that I apparently was supposed to read via email and send back over a week ago; I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about as I hadn’t checked my email in over a month. He encourages/demands that I go to Tougan and check my email as soon as possible, but I am hesitant to agree, because I have tons of things going on in my village, my class schedule is packed for the week (resulting in me not having a free day to journey to Tougan), and I’ll be going to Ouaga in just a few weeks for IST. He isn’t satisfied with this response and again insists that I get to Tougan within the next few days. He asks what I’m doing tomorrow (Sunday) and if I could go then, since I can’t go during the week because of school. I think about it for a minute, decide that my laundry can wait a few more days and that it’s either tomorrow or never for going to Tougan before IST. I tell my supervisor that yes, I’ll take tomorrow to check my email in Tougan, and then I immediately get back to painting my house, as there were over 12 students helping me paint and they were going crazy and making a mess – i.e. painting themselves instead of the walls – while I had been outside talking on my cellphone.

I was slightly annoyed, because, as aforementioned, I had plenty of things I wanted to get done in village (like laundry), and I really had nothing I needed to do in Tougan besides check my email. But I figured what the heck, it’s not the worst thing in the world to spend a day running errands around Tougan, going to the bank, buying a few cans of tuna to take back to village, and relaxing for a few hours at the Cyber while waiting (patiently, of course) at least ten minutes for each Internet page to load. And considering I had just spent pretty much all my money buying paint for my house, I probably should be heading to the bank anyways. I went to bed that night, thinking only of the fact that I was going to get up early, catch the bus, and spend the day in the “big city.” So when I got up the next morning, I grabbed all things I thought I would need for the day and stuffed them into my backpack: my computer, my bank card, a book, water bottle, and a few bills so I could buy my bus ticket. I left a few bills at home, but in all honesty, I really didn’t have a whole lot of money left to either take with me and/or leave at home; I had planned to withdraw a rather large sum of money at the bank, and then with that money, buy my cans of tuna and other goodies.

My ride into Tougan went smoothly; for once, there was hardly anyone on the bus, so I had no difficulties finding a seat! As soon as I arrived in Tougan, I indulged in some cold yogurt to which I added a cut-up banana and apple that I bought from fruit lady on the corner of the street. Then I casually strolled to the bank, smiling and greeting everyone I passed by. But as I walked down the street, a feeling of something not being right overtook my body. Then it hit me. It was Sunday. How could I not realize that it was a SUNDAY?!? What was I thinking? I mean, I knew it was Sunday, but for some reason it didn’t register in my head that Sundays aren’t like the other days of the week. There’s no bank on Sunday. Duh. In village, you never have to think about whether something is open or not, since there aren’t any businesses to begin with. There’s no such thing as store hours. So why would Sunday be any different? But I had forgotten that such modern phenomena as “weekends” and “business hours” exist throughout most of the world, even in Burkina Faso…well, at least in Burkina’s bigger cities, anyways. I felt ridiculously stupid for my mistake, but kept my hopes up as I continued to make my way to the bank to see if, for some odd reason, it was actually open. But of course it wasn’t. Then I became mad. What was I going to do in Tougan all day with no money to spend? I couldn’t buy anything. I barely had enough money on me to pay for my bus ticket back to village, let alone anything else I’d need to pay for throughout the day, like a plate of rice and sauce for lunch, some sachets of water, or a couple hours at the cyber. Seriously, what was I going to do?

As I tried not to freak out too much or be too angry at the world, I made my way to the cyber. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I had enough to at least pay for an hour of Internet to check my email like I had planned. Since email was the main reason I was in Tougan in the first place, I decided to get that taken care of and figure out how I was going pass the rest of the day with zero money after my Internetting was done. I arrived at the cyber with optimism. But again, my hopes were crushed: the cyber was closed. It was Sunday, duh. And apparently, sometimes it’s open on Sundays, and other Sundays, it’s not. How was I supposed to know that today would be a Sunday when it decided to be closed? So much for my day in Tougan. Pas de l’argent. Pas de cyber. Pas de quelque chose. (No money, no cyber, no anything). Now really, what was I going to do? I had a whole day to kill, with absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go. I wandered around town for a little bit, perused through the marché as if I had money and was going to buy stuff, and then went back to Yogurt Place to sulk and mope about my horrible day. It was only 11am, and I still had at least 5 hours before the bus would arrive and I could go home. I called a few friends on my cellphone and whined to them, and their only suggestion was to spend the day slowly eating lots of cold yogurt – savoring every bite – at Yogurt Place while reading my book. Urgh. This was not how my day was supposed to go.

I tried the “savor yogurt and read” thing for little while, but after an hour I was bored, hot, and tired. Plus, it was weird to sit at yogurt place for so long…by myself… with people staring at me. After all, it’s not a normal occurrence in Burkina Faso to, one, read a book, or two, use a “restaurant” as a coffee house type setting…considering coffee houses also don’t really exist here… Since I had my computer, I figured I should take advantage of all my “free time” and get some computer work done. I’d just need to find a place to do that…somewhere not out in the open and where I had access to electricity. My best bet was the local hotel we had stayed at during Affectation (the 2 days we got to spend in Tougan buying stuff for our houses before we were permanently moved to our villages). The hotel had electricity, ceiling fans, and a toilet in each room, plus a comfy queen sized bed. That was all I needed. Somewhere where I could get some work done in private, and maybe also stretch out and take a nap under a cool ceiling fan. I walked to the hotel, talked to the owner, and convinced them to give me a room for the day – for about 4-5 hours until the bus came. I argued down the price, pulling the “but I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer and don’t have much money” card, and in the end, I ended up paying the equivalent of $3 American. Not bad. I relaxed in my room, turned on the fan, played music on my computer, charged my cell phone, took a nap, and typed up a few pages of things that have now been posted on my blog. But mainly I napped. I was really tired. Had a headache. Throat was aching. Was really warm – my face was burning up. All just a natural result of being stressed and frustrated, right?

Later that afternoon, around 2pm, I met my friend Eric for lunch. It was refreshing to talk to another volunteer (also a math teacher) and share ideas and strategies for our classrooms, as well as the future plans/projects we hoped to implement in our communities. Lunch was good (I had ingyams – aka yams – in a tomato sauce) but my throat was so sore that I could hardly swallow my meal without flinching at every bite. What I couldn’t finish, I gave to Eric and he happily cleaned off my plate. After lunch, I went back to my hotel room with the intent of actually getting some blogs written up, but within minutes I found myself giving into another nap. I slept until it was time for me to pack up my bag and head to the bus station to catch my bus and go back to my village. I bought my bus ticket and then plopped myself down at Yogurt Place to eat a yogurt while waiting for the bus to arrive. I waited. And waited some more. And then I ordered a sachet of water. And waited. I watched the French world news that was on the little TV above the stove at Yogurt Place. And waited. Soon (well, not soon at all, it took forever), it was well past the time the bus should’ve arrived. As in the bus was over 2 hours late, even by African standards. I was so tired and my head was pounding so much I thought I was going to die. When/if the bus ever showed up, how was I possibly going to endure an hour of bumpy, dusty bus-riding? I put my head down on Yogurt Place’s counter, and almost fell asleep. But finally the bus arrived. I pushed and shoved to get on the bus and find a place. I set the alarm on my phone for 7:30pm, a little over an hour past the current time, in fear that I should pass out on the bus and not be awake when the bus drove through my village. There was no way we’d be at my village in an hour, even if we left immediately (which we wouldn’t…we never leave immediately), and so this way, with my alarm set, I could attempt to sleep soundly and be reassured that I wouldn’t miss my stop. Sure enough, I fell asleep, and when my alarm woke me up, I discovered that we hadn’t yet even left the Tougan bus station. Urgh. Seriously? Is this really happening again? Why can’t I just get home? Why must this be SO ridiculously difficult?

I set my alarm for another hour later, and went back to sleep. Thank goodness when I awoke again, the bus was moving and about half-way to my village. I finally got home after 9pm. It was pitch black --there’s no electricity to light up the houses or streets, and it was silent -- every human and animal in village was sleeping. I somehow found my house in the dark, plopped myself down on the floor, and tried to eat an orange. But again, my throat was so tight and painful, that I couldn’t eat. My head was spinning and every muscle in my body ached. Lately, I’d been getting a little chilly at night, but this night, I was burning up. Transport in Africa is never easy, but feeling like this after a bus ride was not a normal occurrence. Something had to be wrong. I dug out my medical kit, found the thermometer, and took my temperature: 103.5 degrees. Yikes! No wonder I felt like I was dying…

I took some meds to combat my headache, muscle aches, and dangerously high fever. After flushing my face with “cool” water, I went to bed. Every hour or so throughout the night, I got up to stagger towards the latrine and relieve my bladder, followed by drinking some more water. I awoke around 6am the next morning feeling even worse than when I had gone to bed, partly due to being sick, but mostly due to it being Monday and knowing that I was supposed to go to school. I tried to heat up some water to make tea and oatmeal, thinking that if I could just eat something, I’d feel better – or at least well enough to make it through my morning classes – but was so dizzy that I gave up and took my temperature again. 102 degrees. An improvement. But still not good at all; I was in no condition to go to school, more or less leave my house. So now I had another problem to deal with: missing school. What do I do? Who do I tell? Will someone inform my students that we’re not having class?

This ordeal presented a whole mess of problems. In America, a teacher simply has to call in sick, usually by phoning the office and talking to the secretary. Then, a substitute teacher will be found so that the students can continue learning and their education isn’t (too) disrupted for the day. But in Burkina Faso, there are no substitute teachers – heck, there aren’t even enough “real” teachers! And there certainly isn’t an “office” to call. My school does have a woman who works as a secretary, but I didn’t have her cell phone number, plus I didn’t even know whether she’d be at school that day or not, or if it’s standard procedure to inform her of absences, anyways. So much to think about, but not enough time: it was nearly 7:00am. School would be starting, my students would all be at school already, and most of the other teachers would be there as well….well, maybe not THERE as in at school (teachers rarely arrive at school early before the students, or even on time….), but they would at least be on their way, driving their motos down the road, unable to hear their ringtones if I tried to call them. I had attempted to call my homologue, and sent him a text message as well: “Je suis malade. Je ne peux pas enseigner aujourd’hui.” (I’m sick. I can’t teach today.) But he hadn’t responded yet. Did he get the message? Did school know that I wasn’t coming? Did they even really care whether or not I showed up? What were my 120 students doing? Sitting nicely in the classroom, studying their math notebooks? Doubt it. Going crazy running around, jumping over desks, boys wrestling, girls braiding each other’s hair, shouting loud enough that the classroom next door can’t even hear their own teacher? Probably. Oh god. What had I done? My being sick had (probably) resulted in my 120 students causing utter chaos. All the other teachers were going to hate me… It was about quarter after 7 and I still hadn’t heard anything from school. I was just about ready to put on some clothes (don’t worry, I wasn’t naked -- I had shorts and a tank top on but I can’t wear that in public, so I was going to slip a skirt over my skirt and a t-shirt over my tank), hop on my bike, and go to school in person, just to make sure that someone knew I was sick and wouldn’t be having classes that day. I wasn’t sure how riding a bike the whole 3 minutes to school would go, considering how dizzy and sore I was, but I felt like I had no other choice. How unprofessional for me to not show up at school and not to inform anyone (though I had tried to contact my homologue). As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’m supposed to be setting a good example for others, especially the other teachers that I work with, encouraging them to take pride in their job and show up on time and not just randomly cancel classes, etc. But here I was, sitting in my house, clearly not setting a good example…even if I was sick.

Fortunately right at the moment when I mustered up the energy to go find some clothes to throw over my shorts and tank, I saw my homologue drive into my courtyard on his moto. I’ll admit I was slightly scared, expecting him to say something along the lines of, “What are you doing?!? School started 15 minutes ago! You’re late!” But he must have seen my text message and missed calls, as he instead said, “You’re sick? Should we call the doctor? You should go to the hospital. They can give you medicine.” We had a brief conversation during which I discovered that he was very concerned I might be seriously ill with Malaria (common in Africans, not so common in foreigners who have the “luxury” of being able to take preventive medicines to combat Malaria before it even starts), and he thought I was ridiculous for refusing to go the hospital. Also, although he didn’t say anything, I could tell that he thought what I was wearing was beyond bizarre. More than likely he probably felt uncomfortable seeing me so “exposed” but to be honest, I’m pretty sure that I felt more awkward than him, flashing around my whiter than white legs (with my gym shorts helping to reveal a few inches of thigh above the knee!) that contrasted ever so nicely with my bronze arms and not quite as golden – but not white – shoulders. I might as well have been naked, I felt so scandalous in my cultural faux pas wardrobe. Anyways, bad wardrobe aside, my homologue told me not to worry about school, get some rest, and he’d come check on me when morning classes had finished (around noon). He left, and I felt better, knowing that they knew I was sick and thus I wasn’t a complete unprofessional by not showing up to school. I took some more meds, and then passed out on the floor in the middle of my kitchen/main room….

