Le 2 décembre 2009
I've been here over five and a half months now and still find that no two days are alike. The proof is being more than halfway through my third journal.
Last week one of my students told me about a football (for you US Americans out there, that's soccer; I don't know why we're the only country to call it as such) game that would be happening Tuesday evening at 16h. The game reminded me of powder puff football because it was my 3e and oldest kids against the three other classes, anyone who wanted to play (sort of). I decided to see what this game was all about and show some support, so I headed over a little after the game had started. What I found gave me flashbacks to high school and the games we used to go to after school to support our friends and socialize. My experience here was more similar than different. There were three branches used at either end of the field for a goal. The two serving as posts had a small 'V' carved into the top, so the crossbar could rest in place. The field was mostly dirt, sand, and rocks. There were no lines or machines to create them, so someone took the time to carve the shape of the field including the center circle and line our of dirt. The students playing did not where cleats or shinguards. Heck, half of them didn't wear shoes at all. The keepers (les gardiens) had no gloves or special equipment either. The shoes that were worn were these flimsy-looking white sandals or some other type of sandal that would stay on their feet. I don't recall seeing the usual flip-flop worn. I say usual because the majority of the population here wears them on a regular basis.
When I arrived I headed over in the direction of the bureau where the teachers usually sit and found three of my colleagues. (The field is located in between the school, a four-room building, and the bureau, a smaller building with more rooms.) They had a student fetch me a chair from inside and I watched most of the first half behind a tree and a bush trying to soak up as much shade as possible. We moved to the other side of the field toward the end of the first half. I took that opportunity to purchase some bananas to share. Our concession stand was a woman sitting on the ground selling bananas out of a large bowl. She's the same woman who sells little gateaux and small bags of peanuts during our school's “recreation”, a fifteen minute break each day at 10am.
Once on the other side we were in the thick of the teams playing and the crowd of student spectators. You found your usual clumps of friends, kids laughing, goofing off, running around, being silly. The parallel was neat. And I also liked being in the position of supportive teacher as many of my teachers had been. I'm still not exactly sure who won, but I don't think it was 3e. One sole goal was scored toward the end of the second half to clinch the win.
Last week I gave three exams, two English to each of my older kids, and one in biology, SVT, my younger kids of 120. They must have thought being so numerous that I couldn't see them cheating (talking amongst themselves, eying each other's papers sometimes for more than several seconds...) Well, I was on my game that day and wrote down over 10 names of cheaters. The first two boys I caught were straight up having a conversation and laughing away. I mean c'mon. Seriously? I'm glad I used the idea of a fellow PCV and instead of having them hand me their exams when they're finished which promotes cheating when a large group of them come up and crowd around me at once, I had them turn their papers over and leave a rock on top. Then they were free to go. This also helped me write down the names of several cheaters after they left. Oh how they'll be surprised today when I give them back their exams and they see a -3 on top. It's minus three out of twenty, so that's significant. One of my colleagues said he's going to come in with me next time and kick out the first two students he sees cheating. That should put the rest in line, he said. That'll be next week...
Everyone had Friday off from school and work because it was fête, Tabaski, a Muslim holiday. A majority of Burkinabè are Muslim, so their holidays are a big deal here. Tabaski celebrates the story (found in the bible and I'm guessing also the Koran) where the man was going to sacrifice his son to God, but God switches his son with a sheep at the last minute. So, the celebration consists of praying at the mosque in the morning followed by a day of killing and eating mouton (sheep), visiting with friends and family, and eating a lot/well.
My friend N.D. came by a little after 12. He saw my complet and said ça c'est propre. Then we headed out to make the rounds. First stop was at my next door neighbor. We sat down, ate some riz gras, visited a bit, and continued on our way. We stopped by one of my teaching colleagues next after walking toward the school. There we talked a bit. My colleague asked what I thought about white people bringing religions here and more specifically about my thoughts regarding families with a lot of children, 10 or 20. We were given chicken and popcorn. Delicious. Next we wandered back to the marché area. N.D. wanted to break some bigger bills in order to have change to give to kids and students that we found along our way. Apparently that's another part of the fête. We stopped at the president of his APE (an organization for the father's of students) where we were given uncooked mouton and some money. We stopped by one of N.D.'s teaching colleagues where I ate foutou (tô made out of ignames = yum) with sauce, chicken, and fried plantains (yum). We stopped by the veterinarian's house next before making a long pause at our friends M.K. and S.K. There, in a familiar atmosphere we ate salad and shared drinks of pop, N.D. had a beer, of course. Our final stop was at the treasurer of my APE, because N.D. told him he'd come by. I was more than full at this point and believe it or not did not want to consume anything else, but it's rude if you don't ate least have a “taste”, so I managed to put in a few more mouthfuls.
All-in-all it was a great day, tiring, but good. I love the atmosphere during big holidays. It's fun seeing a bunch of people walking around and enjoying themselves and each other's company. I like seeing everyone with their hair done and showing off their new clothes that they've recently had made or had been saving for a special occasion such as this. The next big holiday her will be Nöel i.e. Christmas, but I will be celebrating that with some fellow PCV's.
One other cultural note before I go: I was visiting with my neighbor this past week during lunch time, so naturally I was invited (and expected) to eat with him. I took a little less than a third of the rice available still operating under US American standards where you don't want to be rude and take too much when he made the comment about how I don't eat very much or hadn't taken much and that I must take more. He then explained that here people are content and happy if their visitors eat well, so in fact it's actually better if I take a lot than if I only take a little. They could even be offended or think that I didn't like it if I don't eat/take much. Still adjusting!
This weekend I go to Bobo to celebrate Thanksgiving with my fellow PCV's. It sounds like it'll be quite a party given that last I heard we had over 30 people coming! We've already got a local restaurant cooking the turkeys, so we'll just need to provide the sides. Can't wait.
Until next time.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
A melange of my life in Burkina
Le 7 novembre 2009
My school meeting over a week and a half ago went very well. Thinking back on it, that time seems like forever ago, much like most of my time here. I've almost officially been here for 5 months and I've been in my village for over 2 already. It's crazy how time works sometime. I think it will never cease to amaze me. So, my rencontre. It took about 2 hours and natually didn't start right on time. There's something to be said about WAIT (West African Internation Time). But I was able to follow a majority of everything said. Plus, the new directeur was nice and from time to time verified that I understood and occasionally broke it down and re-explained some things just to me to be sure. He's a young man and he has this suave air about him. There's something about the way he says “d'accord” that just screams, I'm cool, calm, collected, and very comfortable in my own skin. I envy that in people. Half the time I feel so awkward or weird or out of place. Sometime to strive toward. I am liking him so far. We've been talking more and getting to know each other. I've explained a little more about how long I'm here and who I work for and whatnot. After having met and not seen each other again for about a week, during our next encounter he gave me a hard time (not in a bad way). He asked where I had been and said that I need to come by and chat, because that's how they do things here in Africa.
It takes me back to a conversation I had with my buddy and fellow PCV, L.G., about how people can't get lonely here or be left alone too long, because it's not in the culture. At that time, she told me how her language tutor here, if he went into a restaurant or somewhere and saw sometime sitting alone, he'd go sit with them. Very cool.
During out meeting we discussed grading and when it was due, the end of the trimester, discipline, collaboration groups for the teachers, and possible after school activities such as clubs we can start for the students. The directeur asked me if I had time to do an English club. I agreed, hoping not to start that until I'm teaching less English and more math and science. I also said I'd like to start a math and science club where students can go when they have questions about their assignments or topics in class. I'm not sure when or how those will start up, and I wonder if that's more up to me than anything.
After the meeting we hung out for a bit and chatted. I listened more than chatted, if you can believe it, but I think that really helps with my comprehension. I do need to try and speak more in order to improve that as well, but I'm coming along. Every now and then something happens where I realize my improvement and I feel good. Just yesterday, my supervisor/superior who is in charge of all the secondary education volunteers gave me a call. He's doing site visits next week and wanted to verify that I got his text and that the timing works. He spoke all in French until the last sentence and I, too, responded only in French. The conversation was short, but I have 2 points: It's a big deal because he called me on my cell phone and I understood a lot of what he said. Cell phones are the worst, especially when people here like to talk so quickly. Whenever my buddy N.D. calls me I often cannot understand him because he talks so darn quickly. The second point is that after my sector director ended the conversation saying something like “I'll see you next week,” I responded “À bientôt, S.” To that he said, “Wo-ohw” which I took to mean he was impressed with my language. That made me feel good and I realized I have come a long way. I still have quite a ways to go, but I've got the time and I'm making improvements, so things are going well.
After our meeting we were treated with pop or beer, naturally I had a coke and then a fanta, and a big bowl filled with meet which I later learned was a mixture of pintade (guinea fowl – apparently a big deal here and more expensive than chicken) and chicken. That's it. You'll often find that here: people sharing a large plate or dish or meet. There may be some spices, or in our case mustard, to dip it in, but that's it, nothing else with it like you'd find in the states. Interesting. And delicious.
I walked a few yards with one of my fellow professeurs who told me if I ever have any questions or problems that I need to come to them, because that's how they do it here. There's something to be said about the solidarity here. People weren't kidding. There are some things being poor can teach a lot easier than otherwise. Overall, that evening left me feeling great, because I felt like an equal during the meeting and afterwards my conversations felt inclusive and like I wasn't alone. I don't have to worry about not knowing everything or getting confused etc., because I can always ask someone for help or advice. I guess I'm starting to fit in here. Cool.
Last weekend when visiting my friend L.S., we met up with my Burkinabè buddy N.D. who came to town that Saturday and went to a local Burkina version of a nightclub. Music played, there was a room with a dance floor (equipped with disco ball and bright changing rainbow-colored lights!), a room with a mostly opened ceiling in the center where people sat and drank pop or juice or beer, and a small room next to the dance floor where the DJ sets up. N.D. is actually friends with the DJ whom we learned was the surveillant (or disciplinarian) at a local lycée. Let me tell you what, I could not for the life of me picture him as such! He laughed and joked and sang along loudly to the music, especially when it was a song in English. He even danced in his seat which is not typical here. It was a great night. I don't think I've laughed that much since I've been here.
This past week flew by like any other, and I hope they continue to do so. It means I'm enjoying myself and/or at least getting things done.
Naturally, a month into classes, I received my second schedule change. I don't mind it so much. I can adjust and usually it's not a complete change. Maybe a few classes get switched around, but my times are about the same. I feel bad for the students, because I think the schedule change will take place the following week, but my directeur tells me that the new professor and reason we needed a schedule change is already here, so it's effective immediately. The problem is when I find out the change on Wednesday morning and am supposed to go to different classes. The students, or course, were not informed of the change ahead of time, and those with class all of a sudden on that day don't have the right notebooks with them. It can be frustrating, but I made it work. I ended up giving exercises to the one class complaining to me. What I should have done was give them a quiz for the way they acted, but I couldn't help but understand a little. It's just frustrating because I had nothing to do with the change. No worries though. Ça va aller.
I played jeopardy with my 6e class this past week to prepare them for their exam. It was a way to do a fun review and reward the winning team with +1 on their exam which is a big deal: they're exams are only out of 20 points. I think they enjoyed it and definitely got into it. They would clap when someone on their team got a question right. It was great. And they cheered at the end when I wrote +1 for the winning team.
The devoir went off without a hitch, other than the copies being a bit terrible and me having to read aloud each question. I finished grading the exams yesterday. While grading I was hit with one of those profound realization moments: wow, I'm actually teaching. I'm preparing lessons and trying to find ways to make it interesting, get my students up to speed, make it fun, give them adequate practice. I'm giving quizzes and pop quizzes and tests. I'm assigning homework and sometimes grading it, because as I said, I must be a closet masochist. I'm doing it. And I'm doing okay. I had some anxieties a couple weeks back where I felt like I was floundering, like I didn't know what I was doing, and like I wasn't doing a good job. I don't need to be the best teacher there ever was (although I'm not opposed to the idea), but I want to at the very least be decent. And I want my kids to enjoy class a bit and most importantly to learn something. I also hope that they'll learn more than just the subject material. I want to instill some notions of respect and politeness. I want to teach them about little ways they can improve general health here such as by using soap when they wash their hands particularly after using the bathroom and before eating. I hope to do some other sensiblizations as well. We'll see.
Speaking of, I volunteered at my CSPS again as I do every Thursday after class. I walked onto the grounds and found my major sitting under the shade of the overhanging of a building, so I joined him. He explained that it's slower now because palu season is ending. So, for the next 2 hours we talked. He asked me about the states and about social differences. I mentioned salutations and how people greet everyone here and in the states you typically only greet those you know. I talked about their solidarity here and how I know someone will help me if I need it, but in the states there's no guarantee. And like L.S. said last weekend, in the states you also have to worry about the person trying to help you being a creeper. I mentioned “vous êtes invité”. Here, others are always invited to eat with people. If someone is eating and they see you, they always tell you you're invited. And what's more, they mean it. In the states, I explained, that when people eat it's for them alone and if they want to they can share, but often they do not. Or they'll only share with a friend or family member. My major explained that here they don't just prepare enough food for their family and they never eat it all. Whenever they prepare a meal they always make extra for any friends or strangers/foreigners, or people who may stop by. And whether they've already eaten or not, they'll have something to offer any visitors. This is probably also another reason no one goes hungry here. A concept the US can't seem to grasp. Maybe someday. I also mentioned the difference in poverty. That in both cases people don't have or don't have much money, but in the states people are starving and homeless, but here no one goes hungry and everyone has a place to sleep.
Our conversation also led to health related topics. My major wants to set up a day with my directeur for him to come and talk with the students at the CEG. It's one way to sensiblize a large group at one time. Plus, even students as young as the 6e kids need to hear and learn about certain things sooner rather than later. Things like VIH/SIDA (HIV/AIDS), how it's transmitted, how you can protect yourself and decrease your risk, why it's important to get tested and go to the dispensaire (CSPS). Things like pregnancy, grossesse. My major explained that many young girls are getting pregnant and that's not easy if you're in school. I'd imagine it's nearly impossible at some point. This is why know about contraception and using it are important. Although, my major also explained his frustrations with his sensiblizations. He said he'll talk to people about these things until they understand, but they still won't go to the dispensaire for testing, they still won't come and purchase contraception (even when it's inexpensive), and they still won't use or even try condoms. So, he said, while the occurrence of HIV/AIDS in my country is decreasing, here, it's increasing. What can you do? You explain it to people until they understand it, but then they still don't change. I guess that's a facet of life that one experiences across cultures: stubbornness and people getting stuck in their own ways. It's sad in a way and I definitely understand the frustration. And knowing that certainly isn't going to keep me from trying. I figure, if I can change one person's mind, get one person to think twice, get one person to go back and talk to their families, I've made an impact, however small. I mean, after all, Peace Corps really is a grassroots organization. Everyone dreams of changing the world and making large lasting improvements when in reality we can at best hope to change and affect a few lives for the better. Fulfill the needs that our country of service asks for. Maybe put some lasting small changes in effect whose impact won't be seen for years to come, long after we've returned home to the states, forever changed by this experience.
I'm definitely getting used to life here, especially in village. It's nice. I don't often feel rushed. People sit around a lot and visit and enjoy each other's company. They make tea, delicious sweetened tea that they share with everyone sitting around. And you drink it out of a shot glass. When you walk, unless your a young kid or a student, you walk slowly. You have time to enjoy and take in the beauty of the land without it being overcrowded with buildings, cars, and industrialization. I can see the stars at night. And without the streetlights, the moon actually lights up the land enough to see and move around outside without a flashlight. It's amazing.
Another way I've chosen to spend my time is with a woman friend of mine, M.K., who just happens to be my age. She's married and I thought she was older at first. She, too, seems very comfortable in her own skin. I've taken to visiting her a bit and we've started exchanging recipes. She showed me how to cook ignames and what I like to call a Burkinabè version of meatballs, and I taught her how to make banana bread in my dutch oven after sharing some with her. We also have some good conversations as well. We've talked about excision (female genital mutilation which does happen here – it's illegal now, but still occurs), elections including Obama and the upcoming election next year here (they've had the same president for 20 years!), the difficulties of being a woman in this country and how men just don't get it, etc. etc.
Yesterday was marché day. I love marché day. There are a bunch of people around, the sun is shining, you can find a large variety of food you can't get here on a regular basis, you can just walk around and look at what different people are selling, you can haggle, you get to see your friends and say hello...I just like it. I hit up the marché a couple times before enjoying Burkinabè spaghetti at M.K.'s, yum. They prepare it like riz gras by making a sauce, adding the spaghetti, and then boiling off all the water leaving the spaghetti flavored. Next I visited my buddy N.D. Of course, he wanted to go to the buvette claiming that he, too, wanted to drink Dafani. I've taken to teasing him about alcohol. He enjoys beer, and dolo, and bandji (the 2 latter drinks are made here and can be found sweet or fermented depending), but I haven't seen him abuse it. It's still fun to tease. When the woman at the buvette told us there wasn't any Dafani, N.D. ordered a beer and I a coke. You see many people pass by the buvette on marché day. I experienced a man come by and sit on the ground next to us, asking for money. I experienced I man who sat next to and chatted with N.D. bug me about drinking a sucrerie (sucre = sugar) and not beer. The I'm-not-going-to-use-profanity-in-my-blog even made the comment that sucreries are for women. Oh, what ignorance. Something else that withstands across cultures and in this case, unfortunately. Luckily, like anywhere else, there is a mix of people and I haven't had too many encounters with people like that man. I just did not appreciate that at all. I'll never understand why it's a big deal when someone isn't drinking or isn't drinking beer. Who cares. For, me, it's not the alcohol, although I intend to be very careful here with that, I don't like the taste. Why would I drink something I don't enjoy? That's idiocy. Oh, well. Some people just don't get it, but I'll keep challenging them. N.D. told me that this man has 2 wives and is looking or wants to get a third. So I asked, do your wives have 2 husbands. He didn't get it. I'm not surprised.
All in all, things are coming together nicely. I'm liking my village and village life more and more and I'm getting more comfortable here. I'm making friends and spending time getting to know people and talking with people. And I'm coming into my own with school and my classes. I'll tell you what though, it sure isn't easy. But as my someone close to me once said, if it were easy, then it wouldn't be worth it.
