Bye, Bye Burkina

Wuudy: Burkinabe definition; empowering word Burkinabe men use to celebrate

Woody: English definition; slang for male erection

 

My last night in the village was spent making tea to stay up late and talk with Blandine. While it should have been really sad, it was almost unreal, like the reality of it all clouded the actuality of the situation. I kept asking myself if I was really leaving, as Blandine and I reminisced about the past three months. While I guess it was sad, I’ve gotten so used to always leaving, that I’ve built this defense mechanism of coping with the feeling of loss you experience when leaving something - leaving a place you’ve put so much into. By the end of my stay in Bereba, I ended up with three pigs- Bacon, Babe and Bitsy (Bacon’s only sister, whose mother was brutally bludgeoned in the head after entering the Chief of Customs house and ruining his dinner). But I found them all nice homes and said my goodbyes to these little pork babies. I can honestly say that no insects can scare me now in the states, for I’ve seen enough African spiders, scorpions and bats to brush off whatever California, Montana or Alaska has to throw at me. I think the thing I will miss most about Bereba is the people and their village. While village life is not easy and far from simple, it’s amazing to see so many people live with practically nothing. While poverty is a harsh and obvious truth there, there’s always a smile to be given and received – a sign that gives us comfort and them hope.

 

My last night in Burkina was spent dancing Borbabra and drinking too much Burkina brewed beer. I say “too much” because I spent my last 21 hours in Burkina trying to pack – hung over. But it was all worth it just to learn the Burkinabe definition of woody. Spelt wuudy in Burkina, but pronounced the same as woody in English, look above for the irony in it all. My loose translation of this term is “let’s party” but not literally, right?  At least I can say now that I have honestly done everything in Burkina- from getting Malaria and fighting off scorpion transporters (kind of like clock spiders) to getting wasted and dancing Borabara in a bar, where I was about the only white girl (along with Emile), shaking my ass. My thirty-hour trip home was easier than my 45 hour trip there, but still long enough to keep my bed rested for two days with a headache.

 

Yet, I’m Back! And here I am, home safely with a plethora of material to unload onto the hard drive of my laptop. Sitting in amazement, staring at the blank screen, I try to comprehend how three months went by so quickly. Adaptation I believe has a lot to do with it. How the body can adapt and deal under different circumstances is incredible. By the time I left Burkina, I learned to squat for 15 minutes at a time and carry on a workday in un-imaginable heat – without air conditioning. While I’ve been called everything from crazy and brave to insane and courageous for going to Africa, I think I am simply just curious. When I first left for Africa, I felt like my life was ending and that there would never again be such a pivotal moment before me. I mean, what do you do when one of your biggest dreams lies in the palm of your hands and the reigns are yours to steer? Reflecting on my recent trip to West Africa, I believe if you make the effort to immerse yourself into everything that lies in front of you, you’re going to be just fine - maybe even better than fine. 

Two weeks, two pigs and too many visitors…

In two weeks, I have been busy everyday, all day, installing and trying out programs for the Bereba village library. In two weeks, I have bought two pigs to keep me company. But in two weeks I have realized that their company will not be needed as I had first anticipated, since from sun up to sun down, I have more visitors than I can handle.