…only to be awoken less than an hour later to the sound of someone knocking on my door and saying “co-co” (the Burkinabe equivalent of Americans saying “knock-knock”). Dang it. No. Leave me alone. I am sick and do not have the energy to deal with greeting neighbors and other villagers, nor do I have the brain power to think in language other than English right now. Go away! But alas, I had no choice but to answer the door, as the neighbor had seen me: he looked through my windows… which apparently is not creepy or taboo here. In America, if we’d catch someone we didn’t know looking through our windows, there’s a good chance that the police would be called, a rifle would be brought out, or yelling would commence…perhaps all of the above. I tried to quick grab a pagne or something to wrap around me so that I wasn’t “naked” in my shorts and tank like I had been in front of my homologue, but there was nothing near me. Plus, my hair was a sweaty disaster from my fever. Great. I love looking completely awful in front of non-Americans. (Ok, it’s not as if I especially like looking awful in front of Americans either, but at least here in Burkina, any other Americans who’d see me would know that it was just a bad day and not what I normally look like…) You can thank me, America, I’m really giving all the villagers a good impression of what Americans “look” like with my wardrobe choices and crazy hairdos. Anyways, the neighbor and I go through all the typical greetings (How’s the family? How’s work? How’d you sleep? And your family? They’re good?) to which I just had to respond, “ca va,” (it goes or they’re fine) to everything he said. Simple enough. I can handle that. Even when sick. Then he asked me why I wasn’t at school. What? Really? Since when do you even know my schedule? Every other time you come over to my house to greet me (which tends to be anywhere from 1 to 5 times a day) you ask me if I have class that day, or in the morning, or in the afternoon, etc. You never know my school schedule, despite it being the SAME THING every week. I didn’t want to say that I was sick, because he would feel it was his duty to inform others that “the American” was sick, which would cause the whole village to show up at my doorstep, offering me food and water (that would probably make me sick, not healthier) and various traditional medicines. No thank you. I just want to be in my house and sleep. All day. Alone. With no one bothering me or “co-co”ing at my door. Go away. So instead of telling him I was sick, I just said that I didn’t have school today. He countered with, “But it’s Monday, every Monday you go to school from 7-11am…” and so I repeated that today, I didn’t have school. Which he took to mean that, in general, there was no school today. For anyone. Fine. Clearly you didn’t put two and two together in that there were hundreds of kids in blue shirts and khaki pants/skirts that walked by your house on their way to school this morning… but if that’s what you want to think, sure. Go ahead. No one has school today. I’ll agree with you. Just let me go back to sleep.

I was able to get a few good hours of rest, and when I awoke I discovered my fever had finally broken and dropped below 100 degrees. I sent a text message to Molly, my closest Peace Corps friend/neighbor who lives about 2 minutes away by bike – we practically live in the same village; it’s virtually impossible to tell where my village ends and her village starts – to come to my house because I was sick and she needed to get groceries for me. It was marche day, and thus, if I wanted any food to eat for the next 5 days, someone had to pick me up some things at the marche – I was in no condition to venture out of my house. Plus, Thanksgiving was coming and we were planning a big get-together with all the volunteers in the Sourou Valley. Between my house, Molly’s house, and Sierra’s house, we had plenty of space for everyone (about 15 of us) to make American food and crash on the floor for the night. But that meant, as a good hostess, I should be prepared with plenty of fresh fruits and veggies and anything else we might need to make our Thanksgiving meal as official as possible, as well as enough ingredients to make pancakes for the next morning.

Molly stopped by, put my grocery list in her purse, and we proceed to visit for a bit (I was feeling better enough by this time to chat). She also had brought me a surprise: freshly popped popcorn (mhmm!) and a bag of meat (ew?). Yes, a bag of meat. Possibly goat or mutton, but who knows. As she pulled the bag of meat from her backpack, she said, “Soooo….my neighbor gave this to me. I’m not really sure what to do with it…meat’s not really my thing. Is this edible? Can you make it edible?” And even though I was still not feeling top-notch, I proceeded to wash off this meat, cut away the dry and dirt covered parts, as well as random bone shards, marinate it in a homemade sauce, and then fry it up with some onions and garlic. It turned out all right, a little tough, but edible.

Of course, just as we’re eating, my homologue stops by to check in on me. Whelp, I sure look sick, don’t I, visiting with Molly and eating popcorn and fried meat? Great impression I gave off there. At least I was still in my shorts and tank top and my hair was a disaster – that hopefully helped prove that I wasn’t faking it…

Molly went to the marche for me, bought me lots of goodies, and came back later that afternoon. I continued to spend most of the day interchanging between sleeping, reading, and drinking water, and then went to bed early that night. After a good night’s rest, I was ready to return to school the next day, although my voice was still hoarse and I felt tired and weak. All the teachers were overly concerned for my health, but were of course glad to see me up and about and could put their minds at ease knowing that I wasn’t going to die of malaria or anything…

Internet: it's been awhile...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Adventures in Africa

2012-02-08 12:14:00

Yes, I do realize that I haven't posted any new blogs writeups or facebook status updates or uploaded any new pictures for quite some time now -- since before Christmas, in fact. It's been a struggle to get to this point, but today, after many, many struggles, my goal of doing some internetting has finally been achieved. (P.S. I'll try to post as many blogs and pictures, as well as send as many emails, as is possible today with my extremely slow interent connection...provided the electricity doesn't randomly cut out....) Enjoy!

February 6, 2012

I don’t even know where to begin. What a day. Well, morning is more like it. It hasn’t even been a whole day – it’s only 2pm – and yet so many things have gone wrong.

To combat all of the issues I’ve been dealing with today, I’m currently sitting in my house (doors and windows shut and locked so no one can bother me), alone, typing away on my computer (obviously), eating some treats from my American stash of food, because certainly food will make me feel better, right? Thank you, Mya and Dan Herscher, for the package of addicting sea-salted Cashews that are doing a lovely job of complimenting the bag of Sunmaid dried fruit (apples, plums, pears, and peaches) that I also pulled from my chest of American food. Two different types of treats removed from my collection of goodies at the same time, in the same sitting, when I generally only let myself splurge on one thing every 1-2 weeks, and even then, it’s shared with friends? Yup, it must’ve been a rough morning.

For one, I should currently be in Ouahigouya (a “big city” about 3-4 hours from my village) visiting a friend and checking my email along with other internetting luxuries, which I have not had a chance to do since before Christmas. But I’m not. Instead I’m still in village because there was “no room” on the bus this morning. I waited over an hour and a half for the dang bus to show up, and when it does, it doesn’t even stop. It only slows down enough for one of the workers to open up the door and shout to me and the small crowd of people that were also planning on traveling today that the bus was full. A few courageous young men wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and so they ran alongside the bus, trying to get in the door or swing in through a window. But the bus really was full. Beyond full. Honestly. There were already people from the previous stop who had barely made it on the bus themselves, and their arms and legs were sticking out of windows and about 7 people (plus a couple of babies, a sack of rice or onions or something, and a chicken) were tangled together and piled onto the 3 steps that (ideally) we’d be able to climb to enter the bus. There truthfully was “pas d’un place” (not a place) ... anywhere… on the bus, like the worker had shouted. A few of the courageous men trying to get on the bus tripped or fell as they attempted to hop on the moving bus, and one was actually pushed off by a women who didn’t want to be even more squished than she already was and have this young guy’s feet against her face, as was happening as he tried to squeeze through the window. Yes, it was crazy. No, I did not participate in the attempt to run alongside the bus. But Augustin (pharmacy owner) and his kids did, pounding on the sides of the bus with their hands, in an effort to convince the bus driver to stop for me and find me a place. After all, I’m American. I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer. I get special privileges, right? I was really hoping that today would be a day when me being a white girl would come in handy, but it didn’t work today. It’s worked numerous other times in this country, but not today. Of course. Of all days. When I most need to have a status that gets me things. It’s just my luck. Jeesh.

Everyone was angry and disappointed as the bus drove off into the distance and we were left standing in its dust, but there was nothing we could do. A few people told me, “You can go tomorrow.” And I know they meant well, but they don’t understand: no, I can’t. Primèrent, I have school. I guess I could leave and miss my classes for a few days, or even a whole week, and it’d be fine. It’s fairly acceptable here for teachers to make their own schedules and cancel/reschedule classes as desired. But I hate to miss school, and rescheduling my class hours is almost impossible, since I do have other activities and “work” that I do. It’s not like I’m just sitting in my house reading a book or watching a movie on my computer, eating yummy candy bars sent from America, when I’m not at school. (ok, I’ll admit I kinda do that sometimes – every now and then you need a break from village and reading a book inside your house while eating a melted Snickers bar that’s barely survived being shipped over here can be quite relaxing and comforting…) Unlike 99% of people in this country, schedules, time management, deadlines, and work obligations are a part of my life, even when I’m in Africa. I can’t just up and leave one day, or the next, or decide to stay a day later, or altogether just “go next week” or next month. All of which are possible options for most Burkinabe that don’t hold many dire consequences, if any at all. They don’t have to submit forms and reports by the end of the month. They aren’t required (well, “highly encouraged”) by Peace Corps to check email at least once a month, but ideally every 2 weeks, for important information related to our work here as volunteers. They don’t have family and friends to write emails to and let them know that they’re still alive. I have things I need to do, and I can’t just continually postpone them. Of course, Peace Corps understands that this is African where things constantly seem to be going wrong and things (like transport or a constant electricity source) can be beyond difficult, and so not meeting a deadline isn’t the worst offense in the world. We do have a little leeway. But how far is too far? One week late? One month? One year? Heck, just turn it in sometime before you go back to America in 2 years, that’s good enough. Interestingly, one of my colleagues at school commented the other day about my “work schedule” and “deadlines” and how “[We] Americans do [our] work with computers and internet, just like if [we] were still in the United Sates, but [we’re] not. [We’re] in Burkina Faso and [we] don’t even have electricity in [our] houses.” I replied with saying that that was true, but because we are Americans and Peace Corps is an American organization, we do need to work both like Americans and Burkinabe, and that means using Internet and submitting reports, even if the closest internet source is 3 hours away.

… speaking of internet 3 hours away… why did I need to go all the way to Ouahigouya and spend 3 days (Monday-Wednesday) out of my village with the main purpose of Internetting? Well, here’s another interesting story for you. Tougan, my regional capital that’s only about an hour away by bus, does not have Internet. It used to have Internet. It should have Internet. But it doesn’t. And it hasn’t. For over 2 and a half months now. Why? Because the people at the cyber café haven’t paid their bills. Throughout the past two months, we volunteers have stopped by numerous times and asked if the Internet is working yet, and every time they reply with, “No, there’s no connection,” as they sit outside under a shade tree and drink tea and play cards. But there IS connection. We’ve talked to the actual Internet company, and they’ve informed us that the connection is working fine; the problem is that the cyber has not paid their bills, and thus their connection has been cut. Ironically, the cyber workers also like to say that their internet connection is getting fixed, that the technicians are coming tomorrow, and the Internet will be ready next week. We’ve heard this each week for 2 months now. And we’ve even told them (and by “we” I mean other volunteers, not me…I just like to pretend like I’ve been directly involved with this whole situation), “It’s not broken, you just need to pay your bills!” You’d think that this café, being the sole internet provider for this entire corner of the country (which, by the way, is currently “loaded” with tubabus (foreigners), Europeans, and other Americans doing development work who have a need to use Internet regularly and don’t mind paying the fee for it), would jump right on this problem and get internet back on their computers, toute de suite. If your business is providing Internet, why would you let over 2 months slide without working Internet, and thus, without customers paying you? You’re losing a lot of business by not have your Internet up and running… This would never fly in America. But then again, this isn’t America – this is Africa – and this serves as a perfect example of why we’re here: to help their country and its people develop, whether it’s through improving health, agriculture, education, or business activities.

So, no internet. No bus to take me to internet. And, to make matters even worse, no food. In preparation for my voyage, I had given most of my fresh fruits and veggies to my neighbors – there’s no sense in letting them go bad in my house. Besides, I was planning to return Wednesday evening, with the next day (Thursday) being the marché so I would be able to again stock up on produce. But as I didn’t voyage anywhere and was still stuck in village, I also now have 3 days to endure without tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, bananas, or any of the other yummy things I had opted to give away. It’s not like I could go ask for them back (that would be rude), or just hop on my bike and pedal to the store to buy a few more things to last me until the marché on Thursday (stores with produce…or really any food at all…don’t exist here). What I have in my house – onions, garlic, ginger, a bell pepper, powdered milk, and a potato – is all I got. …well, besides my treasure chest of goodies consisting of such things as American granola bars, sugar-covered peanuts from Ouaga, and cans of tuna and other questionable “luncheon meats” that are even more questionable than Spam… all of which I try to avoid digging into unless it’s an emergency or special occasion….or just a really bad day that can be fixed at least a little bit by eating some melted chocolate. But anyways, having next to nothing edible in my house (not counting the treasure chest), is not that big of a deal. I’m a pretty good cook and can make up something edible with next to nothing besides onions and a can of tomato paste. Furthermore, I eat with neighbors and other villagers quite often, almost to the point that they expect me to show up every lunchtime or each evening at their house, and when I don’t (like when I eat at someone else’s house or opt to stay in my own house and make some good “American” food for myself), they get really concerned and possibly even offended that I only ate supper with them 4 out of the 7 nights this week… You see, the main issue with giving my food away is not that I’ll necessarily “go hungry” but more so that the things I gave away aren’t exactly plentiful and abundant (or cheap) in this area, and so to have a bunch of carrots is a luxury and indulgence (for both me and the villagers). In their eyes, I must be rich if I’m able to buy carrots and papayas. It’s not that I don’t want to “share” with them and give their lives a bit of “luxury,” but if I give them things too often, it sets up a standard that, one, I am rich, and two, that my job as a volunteer here is to give them things. Plus, the greater issue within this whole situation is that I’m greedy. I want to eat fresh carrots for lunch and tomato-cucumber salads for supper and bananas with peanut butter for breakfast. I know my normal diet in Burkina Faso is far better than most everyone else’s (it also costs more), but I want to avoid eating exactly like the Burkinabe whenever possible, even for the short time span of 3 days. However, now, for the next three days, I’m being reduced to lots of carbs (aka, to and slimy green sauce) and possibly toast with fake butter spread, if I can locate some bread in my village. I realize that this will not result in me becoming malnourished or deathly ill, but I don’t care. I want my carrots and other fresh produce. And unfortunately, it’s not a given that I will be able to get more carrots (or anything else) again the next marché. In fact, I’ve only ever seen carrots 2 times in my marché now. For all I know, I might not see another carrot until next year… or at least until I travel to Ouaga…or until the carrots in my garden are ready…provided they decided to grow at all…which, given the awful soil here, they probably won’t. So, sad day, I might not get to eat another carrot for quite some time, all because I gave them away…for what has turned out to be no reason at all… all due to the bus being full.

