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.

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