My school meeting over a week and a half ago went very well. Thinking back on it, that time seems like forever ago, much like most of my time here. I've almost officially been here for 5 months and I've been in my village for over 2 already. It's crazy how time works sometime. I think it will never cease to amaze me. So, my rencontre. It took about 2 hours and natually didn't start right on time. There's something to be said about WAIT (West African Internation Time). But I was able to follow a majority of everything said. Plus, the new directeur was nice and from time to time verified that I understood and occasionally broke it down and re-explained some things just to me to be sure. He's a young man and he has this suave air about him. There's something about the way he says “d'accord” that just screams, I'm cool, calm, collected, and very comfortable in my own skin. I envy that in people. Half the time I feel so awkward or weird or out of place. Sometime to strive toward. I am liking him so far. We've been talking more and getting to know each other. I've explained a little more about how long I'm here and who I work for and whatnot. After having met and not seen each other again for about a week, during our next encounter he gave me a hard time (not in a bad way). He asked where I had been and said that I need to come by and chat, because that's how they do things here in Africa.
It takes me back to a conversation I had with my buddy and fellow PCV, L.G., about how people can't get lonely here or be left alone too long, because it's not in the culture. At that time, she told me how her language tutor here, if he went into a restaurant or somewhere and saw sometime sitting alone, he'd go sit with them. Very cool.
During out meeting we discussed grading and when it was due, the end of the trimester, discipline, collaboration groups for the teachers, and possible after school activities such as clubs we can start for the students. The directeur asked me if I had time to do an English club. I agreed, hoping not to start that until I'm teaching less English and more math and science. I also said I'd like to start a math and science club where students can go when they have questions about their assignments or topics in class. I'm not sure when or how those will start up, and I wonder if that's more up to me than anything.
After the meeting we hung out for a bit and chatted. I listened more than chatted, if you can believe it, but I think that really helps with my comprehension. I do need to try and speak more in order to improve that as well, but I'm coming along. Every now and then something happens where I realize my improvement and I feel good. Just yesterday, my supervisor/superior who is in charge of all the secondary education volunteers gave me a call. He's doing site visits next week and wanted to verify that I got his text and that the timing works. He spoke all in French until the last sentence and I, too, responded only in French. The conversation was short, but I have 2 points: It's a big deal because he called me on my cell phone and I understood a lot of what he said. Cell phones are the worst, especially when people here like to talk so quickly. Whenever my buddy N.D. calls me I often cannot understand him because he talks so darn quickly. The second point is that after my sector director ended the conversation saying something like “I'll see you next week,” I responded “À bientôt, S.” To that he said, “Wo-ohw” which I took to mean he was impressed with my language. That made me feel good and I realized I have come a long way. I still have quite a ways to go, but I've got the time and I'm making improvements, so things are going well.
After our meeting we were treated with pop or beer, naturally I had a coke and then a fanta, and a big bowl filled with meet which I later learned was a mixture of pintade (guinea fowl – apparently a big deal here and more expensive than chicken) and chicken. That's it. You'll often find that here: people sharing a large plate or dish or meet. There may be some spices, or in our case mustard, to dip it in, but that's it, nothing else with it like you'd find in the states. Interesting. And delicious.
I walked a few yards with one of my fellow professeurs who told me if I ever have any questions or problems that I need to come to them, because that's how they do it here. There's something to be said about the solidarity here. People weren't kidding. There are some things being poor can teach a lot easier than otherwise. Overall, that evening left me feeling great, because I felt like an equal during the meeting and afterwards my conversations felt inclusive and like I wasn't alone. I don't have to worry about not knowing everything or getting confused etc., because I can always ask someone for help or advice. I guess I'm starting to fit in here. Cool.
Last weekend when visiting my friend L.S., we met up with my Burkinabè buddy N.D. who came to town that Saturday and went to a local Burkina version of a nightclub. Music played, there was a room with a dance floor (equipped with disco ball and bright changing rainbow-colored lights!), a room with a mostly opened ceiling in the center where people sat and drank pop or juice or beer, and a small room next to the dance floor where the DJ sets up. N.D. is actually friends with the DJ whom we learned was the surveillant (or disciplinarian) at a local lycée. Let me tell you what, I could not for the life of me picture him as such! He laughed and joked and sang along loudly to the music, especially when it was a song in English. He even danced in his seat which is not typical here. It was a great night. I don't think I've laughed that much since I've been here.
This past week flew by like any other, and I hope they continue to do so. It means I'm enjoying myself and/or at least getting things done.
Naturally, a month into classes, I received my second schedule change. I don't mind it so much. I can adjust and usually it's not a complete change. Maybe a few classes get switched around, but my times are about the same. I feel bad for the students, because I think the schedule change will take place the following week, but my directeur tells me that the new professor and reason we needed a schedule change is already here, so it's effective immediately. The problem is when I find out the change on Wednesday morning and am supposed to go to different classes. The students, or course, were not informed of the change ahead of time, and those with class all of a sudden on that day don't have the right notebooks with them. It can be frustrating, but I made it work. I ended up giving exercises to the one class complaining to me. What I should have done was give them a quiz for the way they acted, but I couldn't help but understand a little. It's just frustrating because I had nothing to do with the change. No worries though. Ça va aller.
I played jeopardy with my 6e class this past week to prepare them for their exam. It was a way to do a fun review and reward the winning team with +1 on their exam which is a big deal: they're exams are only out of 20 points. I think they enjoyed it and definitely got into it. They would clap when someone on their team got a question right. It was great. And they cheered at the end when I wrote +1 for the winning team.
The devoir went off without a hitch, other than the copies being a bit terrible and me having to read aloud each question. I finished grading the exams yesterday. While grading I was hit with one of those profound realization moments: wow, I'm actually teaching. I'm preparing lessons and trying to find ways to make it interesting, get my students up to speed, make it fun, give them adequate practice. I'm giving quizzes and pop quizzes and tests. I'm assigning homework and sometimes grading it, because as I said, I must be a closet masochist. I'm doing it. And I'm doing okay. I had some anxieties a couple weeks back where I felt like I was floundering, like I didn't know what I was doing, and like I wasn't doing a good job. I don't need to be the best teacher there ever was (although I'm not opposed to the idea), but I want to at the very least be decent. And I want my kids to enjoy class a bit and most importantly to learn something. I also hope that they'll learn more than just the subject material. I want to instill some notions of respect and politeness. I want to teach them about little ways they can improve general health here such as by using soap when they wash their hands particularly after using the bathroom and before eating. I hope to do some other sensiblizations as well. We'll see.
Speaking of, I volunteered at my CSPS again as I do every Thursday after class. I walked onto the grounds and found my major sitting under the shade of the overhanging of a building, so I joined him. He explained that it's slower now because palu season is ending. So, for the next 2 hours we talked. He asked me about the states and about social differences. I mentioned salutations and how people greet everyone here and in the states you typically only greet those you know. I talked about their solidarity here and how I know someone will help me if I need it, but in the states there's no guarantee. And like L.S. said last weekend, in the states you also have to worry about the person trying to help you being a creeper. I mentioned “vous êtes invité”. Here, others are always invited to eat with people. If someone is eating and they see you, they always tell you you're invited. And what's more, they mean it. In the states, I explained, that when people eat it's for them alone and if they want to they can share, but often they do not. Or they'll only share with a friend or family member. My major explained that here they don't just prepare enough food for their family and they never eat it all. Whenever they prepare a meal they always make extra for any friends or strangers/foreigners, or people who may stop by. And whether they've already eaten or not, they'll have something to offer any visitors. This is probably also another reason no one goes hungry here. A concept the US can't seem to grasp. Maybe someday. I also mentioned the difference in poverty. That in both cases people don't have or don't have much money, but in the states people are starving and homeless, but here no one goes hungry and everyone has a place to sleep.
Our conversation also led to health related topics. My major wants to set up a day with my directeur for him to come and talk with the students at the CEG. It's one way to sensiblize a large group at one time. Plus, even students as young as the 6e kids need to hear and learn about certain things sooner rather than later. Things like VIH/SIDA (HIV/AIDS), how it's transmitted, how you can protect yourself and decrease your risk, why it's important to get tested and go to the dispensaire (CSPS). Things like pregnancy, grossesse. My major explained that many young girls are getting pregnant and that's not easy if you're in school. I'd imagine it's nearly impossible at some point. This is why know about contraception and using it are important. Although, my major also explained his frustrations with his sensiblizations. He said he'll talk to people about these things until they understand, but they still won't go to the dispensaire for testing, they still won't come and purchase contraception (even when it's inexpensive), and they still won't use or even try condoms. So, he said, while the occurrence of HIV/AIDS in my country is decreasing, here, it's increasing. What can you do? You explain it to people until they understand it, but then they still don't change. I guess that's a facet of life that one experiences across cultures: stubbornness and people getting stuck in their own ways. It's sad in a way and I definitely understand the frustration. And knowing that certainly isn't going to keep me from trying. I figure, if I can change one person's mind, get one person to think twice, get one person to go back and talk to their families, I've made an impact, however small. I mean, after all, Peace Corps really is a grassroots organization. Everyone dreams of changing the world and making large lasting improvements when in reality we can at best hope to change and affect a few lives for the better. Fulfill the needs that our country of service asks for. Maybe put some lasting small changes in effect whose impact won't be seen for years to come, long after we've returned home to the states, forever changed by this experience.
I'm definitely getting used to life here, especially in village. It's nice. I don't often feel rushed. People sit around a lot and visit and enjoy each other's company. They make tea, delicious sweetened tea that they share with everyone sitting around. And you drink it out of a shot glass. When you walk, unless your a young kid or a student, you walk slowly. You have time to enjoy and take in the beauty of the land without it being overcrowded with buildings, cars, and industrialization. I can see the stars at night. And without the streetlights, the moon actually lights up the land enough to see and move around outside without a flashlight. It's amazing.
Another way I've chosen to spend my time is with a woman friend of mine, M.K., who just happens to be my age. She's married and I thought she was older at first. She, too, seems very comfortable in her own skin. I've taken to visiting her a bit and we've started exchanging recipes. She showed me how to cook ignames and what I like to call a Burkinabè version of meatballs, and I taught her how to make banana bread in my dutch oven after sharing some with her. We also have some good conversations as well. We've talked about excision (female genital mutilation which does happen here – it's illegal now, but still occurs), elections including Obama and the upcoming election next year here (they've had the same president for 20 years!), the difficulties of being a woman in this country and how men just don't get it, etc. etc.
Yesterday was marché day. I love marché day. There are a bunch of people around, the sun is shining, you can find a large variety of food you can't get here on a regular basis, you can just walk around and look at what different people are selling, you can haggle, you get to see your friends and say hello...I just like it. I hit up the marché a couple times before enjoying Burkinabè spaghetti at M.K.'s, yum. They prepare it like riz gras by making a sauce, adding the spaghetti, and then boiling off all the water leaving the spaghetti flavored. Next I visited my buddy N.D. Of course, he wanted to go to the buvette claiming that he, too, wanted to drink Dafani. I've taken to teasing him about alcohol. He enjoys beer, and dolo, and bandji (the 2 latter drinks are made here and can be found sweet or fermented depending), but I haven't seen him abuse it. It's still fun to tease. When the woman at the buvette told us there wasn't any Dafani, N.D. ordered a beer and I a coke. You see many people pass by the buvette on marché day. I experienced a man come by and sit on the ground next to us, asking for money. I experienced I man who sat next to and chatted with N.D. bug me about drinking a sucrerie (sucre = sugar) and not beer. The I'm-not-going-to-use-profanity-in-my-blog even made the comment that sucreries are for women. Oh, what ignorance. Something else that withstands across cultures and in this case, unfortunately. Luckily, like anywhere else, there is a mix of people and I haven't had too many encounters with people like that man. I just did not appreciate that at all. I'll never understand why it's a big deal when someone isn't drinking or isn't drinking beer. Who cares. For, me, it's not the alcohol, although I intend to be very careful here with that, I don't like the taste. Why would I drink something I don't enjoy? That's idiocy. Oh, well. Some people just don't get it, but I'll keep challenging them. N.D. told me that this man has 2 wives and is looking or wants to get a third. So I asked, do your wives have 2 husbands. He didn't get it. I'm not surprised.
All in all, things are coming together nicely. I'm liking my village and village life more and more and I'm getting more comfortable here. I'm making friends and spending time getting to know people and talking with people. And I'm coming into my own with school and my classes. I'll tell you what though, it sure isn't easy. But as my someone close to me once said, if it were easy, then it wouldn't be worth it.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Quick Update
I finally got my but in gear and gave my students a quiz. In fact, after being sick and missing half a week of school, because for me I only teach for 4 out of 6 days each week, I decided it'd be a good time to give each class a pop quiz. I'm sure they weren't pleased, but I'm the teacher. Plus I specifically told them they must study outside of class: they wrote that down as the final expectation for the class.
Giving the quiz was the least of my worries. Luckily, one of my colleagues told me to let him know when I'd be giving a test or quiz, so he or someone else could accompany me in class and help watch the kids and keep them from cheating or at least try to. I had him help me with my 6e class. Grading the quizzes was the “fun” part. Let's see, I learned that there are 121 students in my 63 class, 101 in my 5e, around 70 in 4e, and around 50 in 3e. So no matter how simple I can make a quiz, grading still takes time. And then I add an extra step of alphabetizing the names, because that saves time when recording their grades, les notes.
So, you'd think when I got to the third to last name I'd be almost done grading, right? Well, you would be oh so wrong. Half of my class was made up of Traoré's! Heck, three names, including Traoré and Coulibaly make up ninety percent of my students! It gets so crazy with the names here, that students have to add de plus a letter and sometimes de plus two letters to distinguish themselves from other students with the same name and prename.
I did manage to grade them all and after finally assigning homework for the first time in 4 weeks, I decided to collect that from 2 classes and grade it! Maybe I'm a closet masochist.
Oh, home news, I finally caved in and bought a battery and light. But I chose the much cheaper and easier route. Instead of dropping 150 mille on a solar panel, car battery, and light and prise setup, I just got a lower voltage battery and one foot-long florescent light. And let me tell you, it literally lit up my world. I smiled the first time I turned it on when it got dark. That alone told me a made the right decision. It should last me about a month and it provides me with a couple more hours of light each night which are very much appreciated.
Here's how it happened. I was talking to my tutor friend and he said if we're going to continue with tutoring, it'll have to be after school and it gets dark within 2 hours after school lets out each day, so I'd need a light. I went back and forth and didn't know if I wanted to spend my money on that. Plus, I didn't want to just buy one at the marché, because I'd have no way of telling if it was a good quality or not. So, my tutor buddy got in touch with a friend about a battery and light for me. Friday morning he sent me a text saying I could meet his friend at the marché about the battery. I found a familiar friendly face. It was the same man who helped me find hooks for my house. He called the man who sells batteries and told me to do go do my shopping around the marché, so he could get it for a good price. One of my students and neighbors came to find me after the battery was dropped off. After realizing the first connecting wire was a dud, my friendly-neighbor-man, the father of my student neighbor, helped hook everything together. He's also the person I will go to when my battery needs to be charged. Charging it will be very cheap.
Yesterday was my C.E.G.'s (my middle school) conseille de rentrée, the meeting each school has each year to discuss the schedule, when grading is due, discipline, possible extracurricular ideas, collaboration, etc. Shouldn't that happen before classes officially start, you ask? Why, yes, one would think so. It sounds like you're lucky if it happens a day or two before classes start. My schedule changed a week ago, this is the fourth week and we just now got our notebooks to write down absences. But then we don't have a list of students, so we couldn't actually take attendance! We should have that by next week. We'll see!
I'll have to tell you about my meeting next time. I need to catch a bus back in a few. Until then.
Giving the quiz was the least of my worries. Luckily, one of my colleagues told me to let him know when I'd be giving a test or quiz, so he or someone else could accompany me in class and help watch the kids and keep them from cheating or at least try to. I had him help me with my 6e class. Grading the quizzes was the “fun” part. Let's see, I learned that there are 121 students in my 63 class, 101 in my 5e, around 70 in 4e, and around 50 in 3e. So no matter how simple I can make a quiz, grading still takes time. And then I add an extra step of alphabetizing the names, because that saves time when recording their grades, les notes.
So, you'd think when I got to the third to last name I'd be almost done grading, right? Well, you would be oh so wrong. Half of my class was made up of Traoré's! Heck, three names, including Traoré and Coulibaly make up ninety percent of my students! It gets so crazy with the names here, that students have to add de plus a letter and sometimes de plus two letters to distinguish themselves from other students with the same name and prename.
I did manage to grade them all and after finally assigning homework for the first time in 4 weeks, I decided to collect that from 2 classes and grade it! Maybe I'm a closet masochist.
Oh, home news, I finally caved in and bought a battery and light. But I chose the much cheaper and easier route. Instead of dropping 150 mille on a solar panel, car battery, and light and prise setup, I just got a lower voltage battery and one foot-long florescent light. And let me tell you, it literally lit up my world. I smiled the first time I turned it on when it got dark. That alone told me a made the right decision. It should last me about a month and it provides me with a couple more hours of light each night which are very much appreciated.
Here's how it happened. I was talking to my tutor friend and he said if we're going to continue with tutoring, it'll have to be after school and it gets dark within 2 hours after school lets out each day, so I'd need a light. I went back and forth and didn't know if I wanted to spend my money on that. Plus, I didn't want to just buy one at the marché, because I'd have no way of telling if it was a good quality or not. So, my tutor buddy got in touch with a friend about a battery and light for me. Friday morning he sent me a text saying I could meet his friend at the marché about the battery. I found a familiar friendly face. It was the same man who helped me find hooks for my house. He called the man who sells batteries and told me to do go do my shopping around the marché, so he could get it for a good price. One of my students and neighbors came to find me after the battery was dropped off. After realizing the first connecting wire was a dud, my friendly-neighbor-man, the father of my student neighbor, helped hook everything together. He's also the person I will go to when my battery needs to be charged. Charging it will be very cheap.
Yesterday was my C.E.G.'s (my middle school) conseille de rentrée, the meeting each school has each year to discuss the schedule, when grading is due, discipline, possible extracurricular ideas, collaboration, etc. Shouldn't that happen before classes officially start, you ask? Why, yes, one would think so. It sounds like you're lucky if it happens a day or two before classes start. My schedule changed a week ago, this is the fourth week and we just now got our notebooks to write down absences. But then we don't have a list of students, so we couldn't actually take attendance! We should have that by next week. We'll see!
I'll have to tell you about my meeting next time. I need to catch a bus back in a few. Until then.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Cultural Corner: Burkina
October 14, 2009
Since someone who will remain nameless, L.G.!, ragged on me for writing an entire blog about food, which I would like to say I did because an old professor requested me to write a guest blog for her about food, I find it necessary and appropriate to fill this blog with more cultural tidbits and interesting facts to know. And of course it will include an update on my life and my first two weeks, officially, as Madame professeur.