So. No bus. No internet. No food. And then….no cellphone. When calling a friend to rant and complain about all my problems, my phone battery died. I wisely have a spare battery…but apparently it was not fully charged anymore: it died within an hour. (**Turns out that the battery died right away because it was a fake – a bad battery. It doesn’t really hold a charge or recharge. I got scammed buying this extra battery. Dangit. Of course. Looks like I’ll have to search (and pay) for a new spare battery.)

To top matters off, it’s a dust storm here, and visibility is non-existent. It’s like a blizzard (but with dust, not pure-white-pretty-soft snow) and past 100 feet or so, I can’t see a thing, besides the reddish-brown-gray sheet of dust devouring everything. Some of my friends have decided to deem this event, “The Apocalypse.” Fair enough. The name certainly fits. The dust, plus the accompanying howling wind storm, has prevented even the slightest ray of sun to shine through, and thus the solar panels are not functioning today. Which means I can’t recharge my phone batteries, since there’s no sun to power the battery charger… Urgh. Can anything else go wrong? Let’s hope not…

Luckily, a few good things have come out of the dust storm. With no sun, it’s actually a decent temperature at present. In fact, I’m currently sporting a thin long-sleeved shirt over my dress. And because of this “cold” (in combination with the nasty dust storm), no one is venturing outside their huts or doing much of anything outside. It’s rather quiet, there aren’t bazillions of petites (children) playing outside my house using broken flip-flops in place of a soccer ball, and no one is brave enough to face the wind/dust and venture to my house “just to say, ‘Bonjour.’” There aren’t even any animals going crazy or making their odd animal shrieks. Thank god. Peace and quiet. What a rare, rare occurrence. Yes, everything inside my house may now be covered with an inch of dust (despite me closing all the windows and pulling the curtains shut), but that’s alright. I’ll find a bunch of children tomorrow to wipe up all the dust, and maybe even give them a piece of candy as a reward. But isn’t just being able to enter the American’s house reward enough? Sure it is…plus I have lots of weird stuff they can look at while they’re cleaning, like forks and spoons that I eat with, a water filter that magically gives me water to drink, and a bookshelf with books on it.

My day may be ruined, in spite of it only being the middle of the afternoon, but I’m going to make the most of what’s left and enjoy my peace and quiet. Perhaps I’ll finally finish my book on the history of salt (by flashlight, of course, since there’s no sun to naturally light up my house), and I’ll probably take a nap or two, since I can actually cuddle up in my bed with a blanket and not sweat to death. I should use this extra time to correct the stacks of tests lying on my floor, but I probably won’t. Maybe I’ll make something good to eat – come to think of it, I do have a package of whole wheat pasta that I have yet to touch in village. It does need to get eaten eventually. And I think today’s the day. Mhmm, good pasta topped with homemade onion-garlic-tomato paste spaghetti sauce. Sounds heavenly to me!

Homologue to the Rescue

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Adventures in Africa

2012-02-08 12:19:00

January 28, 2012

I just removed another semi-dead bat from my house. Well, I didn’t – my homologue did. Bon travaille (good work), homologue! I stood and watched…aka ducked and squirmed and squealed with fear every now and then when the bat flew directly towards my face. I’ve had bat problems here and there, but generally the bats who share my house with me aren’t a problem. Sure, I can hear them squeaking and rummaging around in the walls of my house, but they rarely leave the walls and fly madly around the inside of my house. I don’t like the idea of there being bats in my house, but as long as they don’t bother me, I can deal with it and we can live happily together. But tonight, this bat decided it wanted to bother me, and thus it got whacked with a broom until it dropped to the floor. I opened up the door as wide as it would go (which was not very wide…Africa is definitely not handicap accessible), in hopes that it would just fly out and leave my house by its own choice…but it didn’t. For some reason it kept flying circle after circle in my kitchen, rather than escaping into the outdoors. Stupid bat. If you woulda left like you were supposed to, my homologue wouldn’t have had to hit you. My homologue swung at it with my broom too many times to count within the 5-minute ordeal, but finally he made contact. It dropped directly on top of him, hitting his shoulder, and he kinda jumped back and made a little squeal in a low voice or some kind of noise displaying his fear/discomfort with the bat brushing against him. But he immediately picked it up and threw it outside, where, much to my disappointment, it flew away instantly, meaning that it wasn’t dead, and there was a good chance it would try to return to its home inside my house. Let’s hope not. But if I have any more problems, hopefully my homologue will conveniently be at my house again to take care of any bat (or rat) issues.

My homologue had stopped by early this evening around 5pm just to say “bonsoir” and see what I was up to. When he walked into my courtyard, I was actually in the middle of transplanting some trees: 3 papaya trees and 1 mango. (I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they live and actually grow and don’t get eaten/attacked by hungry goats, chickens, lizards, dogs, and/or children.) I was kneeling in the dirt, my hands covered in mud, packing dirt around one of the papaya trees, and when he saw this, his reaction was to laugh. I’m not sure why everything I do is funny to the Burkinabe. I mean, it’s not like I was even doing anything “oddly American” or weird. I was planting trees. Almost everyone here is a cultivateur (farmer) and plants stuff all the time. So why is a white girl digging a hole and putting a tree in the ground so hilarious? Or washing dishes? Or getting water from the well? These are all normal tasks that people do every day here…they shouldn’t find them amusing. But whatever. I finished planting the trees, washed off my hands, and chatted with my homologue. We talked a little bit about school, and then he saw my pink little scissors (the kind that have a blunt tip and Kindergartners have in their pencil box). He immediately asked if I had another, or, even better, one that was bigger. I said yes. He asked if he could borrow it – he wanted to cut open a tin can of tomato paste. This situation was amusing/odd to me for several reasons:

1. He didn’t have a scissors of his own at his house. (That’s right, most people – even functionaire type people with some money -- don’t own possessions that they don’t use on a regular, almost daily basis. Even simple things like scissors or hammers or tape, that we in America practically deem a necessity to always have on hand for easy access when situations arise that actually require the use of a hammer or tape…)

2. He wanted to cut open a tin can. (In Americaland, we use an invention called a can-opener for that.)

I questioned him on the ability to cut open the tin can with a dinky scissors, and he said it would work, making me think that he’s probably done this before. He explained that he wanted to cut open the can and unroll the metal so that his math class could visually see the surface area of a cylinder: top circle + bottom circle + the rectangle that forms the body of the cylinder. Good idea, especially considering there are essentially no teaching materials here. I still wasn’t convinced my scissors would be successful at his task, but I gave him the scissors anyways. I guess we’ll see what happens…

Trent catches people up on life...

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso My Adventures in Africa

2012-02-08 11:19:00

So it is February. I have been living live in Burkina now for 20 months!!! 7 months left to go.

This past weekend Emma and I got together on Sat and Sunday and painted a world AIDS day mural. It says Journee Mondiale de SIDA and has a red ribbon. We have to wait until the CSPS (local hospital) does an HIV/ AIDS training and then we will have them put hand prints on the wall as their commitment to fight HIV/AIDS. On a side note the HIV rate here is actually very low. It is a little low because it is under reported, but also we are just not that HIV positive of a country thanks to foreign trainings and stuff. Go Burkina. Now we just need to start also battling Malaria.

So have come to the realization that I sometimes think I don't have stuff to right about because my life is pretty boring. This thought then made me realize that I have been here entirely too long, because crazy things do happen here; I just don't realize they are crazy. The fact that not 10 minutes ago I heard something knocking over my spices in my kitchen and I go in there and lift up my stove and chase a mouse out of the kitchenette and I thought it was nothing, is not a good thing.

Today was a bizarre day though. Last night we had dust storm and I just thought we had some heavy winds. I get up and go about my day, but I did not see the sun once today. It was blocked out by the dust. That and it was about 20 degrees cooler than it had been on other days. I should have known that it was going to happen because the day before I had cleaned my kitchenette and scrubbed it clean and made sure it was dust free. So much for that...

I have 7 weeks until my Close of Service Conference and I am pumped up. Not only do I get to see all the people from my stage again, but I also get information about how to put Peace Corps on an application and get my resume looked at. I am excited about it. I will actually be able to start applying for jobs and stuff. I feel silly applying in April when I know I can't start until Sept., but o well.

I am trying to think of things that I might want to do here before I leave. I have a trip planned to go visit the southwest of the country finally. I am going a week before the COS trip. I will be visiting Jennifer in lovely Banfora. It should be fun. I am excited to see her house. I also think I might try to find where the people make the leather things in Kaya and try to see if I can figure out how they make some of the stuff. I can be a leather smith. I actually just think it would be cool to make something to bring back with me.

I have been researching cruises for my way home. Right now I am looking at a transatlantic cruise that leaves Hamburg, Germany and would put me back in New York on Aug 28. If Hamburg turns out to be to expensive (which it might be) then instead I will be leaving Southampton UK and will be arriving Aug 28th in New York. It looks like a fun cruise with Cunard Cruises. My fingers are crossed that it will work out and I will be able to cruise back to Americaland relaxed and with a few extra lbs.

That is all for now, QUESTIONS<<< COMMENTS?
Trent

…drifting

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-08 08:59:12

08 Fevrier 2012 FN: 7 …drifting… …and so it comes to this. Stage is over, swear-in is finished, the first 6 weeks of being at site[1] are out of the way…now what? This is one of those entirely predictable[2] stages in a PCV’s service when things (read: the volunteer’s sanity) start to break down. It […]

Fishing & Hiking

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso 7736 KILOMETERS

2012-02-08 08:11:00

A few weeks ago, I took a nice trip away from my busy city life into “the brousse” (AKA the middle of no where) to visit another volunteer’s site. Despite its close proximity to me, it took a whopping 11 hours to cover the 90 kilometer distance. The road is bad… to put it nicely. But on the other side of the 11 hour trip was the gorgeous Burkina landscape.

Most of the weekend was spent relaxing and taking in the beautiful scenery. With a backdrop like something out of ‘The Lion King’ how could you not enjoy it? The two highlights of the trip included me fishing and a trip out to one of Burkina’s lesser known tourist attractions.

I have to say, if I was a Burkinabe man, I would choose fishing as my occupation. The one hour I spent out on the lake collecting the fish was a most serene and peaceful experience. I’m saying this because I wasn’t the one who had to spend the energy paddling me across the lake and scooping buckets of water out of the boat. I’m sure his job was less relaxing than mine.

The fishing experience started with the fisherman taking me to his boat, which looked like something a boy scout would’ve made, and was half drowning before I even got in it. Anyway, then we headed out into the middle of the lake where he set up large nets spanning the distance of the lake. We (and by we, I mean he) would pull the boat by the net, and at the same time, lifting the nets out of the water to see if any fish were caught in them. There were four nets, which were set up in a square around the lake. In only an hour’s time, we caught 6 pretty big fish! Then, afterwards, the fisherman, thanking me for all of my ‘help’ gave me 4 of the fish for free! Needless to say, after de-scaling them and gutting them, they were delicious!

The next day after fishing, we biked out to a small village at the base of cliffs. In the 60’s in these cliffs, the people used to live in small mud huts, some of which are still there today.

This is a picture of the inside of the king’s house. There are two “rooms”, which housed a total of 8 people!

Dust storms are annoying

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-06 15:47:00

I came in to Ouaga today to run some errands and do some printing at the bureau. When traveling, I like to leave site really early - around 6:30am - so that when I bike the 20 km to the gadronne (paved road) there's no wind and it's not yet that hot.

When I woke up this morning, though, I looked outside to find a GIANT dust storm in progress. There was a ton of wind and the dust was covering the sky. The sky was a grey-ish color from all the dust. I decided to leave a little early, and it's good I did, because it took me almost twice as long to bike to the gadronne with all the wind.

I caught a bush taxi on the gadronne headed towards Ouaga. The visibility on the road was TERRIBLE - at some points you could only see maybe 100 yards ahead. When we finally arrived in Ouaga I stood out to wait for a taxi driver I had called and started shivering - I was so cold with the wind. The taxi driver actually made fun of me when he arrived - he didn't think it was that cold.

I had made plans to meet up with Puja, another volunteer, and grab lunch. I got a phone call from her around 8 am - there were bandits on the road between her and Ouaga.

Bandits, or coupeurs de route, are usually found on the road between Fada and Diapaga in the far east. There are forests out there, so the coupeurs can hide in the forests, and then when a car or bus passes they jump out, stop the car, and rob the passengers. But, because the visibility was so bad, there were coupeurs on the road right outside of Ouaga!

Luckily, Puja was able to make it in okay. All the bush taxis ended up waiting until a car coming in the opposite direction said that the bandits had gone.

February is known here as the months of cold and wind - it's nice not to be sweating but all the dust is pretty gross. The end of the month will be a little bittersweet because coming up is hot season!

A marriage in Listenga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-07 15:15:00

Yesterday the chief came to see me. “Today there is amarriage in Listenga (a neighboring village). I’m going now to pray, and thenlater you will go with Mata to eat.”