My work – In the “I Can Read 25 Books” program, we now have more than twelve students who have signed up, two of which have already read over seven books. For each book the student reads, they are given a sticker on the poster sheet hanging in the library, after discussing the book with Dounko, Ivette, or me. In this way, not only are we able to confirm that the student actually read the book, but we can get a better idea of what type of books interests them. At first I think the students were very discouraged by this program, thinking it impossible to read twenty five books in two to three months. But as one student signed up, another followed and so on. Story time every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday has been relatively successful, considering my battered French pronunciation skills. But we haven’t had less than 100 students each day since I started and the kids are becoming more comfortable with me as I with them. They have begun to respond better, whereas in the beginning they didn’t respond at all and Dounko no longer has to stand at my side every second for the hour and a half session. With the book club I have started, I was scared that I wouldn’t even have enough students sign up to complete one group. Well, before the end of my first week, I had three whole groups waiting to do the book club for a total of 36 students, and a list for a fourth group started. I chose Halombo, for our first book and so far it has been a hit, since it is based on a true story and takes place in the neighboring village of Kari. My first meeting with the first group went as well as it could have gone. The students were and hour and a half late for our two hour time slot. But when ten out of twelve arrived and 11:30 (originally set to start at 10) the discussion was interesting and a bit heated as Dounko and I stayed for the allotted two hours originally scheduled. For the younger students, along with story time, we have started drawing classes every Thursday morning and afternoon. We have even opened it up to Saturday night since there are four younger classes at the primary school, each class with an average of 100 students and in the library we only have space for 25 at a time. In the very little spare time I seemed to have in the last two weeks, I have been busy taking pictures and talking with local producers of dolo, (the local beer here) and koura-koura (a ring fried peanut butter treat). On my next trip, I plan to get the writing of these books down on paper and to put sentence with picture in both French and Dioula. As for all the work I have done here, I still feel behind as I know there is still so much more to do and so little time to do it in. There rests less than a month and a half now and again I find myself asking where did January and February go?

Bacon and Babe – Bacon, is my first, very clever and extremely tough girl piggy who squealed her way - all the way – to her new home. Now, if you have never heard a pig squeal, than I hope you never have to because it is the loudest, most disturbing sound you will ever hear. Fingernails on a chalk board will sound like Beethoven’s “Fur Elise” compared to this noise. On her first night, in the first twenty minutes in her new home, Bacon had already figured out how to get out all by her self. The problem was there was no door for her to push open or destroy, and the wall of bricks surrounding her were significantly higher. So can pigs really fly? No. But they can jump and climb a little. When Blandine and I found little bacon wandering around the yard, not only were we floored but completely clueless on how to catch the very quick and stubborn little bugger. After about twenty minutes of chasing, stumbling over our own feet, Bacon was back in here home, tired and not happy to be captured again. I went to bed thinking Bacon would be there to greet in the morning. At midnight heard the hooves of my little rascal pounding fiercely back and forth outside my widow. As late as it was there was no way I was going to go out and try to catch her in the pitch black of the night. Plus, I figured there was no way she could get out of the yard. I was wrong. When I woke up, Bacon was gone and Blandine and I had found that she had squeezed her way out through the shower hole. An hour later we found that Bacon showed up at Blandine’s house and her mother noticed there was one to many piggies eating out of the trough. After an hour of chasing (none of which I had to do, thank god,) Bacon was back home and done with trying to escape. But in order to try and keep this little piggy comfortable, I decided to get her a brother. Babe, is Bacon’s little brother, and a I say ‘little’ because even though Babe is bigger in size than Bacon, in the first five minutes of meeting, Bacon showed Babe who’s boss. Both are calm now and eat constantly. I think they will be fat and plump by the time I’m ready to go home. Saying goodbye will be hard being that I already know the fate that awaits them.

Blandine, me and…. everyone else - The people of Bereba are awesome. In my first week, I was brought more food than I could eat and shook more hands than I could count. But after two weeks of constant attention, I have realized that I need more than an hour to write everyday - without interruptions. On Saturday, in order to finish some much needed work, I finally said NO, to the 11 or so students that showed up at my door, that I could not visit this morning. They were welcome to come back in the afternoon or evening to visit. All stood there for a few more minutes, maybe puzzled that I had not offered them chairs to sit down, but eventually left and left me able to finish my work. So, upon my return to the village, in order to successfully finish my independent study credits and my volunteer goals with FAVL, I think I will let word spread through the village that I can not be disturbed in the mornings. I hope that visits in the afternoons and evenings won’t cease company from coming completely due to this request, but as Burkinabes are most understanding, I have no doubt that all will work out well.

In a fortnight, I have learned that pigs can’t fly, activities with children and students take work, dedication and time and that “Non” is okay to use in your vocabulary.