Cultural point number one: I believe I've already touched on this, but greeting people is very important in this culture. In fact, as my previous homologue told me, if you do not saluer someone, they are likely to wonder why you are upset with them or they will become upset with you, either way the result is no good. Plus, it's nice because you don't have any of those awkward I'm-looking-right-at-you-and-we're-in-very-close-proximity-and-yet-I'm-going-to-keep-on-without-acknowledging-you-even-though-we-both-know-the-other-is-there moments one has so often in the states. Now, I just have those oh-shoot-I-just-said-the-greeting-for-the-evening-and-it's-still-9-am-in-the-morning moments or the moments where I greet someone in Jula and they keep going beyond the few phrases I know: the basic greeting for each of the 4 times of day (morning, afternoon, evening, and night), how's your family more specifically those in your home or courtyard, how's work or your services. I also know the phrase where are you going, because people here always walk with a purpose as my buddy L.S. explained it. She explained this to me while we were just taking a walk one day in her town, something the Burkinabè don't really do. I guess that's cultural point number two.
Cultural point number three: I haven't heard it quite as much here, in my village, yet, but I have heard it, even today, Vous êtes invité (You're invited). This is said whenever someone is eating and you greet them, walk by, or just happen to be in their general vicinity. And here, unlike in the states when so-and-so is enjoying their candy bar and this person politely asks if you want some, with the known implication that it isn't really an offer. Here, they actually mean it. I asked about that. At my marché last week a man sitting with a friend of mine on the main road invited me to share his fried patates. I politely declined, because I feel bad eating other people's food (perhaps I should say stranger's food or people I don't know very well!). He gave me a hard time about it saying oh, you'll eat patates, but you won't eat mine. So, I sat next to him and shared his plate and had a chat. I thought I had strategically left him the last big piece by taking the smaller one, but my plans were foiled when he told me I should take the bigger one and then left it there for me to eat. Don't ever let anyone tell you they can't share or be generous here.
Cultural point number four: Typically, especially in more rural areas, women keep their knees covered. Often times the only women who will show more than that are prostitutes or those living in bigger cities where the implications aren't the same, much like in the states. The irony in all of this is that you'll see women topless, with shirts falling off, pagnes falling down to reveal the twins, rather frequently. Additionally, breast feeding is viewed in a much healthier way over here, meaning that women will just whip out the twins whenever their baby or small child is hungry. I also think breasts aren't as sexualized over here as they are in the states which is nice change of pace. Although, coming from my culture, it's been an adjustment and still is. It's just different for me to have women freely and openly show off their ladies. I'm glad about the breast feeding though: women should have to hide it or severely inconvenience themselves just because people think it's inappropriate or whatever to reveal their breasts in public. I'm sorry, but can you explain to me how a child her or his mother's breast for food and nourishment is in any way sexual? I just don't see it.
Cultural point number five: Men hold hands with other men. Women and girls hold hands with other women and girls. To show their affection for each other, but now like you'd think. Here, it's completely platonic. It's ironic, too, considering that married couples will never hold hands or take part in any form of public displays of affection. Heck, it'd be difficult to know if two people were married if you just saw them on the street. I had a conversation with a volunteer who is COS-ing (close of service) within the next month and she said that in general, romance isn't the main goal in marriages here from what she's seen. That's not to say those types of relationships don't exist here, but often people marry for stability and children. The man wants someone to have kids with, to cook and clean for him, etc. The woman wants someone to support her and her children. It's an interesting concept, but being the romantic that I am, and being that I found the love of my life, I don't think I could ever fit into that mold.
Cultural point number six: Women carry everything on their heads: water jugs? Yes. Large metal bowls filled with anything and everything? Yes. Large bundles of wood probably as long as she is? Yes. Food or whatever item she is selling? Of course. Buckets filled with anything and everything? Definitely.
Babies? No. (Okay, fine. Maybe they don't carry everything on their heads, but they do a lot.) Women, teenage girls, and even younger girls bend over, prop the baby on their backs piggy-back-style, then wrap a pagne or piece of cloth around the baby and her body, so the baby's head and often arms and shoulders are sticking out of the top. Then she ties the top of the cloth together around her chest and the bottom around her belly. Next she proceeds to carry on conversations, walk wherever she needs to go, and do her daily tasks. It's interesting. I worried that when the babies were young, especially, that perhaps it's be bad for their heads because nothing was supporting them, so they could just be flopping around, but they've been doing this forever and I have yet to see signs of brain damage associated with such phenomena. That was cultural point number seven.
Cultural point number eight is that the brain damage is more likely to be caused in schools where the children are taught to merely memorize material and regurgitate it back. Hence, Peace Corps aim of incorporating critical thinking and warning that the students may not get nor like any attempts at first. But by golly, my kids will use their heads if it totally exhausts me and leaves me a frustrated lump on some days!
That's all I have for you know, more to come later.
I have a couple cell phone towers in my village that look totally out of place. Take this beautiful southwestern Burkina village where you're surrounded by a green paradise accented by the clay-colored earth and put in two giant bright unnaturally white and red metal structures. But even though these monstrosities clash with my pretty little village, I thank God for them every day, even if the reseau is unreliable and it seems to block incoming calls from the states whenever it rains, even though my phone continues to show full bars.
So, school started last week, for me and our other woman teacher at least. She teaches math and PC (physics and chemistry) which is a big deal here, because not a lot of women do. That's great, but then again, not so great for me who wanted to teach those subjects. I certainly don't want to take those classes away from her. Maybe I'll get a math class or two. I'm thinking I can kiss teaching chemistry goodbye. Oh, well. Ça va aller.
Since the third woman teacher or second before I got here, is enceinte aka pregnant, she can't teach this trimester and I seriously wonder about the second trimester as well. I also wonder why the word trimester doesn't exist in French and that even though there are three, they still call them semesters or semestres to be more exact. So this pregnant teacher is the only English teacher and has therefore left me with teaching English for each of the four different levels at our C.E.G. (middle school equivalent). I'm okay with that for now. The plan is that she'll return to teach during the second trimester when I will give up two English classes and hopefully take an one or a couple math or science classes. We'll see what happens. I feel as though I may end up with the same schedule for the rest of the year. Although by the time switching time comes, I may prefer that. I've been teaching nearly 2 full weeks now. So far it's going decently well. I was a ball of nerves my first week, because that is how I am, but I think my energy would be better suited and spent lesson planning, finding ways to get students to learn and retain information, and finding ways to make classes fun and appeal to many different learning types including right and left brain learners. As you can see, I've got my work cut out for me.
Today I did my first sensibalization in 3 of my classes. Tomorrow is Global Handwashing Day, didn't you know my birthday was a big deal?! Since I only have one class tomorrow, I talked about handwashing with soap and why it's important, especially before you eat and after you use the bathroom. Statistics show that not washing your hands causes 3.5 million children deaths each year due to pneumonia and diarrhea. The class was discussion-based and I had decent participation. Try explaining all of this in a second language of which you have a limited vocabulary – yeah, not so easy is it? But I think I got the point across. I hope at least one student goes home and talks to his family about the importance of using soap, especially during those 2 times. The best part or most fun part of the class was when I taught them the song. It goes to the tune of Micheal row your boat ashore and the lyrics go something like this: Si tu veux la bonne santé, lave toi les main. À l'eau et du savon, lave toi les mains. It's cute and cheesy. My students loved it. I'm not sure what they enjoyed more, however, singing the song themselves or hearing me sing it first. It's a good thing I have a sense of humor and just went with it. Good times had by all.
Cultural point number nine: When you buy things in Jula you must multiply the number you said by 5 and that is how much it costs in CFA. Example: If I ask how much the small piles of tomatoes are, the woman selling them will point to a few piles and say duru, duru and then point to another pile and say tan, tan (you don't pronounce the 'n' of course). Duru is 5 in Jula and tan is 10. Does that mean that the first pile costs 5 CFA and the second costs 10? Absolutely not. The first costs 25 CFA and the second 50. Now try to hear a number, figure out first what it means in Jula and then multiply that in your head by five to get the amount it actually costs. Not so easy. I'm getting used to the simple numbers like duru, tan, keme (100=500 F). With time I'm sure I'll have it down like the back of my hand. Speaking of, do a lot of people really stare at the back of their hands so much that they could tell you every tiny little detail, because if so, I am not one of them. Who has time to stare at the back of their hand all day anyways? Just a thought.
Today, my closest neighboring Peace Corps Volunteer, biked in for a visit. It was a nice change of pace. Plus it was interesting getting her perspective on things considering her 2 year service is up in a month and mine has barely just begun. We bought some popcorn (that they do not eat with butter, but do eat with salt, although we think they used enough oil to make it taste like they used butter) and some gateaux. I found a kind I like that look like mini cinnabuns without the cinnamon and super sweet glaze. I mixed up the cost of one thinking one cost 50 F when actually you get 2 for that mean, so we ended up with at least 20 of these little guys, too many for even 2 of us to finish. So, tonight, because I hate wasting food, I walked out of my courtyard, looked around, and headed to my nearest neighbor. She's a really sweet woman with a couple kids and a friendly young husband. I handed her the bag after greeting her, of course, and she naturally said Aw ni ce. Her husband came by my place not too long later to thank me as well. He then proceeded to point out my weed problem and that it is particularly bad when it grows near walls. So, he started to pull up the weeds along nearly half of my courtyard wall before saying he'd be back the following morning to get the rest. All this because I bought too many gateaux and didn't want them to go to waste. The people in my village really do take care of me and spoil me a bit. After all, I'm the lazy one who didn't want to weed her courtyard and was perfectly content to find out if a jungle could actually grow in my Burkina backyard. I guess I'll never know.
Until next time.
Since someone who will remain nameless, L.G.!, ragged on me for writing an entire blog about food, which I would like to say I did because an old professor requested me to write a guest blog for her about food, I find it necessary and appropriate to fill this blog with more cultural tidbits and interesting facts to know. And of course it will include an update on my life and my first two weeks, officially, as Madame professeur.
Cultural point number one: I believe I've already touched on this, but greeting people is very important in this culture. In fact, as my previous homologue told me, if you do not saluer someone, they are likely to wonder why you are upset with them or they will become upset with you, either way the result is no good. Plus, it's nice because you don't have any of those awkward I'm-looking-right-at-you-and-we're-in-very-close-proximity-and-yet-I'm-going-to-keep-on-without-acknowledging-you-even-though-we-both-know-the-other-is-there moments one has so often in the states. Now, I just have those oh-shoot-I-just-said-the-greeting-for-the-evening-and-it's-still-9-am-in-the-morning moments or the moments where I greet someone in Jula and they keep going beyond the few phrases I know: the basic greeting for each of the 4 times of day (morning, afternoon, evening, and night), how's your family more specifically those in your home or courtyard, how's work or your services. I also know the phrase where are you going, because people here always walk with a purpose as my buddy L.S. explained it. She explained this to me while we were just taking a walk one day in her town, something the Burkinabè don't really do. I guess that's cultural point number two.
Cultural point number three: I haven't heard it quite as much here, in my village, yet, but I have heard it, even today, Vous êtes invité (You're invited). This is said whenever someone is eating and you greet them, walk by, or just happen to be in their general vicinity. And here, unlike in the states when so-and-so is enjoying their candy bar and this person politely asks if you want some, with the known implication that it isn't really an offer. Here, they actually mean it. I asked about that. At my marché last week a man sitting with a friend of mine on the main road invited me to share his fried patates. I politely declined, because I feel bad eating other people's food (perhaps I should say stranger's food or people I don't know very well!). He gave me a hard time about it saying oh, you'll eat patates, but you won't eat mine. So, I sat next to him and shared his plate and had a chat. I thought I had strategically left him the last big piece by taking the smaller one, but my plans were foiled when he told me I should take the bigger one and then left it there for me to eat. Don't ever let anyone tell you they can't share or be generous here.
Cultural point number four: Typically, especially in more rural areas, women keep their knees covered. Often times the only women who will show more than that are prostitutes or those living in bigger cities where the implications aren't the same, much like in the states. The irony in all of this is that you'll see women topless, with shirts falling off, pagnes falling down to reveal the twins, rather frequently. Additionally, breast feeding is viewed in a much healthier way over here, meaning that women will just whip out the twins whenever their baby or small child is hungry. I also think breasts aren't as sexualized over here as they are in the states which is nice change of pace. Although, coming from my culture, it's been an adjustment and still is. It's just different for me to have women freely and openly show off their ladies. I'm glad about the breast feeding though: women should have to hide it or severely inconvenience themselves just because people think it's inappropriate or whatever to reveal their breasts in public. I'm sorry, but can you explain to me how a child her or his mother's breast for food and nourishment is in any way sexual? I just don't see it.
Cultural point number five: Men hold hands with other men. Women and girls hold hands with other women and girls. To show their affection for each other, but now like you'd think. Here, it's completely platonic. It's ironic, too, considering that married couples will never hold hands or take part in any form of public displays of affection. Heck, it'd be difficult to know if two people were married if you just saw them on the street. I had a conversation with a volunteer who is COS-ing (close of service) within the next month and she said that in general, romance isn't the main goal in marriages here from what she's seen. That's not to say those types of relationships don't exist here, but often people marry for stability and children. The man wants someone to have kids with, to cook and clean for him, etc. The woman wants someone to support her and her children. It's an interesting concept, but being the romantic that I am, and being that I found the love of my life, I don't think I could ever fit into that mold.
Cultural point number six: Women carry everything on their heads: water jugs? Yes. Large metal bowls filled with anything and everything? Yes. Large bundles of wood probably as long as she is? Yes. Food or whatever item she is selling? Of course. Buckets filled with anything and everything? Definitely.
Babies? No. (Okay, fine. Maybe they don't carry everything on their heads, but they do a lot.) Women, teenage girls, and even younger girls bend over, prop the baby on their backs piggy-back-style, then wrap a pagne or piece of cloth around the baby and her body, so the baby's head and often arms and shoulders are sticking out of the top. Then she ties the top of the cloth together around her chest and the bottom around her belly. Next she proceeds to carry on conversations, walk wherever she needs to go, and do her daily tasks. It's interesting. I worried that when the babies were young, especially, that perhaps it's be bad for their heads because nothing was supporting them, so they could just be flopping around, but they've been doing this forever and I have yet to see signs of brain damage associated with such phenomena. That was cultural point number seven.
Cultural point number eight is that the brain damage is more likely to be caused in schools where the children are taught to merely memorize material and regurgitate it back. Hence, Peace Corps aim of incorporating critical thinking and warning that the students may not get nor like any attempts at first. But by golly, my kids will use their heads if it totally exhausts me and leaves me a frustrated lump on some days!
That's all I have for you know, more to come later.
I have a couple cell phone towers in my village that look totally out of place. Take this beautiful southwestern Burkina village where you're surrounded by a green paradise accented by the clay-colored earth and put in two giant bright unnaturally white and red metal structures. But even though these monstrosities clash with my pretty little village, I thank God for them every day, even if the reseau is unreliable and it seems to block incoming calls from the states whenever it rains, even though my phone continues to show full bars.
So, school started last week, for me and our other woman teacher at least. She teaches math and PC (physics and chemistry) which is a big deal here, because not a lot of women do. That's great, but then again, not so great for me who wanted to teach those subjects. I certainly don't want to take those classes away from her. Maybe I'll get a math class or two. I'm thinking I can kiss teaching chemistry goodbye. Oh, well. Ça va aller.
Since the third woman teacher or second before I got here, is enceinte aka pregnant, she can't teach this trimester and I seriously wonder about the second trimester as well. I also wonder why the word trimester doesn't exist in French and that even though there are three, they still call them semesters or semestres to be more exact. So this pregnant teacher is the only English teacher and has therefore left me with teaching English for each of the four different levels at our C.E.G. (middle school equivalent). I'm okay with that for now. The plan is that she'll return to teach during the second trimester when I will give up two English classes and hopefully take an one or a couple math or science classes. We'll see what happens. I feel as though I may end up with the same schedule for the rest of the year. Although by the time switching time comes, I may prefer that. I've been teaching nearly 2 full weeks now. So far it's going decently well. I was a ball of nerves my first week, because that is how I am, but I think my energy would be better suited and spent lesson planning, finding ways to get students to learn and retain information, and finding ways to make classes fun and appeal to many different learning types including right and left brain learners. As you can see, I've got my work cut out for me.
Today I did my first sensibalization in 3 of my classes. Tomorrow is Global Handwashing Day, didn't you know my birthday was a big deal?! Since I only have one class tomorrow, I talked about handwashing with soap and why it's important, especially before you eat and after you use the bathroom. Statistics show that not washing your hands causes 3.5 million children deaths each year due to pneumonia and diarrhea. The class was discussion-based and I had decent participation. Try explaining all of this in a second language of which you have a limited vocabulary – yeah, not so easy is it? But I think I got the point across. I hope at least one student goes home and talks to his family about the importance of using soap, especially during those 2 times. The best part or most fun part of the class was when I taught them the song. It goes to the tune of Micheal row your boat ashore and the lyrics go something like this: Si tu veux la bonne santé, lave toi les main. À l'eau et du savon, lave toi les mains. It's cute and cheesy. My students loved it. I'm not sure what they enjoyed more, however, singing the song themselves or hearing me sing it first. It's a good thing I have a sense of humor and just went with it. Good times had by all.
Cultural point number nine: When you buy things in Jula you must multiply the number you said by 5 and that is how much it costs in CFA. Example: If I ask how much the small piles of tomatoes are, the woman selling them will point to a few piles and say duru, duru and then point to another pile and say tan, tan (you don't pronounce the 'n' of course). Duru is 5 in Jula and tan is 10. Does that mean that the first pile costs 5 CFA and the second costs 10? Absolutely not. The first costs 25 CFA and the second 50. Now try to hear a number, figure out first what it means in Jula and then multiply that in your head by five to get the amount it actually costs. Not so easy. I'm getting used to the simple numbers like duru, tan, keme (100=500 F). With time I'm sure I'll have it down like the back of my hand. Speaking of, do a lot of people really stare at the back of their hands so much that they could tell you every tiny little detail, because if so, I am not one of them. Who has time to stare at the back of their hand all day anyways? Just a thought.