A few clarifications – the tradition here is that when twopeople marry, the women leaves her village and goes to live with her husband’sfamily. So, family courtyards are usually made up of all male relatives andtheir wives. This is also how all the men in my village have the same last name– Sinare. There are villages where all the men are Sawadogos, Ouedraogoes,Tapsobas … etc. To ask where someone is from in Moore, you ask wheretheir dad’s house is.

Also, Mata is one of the chief’s daughters. She’s probablyabout 12 and is in CP2 – the last grade in primary school. She speaks prettygood French and does some household chores for me. She sweeps my courtyardoccasionally and goes to the pump to get water for me. If she sees me washingdishes she demands that I stop and that she wash them. I offered to pay her butthe chief told me no.

So, around 16:00 we set off to Listenga, not too far away. “Whatare we going to do when we get there?” I asked Mata.

“We will greet the wife, then eat, then come back anddance.” SO EXCITING!

We arrived in Listenga and I went and sat with all the women(the men were separate from us the whole time). Eventually someone came withzoom-koom and we passed around bowls of it to drink. After maybe 30 minutes wegot up and walked to a different courtyard where we sat and waited. And waited.And waited.

At first all the women were exciting and chatting – it was ahappy occasion and we were going to be fed rice and meat! But once the sun setand the moon came out, we started to get hungry and tired and cold. All thewomen started laying down and trying to sleep. Eventually, one woman told me“Go and get us rice!”

Uhh, no.

“Mata, go get us rice,” she said.

Mata just looked at her.

“Hey, YOU go get us rice.” I said to the woman. So, she gotup and soon came back with rice!

“Serve the nasarra,” she told a girl. But, I saw that no oneelse was being served. “No, I’m going to eat with you,” I told them. The womentook the two GIANT bowls of rice and started splitting it into smaller bowls.That’s when I realized we were eating family style – groups of people gatheredaround bowls, eating with their hands. The health volunteer in me wanted to say,“but aren’t we going to wash our hands with soap and running water beforeeating?” but my stomach vetoed that decision. Luckily, a woman came around with a bouilloire (plastic kettle) and we all washed and thendug in. I shared a bowl with four other women. After the rice, we ate chicken.They gave me my own plate of meat, but I ended up giving some of it awaybecause they gave me the head (considered a good part) and also some organs. Noone could understand why I didn’t want all of the meat and kept trying to forceme to eat it. After we were all done and full, we waited for the men to finishand then walked back to the first courtyard.

Some women left but Mata pulled me into a courtyard with abunch of other women. They brought out another giant bowl of rice. “We’re eatingAGAIN?” Then the women all pulled out bowls and dishes (from where? Under theirdresses? Where were they hiding these dishes the whole time?). And they dividedup the rice to take home. Finally, Mata and I headed home – cold, full, andsleepy.

There was a large group of people leaving at once – mostlywomen and teenagers. Of course, the people in the front didn’t know the way,which led to a lot of stop and go traffic, and a lot of zig zagging acrosspaths and people almost crashing into each other. The whole time I was tryingto keep my eye on Mata because I certainly didn’t know the way home. I feltlike I was in a video game, constantly trying to make sure Icould see Mata but also avoiding collisions with other bikers. We finally arrivedhome and I immediately collapsed into bed. I think there was supposed to bedancing but I don’t know if it actually happened and I was too tired to care.

New house repairs

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-21 12:50:00

When I decided to move houses, Justin from the Peace Corpsbureau came to look at the new house. He made a list of repairs that needed tobe done (build a shower and latrine, recement and paint the inside walls, putscreens on the windows … etc) and then sent money to complete them. The repairstook FOREVER so eventually I just picked a date and told everyone I was movingthen.

When Dr. Claude came earlier in the month she noted therepairs that needed to be finished.

1. I had no door handle on the outside door. I just put apadlock on the outside and locked it like that, but apparently me not beingable to lock myself in my house at night is a BIG DEAL and Dr. Claude wasinsistent that a door handle get installed ASAP.

2. The latrine and shower floors were cemented, but not thewalls. During rainy season, the bricks would crumble and fall if a layer ofcement wasn’t put over them.

3. There was a gap between my screen door and the doorframe, so mosquitos and bugs could enter even when the door was closed.

Slowly but surely, these repairs have been getting done, andit’s quite to adventure to watch. The other day, the soudeur (welder) came. He brought his … blowtorch? which was hookedup to two giant gas tanks.

The chief, Zongo, and the welder stood around thedoor for EVER trying to install the door handle and then fix it when itwouldn’t close properly. They didn’t really have a plan of action; they justkept trying whatever ideas popped into their heads, which made the problem alot worse. They worked on the door from the morning until the evening, finallytaking out part of the metal door frame and putting a new one in.

At the end ofthe day, I had a door handle, but also a giant hole in my wall (I am assuredthat it will be fixed … eventually).

At the same time, Souly, the mason, went about cementing myshower and latrine. It looked like a lot of work but he got it done.

Souly working on the latrine while talking

on his phone and smoking.

This morning, the chief came to see me. He said he needed topour water on the newly cemented parts so that they wouldn’t crumble. He justkind of splashed water all around and then was done.

All that’s left to do is to fix my screen door. I’m not thatconcerned about it, but screens are a National Peace Corps policy so it’simportant to get it fixed. It’s been a really hilarious thing to watch (allthese men gathered in my courtyard arguing over home repairs) but I’ve learneda lot of new, very specific French vocab words in the process!

The African Cup of Nations brings TVs to village!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-22 14:53:00

Yesterday, I was working on my AIDS mural at the marche whena boy came up to me. “The chief says to go see him. He’s over there.” As Iwalked toward the hangar, I was trying to think what he could want to talk tome about all the way on the other side of the marche. Maybe he didn’t like mymural? After all, I didn’t ask his permission to paint it. Shit.

When I got there, though, I was pleasantly surprised … by aTV! You have to understand, my village is very … not developed. We have solarpanels to power lights at the CSPS and that is the extent of the technologyhere. But, someone had bought a TV, satellite dish, and generator! A group ofmen were huddled around it watching. I’m not sure if there is Burkinabetelevision programming, but all I’ve ever seen here is French TV, which is whatthey were watching. They were SO excited!!

Later that evening, I went to the boutique to pick upsupplies. I noticed a new hangar that was built and one of the kids told me togo inside. ANOTHER TV! They had a generator and satellite dish also. There werea TON of men there and they were trying to figure out how to change thechannel. I showed them how and soon became a local hero. “You’re not going tostay and watch soccer?”

“No, I’m tired, I’m going home.”

Once I got home, Mamounata, one of the women who works atthe boutique, called me.

“Emily, are you coming back to watch soccer?”

“No, I’m at home, I’m not coming.”

Then, a few minutes later, Zongo called. He was in Ouagavisiting his family.

“Emily, are you watching the soccer game?”

“No, I’m at home.”

“You should go to the boutique to watch the soccer game!”

So finally I figured out that yesterday was the start of theAfrican Cup of Nations – a big soccer tournament. It’s a little intense to buya TV just for that, but I’m sure it served as an incentive. Everyone was SOexcited and SO confused that I didn’t want to watch. How do I explain that inAmerica most people have TVs so it’s not much of a novelty and I don’t reallywant to watch soccer anyway? Maybe I’ll watch next time.

Watching football (soccer) in village

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-28 14:54:00

I finally gave in and decided to go to the boutique andwatch a soccer game. Last night was Burkina vs. Ivory Coast. Everyone prettymuch assumed that Ivory Coast would win – they’re one of the favorite, andBurkina’s team is not too great. I went with a few girls from my courtyard. TheTV is set up in a straw hut, and everyone sits on wooden benches and the floor.I, of course, got a special seat up front (being the nasarra and all). Theycharge 100 CFA per person – not bad considering that the hut was PACKED!

The game was actually pretty exciting! Burkina wasdefinitely out-played, but they put up a good fight. Ivory Coast scored onegoal against Burkina. The final score was 2-0, Ivory Coast, because at onepoint a Burkina player accidently head butted the ball into his own goal!

Everyone was shouting things at the TV – it was hilarious tolisten. It was all in Moore but I caught a lot of it. One guy behind me keptyelling “The Burkina team is sleeping!”

It was a fun experience but I’m not sure that I’ll go backand watch again – maybe for the final? After all, the match ended around 9PM,past my bedtime.

A meeting with the village elders

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-01 14:58:00

I was taking a nap when a kid came to my door and called out“Bonsoir!” The kids in my courtyard love to come and saluate me and speakFrench, so I just called out “Bonsoir” from my bed. But this kid kept at it,yelling “Bonsoir! Bonsoir! Bonsoir!” Finally, I rolled out of bed and went tothe door. “The chief says to come see him in the marche.”

Oh oh, what did I do wrong? I could think of no possiblereason that the chief would want to speak to me in the marche. I live with him,he should be able to just come and talk to me about anything, right?

As I rode to the marche I saw a group of about 10 old menthere. Shit, I did something to piss off the village elders. Maybe they’regoing to yell at me for not working hard enough? Maybe they don’t think I’m agood volunteer? I was SO nervous.

They brought out a bench for me, and the men spoke in Moorewhile one translated.

“This is the population of the village. They have beendiscussing the development needs of thecommunity and want to see if you can help.”

Ok, so I’m not being yelled at! But, Dr. Claude JUST came totell the community that I’m not here just to give money.

“They know that you don’t have a lot of money, but since youhave connections to NGOs in Burkina, maybe you can find some help.”

Awesome! So, what are the development needs?

1. The barrage dries up every year and there’s not very muchwater for the gardens there.

2. The school is very crowded. There are about 180 studentsin all 6 grades, but only 3 classrooms, so each room has two classes with oneteacher. Also, there are more students who want to enroll but there is no room.Another building would help accommodate the students.

3. The CSPS building is really bad. During the rainy season,rain leaks through the roof.

I told the men that I would see what I could do.

As far as#1 goes – I’m not sure anything can be done. The barrage is part of a riverthat the women use for gardening. I don’t think there’s any way to add morewater.

For #2 – I don’t think I can physically build anotherschool. And I’m not sure that there are NGOs that will do that – but I cancheck.

And #3 – The CSPS building is definitely falling apart. Ithink I might look into grant information through the Peace Corps.

So, not the most … doable needs. But, it’s something to goon. And I’m SO happy they thought to meet with me!

New stagaires at the CSPS

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-02 15:01:00

My CSPS just got two stagaires (trainees)! Two young women(I think they’re around my age) arrived two days ago. They are in training tobecome nurses and will spend 2 months at the CSPS – learning how everythingworks and practicing all their skills (writing prescriptions, giving shots, accouchements… etc). So far they’ve been really nice and a great addition to the staff –it’s nice to have more people around, since it can get a little … boring withjust 3 of us. And the extra hands are awesome. They’re really outgoing and alsocurious about my role. Not to sound … rude, but I think they didn’t expectthere to anyone else at the CSPS and they are excited to be friends with awhite girl. They ask me a lot of questions (do I get vacations? Do I eatbread?) and like to chat in general. It will be really nice to have them aroundfor a while.

Painting an AIDS mural in village

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-20 12:46:00

This morning, I headed to the marche to work on my AIDSmural. It’s almost done – today I finished the pictures and outlined theribbon. All that’s left is some touch-up and to write some sort of general AIDSmessage at the top. I find painting really relaxing so the work wasn’t thatbad. I did work in the sun all day (the side of the building on which I’mpainting the mural is never in the shade) so it made me very tired.

When I was working on the mural, a group of about 6 womencame up and asked me what I was doing. I explained in my broken Moore what themural was about – that each picture on the bottom represented a mode oftransmission for HIV/AIDS and how to prevent it. They seemed to understand!Then they saw the boite d’images (picture board) I had brought with me and asked to see thepictures. So, I showed them all the pictures in it and explained each one(again, in broken Moore). The pictures encompassed a huge range of subjects.There were drawings and diagrams of the male and female reproductive organs, adiagram of what happens during sex, how to put on a male and female condom, thedifferent modes of transmission of HIV/AIDS, and how to avoid getting HIV/AIDS.At first I showed them the tamer ones, but they said NOOO – they wanted to seeALL the images.

It was so interesting to hear their reactions to thedifferent images! They all thought it was weird that the baby was upside downin the woman’s stomach, and in the image of the woman giving birth the baby’shead is SO big! One of the women said “The baby’s bigger than the woman.”During the image that showed sex the women giggled and were really shy. “Do youknow this?” I asked them. They all looked at each other before one woman said“no.”

“No? How many kids do you have?”

“One.”

“Ooooh, you know this!!”

Then they asked me, “Do you know this?”

“No."

“No? How many kids do you have?”

“None.”

“What about your husband? Where is he?”

“I don’t have a husband.”

“Oh, well then we will search one for you here so you willknow this.”

They were so cute and such good sports about listening to meand looking at the pictures. They listened really well when I tried to explainwhat a condom was, though I’m not sure they completely understood it. Then Iexplained about the three modes of transmission (a positive pregnant woman toher baby, blood contact, and sexual fluids). I HOPE they understood it, they seemed to.One woman even said she would come to the CSPS to buy condoms. Afterwards Iasked if they had any questions and they said no.

After the women left I continued painting for a bit, but wasinterrupted by a group of about 10 men. “What are you doing?” they asked. So, Iwent through the three images again, explaining the modes of transmission I hadillustrated. “We want to see your boite d’images!”

This time Ousseni was present, which was a huge help.Ousseni is the oldest (I think) son of the village vieux (the respected elder).He sells and repairs cell phones at the marche and his shop is right next to mymural. He lets me borrow his bench to stand on since I can’t reach the top ofthe mural myself. He speaks French and also teaches Burkinabe who speak Moorebut are illiterate how to read and write in Moore. So, I said everything inFrench and he translated for me. He’s a pretty devout Muslim and I think was alittle uncomfortable during parts, but he stuck through it and was a HUGE help.