Mon Coup d’Afrique

1 to 0 – Cote d’Ivoire scores on Guinea in the fight to advance in the Africa Cup. The t.v. blares in the background while I lay shivering, sweating, my temperature rising, and unwilling to break, in the next room. I have no idea it’s Malaria yet. All I know is that while soccer teams all over the African continent continue to battle for the championship, such as Ivory Coast and Guinea this night, I experience my own “Cup of Africa”, as which without Malaria, would not be the same.

One bite is all it takes….really. My first week here, if I recall correctly, I think my fifth day here to be exact, one little female infected mosquito flew up my pant leg and gave that ever so familiar prick (you all know it), right above my ankle bone. This has to be the most common and most annoying place to have a mosquito bite, and I admit I itched and itched and itched it until it bled. But all this itching would not stop the already traveling parasites in my bloodstream to my liver. It was only a matter of time that these parasites would mature and start attacking my red blood cells.

Now in my last blog, I ended with saying that we are always where we’re supposed to be. I said this because on the day I arrived back from the village, four hours later symptoms of Malaria began. If I had stayed in the village, I don’t know if I could have received the same care I received here in Ouaga. And if I had to travel back to Ouaga, sick as I was, I don’t think I would have had the strength to do it. So, within two hours of my temperature rising form the normal 98.6 degrees to 103, I was able to receive quick, sufficient care, medicine and all, costing no more than $60.

Lucky me, I only had fever and chills for one day, but spent the rest of the week sleeping, eating little and trying to regain my strength. The only thing I found that really sucks about Malaria is the fatigue. I felt as if I had been hit by a bulldozer and ran over again and again. Even more, all I wanted to do was get back to the village and start my work. But with a week lost, Emily so cleverly pointed out to me that in this week, I went from being constipated, to having Malaria, to getting diarrhea. My body had gone through some massive changes and yet I made a relatively quick recovery. So fully recovered I head to the village, with the reminder that I am not invincible to the diseases of West Africa.

A Village for Chelsea

Dirt, dust, and garbage bags. That’s pretty much all you’ll see in the more rural areas of Burkina. Not to say that this pollution doesn’t exist in Ouaga. It’s just not what you look at when there is so much else to see. In Béréba, and on the way to Béréba, to the untrained eye, you won’t see much. But as I am an observer of things, I am therefore an analyst of everything. While my first trip to the village was overwhelming, it quickly became the most calming and soothing place as I realized the life I would be living for the next two months. Now this is not to say that I don’t have a lot of work to do. I have more than enough to keep me rolling everyday for the next three months. But upon my arrival in the village, instant encouragement and support assured me that all will be well.

When we arrived in Béréba, we being Viviane, Adama (the driver), Emilie and I, it was three o’clock and we were tired from the hot, long drive. We quickly picked rooms and I inspected the place that would be my home for the next two months. It really is he nicest place in the village, with a large brick gate around it, sturdy, concrete flooring and walls, and the ever so normal pit toilet and shower area outside. It’s just like camping, except I do have a big metal blue door I can lock at night, though I highly doubt I’ll need to. Life in the village is simple and safe. Now don’t get me wrong. This is not a woman f the world letting her guard down. This is Chelsea, in Africa, in a rural village of Burkina Faso – feeling safer here than in her little trailer with a shitty lock she sleeps in every summer in Alaska.

With that said, the next few days entailed a lot of introductions. On the day we arrived I met Dounko, the head librarian of the Béréba library. I will be working a lot with him, coordinating and discussing as I install my programmes, seeing what works and what doesn’t. Blandine will cook and do my laundry if needed. She’s very nice, about the same age as me and the best damn cook I’ve met here so far.

On Wednesday we started out with a tour the village, and introductions to locals. I was supposed to meet the Chef de Terre (the chief of the village) but he was apparently away on business. I got to taste the Dolo, the local beer the they make there and though it as delicious, it was to strong for more than a couple of sips at ten in the morning. Then we visited the libraries of Dohnun and Kéréba, were I met the librarians and asked a few questions.