Today, my closest neighboring Peace Corps Volunteer, biked in for a visit. It was a nice change of pace. Plus it was interesting getting her perspective on things considering her 2 year service is up in a month and mine has barely just begun. We bought some popcorn (that they do not eat with butter, but do eat with salt, although we think they used enough oil to make it taste like they used butter) and some gateaux. I found a kind I like that look like mini cinnabuns without the cinnamon and super sweet glaze. I mixed up the cost of one thinking one cost 50 F when actually you get 2 for that mean, so we ended up with at least 20 of these little guys, too many for even 2 of us to finish. So, tonight, because I hate wasting food, I walked out of my courtyard, looked around, and headed to my nearest neighbor. She's a really sweet woman with a couple kids and a friendly young husband. I handed her the bag after greeting her, of course, and she naturally said Aw ni ce. Her husband came by my place not too long later to thank me as well. He then proceeded to point out my weed problem and that it is particularly bad when it grows near walls. So, he started to pull up the weeds along nearly half of my courtyard wall before saying he'd be back the following morning to get the rest. All this because I bought too many gateaux and didn't want them to go to waste. The people in my village really do take care of me and spoil me a bit. After all, I'm the lazy one who didn't want to weed her courtyard and was perfectly content to find out if a jungle could actually grow in my Burkina backyard. I guess I'll never know.
Until next time.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Random Burkina Smiles
October 3, 2009
I biked into my neighbor city today like I've taken to doing every Saturday. Arguably I should have stayed home and made the trip later on in the week or held off until the following week because my stomach wasn't feeling very well, but I made the trek in anyways.
My first stop was la poste (post office) to mail out a letter and take out some more money from my account. The way you do that here is by writing yourself a check and then cashing it at une poste.
I was still not feeling my best and I just biked for an hour and forty minutes up and down about ten rather intense hills, so I saluer-ed my buddy behind the counter after he called me up by name and went about my business. My buddy, Th. who works for la poste knows L.S., a fellow volunteer who lives in the city I visit each week and the two of them like to speak a little English. After calling to verify that I had the money in my account, I believe, he told me, in English, that it'll be a minute. Then, the young man standing next to me asked Th. a question (in French of course) and Th. responded, “I'm sorry. I don't understand when you speak French. You must speak English.” To which I quite literally laughed out loud. Then, to make the situation even better, the young man next to me responded, “Do I put the numbers in...?” To that I laughed even more. It was a much-needed release and interaction and one example of the friendly and humorous people you can find here.
Until next time.
I biked into my neighbor city today like I've taken to doing every Saturday. Arguably I should have stayed home and made the trip later on in the week or held off until the following week because my stomach wasn't feeling very well, but I made the trek in anyways.
My first stop was la poste (post office) to mail out a letter and take out some more money from my account. The way you do that here is by writing yourself a check and then cashing it at une poste.
I was still not feeling my best and I just biked for an hour and forty minutes up and down about ten rather intense hills, so I saluer-ed my buddy behind the counter after he called me up by name and went about my business. My buddy, Th. who works for la poste knows L.S., a fellow volunteer who lives in the city I visit each week and the two of them like to speak a little English. After calling to verify that I had the money in my account, I believe, he told me, in English, that it'll be a minute. Then, the young man standing next to me asked Th. a question (in French of course) and Th. responded, “I'm sorry. I don't understand when you speak French. You must speak English.” To which I quite literally laughed out loud. Then, to make the situation even better, the young man next to me responded, “Do I put the numbers in...?” To that I laughed even more. It was a much-needed release and interaction and one example of the friendly and humorous people you can find here.
Until next time.
Burkinabè Solidarity and Relationships
Le 28 septembre 2009
I've had a tutor now for about 2 weeks and things have been going well. N.D., my tutor is a younger man who teaches at one of the primary schools in my village and is concurrently taking classes at a university, eventually hoping to get his masters, I believe in business management. Anyways, our sessions last about 2-3 hours and consist of grammar using a book loaned to me by the Peace Corps, Ultimate French, and reading a text from a sixième history book aloud, going back through and asking for clarification of any words I don't know, answering comprehension questions following the reading, and then answering questions N.D. poses to spark conversation. The sessions work well because I'm working on 3 of the main facets of learning a language: speaking, listening, and reading. Perhaps I should try to incorporate some writing, too...
Today, N.D. let me choose a general theme from the book and then which text I'd like to read. I chose a topic under health about le sorcier (It roughly translates to sorcerer, but our definition of a sorcerer doesn't apply. A sorcier in Burkina is a tradipraticien, someone who practices traditional medicine.) After reading the text and asking some general questions about health such as is there a mix of people that use traditional and modern medicine her (yes), what are the most common illnesses (malaria, coughing due to dust, kids get earaches and also a sickness where they get a lot of bumps on their body possibly caused by the heat...), N.D. wanted me to talk more, so he had a question for me: When your 'husband' asks about Burkina and life here, what do you tell him?
I started off saying that when I talk to anyone in the United States about Burkina I often compare the two countries. I mentioned the basic physical differences included lack of widespread toilets, electricity, running water. Then I got into the more interesting and noteworthy things.
People take the time in Burkina to saluer or greet each other. Not only do they take the time to greet each other and the time to respond, but they listen, too. It hasn't turned into a meaningless habit often found in the US where someone says hello, how are you, simply because it's something to say when they fully intend on not listening or even caring about the response of the person asked.
If I were to have an accident such as my bike breaks down and I can't fix it and I'm on a road a decent ways from a village or town or city, it is a sure thing that a Burkinabè passing by will stop and help me. Back in the US it's by the luck of the draw and there is definitely no guarantee that someone will help me.
Another important difference is the emphasis placed on relationships here. Relationships have the highest importance: friends and family take priority, always. Too often I'm disheartened in the US to find people putting money as they're focus and primary objective and forgetting the complexity, compassion, joy, and meaning found from cultivating and maintaining good, strong, healthy relationships with other people. Now, I'm generalizing. This does not mean all American put money as their priority over family and friends, but it is too often the case and much more often the case than in Burkina Faso. Money is important in so much as it's necessary for survival, but that's where I think it should end. I think people forget that sometimes.
Lastly, we talked about poverty, notions of and differences between North American and Burkinabè poverty. When I visited R. in Bobo she actually brought the comparison and reality up in conversation and it has stuck with me. In coming here, R. and I had notions of poverty and what it meant: someone without a home or shelter, someone without food to eat, someone without money or with very little. Coming here and living here now for three and a half months we've found that everyone has a home, somewhere to sleep, and no one goes hungry, there's always food to eat. So, the third notion is the only that rings true: people in poverty here have little or no money. But something else worth mentioning is that on average people spend $2 a day, that's 1000 CFA. You could easily live on about 1000 per week on food if managing it well and especially after having a base and general supply of cooking supplies. I find it ironic that the US is one of the richest countries in the world, certainly richer than Burkina Faso, and yet the poverty is worse. The US has the money and the means to feed and house everyone and yet there are many homeless and many starving people. Yet, in Burkina Faso, one of the poorest countries in the world, no one is starving and everyone has a roof over their head.
This leads me back to Burkinabè relationships and solidarity. Their solidarity is shown through how they interact with each other, saluer-ing each other and engaging in those conversations, helping people when in trouble whether they know the person or not (While biking into town last weekend I passed a woman walking and carrying a decent load only to be passed by a her sitting behind a man on the back of his moto. I'll bet good money that they didn't know each other and that she had not called him to come pick her up. That's just the Burkinabè way. And I like it.), and putting relationships with family and friends above all else. This part of their culture is inspiring and it's an example of how an underdeveloped, poor country can have important meaningful lessons to teach those in other cultures living in other countries, even those more developed. It makes me wonder if being more modernized is necessarily a good thing? Not always as the comparison between Burkina and the US illustrates.
I've had a tutor now for about 2 weeks and things have been going well. N.D., my tutor is a younger man who teaches at one of the primary schools in my village and is concurrently taking classes at a university, eventually hoping to get his masters, I believe in business management. Anyways, our sessions last about 2-3 hours and consist of grammar using a book loaned to me by the Peace Corps, Ultimate French, and reading a text from a sixième history book aloud, going back through and asking for clarification of any words I don't know, answering comprehension questions following the reading, and then answering questions N.D. poses to spark conversation. The sessions work well because I'm working on 3 of the main facets of learning a language: speaking, listening, and reading. Perhaps I should try to incorporate some writing, too...
Today, N.D. let me choose a general theme from the book and then which text I'd like to read. I chose a topic under health about le sorcier (It roughly translates to sorcerer, but our definition of a sorcerer doesn't apply. A sorcier in Burkina is a tradipraticien, someone who practices traditional medicine.) After reading the text and asking some general questions about health such as is there a mix of people that use traditional and modern medicine her (yes), what are the most common illnesses (malaria, coughing due to dust, kids get earaches and also a sickness where they get a lot of bumps on their body possibly caused by the heat...), N.D. wanted me to talk more, so he had a question for me: When your 'husband' asks about Burkina and life here, what do you tell him?
I started off saying that when I talk to anyone in the United States about Burkina I often compare the two countries. I mentioned the basic physical differences included lack of widespread toilets, electricity, running water. Then I got into the more interesting and noteworthy things.
People take the time in Burkina to saluer or greet each other. Not only do they take the time to greet each other and the time to respond, but they listen, too. It hasn't turned into a meaningless habit often found in the US where someone says hello, how are you, simply because it's something to say when they fully intend on not listening or even caring about the response of the person asked.
If I were to have an accident such as my bike breaks down and I can't fix it and I'm on a road a decent ways from a village or town or city, it is a sure thing that a Burkinabè passing by will stop and help me. Back in the US it's by the luck of the draw and there is definitely no guarantee that someone will help me.
Another important difference is the emphasis placed on relationships here. Relationships have the highest importance: friends and family take priority, always. Too often I'm disheartened in the US to find people putting money as they're focus and primary objective and forgetting the complexity, compassion, joy, and meaning found from cultivating and maintaining good, strong, healthy relationships with other people. Now, I'm generalizing. This does not mean all American put money as their priority over family and friends, but it is too often the case and much more often the case than in Burkina Faso. Money is important in so much as it's necessary for survival, but that's where I think it should end. I think people forget that sometimes.
Lastly, we talked about poverty, notions of and differences between North American and Burkinabè poverty. When I visited R. in Bobo she actually brought the comparison and reality up in conversation and it has stuck with me. In coming here, R. and I had notions of poverty and what it meant: someone without a home or shelter, someone without food to eat, someone without money or with very little. Coming here and living here now for three and a half months we've found that everyone has a home, somewhere to sleep, and no one goes hungry, there's always food to eat. So, the third notion is the only that rings true: people in poverty here have little or no money. But something else worth mentioning is that on average people spend $2 a day, that's 1000 CFA. You could easily live on about 1000 per week on food if managing it well and especially after having a base and general supply of cooking supplies. I find it ironic that the US is one of the richest countries in the world, certainly richer than Burkina Faso, and yet the poverty is worse. The US has the money and the means to feed and house everyone and yet there are many homeless and many starving people. Yet, in Burkina Faso, one of the poorest countries in the world, no one is starving and everyone has a roof over their head.
This leads me back to Burkinabè relationships and solidarity. Their solidarity is shown through how they interact with each other, saluer-ing each other and engaging in those conversations, helping people when in trouble whether they know the person or not (While biking into town last weekend I passed a woman walking and carrying a decent load only to be passed by a her sitting behind a man on the back of his moto. I'll bet good money that they didn't know each other and that she had not called him to come pick her up. That's just the Burkinabè way. And I like it.), and putting relationships with family and friends above all else. This part of their culture is inspiring and it's an example of how an underdeveloped, poor country can have important meaningful lessons to teach those in other cultures living in other countries, even those more developed. It makes me wonder if being more modernized is necessarily a good thing? Not always as the comparison between Burkina and the US illustrates.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Integrating Well Despite Myself
September 24, 2009
Last weekend was my first weekend in Bobo since affectation. I stayed with a friend, R., who generously opened her home to me. I definitely enjoyed the free WiFi, electricity, and sense of comfort that trip brings, but concurrently worried weekends like that only hindered my progress in village and made me an unsuccessful and poor volunteer – that was the over-achiever in me talking (I can't seem to drown it out, but then again, I'm not sure I want to.).
Filled with pride after making sure my bike was loaded onto the bus, I found my seat on the first bus trip I've taken in Burkina alone. I kept busy eating peanuts my friend M.T. from village so kindly keeps replenishing and reading Lord of the Flies. I have to be honest, so far, I'm not impressed and I am now more than half-way through with the book. Upon arrival I biked my way to PC's free internet, electricity, comfort, and safety where I would enjoy most of the day relaxing, surfing the net, and visiting with a small group of friendly and welcoming women volunteers.
R. showed up at one point and by 16:00 we were on our way to Marina Market after a stop by the poste. I haggled with some venders outside the post office while R. picked up her package. The same men I had been haggling with were apparently “friends” of R.'s. They had been bugging her for weeks to look at and purchase necklaces (that's how it's done here in BF) and R. used all the techniques we learned in training: la prochaine fois, je n'ai pas d'argent aujourd'hui, etc. etc. But to no avail. In fact, they were rather upset with her this day and it only infuriated and frustrated her more, because those were the types of interactions she had with people and it seemed that everyone wanted something from her, so she had no real friends. That's one of the drawbacks to living in a big city, but the positives include electricity, running water (having her own sink and toilet! not to mention lights), easy access to a post office, a constant variety of fruits and vegetables, access to other things not found in village such as olive oil, certain spices, yogurt, ice cream (if you're lucky), and a variety of restaurants and facilities and shops.
That night we met back up with our new volunteer friends who shared what was left of their Mexican feast (amazing salsa recipe requiring nothing but fruits and veggies: tomatoes, onions, piment [hot pepper], pineapple [key, mango would be good, too], and green peppers) before we watched the film, Lost in Faith. I enjoyed being enveloped in familiarity and a comfort level that seemed like a pastime. After 23:00 came and went, R. and I decided to make the 20-30 minute bike ride back to her place. I wasn't feeling very well and neither was she. I wonder if it was the Mexican food or the place we ate brochettes and rice with sauce for dinner. Either way, my stomach was in knots and I ended up being sick outside the boulangerie where R. bought bread for the following morning and again in the middle of the night. I have to say, thinking back on it, it was nice to have a toilet during such circumstances. By morning I was feeling significantly better. I planned to go easy on my stomach for most of the day and relax and enjoy internet time and skyping with my baby and my parents. I cannot tell you how wonderful that access was; I felt so spoiled. After skyping one last time with my partner I made the ride back to R.'s place to rest one final night before heading back home the following morning.
Up early I had bread and tea again for breakfast while hoping the rain would stop before it was time to leave. By 6:40 I was on the road biking back, trying to find the gare for my bus. After getting slightly lost and sent in the opposite direction (I asked a few people and since Bobo is so large, I believe there is more than one gare for this bus, but only one going to the city I needed to reach), a man walked me and my bike the 3 or so blocks to the gare. I knew I was close at this point, I just couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was. Never take street signs for granted, please. Once at the station I learned that my bus wasn't running today due to the holiday, it was Ramadan, but there was a van prepared to leave. I arrived before 8 and was told they were leaving right away. So, naturally we didn't leave until after 10: welcome to Burkina Faso and African WAIT time.
I was oddly excited to be slightly packed in with a group of Burkinabè all traveling with a purpose. Thank God for my attitude, I suppose. By 11:30 I made it back into the city that was only a 25K bike ride from home. I wasn't feeling up to the ride due to a lack of sleep for the previous two nights, but I made it anyway. I stopped for 20 minutes when I was a mere 5 minutes from village to try and fix my bike chain. The derailler was hitting the chain and keeping me from shifting into 3rd gear or it knocked the chain completely off the track. I couldn't fix it then, but was lucky enough to be able to keep it in 2nd gear and fair just fine.
Exhausted I returned home, unlocked my gate and door and unpacked. Instead of sleeping like I wanted to, I forced myself to go find some friends to celebrate the fête. It's important culturally to spend time with people, especially when there's a celebration going on. Plus, I like being around people anyways. I didn't find my friend M.T., but I did find some women who were headed to the CSPS (the medical facilities in village, a step down from a hospital). They motioned for me to follow along, so I figured why not, while secretly wondering why they'd be going to the CSPS that day. We entered one of several buildings to find a woman sitting up on a bed next to a piece of cloth. The women who brought be motioned me closer to the cloth that I soon learned had two new-borns nestled underneath. I witnessed a ritual of rubbing the babies with a lotion and black ash and sat next to two women who got the privilege of holding the babies. I figured out that the new mom had fraternal twins being that one child was a girl and the other a boy. What a happy occasion and a great day for a fête!
We left the CSPS after some of the women helped clean up and gathered together the new mom's belongings and trekked back to her home. I wondered what happened to the babies until I saw one woman unwrap one from behind her back. That's how babies and young children are carried here: a woman or teenager or young girl leans forward, props the baby on her back, piggy-back style, then wraps a piece of cloth or pagne around the baby and ties it off in two places in front around her chest.
After spending some time with mom and the new borns I followed some women to nearby courtyard where I was given rice with a fish sauce. I'm glad I had eaten fish like that before during stage, because otherwise I think I would have been much more awkward. I was bad enough as it was sitting there with a bowl of rice on top of a bowl of sauce just staring at it looking confused after a couple women told me to eat. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to share, to use my hand, or what the protocol was. Luckily, a woman brought me a spoon this time and my friend C. spoke French: il faut manger. Then M.T. brought me more rice and another sauce and walked me to my house to transfer both dishes into my own pots before returning to their courtyard. First, we stopped in to visit the babies and I was blessed being given the opportunity to hold each one. They were so precious. It's interesting holding someone so new to the world and wondering what they'll be, what they'll do, what her or his life will entail. It was definitely a smiling moment and one worth remembering. I spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening helping some women remove leaves from a pile of branches in order to prep for making another sauce.
The next day I decided to have a look at the bike manual the PC gave us and try to fix my bike. First, I needed to fix the 3rd flat I've gotten since affectating to village. I'm glad it didn't get flat like that until I got home: it's much easier fixing them with a bucket of water and it's much nicer not being interrupted mid-trip to fix a flat for 20-30 minutes. After that I set to work on my derailler. And what do you know, I managed to fix it! I felt so good afterwards. My front gears wouldn't shift to 1 or 3, but I figured out what I needed to change and alter in order to make it work as good as new. Ah, the little victories. Then, I moved my bike seat forward where it belongs (it had been wobbly, but I didn't realize it slid back like it did) and after realizing I did have the right size tool, I tightening my seat back in place. Self-sufficiency is enough to leave you feeling good for the rest of the day.