The men knew what a condom was, which was awesome. Theyspent a lot of time staring at the diagrams of the reproductive organs, bothmale and female, I think trying to figure out how they were placed in real life.

When they saw the woman with the baby in her belly, one ofthem said “He only has one ear because the mother didn’t go to the maternityfor a pre-natal consultation.” (The baby was facing sideways – I think the manwas joking) They also kept trying to get me to say “penis.” (just a bitimmature in my opinion.) One of them kept pointing to the drawing of a manputting on a condom and saying “What is this?” I just told them I didn’t knowthe French word.

At the end of the boite there are pictures of “peereducators” talking with the community. “This is you,” I said. “Now you will gotell everyone about HIV/AIDS!”

All we are is dust in the wind…and the air…and your clothes…and your house…and…

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-07 08:32:12

07 Février 2012 FN: 6 All we are is dust in the wind…and the air…and your clothes…and your house…and… Yesterday, we got our first dust storm of the season. Actually, “dust storm” is a little bit too…active…of a description, since it implies action and noise. Since the dust doesn’t actually do anything except hang there […]

My Little Petit

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Life is an Adventure

2012-02-06 18:37:00

Sometimes the kids drive me so crazy. A couple days ago I would have murdered one if it wasn't for Mawa. She yelled at the gaggle of boys to stop harassing me then sent her stepdaughter (what do you call your co-wife's children? I'll have to look into this...) to chase after them. I think I'm in love my neighbors.

I used to think hitting kids in school was bad but not so much anymore. After you see what these little shits are capable of, you might agree too. Really though, students shouldn't be hit for not knowing answers to questions. They should be hit when they sit on your porch for hours demanding things and generally not respecting their elders, especially the crazy tubabu muso (Jula for western lady) who could snap at any second.

Alas, I made peace with them today, and after we all washed my bike and swept the yard, we played with some little plastic trucks and random McDonald's toys. They loved it, and I loved getting all my yard work done in 5 minutes. Sigh, I will truly miss child labor when I leave here. I can picture it now:

James: What do you want for dinner?
Me: How about tuna pasta?
James: We're out of pasta.
Me: Send a petit to go get it. Oh wait...

Here are today's petits:

No joy in Mudville

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-06 11:47:45

06 Février 2012 FN: 5 No joy in Mudville Well, damn. It was a good game and a good effort, but the Patriots lost. I’m little sad about that, but I’m all but despondent about the fact that we lost to effing Eli Manning. Again. He’s better now than he was in 07-08 – hell, […]

Camp GLOW

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso GrasRoots

2012-02-05 19:36:51

Living here in Burkina, I have grown to understand the power of “brainwashing”. Since coming to this culture which is so new to me, I have realized how much I have been conditioned by the messages and behaviors of society in America. For example, it is nothing here for someone to throw a used plastic [...]

The Next Big Thing

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Casey en Afrique: The writings of a white stranger

2012-02-05 14:29:00

It isn't a secret that I have a type-A personality when it comes to work. I've had to curb that itch (as much as humanly possible) while on this journey we call Peace Corps Burkina Faso. But, if I am completely honest I must admit that I can never and will never shake it. I am not sure that I have ever wanted to change my work ethic except in Burkina as a method of preserving my mental health (it is a necessary tactic when the pace of life is close to molasses).

As responses from graduate school applications begin to roll in I can feel the familiar push. My Close of Service Conference is nearing, which means the inevitable plane ride to an as-of-yet unknown destination. What will be my next big thing?

I can't help running the scenarios through my head. What if I attend this program or that one? What if I apply to this summer Arabic program or that one? (We're talking Summer 2013.) I know... I have a problem. My name is Casey D. Hall and I am a relapsing workaholic.

I can keep an endless series of simultaneous task lists set for different time frames ranging from the next three hours to the next 20 years. Maybe I took all the talk about time management too close to heart when I was working for my university. Does obsession with tasks and planning qualify as a desirable trait for employment?

The renewed fixation has translated into immediate disappointment. I made a list yesterday of the tasks I wanted to get done: talk to the primary school director about the AIDS mural, talk to the head nurse about a variety of projects that are on the table and talk to the acting president of the theater troupe. I jumped on my bike and headed to the school. The director wasn't there and was in fact out of town. I brushed it off and biked to the clinic. The head nurse also had left. Lastly, I biked to the theater president's favorite spots. He apparently went away as well.

I can't remember a single day in the U.S. when I failed to complete the vast majority of tasks on my list (unless it was one of those rare snow days in Washington State when everyone doesn't have any clue how to drive in the snow).

Burkina has a life pace and subsequently a work pace that is closer akin to the saunter of a camel than the trot of a horse. It makes total sense considering the climate and resources available. Camels don't book it across the Sahara for a reason.

So, the Faso puts my personality to the test especially considering the coming transition. My mind is racing, the calendar is steadily marching and Burkina is sauntering. How do I integrate the layers of my personal space-time continuum without rupturing it?

Obviously I am joking, but I am definitely feeling a collision of worlds approaching. Somehow I will be coming out the other end as a repatriated RPCV graduate student. New labels for a new life, right?

So Mr. Hall, what is your next big thing? Well, grad school of course. I don't have the details, but I can tell you I will have them soon. I'll send you a memo of my transitional to-do list as soon as the news breaks.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

2 months and counting

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Amy en Afrique

2012-02-05 09:49:00

Well, I've been at my site for almost 2 months now, and the integration is coming slowly but surely. Its been a huge improvement having my own house and complete control over the food I eat and my daily schedule. Living with a host family during training meant that I gave a lot of those freedoms up, and that was very draining for me. I didn't realize how much I appreciate those personal freedoms until I was put into a situation where I had to eat food I didn't want to eat, wake up when I didnt want to be awake, and speak French when I didn't feel like it. The French is still an everyday struggle, but I love most other things about living at my site. My house is big and comfortable, and now includes my new puppy, named simba, as well. The people of my town are very welcoming and kind- constantly inviting me over for meals or just to watch tv at their house (this is a very kind offer where television access is very limited!). I'm slowly getting to know my community and evaluating their needs, which is my jo for the first 3 months here. I'm missing everyone back home a lot, and some days are harder than others, but overall things are going well. I'm hoping with this new iPhone I just received in a care package (thanks mom!) I can stay more connected to people back home, since I'll have consistent access to the Internet! I hope all is well with everyone in the states, and I always appreciate any updates I receive!

Transport

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Gidget Goes to Burkina

2012-02-04 15:37:04

Okay, I’m currently in Ouaga for a GAD meeting (Gender and Development volunteer committee, of which I am now Co-Chair/VP), and I’ve got a computer and basic Internet connection, so I’m going to try to throw a blog up. … Continue reading →

A long weekend

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-04 13:24:23

4 Février 2012 FN: 5 A long weekend So we’re still stuck in Ouaga – we’ll be here until at least Wednesday – but at least we have a novel experience coming: a three-day weekend. Sunday is the Muslim holiday of Mawlid, the observance of Muhammad’s birthday, and since Africans are loathe to let a […]

Village of Painted Houses

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Jan Larsen's Peace Corps Adventure

2012-02-04 10:22:00

If you want to know the names of those mystery birds in the last blog, check it out again. I received lots of suggestions and I think they are now all properly labeled.

Tiebele

One of the tourist sites I was able to visit while I was traveling with my friend from John Carroll, Elizabeth Swenson, was a village that is famous for the way folks there paint their houses. Everywhere else in the country traditional houses are made of mud brick, like this one that is currently under construction in my village.

After it is finished, the people will cover the walls with clay to form a protective coating so the mud does not wash away in the rainy season, so it looks like this.

Sometimes people mix concrete with the mud and for concrete blocks, like this.

Either kind of construction can then be covered with mud and concrete mixed together for a longer lasting covering. In either case, the walls as usually left the color of the material with which it was constructed. What makes Tiebele different is the designs the women paint on the houses. The place that is the official tourist site is the compound of the village chief. I have no idea how many people live here, but I would guess over 100. Here is the entry to the compound.

When you walk through the compound you can see that there really are people who live here and it is not just to show to tourists. Actually there are probably not enough tourists who find their way to this town to keep up a place just for show.

Many of the houses are round, like these.

This is the one house that is set up to show tourists. This low rounded door is a defensive measure. Through it you can see another low wall. To get into the house you have to duck down crawl in. Then you have to crawl over the little wall. That would make it hard to surprise people in the house. Someone would be able to club you on the head before you could get in and do any damage to the residents.

In the house we were allowed to visit there were three round rooms. In this one you could cook in the rainy season or when the wind was too strong to cook outside. The gourds hanging on the wall above the place to build a fire would act as cups and bowls to eat out of.

The doors to get from room to room were similar to the one to enter the house, except there was not the extra barrier to crawl over.

Here is the door to another round house. Notice the column by the door with the white stuff on top. That is a fetish, a place where people can make sacrifices if they are asking the powers in the traditional religion to do something, like make it rain, or assure the harvest is good.

No all the houses are round, as you can see in this picture. Notice the snake made of clay that is part of the decoration on the one straight ahead here.

One of the women was making local beer from sorghum. The beer in my village is yellow, but this beer would be red, because of the kind of grain that was used to make it.

The decoration of the walls is a job for the women. They use the feathers of the pentards to do the painting.

All of the designs have some meaning, which our guide explained to us. Some stand for particular animals, and he told us that the mark that looks a bit like a wagon wheel is a beauty mark that you might find as a scar on the cheek of a village woman. Traditionally people here cut babies faces with particular scar patterns which helped identify the ethnic group to which a person belonged. For example, if I see a man with three small lines by his eyes, as with my friend Prosper, I know that that man is a Mossi and will understand Moore.

As our guide said, facial scaring was a kind of identity card in the traditional culture. This kind of scarification is not practiced as much these days as it was in the past. You do sometimes see marks on babies’ faces, but usually it is a simply X on a cheek. A Peace Corps volunteer friend told me that many people believe that if the baby is flawless, the spirits may want the baby and it will die. Putting a scar on the face assures that the baby has a flaw and that may protect it.

Village Voices

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Casey en Afrique: The writings of a white stranger

2012-02-04 09:51:00

Wednesday was my last meeting in village with my immediate supervisor. It was just a gathering of representatives of the village to discuss past and future projects. It went fairly well, although one village committee felt like they were out of the loop when it came to updates on my projects. It was a little frustrating for me to hear, since I had been inviting them to every meeting before but gave up after 6 cancellations.

At any rate, I would be happy to work with them in my last 6 months if they are good for their word. My clinic listed off all of my projects and we tried to discuss sustainability of projects and how to make sure that projects would continue after I leave. I am the last volunteer in my village, so it is a very important subject.

What I have slated for the last few months so far is: an HIV and AIDS mural, HIV workshops, nutrition workshops, the Hearth Model, a Family Planning theater presentation, world map murals, tree planting and a mosquito net campaign. I think that will be more than enough and likely is too much. I could get a lot more done on my own. Since my work is by definition community work I am at the mercy of community schedules.

I mean, anything we get done will be an improvement. So we will see.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

Only in Burkina Faso, Part 2

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Ca Va Aller

2012-02-04 09:59:00

I know a little late, but Happy Holidays! I hope that you enjoyed the season and got to celebrate with people you love. The holidays here in Burkina were exciting this year. For Christmas, I went with a few other volunteers to an elephant park. We went out on one ride through the park and saw just about all the types of animals that are here in Burkina (no, there are no lions here, no there are no giraffes). That included lots of elephants and a few different sorts of antelope-type animals. On our way out of the park, we saw a baby elephant in a group of adult female elephants. He was encircled by the herd as he played in the mud. At one point, one of the adult elephants actually sat on him. We were a little worried as he struggled, but apparently they were just playing. After a little bit, one of the elephants noticed us, slowly walked away from the group, trumpted to warn us, and then charged towards our car. I mean, what would you do if a bunch of people were watching your kid play? (Pictures coming soon – they charged per camera, so we shared a camera and I still need to get the pictures.)

I celebrated New Year’s back in village. The day before New Year’s Eve, I went into my district capital for a traditional Bissa New Year’s celebration at the chief’s house. There were TONS of people there – crowd certainly wasn’t as big as Inauguration Weekend in DC, but I’d say my fear of being trampled was equal. They were doing crowd control on horseback. And by they, I don’t mean a police officer trained in crowd control or even horse back riding. I mean a few random guys in the chief’s family. To get people to move back, they charge towards them on the horse. It gets people to move, but is also causes people in the back to randomly start getting pushed back by everyone in front of them. I went with a cousin of the director of the school in my village, and I clung to her for dear life. The ceremony was pretty basic – the chief came out, walked down the aisle of tons of people, and sat down to make the sacrifice. I was expecting a chicken or goat, but all I could see him put down were a few feathers, some dolo (local millet beer), and a few other random trinkets. Not like I really would have watched a goat or chicken be sacrificed anyways. Then, men played the drums for the chief and women danced. I tried to ask my friend the significance of the ceremony, but I really couldn’t get more out of her than the basics – health and luck in the new year. The next day, I went back to village for the real New Years. I made a village version of Pad Thai for my family and then we went to see a concert. So I thought that celebrating at midnight was a universal thing. But apparently it’s not. I was counting down, watching my phone. But when it turned midnight, no one seemed to notice. It took about five minutes for people to start realizing midnight had passed and slowly, people started cheering and celebrating in their own way. Time is not as fixed of a concept here as it is in the States. Sometimes for a meeting or activity, a sufficient meeting time to set is simply morning.