That afternoon, our plans to head to the Sara library were interrupted by a mishap that could happen to anyone. I knew it, I knew it before she said anything about it by the sudden gasp that she inhaled, and waited briefly before she exhaled “Shit”. Shit was right. In the back pocket of her pants Emilie had here phone, and in the pit toilet down the phone went. I feel bad to admit that I was laughing before she came out from behind the wall, but couldn’t help it. It’s just one if those things you always here about happening, but rarely see. Emilie had a decision to make. Who wants a phone literally drowning in shit and piss, decaying, fly and maggot infested feces? Well, one thing for sure I have learned since I have been here is that Burkinabes’ do not waste anything. If someone didn’t crawl in and get it for Emilie, it was sure that they were going to crawl in after anyways to get it for themselves. Any cellphone, Motorola Razor or not, has value in Burkina. While Adama tried to conjure up a device of a long pole from a hoe, we soon, realized it would not fit through the 3 inch space. The only other option was to lift open the cement casing to the hole by breaking the surrounding cement. After a man went down in the hole and retrieved the maggot infested phone, the whole incident lasted only an hour. Commotion over, Emilie, alcohol, q-tips, and tissue in hand, began to clean her phone, hoping to retrieve her only data source of phone numbers. In the end, we were not able to visit the Sara library after all, but I have to say it was all worth it. It only cost Emily about $8 for labor and all, and we all went away with a valuable lesson to not take your cell phone to the bathroom with you…and a great souvenir.

After, it was hard to eat lunch, but we stomached it. Later that night we went on a mini night tout of the village were I discovered that some of the villagers have a little casino on the street made of from a few painted tables and lanterns for light.

On Thursday we said goodbye to Emilie as she headed back to Ouaga by bus and I attended the monthly FAVL librarian meeting. Here I was able to meet the tow librarians from the Koumbia library and finally, the one from Sara. While this meeting was interesting to observe, I have to say the best part of it was the food. While it was simple, chicken, bread and chile sauce, I got t eat with my hands. Sadly, I cant remember the last time I ate with my hands so I had away with it, just like everybody else.

Friday, Viviane and I took the long drive to the Sara library. I say ‘long’ because we took Dounko’s moped, which has more of an improvised seat, rather than a real seat, down the dirt road at heat peak hour. My ass felt it for three days after and the left side of my body is now a shade darker than my right.

Saturday, I met finally got to meet the Chef de Terre, who seemed a very modern and casual chief. Then I met the director of the schools who seemed excited to have me in the village and interested in working with the teachers on weakly programs at the schools. Afterwards, me, Viviane, Dounko returned to the library were we spent two hours creating a schedule of activities I will be doing each day at the library. On Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays, there will be story time, for an hour and a half, each day being a different age level. On Thursdays, since the students do not have school, I will do drawing and coloring activities for three hours in the morning and two hours in the evening. For now, Fridays will be dedicated to working on a book about Dolo since it is the big market day in Béréba. Saturdays afternoons will be a chance for songs and/or games and Sundays I will conduct a book club with middle school students from 9 to 11. As this schedule has not been tried, I am anxious to see results.

Later in the afternoon, it was obvious that the temperature was beginning to rise. I spent the next two hours after lunch not moving out of the shade. That night, I started packing since it was decided early that day that I would return to Ouaga to get supplies for my programs. Although I was not looking forward to the drive back, I figured one last trip in the city wouldn’t hurt before the long haul of camping it out n my own. Little did I know then that it would be the best decision I could of made, and only made me believe even more, that we are always where we are exactly supposed to be. Always.

Signing off, for now

Okay! I hate computers here. I just spent an hour writing a beautiful blog, only to accidentally erase it because the keys aren't where they're supposed to be!!! Aghh! So sense I am frustrated and tired, there will no pictures or extensive writing today..... Because there already was. I guess it must not have been good enough if my fingers decided to erase it. Anyways, all is well in Ouaga, and I finally get to go to my new home tomorrow, the village of Béréba, to begin my work. Nothing to exciting except a lot of reading and writing and I spent my whole Saturday with Emilie and David, (a visiting photographer), taking pictures of families, hard-working women and famished children in a rural village just outside of Ouaga. I have decided not to share these pictures with you until I get home out of respect to the people that let me take them. All I can say it was the first of many days on interacting and learning and inspired the excitement I have been waiting for to go to the village. While I got a little burnt, I finished the day with more than 150 photos. As always, there is a lot more to tell you, but as I have already spent an hour trying to tell you it all the first time, I do not want to spend two more. The journey is still just beginning, and I will have a lot more to tell you in the coming ten weeks. I leave for Béréba tomorrow and look forward sharing new stories then. For now, here's a picture of the sunset.