I met with my tutor whom my buddy L. helped me find twice this past week. He's a teacher or maître at the primary school in village and he's been a great help thus far. We go over chapters and exercises from Ultimate French to work on my grammar and he brings small textbooks with Burkinabè stories to read aloud, go over any unknown vocabulary, answer the questions following the text, and then use the topic to have a discussion afterwards. Most recently, I learned about how cases (pronounced coz) are constructed. Cases are the round houses here with the thatch roofs.
Yesterday, the moment of the day occurred after I went to find M.T. only to learn she and the others were en Brousse cultivating. Some women tried to explain where the others were and then a man handed me a large bowl filled with peanuts. As I said earlier, I keep getting them – the people here are so nice. As I was leaving to walk back to my house I heard a young teenage boy saying something in French. It was only after hearing anglais said a few times and looking back that I realized he was talking to me and not about me. He asked how you say peanut in English. “Peanut.” “Peanu.” “Peanut.” “Peanu.” The best part was not that he was standing on the roof of one of their huts, but that a smile grew across his face as he made an excited jump in the air upon learning this new word. That was my smile and perhaps happiest moment of the day.
Today I planned to finally after being at site for 4 weeks stop by my CSPS, say hello, and offer my services. The nerves were definitely there, but I fought against them and continued through with my plans. After waiting less than 10-20 minutes, the major came out, said hello, and led me into his office after learning of my intentions and purpose for being there. The major is the head nurse (l'infirmier), he's a l'infirmier d'état, having the highest degree of the at least three different types of nurses here. We talked about my experience and that I hoped to go to medical school after my two years of service here. He explained that it's the season for Palu aka paludisme (malaria) here and that a lot of kids are sick. He talked about the different departments and facilities there including a building where one can purchase medication. I asked if the people could afford the medication and he said they could because they use generic brands. He mentioned VIH and SIDA (HIV and AIDS) and how the biggest problem is people don't understand it or how it's contracted and spread and many don't even come in to be tested. He said he meets with troisième students to have a sensiblization about HIV and AIDS, but he doesn't have time to meet with all the students and there are sixième girls getting pregnant (Reminder: sixième is three levels below troisième). I suggested that I could help with that and do some sensiblizations with the other kids. He said we could go over the topic together and that it's a possibility. We talked about how I'd like to learn Jula when I become more comfortable with my French. He thinks I can learn it in a year and that once I do I could do some sensiblizations with the women here (because many woman don't speak French and have minimal education, unfortunately) and they'd be more likely to come and more likely to listen to me because I'm white. I guess there's a positive that comes with my skin color. I still wish it didn't matter, but I might as well use what I've got to my advantage, especially if it can help others.
After some time we moved outside and the major moved a bench under a tree, so we could enjoy the shade and any breezes that came our way. We continued to talk and our conversation moved to other topics. Around noon we headed back to his house just behind the main building where we shared a meal. Apparently, I like goat, and Madame major is a good cook. I spent the next hour having one of the first real or more in depth conversation than I've had in a while, not including my English escapades the previous weekend. We talked about jobs and how once you choose one in Burkina you keep it and can't change unlike in the US where you can change your career as often as you'd like, so to speak. We also talked about how they don't have debt here which is good, but that also means you can't borrow money and therefore do not have the opportunity to do things you can't afford...The major also gave me an open-ended invitation to come by if I ever wanted to eat. The cool thing about that statement is that here when people say things like that, they mean it.
I hope to volunteer at the CSPS at least once a week provided my school schedule and more notably workload allow it.
So, my integration continues, everyday is different than the last and finishing my 2nd journal today proves that I'm finding things to say and write about, and I'm loving my village and more importantly my community more each moment spent here with them.
Aw bi doni.
Last weekend was my first weekend in Bobo since affectation. I stayed with a friend, R., who generously opened her home to me. I definitely enjoyed the free WiFi, electricity, and sense of comfort that trip brings, but concurrently worried weekends like that only hindered my progress in village and made me an unsuccessful and poor volunteer – that was the over-achiever in me talking (I can't seem to drown it out, but then again, I'm not sure I want to.).
Filled with pride after making sure my bike was loaded onto the bus, I found my seat on the first bus trip I've taken in Burkina alone. I kept busy eating peanuts my friend M.T. from village so kindly keeps replenishing and reading Lord of the Flies. I have to be honest, so far, I'm not impressed and I am now more than half-way through with the book. Upon arrival I biked my way to PC's free internet, electricity, comfort, and safety where I would enjoy most of the day relaxing, surfing the net, and visiting with a small group of friendly and welcoming women volunteers.
R. showed up at one point and by 16:00 we were on our way to Marina Market after a stop by the poste. I haggled with some venders outside the post office while R. picked up her package. The same men I had been haggling with were apparently “friends” of R.'s. They had been bugging her for weeks to look at and purchase necklaces (that's how it's done here in BF) and R. used all the techniques we learned in training: la prochaine fois, je n'ai pas d'argent aujourd'hui, etc. etc. But to no avail. In fact, they were rather upset with her this day and it only infuriated and frustrated her more, because those were the types of interactions she had with people and it seemed that everyone wanted something from her, so she had no real friends. That's one of the drawbacks to living in a big city, but the positives include electricity, running water (having her own sink and toilet! not to mention lights), easy access to a post office, a constant variety of fruits and vegetables, access to other things not found in village such as olive oil, certain spices, yogurt, ice cream (if you're lucky), and a variety of restaurants and facilities and shops.
That night we met back up with our new volunteer friends who shared what was left of their Mexican feast (amazing salsa recipe requiring nothing but fruits and veggies: tomatoes, onions, piment [hot pepper], pineapple [key, mango would be good, too], and green peppers) before we watched the film, Lost in Faith. I enjoyed being enveloped in familiarity and a comfort level that seemed like a pastime. After 23:00 came and went, R. and I decided to make the 20-30 minute bike ride back to her place. I wasn't feeling very well and neither was she. I wonder if it was the Mexican food or the place we ate brochettes and rice with sauce for dinner. Either way, my stomach was in knots and I ended up being sick outside the boulangerie where R. bought bread for the following morning and again in the middle of the night. I have to say, thinking back on it, it was nice to have a toilet during such circumstances. By morning I was feeling significantly better. I planned to go easy on my stomach for most of the day and relax and enjoy internet time and skyping with my baby and my parents. I cannot tell you how wonderful that access was; I felt so spoiled. After skyping one last time with my partner I made the ride back to R.'s place to rest one final night before heading back home the following morning.
Up early I had bread and tea again for breakfast while hoping the rain would stop before it was time to leave. By 6:40 I was on the road biking back, trying to find the gare for my bus. After getting slightly lost and sent in the opposite direction (I asked a few people and since Bobo is so large, I believe there is more than one gare for this bus, but only one going to the city I needed to reach), a man walked me and my bike the 3 or so blocks to the gare. I knew I was close at this point, I just couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was. Never take street signs for granted, please. Once at the station I learned that my bus wasn't running today due to the holiday, it was Ramadan, but there was a van prepared to leave. I arrived before 8 and was told they were leaving right away. So, naturally we didn't leave until after 10: welcome to Burkina Faso and African WAIT time.
I was oddly excited to be slightly packed in with a group of Burkinabè all traveling with a purpose. Thank God for my attitude, I suppose. By 11:30 I made it back into the city that was only a 25K bike ride from home. I wasn't feeling up to the ride due to a lack of sleep for the previous two nights, but I made it anyway. I stopped for 20 minutes when I was a mere 5 minutes from village to try and fix my bike chain. The derailler was hitting the chain and keeping me from shifting into 3rd gear or it knocked the chain completely off the track. I couldn't fix it then, but was lucky enough to be able to keep it in 2nd gear and fair just fine.
Exhausted I returned home, unlocked my gate and door and unpacked. Instead of sleeping like I wanted to, I forced myself to go find some friends to celebrate the fête. It's important culturally to spend time with people, especially when there's a celebration going on. Plus, I like being around people anyways. I didn't find my friend M.T., but I did find some women who were headed to the CSPS (the medical facilities in village, a step down from a hospital). They motioned for me to follow along, so I figured why not, while secretly wondering why they'd be going to the CSPS that day. We entered one of several buildings to find a woman sitting up on a bed next to a piece of cloth. The women who brought be motioned me closer to the cloth that I soon learned had two new-borns nestled underneath. I witnessed a ritual of rubbing the babies with a lotion and black ash and sat next to two women who got the privilege of holding the babies. I figured out that the new mom had fraternal twins being that one child was a girl and the other a boy. What a happy occasion and a great day for a fête!
We left the CSPS after some of the women helped clean up and gathered together the new mom's belongings and trekked back to her home. I wondered what happened to the babies until I saw one woman unwrap one from behind her back. That's how babies and young children are carried here: a woman or teenager or young girl leans forward, props the baby on her back, piggy-back style, then wraps a piece of cloth or pagne around the baby and ties it off in two places in front around her chest.
After spending some time with mom and the new borns I followed some women to nearby courtyard where I was given rice with a fish sauce. I'm glad I had eaten fish like that before during stage, because otherwise I think I would have been much more awkward. I was bad enough as it was sitting there with a bowl of rice on top of a bowl of sauce just staring at it looking confused after a couple women told me to eat. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to share, to use my hand, or what the protocol was. Luckily, a woman brought me a spoon this time and my friend C. spoke French: il faut manger. Then M.T. brought me more rice and another sauce and walked me to my house to transfer both dishes into my own pots before returning to their courtyard. First, we stopped in to visit the babies and I was blessed being given the opportunity to hold each one. They were so precious. It's interesting holding someone so new to the world and wondering what they'll be, what they'll do, what her or his life will entail. It was definitely a smiling moment and one worth remembering. I spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening helping some women remove leaves from a pile of branches in order to prep for making another sauce.
The next day I decided to have a look at the bike manual the PC gave us and try to fix my bike. First, I needed to fix the 3rd flat I've gotten since affectating to village. I'm glad it didn't get flat like that until I got home: it's much easier fixing them with a bucket of water and it's much nicer not being interrupted mid-trip to fix a flat for 20-30 minutes. After that I set to work on my derailler. And what do you know, I managed to fix it! I felt so good afterwards. My front gears wouldn't shift to 1 or 3, but I figured out what I needed to change and alter in order to make it work as good as new. Ah, the little victories. Then, I moved my bike seat forward where it belongs (it had been wobbly, but I didn't realize it slid back like it did) and after realizing I did have the right size tool, I tightening my seat back in place. Self-sufficiency is enough to leave you feeling good for the rest of the day.
I met with my tutor whom my buddy L. helped me find twice this past week. He's a teacher or maître at the primary school in village and he's been a great help thus far. We go over chapters and exercises from Ultimate French to work on my grammar and he brings small textbooks with Burkinabè stories to read aloud, go over any unknown vocabulary, answer the questions following the text, and then use the topic to have a discussion afterwards. Most recently, I learned about how cases (pronounced coz) are constructed. Cases are the round houses here with the thatch roofs.
Yesterday, the moment of the day occurred after I went to find M.T. only to learn she and the others were en Brousse cultivating. Some women tried to explain where the others were and then a man handed me a large bowl filled with peanuts. As I said earlier, I keep getting them – the people here are so nice. As I was leaving to walk back to my house I heard a young teenage boy saying something in French. It was only after hearing anglais said a few times and looking back that I realized he was talking to me and not about me. He asked how you say peanut in English. “Peanut.” “Peanu.” “Peanut.” “Peanu.” The best part was not that he was standing on the roof of one of their huts, but that a smile grew across his face as he made an excited jump in the air upon learning this new word. That was my smile and perhaps happiest moment of the day.
Today I planned to finally after being at site for 4 weeks stop by my CSPS, say hello, and offer my services. The nerves were definitely there, but I fought against them and continued through with my plans. After waiting less than 10-20 minutes, the major came out, said hello, and led me into his office after learning of my intentions and purpose for being there. The major is the head nurse (l'infirmier), he's a l'infirmier d'état, having the highest degree of the at least three different types of nurses here. We talked about my experience and that I hoped to go to medical school after my two years of service here. He explained that it's the season for Palu aka paludisme (malaria) here and that a lot of kids are sick. He talked about the different departments and facilities there including a building where one can purchase medication. I asked if the people could afford the medication and he said they could because they use generic brands. He mentioned VIH and SIDA (HIV and AIDS) and how the biggest problem is people don't understand it or how it's contracted and spread and many don't even come in to be tested. He said he meets with troisième students to have a sensiblization about HIV and AIDS, but he doesn't have time to meet with all the students and there are sixième girls getting pregnant (Reminder: sixième is three levels below troisième). I suggested that I could help with that and do some sensiblizations with the other kids. He said we could go over the topic together and that it's a possibility. We talked about how I'd like to learn Jula when I become more comfortable with my French. He thinks I can learn it in a year and that once I do I could do some sensiblizations with the women here (because many woman don't speak French and have minimal education, unfortunately) and they'd be more likely to come and more likely to listen to me because I'm white. I guess there's a positive that comes with my skin color. I still wish it didn't matter, but I might as well use what I've got to my advantage, especially if it can help others.
After some time we moved outside and the major moved a bench under a tree, so we could enjoy the shade and any breezes that came our way. We continued to talk and our conversation moved to other topics. Around noon we headed back to his house just behind the main building where we shared a meal. Apparently, I like goat, and Madame major is a good cook. I spent the next hour having one of the first real or more in depth conversation than I've had in a while, not including my English escapades the previous weekend. We talked about jobs and how once you choose one in Burkina you keep it and can't change unlike in the US where you can change your career as often as you'd like, so to speak. We also talked about how they don't have debt here which is good, but that also means you can't borrow money and therefore do not have the opportunity to do things you can't afford...The major also gave me an open-ended invitation to come by if I ever wanted to eat. The cool thing about that statement is that here when people say things like that, they mean it.
I hope to volunteer at the CSPS at least once a week provided my school schedule and more notably workload allow it.
So, my integration continues, everyday is different than the last and finishing my 2nd journal today proves that I'm finding things to say and write about, and I'm loving my village and more importantly my community more each moment spent here with them.
Aw bi doni.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Burkina Food Corner
Food in Burkina Faso.
First of all, there is no overly-processed food problem here like in the states contributing to the millions and millions of people with high blood pressure, obesity, increased heart problems, etc. You an find processed foods here: some cookies and crackers and the like, but it's not as commonplace nor are those things what people generally go for first here which I think is definitely a positive.
What is available?
There are a lot of carbohydrates and wheats here which contribute to the ability to find many different types of flour: those made out of millet, maize (Yes, it is a type of corn,however, different; you cannot boil it or cook it and get the same results. No matter how hard you try, you will not get that soft chewy corn you have come to know and love in the US), wheat (although, the supposed wheat flour I bought did not look like any wheat flour I've ever seen, it looked just like the regular white flour you buy at a grocery store back in the states), etc.
One often bakes with flour, no? So, you can also find various baking materials, even though some are easier than others. Sugar is easy to find here and typically comes in one of two varieties: white or brown (And I don't think the brown is like brown sugar, I think it's less processed and comes more directly from the cane); I have found a powdered white substance in the one grocery store that exists in Burkina and that may have been powdered sugar, but the jury's still out. You can find baking soda, baking powder, and yeast as well.
Eggs are available here as well and are often much smaller and browner in color. (I was lucky enough this past week to receive a bag full of eggs as a gift and have thus been able to bake a little and experiment with egg preparation from omelets, scrambled cheesy eggs, to over easy [which ended up being more over hard – I need to practice not breaking my yokes] and hard-boiled.)
Popular treats and snacks found here include a small variety of fried cakes and doughs: small ball-shaped fried cakes (gateaux), one type more solid and grainy, the other the consistency of cake; and galettes are often made when it's raining and it's the Burkinabé version of pancakes (They're smaller than US pancakes and thicker, too. Plus, instead of typically tasting sweet, there's often a spicy kick because pepper or piment (spicy pepper such as an habanero or chilly pepper grown here) has been added. They still taste really good. My host family made galettes with bananas.)
Oil. One thing learned in the past three months is that the Burkinabé love their oil. Usually it's the cheap, poor-quality vegetable oil, but again, if you search hard enough and know of the one grocery store in Burkina (Marina Market) and can get to a big city, such as Bobo or Ouaga, you can purchase olive oil and even have your choice between a few different brands. Oil is plentiful and inexpensive. If you go to the marché (market) where one goes to buy many food items, and other types of items as well, you will find larget metal cans that look like those you've seen carrying a lot of car oil and those cans will have a small pump on the top where the vender will put a sachet (small plastic bag) under the spout and pump as much oil as you want into the plastic bag before tying it off and handing it over. (Most things are sold using plastic bags here from the small black grocery-type bags used to purchase fruits, vegetables, grains, flours, etc. to the small clear plastic bags used to purchase oil, peanut butter, water, juice, etc.) Not only is it easy to find, but many Burkinabé put oil in most of their dishes. Instead of adding salt first as people do in the US, here one first adds oil and one adds so very generously.
Vinegar and salt are easy to find here as well, and salt is a very common spice added to most dishes as well. Luckily, iodized salt is sold here and many people use that. I don't think there is as big of a problem with salt here, because of the lack of processed foods, people aren't consuming massive amounts of sodium that shocks their system and increases their blood pressure among other physical problems.
Vegetables and fruits? Yes and yes, but it depends. It depends largely on one's location and the current season. Burkina has three main seasons: hot, hotter, and not quite as hot which translate to a warm season, a hot season, and a rainy season where temperatures a bit cooler (Each of these seasons is still very warm and during the warm and especially hot seasons, the temperatures rise above 100 degrees F easily.) The rainy season and therefore cultivation season is when the most variety and availability of fruits and vegetables is found.
Some vegetables found here include onions (one can always find onions), beans (in Jula called s)s) [ the ) should actually look more like backward c's, but the shape doesn't exist in my openoffice character list], in Mooré they're called benga and are very common and easy to find), potatoes, patates (which are a cross between regular potatoes and sweet potatoes according to taste anyway), eggplant of the African variety (green and looks a little like a pepper and has a very bitter taste, not very good on its own, best in sauces) and the violet eggplant, corn or rather maize (which is prepared differently here: they often remove the husk and then grill it so the kernels have black in the middle. Then instead of eating it right off the cob, one holds the cob and picks off kernels with one's fingers before tossing them in one's mouth), piment (which as I said is hot peppers, typically habaneros and chilli peppers of the red and yellow variety. Piment is very popular and used in many dishes. It is dried and used as a spice and sometimes mixed with Maggi cubes to tone down the heat and add some more flavor. It is mashed up and made into a salsa-type sauce that can be added to taste to a dish, as well.), green peppers exist here and are often not as ever-present as the other types of vegetables, tomatoes, garlic, gumbo (which is a long, slender, octagonal, green vegetable used in sauces), and leaves (leaves of many different types and varieties are very popular here when making sauces. The only type that comes to mind right now is Baobab, but there are many. I learned of at least two different plants growing in my courtyard that can be used in sauces: one was a little plant with small round leaves and the other completely the opposite, big with large leaves where one leaf could make a sauce for an entire family and then some.)