So I usually think I’ve gotten used to most aspects of life here that seemed bizarre at first. Chasing a chicken out of the maternity ward or my house, cramming onto bush taxis, the market. But there are still those moments where all I can say is “What now?” The other day, there was someone that was referred to the district hospital in Zabré from our health clinic. They had called the ambulance to get him. My brother, the pharmacist, who also raises and sells livestock, had some turkeys he needed to get to Zabré. So he asked the head nurse if he could take advantage of the opportunity and put them on the ambulance too. And yes, he sent his turkeys to sell at the market in Zabré with the ambulance. How many health codes would that break in the States? The next day, I had just arrived home from the market when my mom pointed towards the path leading to our house – there were two camels. Now I don’t live in the desert, but the northern part of the country is the desert. There were two men ridding the camels. They had

left the north and were riding around the country begging essentially. They go house to house asking for money or millet. Camels are surprisingly tall. They are also quite loud, particularly when someone tries to mount them. Only in Burkina Faso.

Benin and Togo part 5: A last jaunt through the Tatas

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Casey en Afrique: The writings of a white stranger

2012-02-04 09:07:00

For our last jaunt we went up to Natti, a town where there is a house for Peace Corps volunteers. We stayed there and enjoyed the company of the local volunteers before jumping in yet another cramped car to head toward the Tatas.

The car traversed the beautiful hills of Benin. Down through a town that was a series of mini-fortresses made from mud (the Tatas). We wound up in a larger town to discover we had already passed the town that we wanted to visit. With some patience and an odd French man we found a taxi-motorcycles that drove us across the border into Togo and through another series of Tatas.

The Tatas themselves resemble the courtyards that we live in here in Burkina. However, the buildings are in closer proximity and the walls were 2 to 3 times taller. They were clearly meant to protect whoever lived inside. I kept saying that when I get back to village I would build a majestic Tata of my own. I am not sure what my village would think of that.

The trip took us to a town in the top third of Togo. We were planning on staying, but the police station couldn't help us with our Visas (I was the only one that had a multi-country Visa). So, we ventured northward. It was rough getting a car for a reasonable price until one that was passing by stopped and gave us a good price. We couldn't take that car because we were still waiting for our friends to get back from visiting the police station.

Once we got into a car we discovered that the road was terrible. It was less than a single lane and falling apart. Huge semi-trucks would be coming toward us head-on and our tiny car would be forced to off-road for a bit. At some point we passed the car that had originally given us a good price completely totaled on the side of the road. It was not a fun ride.

We stayed in a town that I think is called Dapaong. Unfortunately, we didn't do any of the sight-seeing in Togo that we had planned aside from the Tatas. The town we stayed in was cute and compact. We were next to the marche and sampled some of their local cheese. People in Togo seemed markedly less nice than our Burkinabe brethren, but after all we were on the final stretch of our journey.

The next morning we took a taxi to the border town and walked across the border without any problems. On the other side we met some Lutheran missionary students. It was funny to see the looks on their faces when I told them we were there for the voodoo festival.

On the Burkina side of the border we immediately felt at home. The people on the car back to Ouaga were very nice. We were able to talk in local languages. All was right in the world again.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

Benin Part 4: Spirits and Temples

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Casey en Afrique: The writings of a white stranger

2012-02-04 08:40:00

We made our way northward and escaped the humidity of the coast. Abomey is a smaller town in the heart of the voodoo regions in Benin. Our hotel had the air of a jungle filled with wooden depictions of spirits with enormous phalluses. There was a live monkey at the entrance, crocodiles near our room and some sort of striped miniature dear by the restaurant. The dear licked my hand when I gave it salt. I stopped her when she started biting.

We decided to take a late-afternoon stroll from temple to temple. Each household had a temple to communicate with their particular spirits. Each temple had its own legba which is a lesser guardian spirit depicted by a mound of dirt. The only discernible human characteristic was of course a massive phallus protruding from the mound.

The temples looked remarkably modern to me, since the were build from cement and painted in acrylics. However, that makes sense since most architecture in the are is made of mud brick and any temple must have been rebuilt periodically over the years. We saw the courtyard of the previous king and some of the larger temples.

The largest temple was white and sprawled across a large field. One passerby suggested we throw money in it to please the spirits (a suggestion I assume was only so he could retrieve the money). When my friends walked closer and closer to throw American coins in the voodoo believers around us looked increasing nervous. I guess that if you touch the temple as a non-believer you will be cursed and forced to ask the spirits for forgiveness through an elaborate ceremony. When the coins were tossed the man ran for the temple but was grabbed by another man and immediately scalded.

It just so happens that we arrived in Abomey the night of a specific spirit's festival. On top of that, they had decided to film this particular night for posterity. The festival was one of the nights where spirits possessed the bodies of living representatives from their lineages. When we arrived a field was surrounded by a crowd of people. In the center was a sort of parade of people in elaborate brightly colored costumes. They were grass skirts, crowns, wings and sea shells (think carnival but on a smaller scale). We were told to cross the terrain barefoot with our heads bowed and we took a seat on the other side.

It was dark out, but there were lights to aid the camera at capturing the ceremony. We were the only foreigners in a sea of locals. The audience was peppered with old women sitting at tables with their faces illuminated by a single candle before them. The people in costumes began dancing to the shifting rhythm of the drum. They took turns gyrating, flipping, shaking, flailing, and seizing. Sometimes groups approached and danced intricately in a dazed haunting unison.

Some spirits were more mischievous than others. One approached the crowd smacking them with a wooden representation of a phallus and humping young men. Our guide explained that he taught the young men about sex. The same spirit smacked/humped my friend in the face, which was evidently a solicitation for money. When the spirit received less than he desired he smacked my other friend in the face with the phallus and continued on his way. The audience chanted out at the spirits and others responded with other chants in unison.

We stayed there until about midnight watching the spirits take possession of people in the dark until the last parade broke into chasing people through the night. The screaming crowd dispersed and we snuck out on a small trail back to our hotel.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

How does one make liquid soap?!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-03 19:34:00

I can honestly say that I have never thought about how liquid soap is made. I simply go to the store, buy, use it, then repeat the cycle.

WELL, upon moving to Burkina Faso, that definitely changed!

Soap making is a great way to increase the income of women in the developing world. True, in some areas, the soap market has been flooded, so one may not be able to demand as high of a price, but it seems to me that the women are still happy.

I recently started working with a mothers group at my neighborhood primary school. They, like most people, are interested in increasing their income. I personally enjoy and prefer income-generating activities (IGAs) because you it is easier to track your progress and see results from all your labor.

I doubt I have peaked your curiosity about soap-making, but you're going to have to read my step-by-step (that probably left a few common-sense related steps out) guide and look at my pictures nonetheless. I LOVE my MOMS! They are incredible, and even if I don't understand a fraction of what they are saying (because it is in Moore), I still look forward to phone calls asking about soap-making...

Here we go....

1) Gather your materials... You'll need a bucket that can hold at least 15 liters, one kilo of tansigex (no one really knows how to spell this, but its the chemical we use that starts the soap-making process), a cup to take water out with, two buckets that can hold at least 7.5 liters of water, a kilo of rock salt, and a big wooden spoon! (Note: everything should be plastic or wood... DO NOT use anything metal!)

2) Dissolve one kilo of salt into 7.5 liters of

3) Whip the tansigex until it looks like marshmallow fluff. This usually takes about ten minutes if you are working with one kilo- fifteen seems to be sufficient for up to three kilos of tansigex.

4) Starting with the salt water, add in water one liter at a time (alternating salt water, regular water) until all water is used. While you are mixing it is VERY important to add the water in in small quantities, and stir until the contents of the bucket are homogeneous (the same). Totally learned the hard way that this is necessary.

5) After all water is mixed you, cover your bucket, and let sit over night.
6) [When you come back the next day] Uncover bucket, and add perfume(specific to soap-making, not the type you wear) and coloring.

7) Bottle, and then you are ready to sell, Sell, SELL!

So there you have it... This is how to make liquid soap!

Until the next time,

Happy blogging,

Ebben Wiley

Oh, and sorry about some of the action shots... taking candid photos here is an art that I have yet to perfect.

Different strokes for different folks

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-03 10:27:29

03 Février 2012 FN: Different strokes for different folks One of the interesting things about living in the transit house is that you encounter a wide range of volunteers from a wide range of sites. If you live in a more or less urban setting (like I do), you don’t really get to see much […]

Soap Making 101

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Away to Africa

2012-02-03 09:42:00

Have you ever wondered how to make liquid soap while living in a West African land locked country? Well in that case, this blog post is just for you. This past week I visited my (almost) site mate Barb in a neighboring village 12 km away to help her complete a liquid soap making demonstration. Truthfully, I didn't really do much helping because I don't really know how to make liquid soap. We briefly went over this in our training but I think I was getting over some remnants of my giardia because all I remember was a lot of stirring with a wooden spoon. Thankfully, one of the veteran volunteers who lives in Ouahigouya came out as well; Ebben works with a women's association to help with a number of income generating activities such as liquid soap, neem cream, and weaving.

Anyway, the whole process of soap making actually started last weekend when Barb, Carrie, and I spent 4 hours wandering around the Ouahigouya marche looking for Tangenx (not sure really how to spell this, it's basically the chemical base of the soap), and other materials for a hand washing station. The marche in Ouahigouya is seemingly endless, so after two hours of hopeless wandering we finally found a petite to take us around to every hardware store in town looking for supplies. Other needed materials include water, salt, and a big wooden spoon which many women here use to make to.

It turns out making soap is actually really easy; all you need is three buckets. One bucket with 7.5 liters of salt water, one bucket with 7.5 liters of plain water, and a bucket with the chemical base. One must continuously stir the chemical stuff as you alternate by adding salt water and regular water until, viola, you have your soap. We were working with a young woman, Bintu, who runs a kiosque across the street from Barb's house. The idea is to show her how to make soap and have her sell it at her kiosque, all the while encouraging clients to wash their hands with her brand new hand washing station, also built by us on that same day. Here are some pictures:

Ebben and Barb working on the hand washing station.

Hand washing station, done!

Bintu mixing that soap.

Update

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso PEACE'N OUT to Burkina Faso!

2012-02-02 22:38:00

I think its about time to have an update on here. I was hoping that Pat would get internet soon, but there have been a number of delays, so he asked me to update the blog and include pictures.
--Britt

Pat is really settling into his new place. This week was a very productive one! He taught an english class on nutrition and planned an entire lesson for 80+ kids. And its not even the number of kids that is most impressive, its the lesson itself! It was more than complete with Jeopardy questions, free cookies as incentive to answer questions, and building human bridges to show the importance of eating foods from ALL the food groups. Looks like his RA knowledge on ice breakers and the sort is being put to good use! In BF, "to" (pronounced "toe") is a very popular dish despite having little nutritional value; thus Pat wanted to teach the importance of a balanced diet. The absolute best part of this week was the excitement in his voice! He is really having a blast!

Pat has also been playing soccer with the local kids a lot. His cooking endeavors continue as he accumulates an impressive amount of international food options into his repertoire (he didn't mention that his first meal at his new home in BF was mexican spiced macaroni and cheese). Yesterday he went around with another worker as she did sensibilizations in the village and surrounding areas. This allowed him to meet many people and watch someone else give lessons. He continues to screen babies and children for malnutrition (a big concern over there given limited food options).

Another exciting thing that Patrick is working on is building a garden in front of the CSPS (health center/clinic) that he works at. This is a challenge simply because fencing is expensive and the whole thing takes a lot of planning, but I know that he is equal to the task. He recently has been working on his Plan of Action and report to submit for review by PC. In this document, he is to analyze the needs of the community and detail his plans for his remaining time as a PCV.

Pat has gotten very close with some local youths and they hang out in his spare time listening to music or just talking about life in general. Rihanna is very popular over there (something Patrick can relate to). Eminem, Lupe, and Akon have also extended their fan base into Burkina Faso. Pat has a hammock that he often relaxes in after work.

He has been on a quest for internet, but it has proven unsuccessful a number of times for one reason or another. Issues include ATM running out of money and lack of internet keys/car batteries. It seems acquiring internet is about as difficult as you would imagine in the rural areas of a developing country. That being said, Pat is very thankful for his close proximity to the marche or marketplace. This ensures that he is able to get food on a regular basis as it is needed. However, since the harvest this year was not ideal, there is potential for a food shortage. Let us hope and pray that does not happen!

The next couple months will be super busy for Pat! He will be doing more volunteer training during which his stage will be reunited! He is pretty excited to see the people he swore in with after such a long time apart. He also has a committee meeting. He has joined the Youth Development committee which meets about every 3 months. Additionally, the volunteers are planning a visit to a village in BF where there is going to be a huge festival that only happens every other year. Pat is pretty excited for that as well!

Below are some pictures from BF taken from facebook for those of you who might not have seen them yet. I have included Pat's captions as well.

Great tree to watch the sunset on. sit right there in the nook

I wake up to life in the BF. My courtyard with my host family. Far left is the oven and dishwashing on top. what looks like a rug is actually seeds from harvest. and the bottom center is usually a fire where food is prepared. the Jugs all around are filled with Dolo, a local beer that my family makes and sells from millet. (They popular people)

[This was where Patrick lived during training, this is not where he currently resides]

Mah house [on left] The kids, and my host mom, sleep in the round hut. :-( gender inequality

My host family and i communicate through dance

One of my lil Host Sisters. May just be one of the sweetest kids I've ever met. She stares at me while i eat breakfast every morning and dances in the evenings with me. Although you cannot see it here, she has one of the purest smiles you could ever imagine. There have been many of dark days where her smile brings light. :-)

Our boss donated three turkeys and one oven to our thanksgiving cause.