The first entry I had was so much better...

Pictures

Finally, here are some pics!

Below are the two goats we have in our yard, Minnie (black) is the mom and Millie (white) is the baby.

To the right are the chickens and little chick-a-dees.

Fi

Above is my street in Ouaga. It is a very nice neighborhood with a guard at every gate.

And the picture on the right is my current home here in Ouaga.

Time Zones and sleep...

Although only here a few days, I fear I have become addicted to the Burkinabe naps taken right after lunch. It's kind of great. They get up early, start work around 6am, go home for lunch around 12 or 1 and then return to work for two more hours from 3 to 5. WhileI know I am probably just still recovering from my long trip here, sleep has been very hard for me. Now while I'm sure the rooster (which in fact I found out is just a chick-a-dee who has not yet reached his full potential of cock-a-doodling) does not help my sleeping problem, he is also not someting I can fully blame. I think my adjustment to time zones is the biggest factor in my restless sleep. On Monday I woke at midnight and couldn't fall back asleep until two. Since I am eight hours ahead of pacific standard time, that would be between five and seven there, peak hours to be awake. Tuesday, was just as hopeless, as I woke at two and was up til four, and hungry, usually when I eat dinner back in California, between seven and nine. But last night was the worst, where I tried putting myself to sleep at ten, and couldn't fall asleep until two. I don't know if time zones are really to blame or not but I need to tell myself something to cope. I would really like to get on a Burkinabe schedule where I can get up early with the rising sun and take a nap in the afternoon because I want to, not because I have to. Anyhow, I'm sure I'll acclimate. At least the heat isn't too bad yet.

So now that you've heard more than enough about my sleeping problems, let me run you through the last couple of days. I forgot to mention that on Monday I also went to the U.S. Embassy to register and it was closed......for Martin Luther King Day! Now maybe I should have known that all U.S. Embassies are closed on all celebrated U.S. holidays, but I didn't. So another thing learned and nothing lost. Yesterday (Tuesday 22nd) I finally got to take care of business at the U.S. Embassy. They seemed pleased that I would be working in a rural village library and for three months at that! So for, even before I've begun my work, I've found encouragement from the locals.

After the embassy, Viviane took me to the fabric store to purchase material to have clothes made. For about 9,800 CFA ($22) I was able to buy enough material to make three pairs of pants and three shirts or tank tops. The shop was completly on the other side of town, but it was so intersting to be in such a different district. The vibe was much more lively, with crazy sellers and loud local music coming from every corner. Viviane also took me to get money out of the atm, and one thing I have had to learn so far is that all the atm's don't always work. We had to go to about five different places before I was able to pull out money. And when I finally was able to, it would only let me take out a hundred dollars or so at a time which sucks because Wells Fargo charges me $5 each time I withdrawel from a foreign atm! Oh well, I'll survive.

When I returened to the house, Salimata, the housekeeper here, cooked couscous and fish with a really good red sauce. I ate and went straight to bed to take my two hour nap. I spent the the rest of the night trying to read a local newpaper here, called L'Independente, underlining any words I didn't know, writing them down and then looking them up. I did pretty good. I only had to look up about four words per paragraph. The night ended with a short unusual power outage and volià, here I am today. Viviane took me to the tailor this morning where all my measurements were taken and I decided to only get a few things made to make sure I like them. It looks like it will all cost me about $50 in the end. For three shirts and three pairs of pants tailored to my fitting, I think is not bad.

So here it is one o'clock and I need to go eat lunch... and probably take a nap.