For fruits, the most common are mangoes, especially around the beginning of rainy season, aloco (African plantains), weda (the Mooré name for this sour orange fruit that when mixed with water and sugar makes the most delicious juice you've ever tasted), and bananas. You can also find applies (imported), oranges, limes (which are actually a cross between lemons and limes if you're going according to taste), pineapple, watermelon, papaya, an oval-shaped bright yellow melon... Other than the few popular fruits first mentioned, one needs to travel to a decent-sized city to usually find the other types of fruit.
It is important to note also, that that the sizes of vegetable and fruits here are typically smaller than in the states. I surmise that is the case because people don't tamper with and biologically alter the chemical make-up of fruits and vegetables here which may make the flavor better. I noticed that onions are a lot stronger here, for example.
As for meat and protein sources of the like one finds mouton (sheep), beef, goat, chicken, and fish. It's important to specify what type of cut you'd like, because here fat is often included and consumed (During my first visit to site, I ate lunch with a group of men and lunch consisted of a plate filled with meat and fat with powdered piment and maggi to dip it in. And there was a lot of fat making it difficult to find a piece of meat without a chunk of fat attached). If you get fish it is of the dried or bony variety and you spend much time picking out or crunching on fish bones, whichever you prefer. If prepared well and if a decent type of fish, it can be quite tasty. (I recall my host family preparing a fish fillet, bones included of course, with cut up cucumbers and onions on top with a light sauce perhaps made with mayonnaise and water.) You can also find sardines in a can which taste good – they're not salty like the sardines supposedly are in the states. They remind me of canned trout you can purchase from Trader Joe's (ah, Trader Joe's...) You can also find tuna here, but it's expensive (hence the reason I prefer to receive it in packages sent from the US!)
I mentioned early that carbohydrates are commonplace here and include rice, couscous, pasta, spagghetti, and most importantly tô. Tô is the staple food here and is often made from millet, but can be made from rice and other sources as well, I believe. Tô is as if someone were trying to make porridge and left it cooking for too long and ended up with one solid mass that is slightly gelatinous. The flavoring is very bland, but one typically eats it with a sauce.
Usually, for a meal here, one prepares a starch or carbohydrate such as tô or rice and a sauce to go with it. Both are kept separate until joined on each individual's plate (I made macaroni and cheese for my host family and kept the cheese sauce separate from the macaroni, so they'd be more comfortable with it). Although there are dishes like rice and beans or riz gras (riz = rice; this is a dish where one prepares the sauce, then adds the rice and cooks it down until no water remains). A big problem here is that people cook their sauces for so long that most if not all nutritional value from the vegetables is gone by the time the meal is ready to be eaten.
What types of appliances are available, you ask? If you're in a village like me, you do not have electricity, so that means no blender, electric can opener, electric stove or oven for that matter, microwave, toaster, toaster oven, coffee maker (for you avid coffee drinkers out there), and while we're at it, no dish washer for afterward. That leads me to the two most missed of all: refrigerators and freezers. You can't keep things cold like you're used to and you certainly can't really chill anything. To counteract this, desert fridges exist. These are constructed in large clay bowls when filled with water use evaporation as a cooling mechanism. I haven't tried this yet, but hope to. This won't keep things refrigerator-cold, but it can cool things down enough and help preserve some produce an extra day or two. One also learns, that food lasts longer than people often think it does in the states. You can prepare a meal and have it last a day or two without refrigeration as long as you make sure to check it and heat it up before consuming again to kill off any bacteria that may have formed.
The appliances we do have available include: cooking outdoors with wood and/or straw (luckily, many have learned how to construct these clay cylindrical ovens that increase efficiency and decrease the amount of wood needed to cook a meal and have made cooking easier, faster, and cheaper), a small gas bottle about 2 feet high and maybe 2 feet in diameter with a round, flat, holey metal piece attached to the top with a long plastic knob used to turn the gas on and off. The upper outside of the gas bottle is surrounded by a thin sheet of metal with pieces leading to the center where the gas comes out, thus leaving space for pots and pans to be placed, a larger gas bottle twice the size of the smaller that is hooked up via a piece of tubing and a metal contraption to a stove top (mine has 2 larger burners and one smaller while others have as many as 4 total burners), and small cylindrical metal contraptions where coal is added underneath and things such as tea are made. Naturally, one needs matches or a lighter to get the fire started after turning the gas on.
So, we don't have ovens here? Wrong! We have Dutch ovens. I like it best using my little gas bottle and that stove rather than the big one, but you can use either, it's only necessary to have a heat source. To construct your Dutch oven, you use a marmite (which is a big metal pot that looks like one a witch would use to prepare a brew), fill the bottom of it with 2-3 inches of sand, not dirt, and then place three empty cans, such as little tomato paste cans (like I used) in a triangle on top of the sand. When you want to bake something you can place the lid on the marmite, but it on top of your heat source and wait for it to heat up. Then you place whatever you want to bake or toast inside the marmite on top of the three cans and watch it happen. Or rather, put the lid on and wait for it to happen. Sadly, marmites with a clean pane in front and a light inside have yet to be invented.
I made two batches of banana bread this week because I liked it so much. I used a recipe from a book we volunteers were given and put my own spin on it. I first mixed the dry ingredients: 2 cups flour (I used wheat but as I said it looked white to me), ¾ cups sugar (the recipe called for white, but I used the brown cane sugar instead which after mixing that with the flour, it then looked like wheat), 1 tsp salt, and 1 tsp baking soda. Then I mixed the wet ingredients: 2 slightly beaten eggs, 3 mashed up bananas (I used four because I like bananas and they're very small here), 1 tsp vanilla sugar (I found a small bottle of some type of vanilla extract at Marina Market and so used that and I think it made the dish). Then I added the wet to the dry and stirred it up. I'd also like to point out that I don't have any measuring cups or utensils here, so I eyeballed it and did my best guesstimate regarding quantities. Then, since I didn't have butter or a loaf pan, I chose a pot about the right size, oiled it with my olive oil and then added my bread batter to the pot. I then placed my bot on top of the three tin cans inside my preheated Dutch oven, covered the marmite with it's top and waited an hour for it to bake. I kept my heat fairly low to prevent the marmite from getting to hot. Unfortunately, the gas here is not as reliable or consistent as in the states, so my second banana bread batch (made 2 days after the first, because I ate it in two days and even that was hard dragging it out for that long) was a bit darker on the outside because the gas increased and therefore made the flame higher and hotter and I did not realize it right away – I did luckily realize it in time to do some damage control and not burn my tasty treat. And it was delicious.
Another thing taken for granted in the states is water. In my village, I don't have running water, so I need to go to a pump to get it. This has taught me to be very conscious about water use and I've found ways to reuse and conserve water. Sinks with running water and toilets do exist here, but only in the bigger cities and even then, they're not very commonplace. One is more likely to find houses with water spickets coming out of the back of someone's house, like with my host family, than to find a sink.
Regarding spices, as I said, salt is easily available. One uses leaves a lot here to flavor things. Ginger and tamarin leaves are easily found. Spices like black pepper, oregana, basil, thyme, and corriander can only be found in big cities like Bobo and Ouaga.
For utensils, one can find bowls, pots, pans, plates, forks, and spoons fairly easily, but they are often not of good quality. It's difficult to find decent knives here. I bought a set before coming to village and within the first couple days my knife was showing signs of rust. Spatulas are expensive and I have yet to see any baking spatulas or scrapers. If you want a good can-opener, it's best to bring one or have one sent from somewhere else.
Things like ice cream and cheese are only found in big cities and again, obviously, must be eaten right away. The only cheese that is easily found here is vache qui rit or laughing cow and that's a cheese spread that can be left out and lasts a while, so you can make up your mind about that. But when it's all you've got, you learn to love it.
Things to have sent from home include cheese-related products (cheese wiz, easy cheese, nacho cheese, mac n' cheese, Parmesan/Romano cheese), beef jerky, granola bars, special teas and coffees (both are found here, but not in large varieties), gravy, dressings, sauce, and soup packets, kool-aid, gatorade, and drink mixes, maple syrup, peanut butter (again, can be found here, but it's not sweatened and is made from peanuts and oil = still tasty).
One final note: juices. The juices the Burkinabé made are delicious. I already mentioned jus (juice) de weda, bissap which is made similarly to weda only one uses bissap leaves, zoom-koom (made with tamarin leaves, ginger, millet, piment, sugar, and water), and ginger juice to name a few.
So, that's the basics of the food situation here in in Burkina. It's different, but it works, especially once you get used to it. You've still able to prepare a variety of different foods and dishes if you aren't afraid to get creative. Oh, I almost forgot, bouillie!
Bouillie (pronounced bwee) is Burkinabé porridge. It's made with water (best when first soaked with tamarin leaves), millet meal, sorghum, maize, or rice, and I like mine with ginger. You can also add salt They form these little balls of flour and ginger first with water and then add that and the rest of the flour to water, boil it, add sugar and milk if you want, and enjoy. It's delicious. It's like a cross between cream of wheat and oatmeal, but more watery. It's like thickened water with little tiny balls of tasty goodness in it. I'd highly recommend trying it or learning how to prepare it!
Until next time.
First of all, there is no overly-processed food problem here like in the states contributing to the millions and millions of people with high blood pressure, obesity, increased heart problems, etc. You an find processed foods here: some cookies and crackers and the like, but it's not as commonplace nor are those things what people generally go for first here which I think is definitely a positive.
What is available?
There are a lot of carbohydrates and wheats here which contribute to the ability to find many different types of flour: those made out of millet, maize (Yes, it is a type of corn,however, different; you cannot boil it or cook it and get the same results. No matter how hard you try, you will not get that soft chewy corn you have come to know and love in the US), wheat (although, the supposed wheat flour I bought did not look like any wheat flour I've ever seen, it looked just like the regular white flour you buy at a grocery store back in the states), etc.
One often bakes with flour, no? So, you can also find various baking materials, even though some are easier than others. Sugar is easy to find here and typically comes in one of two varieties: white or brown (And I don't think the brown is like brown sugar, I think it's less processed and comes more directly from the cane); I have found a powdered white substance in the one grocery store that exists in Burkina and that may have been powdered sugar, but the jury's still out. You can find baking soda, baking powder, and yeast as well.
Eggs are available here as well and are often much smaller and browner in color. (I was lucky enough this past week to receive a bag full of eggs as a gift and have thus been able to bake a little and experiment with egg preparation from omelets, scrambled cheesy eggs, to over easy [which ended up being more over hard – I need to practice not breaking my yokes] and hard-boiled.)
Popular treats and snacks found here include a small variety of fried cakes and doughs: small ball-shaped fried cakes (gateaux), one type more solid and grainy, the other the consistency of cake; and galettes are often made when it's raining and it's the Burkinabé version of pancakes (They're smaller than US pancakes and thicker, too. Plus, instead of typically tasting sweet, there's often a spicy kick because pepper or piment (spicy pepper such as an habanero or chilly pepper grown here) has been added. They still taste really good. My host family made galettes with bananas.)
Oil. One thing learned in the past three months is that the Burkinabé love their oil. Usually it's the cheap, poor-quality vegetable oil, but again, if you search hard enough and know of the one grocery store in Burkina (Marina Market) and can get to a big city, such as Bobo or Ouaga, you can purchase olive oil and even have your choice between a few different brands. Oil is plentiful and inexpensive. If you go to the marché (market) where one goes to buy many food items, and other types of items as well, you will find larget metal cans that look like those you've seen carrying a lot of car oil and those cans will have a small pump on the top where the vender will put a sachet (small plastic bag) under the spout and pump as much oil as you want into the plastic bag before tying it off and handing it over. (Most things are sold using plastic bags here from the small black grocery-type bags used to purchase fruits, vegetables, grains, flours, etc. to the small clear plastic bags used to purchase oil, peanut butter, water, juice, etc.) Not only is it easy to find, but many Burkinabé put oil in most of their dishes. Instead of adding salt first as people do in the US, here one first adds oil and one adds so very generously.
Vinegar and salt are easy to find here as well, and salt is a very common spice added to most dishes as well. Luckily, iodized salt is sold here and many people use that. I don't think there is as big of a problem with salt here, because of the lack of processed foods, people aren't consuming massive amounts of sodium that shocks their system and increases their blood pressure among other physical problems.
Vegetables and fruits? Yes and yes, but it depends. It depends largely on one's location and the current season. Burkina has three main seasons: hot, hotter, and not quite as hot which translate to a warm season, a hot season, and a rainy season where temperatures a bit cooler (Each of these seasons is still very warm and during the warm and especially hot seasons, the temperatures rise above 100 degrees F easily.) The rainy season and therefore cultivation season is when the most variety and availability of fruits and vegetables is found.
Some vegetables found here include onions (one can always find onions), beans (in Jula called s)s) [ the ) should actually look more like backward c's, but the shape doesn't exist in my openoffice character list], in Mooré they're called benga and are very common and easy to find), potatoes, patates (which are a cross between regular potatoes and sweet potatoes according to taste anyway), eggplant of the African variety (green and looks a little like a pepper and has a very bitter taste, not very good on its own, best in sauces) and the violet eggplant, corn or rather maize (which is prepared differently here: they often remove the husk and then grill it so the kernels have black in the middle. Then instead of eating it right off the cob, one holds the cob and picks off kernels with one's fingers before tossing them in one's mouth), piment (which as I said is hot peppers, typically habaneros and chilli peppers of the red and yellow variety. Piment is very popular and used in many dishes. It is dried and used as a spice and sometimes mixed with Maggi cubes to tone down the heat and add some more flavor. It is mashed up and made into a salsa-type sauce that can be added to taste to a dish, as well.), green peppers exist here and are often not as ever-present as the other types of vegetables, tomatoes, garlic, gumbo (which is a long, slender, octagonal, green vegetable used in sauces), and leaves (leaves of many different types and varieties are very popular here when making sauces. The only type that comes to mind right now is Baobab, but there are many. I learned of at least two different plants growing in my courtyard that can be used in sauces: one was a little plant with small round leaves and the other completely the opposite, big with large leaves where one leaf could make a sauce for an entire family and then some.)
For fruits, the most common are mangoes, especially around the beginning of rainy season, aloco (African plantains), weda (the Mooré name for this sour orange fruit that when mixed with water and sugar makes the most delicious juice you've ever tasted), and bananas. You can also find applies (imported), oranges, limes (which are actually a cross between lemons and limes if you're going according to taste), pineapple, watermelon, papaya, an oval-shaped bright yellow melon... Other than the few popular fruits first mentioned, one needs to travel to a decent-sized city to usually find the other types of fruit.
It is important to note also, that that the sizes of vegetable and fruits here are typically smaller than in the states. I surmise that is the case because people don't tamper with and biologically alter the chemical make-up of fruits and vegetables here which may make the flavor better. I noticed that onions are a lot stronger here, for example.
As for meat and protein sources of the like one finds mouton (sheep), beef, goat, chicken, and fish. It's important to specify what type of cut you'd like, because here fat is often included and consumed (During my first visit to site, I ate lunch with a group of men and lunch consisted of a plate filled with meat and fat with powdered piment and maggi to dip it in. And there was a lot of fat making it difficult to find a piece of meat without a chunk of fat attached). If you get fish it is of the dried or bony variety and you spend much time picking out or crunching on fish bones, whichever you prefer. If prepared well and if a decent type of fish, it can be quite tasty. (I recall my host family preparing a fish fillet, bones included of course, with cut up cucumbers and onions on top with a light sauce perhaps made with mayonnaise and water.) You can also find sardines in a can which taste good – they're not salty like the sardines supposedly are in the states. They remind me of canned trout you can purchase from Trader Joe's (ah, Trader Joe's...) You can also find tuna here, but it's expensive (hence the reason I prefer to receive it in packages sent from the US!)
I mentioned early that carbohydrates are commonplace here and include rice, couscous, pasta, spagghetti, and most importantly tô. Tô is the staple food here and is often made from millet, but can be made from rice and other sources as well, I believe. Tô is as if someone were trying to make porridge and left it cooking for too long and ended up with one solid mass that is slightly gelatinous. The flavoring is very bland, but one typically eats it with a sauce.
Usually, for a meal here, one prepares a starch or carbohydrate such as tô or rice and a sauce to go with it. Both are kept separate until joined on each individual's plate (I made macaroni and cheese for my host family and kept the cheese sauce separate from the macaroni, so they'd be more comfortable with it). Although there are dishes like rice and beans or riz gras (riz = rice; this is a dish where one prepares the sauce, then adds the rice and cooks it down until no water remains). A big problem here is that people cook their sauces for so long that most if not all nutritional value from the vegetables is gone by the time the meal is ready to be eaten.
What types of appliances are available, you ask? If you're in a village like me, you do not have electricity, so that means no blender, electric can opener, electric stove or oven for that matter, microwave, toaster, toaster oven, coffee maker (for you avid coffee drinkers out there), and while we're at it, no dish washer for afterward. That leads me to the two most missed of all: refrigerators and freezers. You can't keep things cold like you're used to and you certainly can't really chill anything. To counteract this, desert fridges exist. These are constructed in large clay bowls when filled with water use evaporation as a cooling mechanism. I haven't tried this yet, but hope to. This won't keep things refrigerator-cold, but it can cool things down enough and help preserve some produce an extra day or two. One also learns, that food lasts longer than people often think it does in the states. You can prepare a meal and have it last a day or two without refrigeration as long as you make sure to check it and heat it up before consuming again to kill off any bacteria that may have formed.
The appliances we do have available include: cooking outdoors with wood and/or straw (luckily, many have learned how to construct these clay cylindrical ovens that increase efficiency and decrease the amount of wood needed to cook a meal and have made cooking easier, faster, and cheaper), a small gas bottle about 2 feet high and maybe 2 feet in diameter with a round, flat, holey metal piece attached to the top with a long plastic knob used to turn the gas on and off. The upper outside of the gas bottle is surrounded by a thin sheet of metal with pieces leading to the center where the gas comes out, thus leaving space for pots and pans to be placed, a larger gas bottle twice the size of the smaller that is hooked up via a piece of tubing and a metal contraption to a stove top (mine has 2 larger burners and one smaller while others have as many as 4 total burners), and small cylindrical metal contraptions where coal is added underneath and things such as tea are made. Naturally, one needs matches or a lighter to get the fire started after turning the gas on.