So we dug a hole, filled it with hot coals, and cooked turkeys in it. Earth Oven. TrueLife, I cooked a 15lb Turkey in an Earth Oven.

Success!

PCTs chillin

Right before the electric slide

MONEY!!!

the day after Thanksgiving, we did condom and family planning demonstrations for 8th graders. FANTASTIC!!!

Presenting a certificate to my Counterpart after counterpart workshops.

Conference finale with Homologues, Supervisors, Trainers, PCVFs, and PCTs

G25!

[aka: Pat and his stage! They swore in on December 15, 2011]

The east!

Right now, things are going very well for Patrick. Please keep the prayers, good wishes, packages and letters coming in his direction!

Camp G2LOW: Girls and Guys Leading Our World

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Landlocked: A Journey with Peace Corps

2012-02-02 20:34:00

Summer camp seems to be a staple of the American childhoodexperience. After all, parents need some way to keep their kids busyand out of trouble once the summer vacation starts. But here inBurkina, life is a little different. The school vacation correspondsto the growing season, and once students are out of school for theyear, they often head to the fields to plant corn, millet, beans,sesame, and other crops. There are very few other options forstudents during the summer.

Last year, a few PCVs brought an international Peace Corps program,Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World), to Burkina. Here, it became CampG²LOW (Girls and Guys Leading Our World) to include malestudent participants. This summer camp aims to offer students at thetop of their class a chance to continue their education and getleadership training during their vacation. Sessions focus on leadinga healthy lifestyle, becoming an active and informed citizen, andpromoting gender equality. And of course, there will also be funactivities for the students such as yoga, games, and s'mores. Thisyear, the camp has expanded to 4 locations, and a total of 240 girlsand 240 guys will be able to participate. Each site will hold oneweek of camp for 60 girls, and the following week for 60 guys.

Needless to say, organizing these camps will be a big task. I'm onthe planning committee for the camp in Fada, the regional capital ofthe Eastern province in Burkina. We'll hopefully also be partneringwith the local offices of the Burkina Ministry of Youth and NationalVolunteer Program in Fada. The camp won't be until July or August,but there's a lot to do before then! We'll have to contact and holdmeetings with villages that wish to participate, fundraise, determinehow to select participants, order supplies, plan the schedule, andhold a training of trainers with our Burkinabe facilitators.

And we'll need your help to make Camp G²LOW possible! Thecost of each camp is approximately $11,500. About half of the costwill be contributed by the community (lodging, transportation,volunteer facilitators, etc.), but that means a significant amountstill needs to be raised for each camp. The exact figures for theFada camp are as follows:

Total cost: $11,801.06

Community contribution: $5376.61

Amount left to raise: $6424.45

Moredetails about Camp G²LOWand how to donate can be found here:http://www.pcburkina.org/camp-glow(Click on the image for the Fada camp to donate to us Easterners!)

Thanks in advance for your help!

Vignettes of Ouaga life, in Drabbles

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-02 10:47:59

02 Février 2012 FN: 10 Vignettes of Ouaga life, in Drabbles A drabble is a story in exactly 100 words. They’re not very long, but they can be surprisingly challenging to write. These are what I could come up with. Enjoy. The force is strong with this one… The current in the US is a […]

Animals, Animals, and more Animals, OH MY!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Audrey's African Adventures

2012-02-02 06:53:00

There is nothing like sitting on a bus waiting for a herd of Elephants to cross the road. Since arriving in Botswana, we have been lucky enough to catch a lot of African animals just chilling on the roadside. Our first encounter was with the caribou which are like the deer of Africa. Going from Francistown to Kasane, we go through the outskirts of a few big game parks. We saw a lot of elephants, a pack of zebras, giraffes, and a family of monkeys.

In Kasane we took a boat ride through the Chobe National Park. The park is beautiful and we continued to see so many more animals. In the park you can either take a safari by land, or water. If we would of done it by land we could of gotten closer to the animals, but by water you get to see more, and don’t end up scaring the animals away. We saw hippos, crocs, monkeys, giraffes, multiple types of caribou, a weasel, elephants, and plenty of birds. The park is also on four countries, so while on the water we passed through Zambia and Namibia.

After the boat tour, we ate dinner at the hotel we took the tour from. They have a buffet, which was my first buffet in 3 years, but it also serves game meat! I got to try Impala meat(like a deer) and Kudu (another deer) and a few different types of fish.

After Kasane, we traveled north and crossed the border into Zambia. Going from Botswana to Zambia you take a ferry, which I can add to another type of transport we are taking on this trip. Crossing the border was easy, then we went to Jungle Junction. It’s a little island, about a 1km long on the Zambezi. We got dropped off on the Zambezi, and a guide came to pick us up by canoe. Since we were the only 4 people on the island we had a nice view of the river. Our chalet was like the house in the Swiss Family Robinson. In the evening it started raining, so we hung out in our chalet and relaxed.

From Jungle Junction we went to Livingstone. That is were our group split for a few days. Two of us headed to Luska, and the other two into Zimbabwe.

Upcoming Events: Victoria Falls, then heading to Namibia!

Sweet snippets

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso bridget in burkina

2012-02-01 14:08:22

It’s only been a few days since my last post, but I want to share two short stories with you that have recently brightened my little corner of the world. Perhaps they will yours too. The first is an update … Continue reading →

Le remède contre le paludisme OR How to (not) get malaria

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-02-01 09:10:14

01 Février 2012 FN: 7 Le remède contre le paludisme OR How to (not) get malaria More or less everyone knows that malaria is a parasitic infection that is transmitted by mosquitoes and is endemic to most if not all tropical areas. Americans primarily know it as one of those “hot country diseases” that people […]

Stuff I Haven’t Told You

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Peaces of Burkina Faso

2012-01-31 13:35:00

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

Anyway, we’ll start here...

Leg # 2

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Audrey's African Adventures

2012-01-31 13:01:00

Quick update: We finally met up with Heather, our final group member. We also made safely to Francistown, where our vacation officially starts! After being in West Africa for 3 years, Francistown is like mini America. There are shopping malls, grocery stores, and people don’t sell things from the top of their heads, or go to a farmer’s market for their veggies.

Since there was no direct bus from Jo’Burgh to Francistown we had to stop in Gaborone. We arrived, EARLY, but at night, so we didn’t get to see much, since early the next morning we took off for Francistown. Since our arrival, we took a tour of the town, which is really nice. Francistown in the 2^nd largest city in Botswana. It’s also halfway between Gaborone and Kasane, a large tourist city.

Since there isn’t a lot of touristy things to do, we have been doing things, that Heather participated in while a volunteer here. Friday morning we went to the Prison of Immigrants and played volleyball all mornings. People who illegally sneak into Botswana, and then get caught go to this prison, while waiting for a visa, or asylum seekers. Most people here have been denied asylum or a visa and are awaiting to be returned back to their country of origin. Heather got involved here and would do educational programs for the women, and recreational activities for the men, since this was her last time going, we decided to play volleyball. I felt we gave them a good run for their money. They were pretty competitive, but I was on the winning team!

Next leg:

Kasane-boat cruise

Livingstone- Fisherman’s village, Victoria Falls

Luska

Office space

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-31 12:37:18

31 Janvier 2012 FN: 8 Office space Today, I get to write my first post from my erstwhile desk in my putative office at FAIJ headquarters in Ouaga. I say erstwhile and putative because it sounds better than “the long table I share with 5 data entry functionaries” and “the place I’m going this week […]

Raise the Roof!

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Life is an Adventure

2012-01-31 11:42:00

Dearestfriends and family who have stayed with us despite our infrequent posts andlack of pictures, thank you! It's been a whirlwind the past few months. We will do better, we made a resolution for 2012.

November

Birthday at the Cheesecake Factory!

James and I loved seeing friends and family whenwe vacationed to the US (never thought I'd vacation to Iowa...) for my babysis's wedding. We also loved stuffing our faces with the delights of homecookin' and mouth-watering restaurants. We brought back two suitcases full ofprocessed food and an extra 11 and 7 pounds, respectively, which we promptlylost thanks to biking and tasteless dinners. Nothing here measures up afterhomemade ice cream... chicken wraps... cheesy mushrooms... pizza... I'll stopbefore I become too sad to eat my Vache Qui Rit (Burkina's version of Velveeta)mac n cheese dinner.

One week after returning Nicole became our veryfirst visitor! She braved the 24+ hour trip and ventured into the unknown ofBurkina Faso. She got her fair share of "you're going to Burkinawhat?" only to enter a land where many couldn't pinpoint the US on a map.Guess it works both ways. We spent time in our village where Nicole got soacclimated to living cheap, bucket baths, and latrines that other Peace CorpsVolunteers mistook her for one of our own. We painted signs for Siaka'srestaurant Marley's since I learned the previously week that James has zero artskills, then visited the waterfalls, domes, and hippo lake, played soccer withkids, and toured the village health clinic, where Nicole deftly diagnosed andtreated our neighbor boy Issouf of ringworm. Put Nicole's bike skillz to thetest when we traveled south to Niansogoni to see the cliff dwellings, thenbriefly stopped in Bobo before going on safari and seeing ELEPHANTS! Includingcute 2 ton babies. I'll attempt to post a video later when I'm not writing onthe iPhone in village in the dark. It was fun getting a new perspective onBurkina and life here.

December
After seeing Nicole safely off, we boarded ahellacious 24 hour bus ride sans air conditioning to Togo. Arriving two shadesdarker due to the dust, we spent hours washing our clothes and James's peanutbutter covered bag. Sidenote: If you decide that you too want to bring 5gallons of peanut butter from Ouaga to Lome on a bus, please make sure thatit's closed well and won't explode all over the undercompartment of the bus andeveryone else's luggage. Thanks.

We met up with our second brave visitor, John, andwere off to see Ganvie, the village built on stilts in the middle of a lake inBenin. Beautiful – the Venice of West Africa. It was like any other villageswe've seen except people took canoes instead of bikes and farmed fish insteadof corn. There were boutiques selling phone credit, packets of spaghetti, andsachets of gin, women paddling around selling vegetables and other wares formaking dinner or braiding hair. People collected (in canoes) around the waterpump (yes, a water pump in the middle of a lake) and it became very dark atnight without electricity. By some miracle the rickety two story place westayed had lights and an actual shower and though James lost his iPod through ahole in the floor (retrieved by the nice lady selling booze and knitting in thecourtyard), the place didn't collapse like I thought it would.

We wove our way through Togo, probably spendingmore time squeezed on transport and as a result touching each other non-stopthan actually seeing things, but it was worth it for the mud fortresses ofKoutammakou that I wanted to visit ever since starting my application for PeaceCorps in 2008. We stopped at the cliff dwellings at Nano in northern Togobefore crossing the border and making our way across Burkina and to ourvillage. John jumped into village life helping out at Marley's, and we allcelebrated Christmas in Bobo with twenty or so other PCVs and Chris! who madeit on a Christmas Eve flight and bus. A couple days touring Bobo then thelovely Karen and dashing Derrick arrived!

No time to rest as we rushed north to Mopti, Malito see Dogon Country. Amazing. We hiked for three days through cliffs,celebrated New Year's in style, and ended at the awe-inspiring cliffsidedwellings. Our guide Oumar was amazing as was the company.

January

We returned triumphant to Burkina and spent a fewdays in our village before John, Chris, and Karen left for Accra, Ghana toenjoy swimming pools and Derrick, James, and I voyaged to Bobo then Ouaga tosend him back to America via football match in London.

Then life got pretty quiet. I enjoyed that forabout one day then started in on school stuff. Incredible how much progress hasbeen made! Met up with the President and Secretary of APE (parent'sassociation) to buy the roof in Bobo then back to Banfora for the remainingsupplies. The masons arrived January 16th, and they've been working non-stop.Already the building is unrecognizable, and I can barely keep up with pictures.Note on cameras: our Sony TX5 dustproof, waterproof, shockproof camera lastedabout 6 months in Burkina before breaking. We're trying to get it repaired forthe second time, but it's not looking good. If any Sony employees read this, I believeyour company owes me a camera that can handle a little bumpy, dusty adventure.Pathetic attempt but I'll give you one more shot.

So lately James has been working hard with Siakaon his restaurant repairing the hangar and preparing to construct sleepinghuts, and also been spreading La Vie Chère internationally and prepping torepair the canal with the Rice Association.

I've been virtually living at the school. Everyday there's a new problem to solve (Umm, what do you mean you didn't measurecorrectly for the roof?? Ok, I guess I'll climb the ladder in my skirt and showyou masons how it's done) or cool new thing to see (400 liter cementhandwashing stations!).

Overall the village has been amazing. The parentsare motivated to help in any way they can (example: Paul's dad who is nicknamed"The American" repaired the metal doors and windows at cost, whichwas a third of the price if someone else did it). People constantly tell Jamesand I thank you, and we remind them that it wouldn't be possible without theirhelp, too.

This is definitely not a typical Peace Corpsproject. Most volunteers do few if any funded projects and when money isinvolved, it's usually less than $1,000. Part if it depends on resources(Karfiguela's school wouldn't be possible without your support and the grantfrom the US Embassy) and part of it depends on your view of development.Volunteers can effect change just by addressing a community's mentality.

Example: A PCV can conduct sensibilisations(awareness campaigns) and hold informal causeries (chats) with communitycounterparts and say, "God isn't the only one who decides if you get sick.You have some control. Wash your hands with soap, eat nutritiously, and go tothe CSPS (health clinic) right away when you're sick instead of the traditionalmedicine man. That's how you can stay healthy."

Happy 2012!

Another really effective tool is to find the “PositiveDeviants” in your community and empower them to be agents of change. Positivedeviants are the rare people doing things differently, with better results.Maybe it's a mom feeding her kids well or a dad who's sending his daughter touniversity.