So, we don't have ovens here? Wrong! We have Dutch ovens. I like it best using my little gas bottle and that stove rather than the big one, but you can use either, it's only necessary to have a heat source. To construct your Dutch oven, you use a marmite (which is a big metal pot that looks like one a witch would use to prepare a brew), fill the bottom of it with 2-3 inches of sand, not dirt, and then place three empty cans, such as little tomato paste cans (like I used) in a triangle on top of the sand. When you want to bake something you can place the lid on the marmite, but it on top of your heat source and wait for it to heat up. Then you place whatever you want to bake or toast inside the marmite on top of the three cans and watch it happen. Or rather, put the lid on and wait for it to happen. Sadly, marmites with a clean pane in front and a light inside have yet to be invented.
I made two batches of banana bread this week because I liked it so much. I used a recipe from a book we volunteers were given and put my own spin on it. I first mixed the dry ingredients: 2 cups flour (I used wheat but as I said it looked white to me), ¾ cups sugar (the recipe called for white, but I used the brown cane sugar instead which after mixing that with the flour, it then looked like wheat), 1 tsp salt, and 1 tsp baking soda. Then I mixed the wet ingredients: 2 slightly beaten eggs, 3 mashed up bananas (I used four because I like bananas and they're very small here), 1 tsp vanilla sugar (I found a small bottle of some type of vanilla extract at Marina Market and so used that and I think it made the dish). Then I added the wet to the dry and stirred it up. I'd also like to point out that I don't have any measuring cups or utensils here, so I eyeballed it and did my best guesstimate regarding quantities. Then, since I didn't have butter or a loaf pan, I chose a pot about the right size, oiled it with my olive oil and then added my bread batter to the pot. I then placed my bot on top of the three tin cans inside my preheated Dutch oven, covered the marmite with it's top and waited an hour for it to bake. I kept my heat fairly low to prevent the marmite from getting to hot. Unfortunately, the gas here is not as reliable or consistent as in the states, so my second banana bread batch (made 2 days after the first, because I ate it in two days and even that was hard dragging it out for that long) was a bit darker on the outside because the gas increased and therefore made the flame higher and hotter and I did not realize it right away – I did luckily realize it in time to do some damage control and not burn my tasty treat. And it was delicious.
Another thing taken for granted in the states is water. In my village, I don't have running water, so I need to go to a pump to get it. This has taught me to be very conscious about water use and I've found ways to reuse and conserve water. Sinks with running water and toilets do exist here, but only in the bigger cities and even then, they're not very commonplace. One is more likely to find houses with water spickets coming out of the back of someone's house, like with my host family, than to find a sink.
Regarding spices, as I said, salt is easily available. One uses leaves a lot here to flavor things. Ginger and tamarin leaves are easily found. Spices like black pepper, oregana, basil, thyme, and corriander can only be found in big cities like Bobo and Ouaga.
For utensils, one can find bowls, pots, pans, plates, forks, and spoons fairly easily, but they are often not of good quality. It's difficult to find decent knives here. I bought a set before coming to village and within the first couple days my knife was showing signs of rust. Spatulas are expensive and I have yet to see any baking spatulas or scrapers. If you want a good can-opener, it's best to bring one or have one sent from somewhere else.
Things like ice cream and cheese are only found in big cities and again, obviously, must be eaten right away. The only cheese that is easily found here is vache qui rit or laughing cow and that's a cheese spread that can be left out and lasts a while, so you can make up your mind about that. But when it's all you've got, you learn to love it.
Things to have sent from home include cheese-related products (cheese wiz, easy cheese, nacho cheese, mac n' cheese, Parmesan/Romano cheese), beef jerky, granola bars, special teas and coffees (both are found here, but not in large varieties), gravy, dressings, sauce, and soup packets, kool-aid, gatorade, and drink mixes, maple syrup, peanut butter (again, can be found here, but it's not sweatened and is made from peanuts and oil = still tasty).
One final note: juices. The juices the Burkinabé made are delicious. I already mentioned jus (juice) de weda, bissap which is made similarly to weda only one uses bissap leaves, zoom-koom (made with tamarin leaves, ginger, millet, piment, sugar, and water), and ginger juice to name a few.
So, that's the basics of the food situation here in in Burkina. It's different, but it works, especially once you get used to it. You've still able to prepare a variety of different foods and dishes if you aren't afraid to get creative. Oh, I almost forgot, bouillie!
Bouillie (pronounced bwee) is Burkinabé porridge. It's made with water (best when first soaked with tamarin leaves), millet meal, sorghum, maize, or rice, and I like mine with ginger. You can also add salt They form these little balls of flour and ginger first with water and then add that and the rest of the flour to water, boil it, add sugar and milk if you want, and enjoy. It's delicious. It's like a cross between cream of wheat and oatmeal, but more watery. It's like thickened water with little tiny balls of tasty goodness in it. I'd highly recommend trying it or learning how to prepare it!
Until next time.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Village Life after Swear-In: Ahhhhh :)
September 2, 2009
By tomorrow evening I'll have been in village for one week. That may not sound like much to you, but thinking back, I was sitting at home in my living room with the ones I love, my family, less than 3 months ago. And now, I'm in a small village in the southwest of Burkina Faso, a west African country I honestly didn't even know existed until about 10 months ago.
I survived 11 weeks of training and was happy that it changed significantly halfway through, because I was growing weary of it. Since I'm here to teach secondary education, the Peace Corps smartly worked in a 4 week Model School where we, the future Bukinabé teachers, taught for one hour every day, 5 days a week for the first 2 weeks before trying some 2 hour classes during the second 2 week period. I taught PC, physique et chimie (physics and chemistry) to quatrième (US equivalent to 9th grade) during the first 2 weeks and then switched over to teaching SVT, science de la vie et du terre (biology and earth science depending on the level) to sixième (US equivalent to 7th grade). It was often a struggle, but it was great practice. So, I completed my cross-cultural training, medical training where they focus on self sufficiency and prevention, and safety and security training in addition to the obvious technical training. I passed all of our exams for each section and I felt prepared, but did not want to continue. I had gotten comfortable in my training city, I grew to love the most amazing host family anyone could ever hope for, and I had gotten close with many of my fellow trainees aka stagiaires. None of that mattered, because it was time to move on. I came here for a reason and I just got through the beginning of it, the preparation part.
We traveled as a group to Ouagadougou to spend a few days, attend our final administration sessions, and be sworn-in as official volunteers. The day of Swear-in and those few days in Ouaga for that matter are a blur. Time passed so quickly and before I knew it I was in Bobo for a night and then in my village the following evening. At Swear-in I was honored to give a speech in French, an honor that only became mine after my fellow trainee, MS, was too busy to write it and was more than willing to give it to me. I had never given a speech before and never actually thought myself capable, until now that is. I got a good idea from the person I'm in love with and ran with it. That idea actually helped set the theme of my speech, time. Looking back on it I've already changed, because a few months ago I would either not have wanted to write the speech or I never would have considered myself able. Anyways, I got the idea for the speech and put it on paper or computer, went over it with one of our language trainers who helped correct the grammar and word choice so the right sense came across and then ended up sitting next to trainee J who would be speaking in Mooré the night of swear-in after I started off with French. I was a bundle of nerves, but after stumbling over two words I managed to get myself under control, to speak slowly and clearly so everyone could understand me. Afterall, I had written the speech for my fellow stagiaires, so I wanted them to hear it. It went well. Who knew I could actually speak in public without shaking the entire time, passing our, or stuttering throughout an entire speech. And the best part was that everyone who got sworn in with me, enjoyed the speech, so that made my night.
I forced myself to hang out with the recently sworn-in volunteers and the others who I had gotten to know through their participation with our training because I knew this would be the last time for a while, possibly forever, when we would all be together like that.
The next morning I hopped in a taxi that MF, an amazing volunteer who has helped me more than I can say, helped setup, and ended up at the bus gare to leave on the 7am bus. Five hours later I was eating lunch in Bobo talking to MF about how and where to get housing supplies and what the prices should be. R, another recently sworn-in volunteer, joined us a few hours later and the three of us did some shopping. That day I got a huge bucket of white paint and four little containers of colored paint along with many basic kitchen and housing supplies like forks, spoons, knives, cutting board, clothing pins, strainer, etc. The fun part came the following day after V, our driver, dropped us off at the marché to haggle our way into more supplies. I dropped a lot of necessary money that day getting a marmite for my dutch oven (you put sand and three small empty cans in the bottom of a big mettle bot that looks like something whiches would use to brew up something wonderful and literally use this to bake things), 6 pots (now I didn't actually need 6, but they came that way, so ça va aller), a cantine or trunk, a small empty gas container with a circular metal contraption on top used for cooking, hammer, nails, broom, dustpan, 3 pieces of nice African artwork from the father of the son who helped us out a lot that day, tamis (filters used for straining or drying fruit: they are made of cloth or metal and stuck in between circular pieces of metal or wood; they fit the shape of a tambourine without the bells, just closed off with metal or cloth in the center for filtering)... I also bought a bag's worth of fruit that I hoped would at least last me through the week (pineapple, apples, oranges, papaya which I didn't get to enjoy because it went moldy, and a mango).
September 3, 2009
Deep breath: I've been in village a week and survived. Today I went through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. There is so much downtime in village, especially prior to the beginning of school. Most days consist primarily of sitting and thinking, especially when you don't speak Jula and you spend time sitting with groups of women who only speak Jula and minimal if any French.
To say this has been an easy journey thus far would be incorrect. And to expect it to breeze by without a car would be naïve. I know many question whether they could become a volunteer and stick with it for the entire 2 years of service plus training. Other than with extenuating circumstances pulling someone home and forcing them to ET (early terminate) I suppose it all depends on the person. What are your reasons for being here? Also, expectations play a large role. If you expect it to be easy and simple, you're in for a rocky ride and a big surprise. Like any day in life, you will have your ups and down and I've already learned this being in Burkina for almost 3 months and only 1 week in my village. I don't think it's whether or not you can do this type of service as much as it's can you handle the challenges and surprises and then bounce back from them and react in such a way that only makes you and your impact stronger. I thought before and still feel now that this experience will have a stronger impact on my life than on the lives of others, but I fully intend on doing all I can to make a difference and to change the lives and mindsets of those around me for the better. This doesn't mean putting North American morale into the minds of the Burkinabé; what it means is that I hope to provide tools and skills that will affect and help those around me long after I'm gone by having sensibalizations an AIDS, what it means and how it's contracted, to teach mothers how to make bouillie that actually has a nutritional value so their babies and children are growing up better nourished and thriving, to force my students to think critically possibly for the first time in the education and maybe in their lives, and to force my students and those around me to consider things they hadn't before, such as first to notice that there are major differences between the treatment of males and females here (unjustly I might add) and then question why they exist and maybe even how they can be changed. I may not be able to change the world like many who join the Peace Corps hope to do, but I can make a dent, I can make an impact, and that is why this grassroots method and organization is so powerful.
I'm not sure how to segway our of that, so I'm going to make an awkward transition here. I'm also apologizing in advance for what is probably not very good writing, but I don't have the time to edit all I'm writing, so this is a first draft where my only aim is to get across some thoughts and ideas in a somewhat coherent fashion.
That being said, here goes: I asked a few current volunteers who have been here a year already advice for my first month at site and D, one of my closest neighbors told me not to be too hard on myself. That advice has served me well. This week has both crawled and sped by. Looking back on it, from a North American perspective, one would argue that I haven't done much, but then they wouldn't be looking closely enough. Yes, I too, worry that I wasted time and that I barely did anything and that I feel as though I sat around a lot, slept, ate, and repeated the cycle, and those times I did walk around a bit were short and slow. But, I painted my house (both little rooms to make them more homey and comfortable, because I will be spending 2 years of my life here), I got a start on organizing my things so I am no longer living out of bags and suitcases, I learned how to get bread, eggs, and vegetables in village, I met our carpenter and already plan on having new furniture arriving in the near future, I walked around our marché and learned that it is much larger than I originally thought during my site visit, I met several village kids and made good friends with one little girl, BT, who has taken to me already, I took the time to sit with a couple different groups of women on a few different occasions just to pass the time and get to know them in a way much different than I've ever gotten to know anyone (without a common language and culture, you're forced to look at things and respond to things differently).
When V drove away last Thursday, I didn't secretly wish him to turn around and come back, I didn't get a flood of anxiety and emotion, I went with it. Plus, my homologue, O, was around, so I already knew someone. It wasn't until the following day after he told me he wants me to teach 6 classes, 23 hours a week for at least the first trimester, that he also mentioned he was going to Bobo and wouldn't be back for two weeks – so much for comfort. Did I also mention that 2 of these classes are for troisième students. Now this is the US equivalent of 9th grade if I haven't said that already, but more importantly, after troisième the students need to take and pass the BEPC which is an exam that allows them to continue on to lycée (high school) and hopefully eventually get all the way to college, after taking and passing another exam, the BAC, after finishing terminale (senior year equivalent). The reason this is stressful is because my teaching will have a large impact on what my students will learn and therefore on how well they will do on the exam or rather how prepared or unprepared they will be. Needless to say I want them to do well, so I'm up to the challenge if need be, I'm just a little stressed.
I would like to point out that other than the temperature difference between the north, the southwest is also much prettier with much more greenery. There was a moment today when I was filled with anxiety and I was walking down the main road in my village and I looked ahead to see green everywhere: trees, some hills, absolutely gorgeous and I thought, how could I be anxious looking at this? I'm blessed and I'm very thankful for it.
My job now is to continue to settle in and integrate into my community for the next month. By mid September I will start attending sessions and meetings for school and by October 1st, secondary school will be in full swing and I will be teaching up to 6 classes a week. I will do this for 3 trimesters and finish sometime in May, I believe, but lets not get ahead of ourselves.
Until next time.
By tomorrow evening I'll have been in village for one week. That may not sound like much to you, but thinking back, I was sitting at home in my living room with the ones I love, my family, less than 3 months ago. And now, I'm in a small village in the southwest of Burkina Faso, a west African country I honestly didn't even know existed until about 10 months ago.
I survived 11 weeks of training and was happy that it changed significantly halfway through, because I was growing weary of it. Since I'm here to teach secondary education, the Peace Corps smartly worked in a 4 week Model School where we, the future Bukinabé teachers, taught for one hour every day, 5 days a week for the first 2 weeks before trying some 2 hour classes during the second 2 week period. I taught PC, physique et chimie (physics and chemistry) to quatrième (US equivalent to 9th grade) during the first 2 weeks and then switched over to teaching SVT, science de la vie et du terre (biology and earth science depending on the level) to sixième (US equivalent to 7th grade). It was often a struggle, but it was great practice. So, I completed my cross-cultural training, medical training where they focus on self sufficiency and prevention, and safety and security training in addition to the obvious technical training. I passed all of our exams for each section and I felt prepared, but did not want to continue. I had gotten comfortable in my training city, I grew to love the most amazing host family anyone could ever hope for, and I had gotten close with many of my fellow trainees aka stagiaires. None of that mattered, because it was time to move on. I came here for a reason and I just got through the beginning of it, the preparation part.
We traveled as a group to Ouagadougou to spend a few days, attend our final administration sessions, and be sworn-in as official volunteers. The day of Swear-in and those few days in Ouaga for that matter are a blur. Time passed so quickly and before I knew it I was in Bobo for a night and then in my village the following evening. At Swear-in I was honored to give a speech in French, an honor that only became mine after my fellow trainee, MS, was too busy to write it and was more than willing to give it to me. I had never given a speech before and never actually thought myself capable, until now that is. I got a good idea from the person I'm in love with and ran with it. That idea actually helped set the theme of my speech, time. Looking back on it I've already changed, because a few months ago I would either not have wanted to write the speech or I never would have considered myself able. Anyways, I got the idea for the speech and put it on paper or computer, went over it with one of our language trainers who helped correct the grammar and word choice so the right sense came across and then ended up sitting next to trainee J who would be speaking in Mooré the night of swear-in after I started off with French. I was a bundle of nerves, but after stumbling over two words I managed to get myself under control, to speak slowly and clearly so everyone could understand me. Afterall, I had written the speech for my fellow stagiaires, so I wanted them to hear it. It went well. Who knew I could actually speak in public without shaking the entire time, passing our, or stuttering throughout an entire speech. And the best part was that everyone who got sworn in with me, enjoyed the speech, so that made my night.
I forced myself to hang out with the recently sworn-in volunteers and the others who I had gotten to know through their participation with our training because I knew this would be the last time for a while, possibly forever, when we would all be together like that.
The next morning I hopped in a taxi that MF, an amazing volunteer who has helped me more than I can say, helped setup, and ended up at the bus gare to leave on the 7am bus. Five hours later I was eating lunch in Bobo talking to MF about how and where to get housing supplies and what the prices should be. R, another recently sworn-in volunteer, joined us a few hours later and the three of us did some shopping. That day I got a huge bucket of white paint and four little containers of colored paint along with many basic kitchen and housing supplies like forks, spoons, knives, cutting board, clothing pins, strainer, etc. The fun part came the following day after V, our driver, dropped us off at the marché to haggle our way into more supplies. I dropped a lot of necessary money that day getting a marmite for my dutch oven (you put sand and three small empty cans in the bottom of a big mettle bot that looks like something whiches would use to brew up something wonderful and literally use this to bake things), 6 pots (now I didn't actually need 6, but they came that way, so ça va aller), a cantine or trunk, a small empty gas container with a circular metal contraption on top used for cooking, hammer, nails, broom, dustpan, 3 pieces of nice African artwork from the father of the son who helped us out a lot that day, tamis (filters used for straining or drying fruit: they are made of cloth or metal and stuck in between circular pieces of metal or wood; they fit the shape of a tambourine without the bells, just closed off with metal or cloth in the center for filtering)... I also bought a bag's worth of fruit that I hoped would at least last me through the week (pineapple, apples, oranges, papaya which I didn't get to enjoy because it went moldy, and a mango).
September 3, 2009
Deep breath: I've been in village a week and survived. Today I went through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. There is so much downtime in village, especially prior to the beginning of school. Most days consist primarily of sitting and thinking, especially when you don't speak Jula and you spend time sitting with groups of women who only speak Jula and minimal if any French.
To say this has been an easy journey thus far would be incorrect. And to expect it to breeze by without a car would be naïve. I know many question whether they could become a volunteer and stick with it for the entire 2 years of service plus training. Other than with extenuating circumstances pulling someone home and forcing them to ET (early terminate) I suppose it all depends on the person. What are your reasons for being here? Also, expectations play a large role. If you expect it to be easy and simple, you're in for a rocky ride and a big surprise. Like any day in life, you will have your ups and down and I've already learned this being in Burkina for almost 3 months and only 1 week in my village. I don't think it's whether or not you can do this type of service as much as it's can you handle the challenges and surprises and then bounce back from them and react in such a way that only makes you and your impact stronger. I thought before and still feel now that this experience will have a stronger impact on my life than on the lives of others, but I fully intend on doing all I can to make a difference and to change the lives and mindsets of those around me for the better. This doesn't mean putting North American morale into the minds of the Burkinabé; what it means is that I hope to provide tools and skills that will affect and help those around me long after I'm gone by having sensibalizations an AIDS, what it means and how it's contracted, to teach mothers how to make bouillie that actually has a nutritional value so their babies and children are growing up better nourished and thriving, to force my students to think critically possibly for the first time in the education and maybe in their lives, and to force my students and those around me to consider things they hadn't before, such as first to notice that there are major differences between the treatment of males and females here (unjustly I might add) and then question why they exist and maybe even how they can be changed. I may not be able to change the world like many who join the Peace Corps hope to do, but I can make a dent, I can make an impact, and that is why this grassroots method and organization is so powerful.
I'm not sure how to segway our of that, so I'm going to make an awkward transition here. I'm also apologizing in advance for what is probably not very good writing, but I don't have the time to edit all I'm writing, so this is a first draft where my only aim is to get across some thoughts and ideas in a somewhat coherent fashion.
That being said, here goes: I asked a few current volunteers who have been here a year already advice for my first month at site and D, one of my closest neighbors told me not to be too hard on myself. That advice has served me well. This week has both crawled and sped by. Looking back on it, from a North American perspective, one would argue that I haven't done much, but then they wouldn't be looking closely enough. Yes, I too, worry that I wasted time and that I barely did anything and that I feel as though I sat around a lot, slept, ate, and repeated the cycle, and those times I did walk around a bit were short and slow. But, I painted my house (both little rooms to make them more homey and comfortable, because I will be spending 2 years of my life here), I got a start on organizing my things so I am no longer living out of bags and suitcases, I learned how to get bread, eggs, and vegetables in village, I met our carpenter and already plan on having new furniture arriving in the near future, I walked around our marché and learned that it is much larger than I originally thought during my site visit, I met several village kids and made good friends with one little girl, BT, who has taken to me already, I took the time to sit with a couple different groups of women on a few different occasions just to pass the time and get to know them in a way much different than I've ever gotten to know anyone (without a common language and culture, you're forced to look at things and respond to things differently).
When V drove away last Thursday, I didn't secretly wish him to turn around and come back, I didn't get a flood of anxiety and emotion, I went with it. Plus, my homologue, O, was around, so I already knew someone. It wasn't until the following day after he told me he wants me to teach 6 classes, 23 hours a week for at least the first trimester, that he also mentioned he was going to Bobo and wouldn't be back for two weeks – so much for comfort. Did I also mention that 2 of these classes are for troisième students. Now this is the US equivalent of 9th grade if I haven't said that already, but more importantly, after troisième the students need to take and pass the BEPC which is an exam that allows them to continue on to lycée (high school) and hopefully eventually get all the way to college, after taking and passing another exam, the BAC, after finishing terminale (senior year equivalent). The reason this is stressful is because my teaching will have a large impact on what my students will learn and therefore on how well they will do on the exam or rather how prepared or unprepared they will be. Needless to say I want them to do well, so I'm up to the challenge if need be, I'm just a little stressed.
I would like to point out that other than the temperature difference between the north, the southwest is also much prettier with much more greenery. There was a moment today when I was filled with anxiety and I was walking down the main road in my village and I looked ahead to see green everywhere: trees, some hills, absolutely gorgeous and I thought, how could I be anxious looking at this? I'm blessed and I'm very thankful for it.
My job now is to continue to settle in and integrate into my community for the next month. By mid September I will start attending sessions and meetings for school and by October 1st, secondary school will be in full swing and I will be teaching up to 6 classes a week. I will do this for 3 trimesters and finish sometime in May, I believe, but lets not get ahead of ourselves.
Until next time.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Pre-Service Training (PST) Coming to a Close
So, life in Burkina Faso...
I haven't written in here at all since I've arrived and had decided not to. I was going to just email family and let my parents pass on my information - I found that easier. But now maybe I will try to put up some updates, or have my buddy put up the updates for me... We'll see.
So, I have been here for over 2 months now and I cannot believe it. Time has passed by quickly, but the next 2 years lately seem intimidating. I'm nervous, anxious, scared, but excited, too. I will be moving to my new site in the southwest (a lucky location: cooler temperatures, cooler meaning it may actually get down to 60 degrees F for a week to a month; a bit more rain, longer fruit and vegetable seasons, and more beauty and green, a major bonus). I do believe your site is what you make it and while it may not be ideal, you choose your attitude and how it's going to workout.
Swear-in is on the 25th, in 10 days. We have 6 days left at our training sites and then we're off and ready (whether we feel that way or not) to continue on with the next phase of our Peace Corps journey.
It still feels surreal to me, but I'm glad I'm here. I've already learned a lot and hopefully grown as a person for the better. I'm sorry this is a bit vague and all over the place, but I hope to write a more coherent and interesting addition next time.
A bientot.
I haven't written in here at all since I've arrived and had decided not to. I was going to just email family and let my parents pass on my information - I found that easier. But now maybe I will try to put up some updates, or have my buddy put up the updates for me... We'll see.
So, I have been here for over 2 months now and I cannot believe it. Time has passed by quickly, but the next 2 years lately seem intimidating. I'm nervous, anxious, scared, but excited, too. I will be moving to my new site in the southwest (a lucky location: cooler temperatures, cooler meaning it may actually get down to 60 degrees F for a week to a month; a bit more rain, longer fruit and vegetable seasons, and more beauty and green, a major bonus). I do believe your site is what you make it and while it may not be ideal, you choose your attitude and how it's going to workout.
Swear-in is on the 25th, in 10 days. We have 6 days left at our training sites and then we're off and ready (whether we feel that way or not) to continue on with the next phase of our Peace Corps journey.
It still feels surreal to me, but I'm glad I'm here. I've already learned a lot and hopefully grown as a person for the better. I'm sorry this is a bit vague and all over the place, but I hope to write a more coherent and interesting addition next time.
A bientot.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Quick Update
This will be a short entry. It has been a while since I've written, but I'm so busy that this is at the very bottom of my to-do list.
I'm currently waiting to receive my Peace Corps staging information, but I'm not expecting to hear anything for another month or so. I don't leave until June 8th and I will get staging information about 3-4 weeks before then. Can't wait.
Unfortunately, a couple weeks have passed since I have learned and practiced French through the free Rosetta Stone subscription the Peace Corps set up for me. I am so busy studying for the MCAT in addition to working 40 hours a week and my other activities that I haven't had the time. At the very least, once I take my exam, I'll go French crazy and study 4 plus hours a day until I get through all that I want to get through. There are 3 levels to get through and I'm still only on the beginning of my second level. I want to complete all three before I leave for Burkina Faso. That will put me in the greatest position for learning and improving during training.
What are my other activities you may ask? Well, Aikido classes at this great place that I would highly recommend. I volunteer at a hospital every Wednesday which I thoroughly enjoy. I like being able to do the little things for the people staying there that the nurses just don't have time for. It makes me feel good. Plus I enjoy getting to know the different patients and having a number of different types of conversations with these people - it's fascinating. I take salsa classes which I love. My instructor is fantastic. He is a ball of energy and really makes the class fun. I have family and I usually end up doing something each weekend whether it is spending time with my family, getting together with an old friend, going to a Latin dance to practice my moves etc. etc. So, as you can see, I'm pretty pressed for time. Am I crazy? No. I just work better when my schedule is packed. I didn't like that month or two when I just came home after work and watched television until bed time. I felt so unproductive and like I was wasting my time. So, now, yes, maybe I'm doing too much, but I like it and I'm going to pull it off. Oh, also, I like to get to the gym a couple times a week if I can. Lately it's been once if I'm lucky, but I'm trying.
Just spend the morning of my day off studying out on the deck and under the gazebo that my dad built. You should see it - it's fantastic!
And now I'm off to the gym. Until next time.
I'm currently waiting to receive my Peace Corps staging information, but I'm not expecting to hear anything for another month or so. I don't leave until June 8th and I will get staging information about 3-4 weeks before then. Can't wait.
Unfortunately, a couple weeks have passed since I have learned and practiced French through the free Rosetta Stone subscription the Peace Corps set up for me. I am so busy studying for the MCAT in addition to working 40 hours a week and my other activities that I haven't had the time. At the very least, once I take my exam, I'll go French crazy and study 4 plus hours a day until I get through all that I want to get through. There are 3 levels to get through and I'm still only on the beginning of my second level. I want to complete all three before I leave for Burkina Faso. That will put me in the greatest position for learning and improving during training.
What are my other activities you may ask? Well, Aikido classes at this great place that I would highly recommend. I volunteer at a hospital every Wednesday which I thoroughly enjoy. I like being able to do the little things for the people staying there that the nurses just don't have time for. It makes me feel good. Plus I enjoy getting to know the different patients and having a number of different types of conversations with these people - it's fascinating. I take salsa classes which I love. My instructor is fantastic. He is a ball of energy and really makes the class fun. I have family and I usually end up doing something each weekend whether it is spending time with my family, getting together with an old friend, going to a Latin dance to practice my moves etc. etc. So, as you can see, I'm pretty pressed for time. Am I crazy? No. I just work better when my schedule is packed. I didn't like that month or two when I just came home after work and watched television until bed time. I felt so unproductive and like I was wasting my time. So, now, yes, maybe I'm doing too much, but I like it and I'm going to pull it off. Oh, also, I like to get to the gym a couple times a week if I can. Lately it's been once if I'm lucky, but I'm trying.
Just spend the morning of my day off studying out on the deck and under the gazebo that my dad built. You should see it - it's fantastic!
And now I'm off to the gym. Until next time.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A Peace Corps Adventure: My Beginning
I am currently a Peace Corps Invitee and my Peace Corps journey is the main reason why I've decided to create a blog. Firstly, I've chosen to start it now, so I can get used to how it works, so if I have time to use it while I'm gone, everything will be set up and ready to go and I'll understand it. Secondly, it's a great way to keep in touch with family and friends who are interested in knowing what I've been up to. And thirdly, it's a great way for anyone interested in the Peace Corps to read about what I've been through and am going through. Plus, if anyone has any questions, they can contact me through my blog and I can then respond.
So, let's try and start at the beginning. During my first year at William Smith College I remember attending a Peace Corp information session. Apparently, it was a program I was interested in learning more about. I can't say that I gave it too much explicit thought over he following two years, but it had to have been on my mind somewhere.
Then, the spring semester of my junior year brought me a writing class. The second half of this class entailed putting together a booklet and presentation about a career, ideally the career we were working toward. At this point in my life, I still didn't know what I wanted to do. I had had some ideas, but they were still being mulled over. Then the Peace Corps popped back into my mind. I figured I could research the program, learn more about it, and figure out if it's something I'd like to pursue.
Well, that project opened my eyes to the wonders of the Peace Corps and all it could be. And it made me realize how much of the Peace Corps reflected what I wanted in life, experiences that I wanted to have: going abroad, experiencing and learning about another culture (the best way to do this is to immerse yourself in one), interacting with people while helping them, making a positive difference in the world no matter how small, becoming fluent in another language, maybe two. These were all very important things to me.
The next thing I knew, I had found their website online and began the application process. I found three people and eventually a fourth to write recommendations, I filled out all necessary information, looking up what was not on top of my head, and I began working on my essays. I wanted them to be great. Accordingly, I got the advice and editing of a beloved and gifted writing professor, my father who has always helped improve my writing, and I believe the help of my girlfriend, who is very bright, has an extensive vocabulary, and is also an excellent writer. Finally, I made a deadline for that fall, the middle of October: that was when I would be submitting my application. I made sure all of my recommendations would be in, did any final touches on my essays, and sent it in with all of my hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
I followed the progress of my application online and soon received a package requesting more information, step 2 if you will. I filled that out, got my fingerprints taken (it still feels weird to do that, like I've done something wrong, even though I know I haven't), and sent everything back within the 10 day limit. So far, so good.
The interview was next. Often times the interview is done over the phone unless an in person interview can be arranged. I lucked out because my recruiter was planning a visit to campus sometime in November and I was a that point in my application process, so one was set up. I was nervous, of course, but excited, too. My girlfriend helped iron my clothes that day which was not an easy thing for her to do, help me prepare to succeed at something that would in return pull me out of the country for 27 months. But she did it for me and was so great about it.
The interview went well. Shannon, my recruiter and interviewer, asked list of questions and I simply answered them as openly and honestly as possible. It felt more like I already had the job and Shannon was just double checking as opposed to me trying to get the job which was a nice surprise.
Within weeks, Shannon called me and said she was nominating me to the Sub-Saharan African region. She let me choose between leaving in July and going to a French-speaking country or leaving in September and going to a non-French-speaking country. I opted for September, so I could have once last summer with my girlfriend and one last summer to spend time with my family. I really wanted to have the opportunity to improve my French, but life is filled with choices and nothing is ever perfect. It's what you make of it. It can be perfect if you want it to and your expectations aren't impossible.
My trip got delayed until November and then I was just waiting on my invitation. Something I had forgotten during my waiting period was that nothing is final until you get your invitation. November came and I called my recruiter and my placement officer to find that I had not gotten into the November trip. I believe that budget cuts hurt my chances: 400 volunteers were delayed and some indefinitely. My placement officer tried to get me into a trip leaving early in 2009, but to no avail.
At this point I was frustrated. I had put my life on hold for something that seemed like it was never going to come. But then as all hope seemed lost (okay, I'm being rather dramatic here), something happened. I was prepared to wait and figured I wouldn't hear until April because the next date I was given was June. But in December, my parents made the trek upstairs to my room, tearing me away from my almost slumber, to say that I had gotten something that they were sure I'd want to open now. I couldn't believe it. A big envelope with the word Invitation written as clear as day.
Filled with excitement with butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, I opened my package to find a blue folder, the insides filled with everything I needed to know. I was going to Burkina Faso, a west African country landlocked by six other countries. I stayed up much later than planned that night reading about my adventure that had become so much more concrete in a matter of seconds.
So, let's try and start at the beginning. During my first year at William Smith College I remember attending a Peace Corp information session. Apparently, it was a program I was interested in learning more about. I can't say that I gave it too much explicit thought over he following two years, but it had to have been on my mind somewhere.
Then, the spring semester of my junior year brought me a writing class. The second half of this class entailed putting together a booklet and presentation about a career, ideally the career we were working toward. At this point in my life, I still didn't know what I wanted to do. I had had some ideas, but they were still being mulled over. Then the Peace Corps popped back into my mind. I figured I could research the program, learn more about it, and figure out if it's something I'd like to pursue.
Well, that project opened my eyes to the wonders of the Peace Corps and all it could be. And it made me realize how much of the Peace Corps reflected what I wanted in life, experiences that I wanted to have: going abroad, experiencing and learning about another culture (the best way to do this is to immerse yourself in one), interacting with people while helping them, making a positive difference in the world no matter how small, becoming fluent in another language, maybe two. These were all very important things to me.
The next thing I knew, I had found their website online and began the application process. I found three people and eventually a fourth to write recommendations, I filled out all necessary information, looking up what was not on top of my head, and I began working on my essays. I wanted them to be great. Accordingly, I got the advice and editing of a beloved and gifted writing professor, my father who has always helped improve my writing, and I believe the help of my girlfriend, who is very bright, has an extensive vocabulary, and is also an excellent writer. Finally, I made a deadline for that fall, the middle of October: that was when I would be submitting my application. I made sure all of my recommendations would be in, did any final touches on my essays, and sent it in with all of my hopes, dreams, and aspirations.
I followed the progress of my application online and soon received a package requesting more information, step 2 if you will. I filled that out, got my fingerprints taken (it still feels weird to do that, like I've done something wrong, even though I know I haven't), and sent everything back within the 10 day limit. So far, so good.
The interview was next. Often times the interview is done over the phone unless an in person interview can be arranged. I lucked out because my recruiter was planning a visit to campus sometime in November and I was a that point in my application process, so one was set up. I was nervous, of course, but excited, too. My girlfriend helped iron my clothes that day which was not an easy thing for her to do, help me prepare to succeed at something that would in return pull me out of the country for 27 months. But she did it for me and was so great about it.
The interview went well. Shannon, my recruiter and interviewer, asked list of questions and I simply answered them as openly and honestly as possible. It felt more like I already had the job and Shannon was just double checking as opposed to me trying to get the job which was a nice surprise.
Within weeks, Shannon called me and said she was nominating me to the Sub-Saharan African region. She let me choose between leaving in July and going to a French-speaking country or leaving in September and going to a non-French-speaking country. I opted for September, so I could have once last summer with my girlfriend and one last summer to spend time with my family. I really wanted to have the opportunity to improve my French, but life is filled with choices and nothing is ever perfect. It's what you make of it. It can be perfect if you want it to and your expectations aren't impossible.
My trip got delayed until November and then I was just waiting on my invitation. Something I had forgotten during my waiting period was that nothing is final until you get your invitation. November came and I called my recruiter and my placement officer to find that I had not gotten into the November trip. I believe that budget cuts hurt my chances: 400 volunteers were delayed and some indefinitely. My placement officer tried to get me into a trip leaving early in 2009, but to no avail.
At this point I was frustrated. I had put my life on hold for something that seemed like it was never going to come. But then as all hope seemed lost (okay, I'm being rather dramatic here), something happened. I was prepared to wait and figured I wouldn't hear until April because the next date I was given was June. But in December, my parents made the trek upstairs to my room, tearing me away from my almost slumber, to say that I had gotten something that they were sure I'd want to open now. I couldn't believe it. A big envelope with the word Invitation written as clear as day.
Filled with excitement with butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, I opened my package to find a blue folder, the insides filled with everything I needed to know. I was going to Burkina Faso, a west African country landlocked by six other countries. I stayed up much later than planned that night reading about my adventure that had become so much more concrete in a matter of seconds.
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