But sometimes, you can only talk so much. You cantell kids they're supposed to wash their hands with soap, but if there'snowhere for them to do this, how can they change their behavior?

When we arrived in village 1.5 years ago, theprimary school made the top three list of most needed projects for every groupwe talked to from the chef du village to the women's associations to the ricecooperative. What was once a sore point for the village - an outside group camealmost 10 years ago to build the school then bouffed (stole) the money andleft, leaving the building and teacher housing unfinished - is now a source ofimmense pride. The entire village is excited to have a finished building sincealmost every single family has kids there, and the teachers and students aremost excited of all.

I couldn't be more impressed with the way the APEbureau has stepped up to manage. Once they found out that I hadn't budgeted forpaint, they became even more dedicated to finding the lowest prices formaterials so they could have a beautiful finished building. Of course theyleave all the tedious paperwork to me due to technological and literacyrestraints, but I love it because it takes me back to Excel spreadsheets andcrunching numbers, making budgets, and performing risk analyses. I miss beingan accounting nerd :)

Enjoy a few pics:

CP1 (kindergarten) kids dancing with excitementfor their new classroom! On the right are Seydou, the APE president, and Karim,the secretary. Both have been instrumental in dealing with the issues thatinevitably crop up and making decisions. Literally couldn't finish the schoolwithout them.

The master mason, Salif, in the middle with theroofers and little helpers in the back. Paul's (motivated high school studentwho facilitated last summer's girls camp and has been our Karaboro tutor)little brother Yanma (adorable little guy) "helps" the masons almost everyday because he wants to make sure his classroom is done as soon as possible.He's 5 years old. So. Cute.

In other news, the saddest thing this week wasfinding out that my great uncle passed away. The hardest thing about PeaceCorps after dealing with harassment/discrimination is missing out oneverybody's lives back home.

The second saddest thing this week was noticingthat one of the little boys who hangs around our house has a dislocatedshoulder. I took him to the CSPS (remember our PC vocab from earlier?), andafter looking at his arm and consulting with the boy and a couple villageladies, the major (head nurse) told me that the boy had dislocated it threeyears ago and he would have to go to the hospital in Banfora for surgery. WhenI asked how much that would cost, he said at least 75,000 CFA. I sucked in mybreath. That's over half a month's stipend.

Would the major please explain to the little boythat he needed this so he didn't grow up handicapped?

Yes, the major said, but it wouldn't matter. The familycan't afford the surgery and in the parents' mind, they can just have morehealthy kids rather than pay the money to fix the one they've got.
Major, what can we do? Isn't there some group thatcan help?

Maybe, he said. Action Social. In Bobo. (It mightas well have been in Paris). But I was white. Wasn't I going to pay for it?

I don't have that kind of money, I said. Pleasetell his family about Action Social. Explain that the boy's life will be somuch better.

Ok. I'll try.

Another one of the tough things you'll experiencein Peace Corps that you most likely won't hear much about and no amount oftraining can prepare you for. Yes, technically James and I could pay for thisboy's surgery, but then we'd have a line out our door of people expecting us topay for their medicine/treatment/new bike/whatever. We live and work here, andit's hard enough convincing people that we're not here to hand out cadeaus(presents) and bags of money that we have lying around our house. It's harderknowing that if his parents had taken him to the doctor three years ago, itwould have been a simple pop it back into place procedure that cost a few mille($4-6). Even worse watching this 6 year old kid running around with a uselessarm and believing he had been born like that because he's only ever known lifewith a dislocated shoulder.

This must be one of my longest posts yet. Sittinghere thinking happy thoughts about the school and a potential second annualgirls camp this spring, I'm off to take a bucket bath and go to bed. The sunand chickens will be up at 6 tomorrow :)

So how does one spend their time in the BF?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Heard of it? I LIVE here!

2012-01-30 16:00:00

It has recently been brought to my attention that after over a year here, I haven’t done a very good job of shedding light on my day to day life. So I will begin my post by trying to better illuminate village life.
By the time I wake up around 7 AM (a little later the few weeks a year it’s below 80˚) everyone in village is awake. The women are busy, finding wood to cook with or pounding something (rice, millet, corn, etc) and sweeping their courtyard. I drink some instant coffee while eating oatmeal or the previous night’s leftovers if it’s not hot season. After a couple of hours to myself, I head out to the CSPS. While I’m there, I generally hang out in the pharmacy or the maternity. I help with little things as needed until lunch time. While I’m doing this, village women are still pounding things and preparing lunch/dinner (usually one meal is prepared a day and the family just eats throughout the evening until it’s gone). If it’s rainy season, people are in the fields planting and weeding and whatever else goes into growing crops.
At lunch time I bike back home, stopping at my village’s mini-marché on the way. At its best, there are tomatoes, onions, cabbage, garlic, aubergines, hot peppers, yams, and very occasionally, green peppers and lettuce. At its worst, it has onions, some very sketchy looking tomatoes, and dried hot peppers.
I buy whatever veggies I need and continue home to cook them with rice or pasta. After lunch, it’s the beautiful time called repose. Sometimes I nap, sometimes I read, but it’s almost always a time to not move during the hottest part of the day. The rest of the village tends to be lounging around under trees.
When the sun starts to lose the worst of its intensity, I visit neighbors or hang out with people who have come to visit me (mostly this consists of children, though lately I’ve had a few more adult visitors than usual!). Visiting someone usually means being offered a stool to sit on and a bowl of tô to eat. The women almost always keep doing whatever they were doing when you I arrived and very little talking takes place (unless there’s a group of women and then they talk too much and too fast for me to understand anything).
Once the sun goes down, I take a bucket bath and settle in to read or write letters by candle light. Sometimes a couple of my neighbors come over and they use my battery-powered light to do their homework. The past couple weeks they’ve brought over some leaves that we boil in water until the water turns red. We take out the leaves, add sugar, and enjoy (Okay, I’ll be honest – I’m mostly enjoying the company and drinking the beverage to be polite). Then eventually it’s time to go to sleep, and my exciting day is done!
A few notes on life in general:
Amenities – There is no electricity in my village. For water, there are wells and a few community faucets of water where people get water by the giant bowl full (or, for those of us who can’t carry 25 L on our heads, by the 30 L yellow gasoline jug strapped to the back of my bike!)
Language – Some people speak “village” French and essentially everyone speaks Jula and Gouin. I can get around in Jula and greet people in Gouin, but I rely heavily on gestures especially when talking with women. Days can pass when the only person I speak English to is myself.
Getting Around – I ride my bike everywhere, and there are many families that have bikes. Some people have motorcycles/mopeds and there are two cars in my village. Getting around village, most people walk.

Where in the world is Ebben Wiley these days?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-30 14:20:00

SO,

A great deal happened between rainy season and now. Obviously the fair happened, but I also changed sites.

I am no longer down in the East near Togo and Benin... I am not in the North not far from Mali. I have been at my new site since November 9, and I absolutely LOVE it.

I meant to post about the site change around Thanksgiving time, and got distracted by the super fast internet at our library. It is actually easier for me to work from site these days, and I take complete advantage of that.

I now have a house that is at least two and a half times larger than my old house, and a private courtyard that is , no joke, the same size of the courtyard I used to share with at least 13 other people, and God only knows how many animals. (Link to first post about my old courtyard.)

This new site feels like it always meant to be, you know? I mean, don't get me wrong, I am thankful for all my experiences at my old site. I learned a great deal from my old site, and if it were not for that, I don't think that I would be enjoying my new site as much.

I am currently working at L'École National pour les Enseignants Primaire (the National Teachers School). It is an interesting match. I am now more closely aligned with my original assignment, which was Girls Education and Empowerment (now known as Non-formal Education).

I work with the AME ( Student Mothers' Association) to help bring money into the school— I'll be posting on out income-generating projects soon. With the women, I also advocate for the rights of the children, and will be working with them to help teach their children income-generating activities during their free time, and school breaks.

Another project I am excited about is my work with the student teachers. During this time of the year, the student teachers from the teaching school go out into the field to observe teachers. I will be working with the student teachers at our school on Thursday mornings. Every Thursday, I will teach the student teachers a Life Skills lesson. It will then be their job to write a lesson to teach the students the next day. I feel this is a more effect way of teaching Like Skills and what not because it will be coming from a host country national. It is also a great opportunity for the student teachers to get some practice.

I am working on doing a big sibling/ little sibling exchange between the local high school and the primary school I work with, but that may be a little down the line.

All in all, I know that February is going to be too short. It's all good though, I am totally up for the challenge... I can honestly say that I have never gone to bed angry/anxious, nor have I woken up angry/anxious due to problems at my new site since being here. In fact, I feel far more integrated into my new community that I ever did at my old community.

Can't wait to tell you all more about life at site!

Ebben Wiley

What is an AME?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-30 14:50:00

What is an AME?

If you are thinking AME stands for African Methodist Episcopal, you are oh so wrong... well at least here in Burkina you are. AME, in Burkina, stands for Associations des Mères Educatrices (Mothers, and Female Educators Association).

Due to dated traditions and what not that exist here in Burkina, Women tend to be left out of important decisions when it comes to their children's schooling. With these associations, Women are now able to have more a voice when it comes to the scholastic environment.

At the primary school I am working with, the AME was non-existent. I am proud to say, that since my arrival in November of 2011, we have established an association with an executive board. We have also started doing income-generating activities. The larger idea is that we will be able to establish a center where children from the primary school can come on free days and holidays to learn trades skills. Yes, it is very important that these children receive an education, but it is also very important that they have work skills other than farm work to fall back on.

In this society, the most sought after jobs are NGO jobs and government jobs. Unfortunately, due to how the school system is organized here, few individuals actually make it into these jobs. The idea of the mothers is to equip their children with unique skills to make them stronger candidates for employment later in life. I LOVE IT!

We have started VERY small. Right no we are doing soap-making, and neem cream. There are countless problems with hygiene here, so soap is definitely something that makes money. Neem cream is also something that makes money here. Think of this as OFF, but natural. We boil down leaves from the leaves of the neem tree, and then mix it with shea oil to make a lotion of sorts. It ends up repelling mosquitoes, which in turn, helps prevent people from being bit by malaria-carrying mosquitoes. Its really cool, and I promise to come back and add photos, and better explain all of this.

All in all, I am VERY proud of my AME! They are kicking ass, and making giant steps every weekend!

I promise to keep you all better updated in regards to what I am doing.

Take care, and until next time,

Ebben Wiley

How did the fashion show go?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

2012-01-30 13:52:00

Hey guys,

I am so sorry that it has taken me over four months to bring you up to speed on how the fashion show went... I am pleased to inform you that it went REALLY well!

The weaving association we worked with made over 300.000CFA (over 600USD) by the end of the fair from the fashion show, accessories, and orders for fabric at the fair.

Moussa (the shoe guy) made over 100.00CFA (over 200USD) by the end of the fair.

My tailors did pretty well as well. They brought in around 50.000CFA (USD) from the fair.

Work backed up, so the video footage that was taken has not yet been edited. Hopefully I will have that up soon though. Until then, here goes a few of my favorite photos from the fair. (I will post them by Feb. 4, 2012. Promise.)

Happy bloggin,

Ebben Wiley

Benin Part 3: Porto Novo

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso Casey en Afrique: The writings of a white stranger

2012-01-30 13:01:00

After the voodoo festival we made our journey Eastward toward Nigeria. We went to Porto Novo, a city highly influenced by the Portuguese. The town overlooks green lagoons full of little wooden boats and people digging sand out of the bottom of the lagoons to sell on shore. The city itself is on a hill which adds to the slightly European feel. Ornamented, brightly colored buildings, museums and monuments mingled with shacks and street side vendors.

We stayed at SONGHAI, a sort of agriculture/agro-business commune and education center where they promote local agricultural techniques. It was really quite astounding. You'll have to look it up, but I believe that the center has been there for approximately 25 years. It incorporates a wide range of agro-business: fish farming, soy, snails, bananas, moringa, essences, sales, edible oils, marketing, water sanitation, machines and more. They have a nice little hotel and several restaurants and their campus does give the feeling of an agricultural university. Although I didn't get to critically look at their statistics, they did claim to be 100% self-sustaining now. It gave me a sort of window into a potentially sustainable model of development in West Africa.

In town we also ventured off to see the monuments and the big mosque. The mosque looked rather Portuguese in influence and had bright colors of paint that were pealing in places. Above the back door was an analog clock (no longer functioning) that looked like it could be from the 70s. On the way we found a large white stone monument of a man in traditional clothing. I am not sure who he was, but it reminded us all of statues in Lord of the Rings.

Later that day we took a trip to a hotel bar that overlooked the lagoons. I had a coffee and fries while we lounged on leather couches and watched the boats pass by on their quest for sand.

One of the days we took one of the little boats up the lagoon to a village built on stilts. There are several such villages in Benin that were built to avoid slave trade or for other defensive reasons. They are built in areas that are covered in water much of the year, so everyone has boats to travel from house to house. Farm animals are tethered to an island made of hay that they slowly eat as the water levels drop. Even the clinic is built on stilts and has an aquatic ambulance. It was a very different feel than my dry Burkinabe village.

Porto Novo was my personal favorite city on the trip because of the architecture and the scenery. I have heard of others who didn't appreciate it as much. To each their own, I suppose.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

You say it’s your birthday…

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00

Burkina Faso The Adventures of a Peace Corps Violist

2012-01-30 10:44:59

So last Saturday was my first Birthday in Burkina. In the United States this might consist of people buying you dinner, people buying you drinks, getting lots of presents. Or like my birthday last year, attending a conference, knocking the … Continue reading →

Life in Ouaga

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 00:00:00