I haven't posted in awhile. Sometimes I just don't have much to say about PC that you haven't already heard. Hard to believe but true. SO I'll just update everybody on recent events what's been shakin in Burkina.
The first day of school was the 1st of october, a wednesday. 5 out of 11 teachers were actually in Tougouri and showed up at school on the first day, myself included. I didn't even go back to the school until the monday following. By that monday morning (the 6th) about 8 of the 11 profs had arrived and were at least going into the classrooms. I was able to go into every class and talk to them about what we would be learning etc and what it means to study science and why its important to their lives. By the next monday morning all 11 of the profs had arrived. I began formally teaching!!!!!
Teaching is much easier this year but I don't like it any better. Here are the figures for this year: I teach (am in the classroom) 15 hours a week
2 6th grade classes @ 100 kids each
2 7th grade classes @ 90 and 93 kids respectively
1 8th grade class @ 60 kids
I teach in the mornings mostly except for wednesday afternoons which sucks big time because its hot and im usually in a heat induced lethargy that doesnt make for stupendous teaching.
No classes on fridays. sweet. escape.
All told, I'm very pleased with my workload and schedule. My only complaint is ... um ... well having to go into a classroom.
I did have one of those supremely peace corpsy moments the monday morning i began actually teaching. Usually the teachers all stand around in the mornings and chat a bit before going into class. We're just avoiding the inevitable. Anyway, as I walked off toward my 7am 7th grade class I was thinking about the exact same moment the year before . . . . . . (flashback) . . . . . .
I had been in the country almost 4 months exactly. The first three months of which I spent in training learning how to be a teacher in Burkina Faso. The fourth month was spent figuring out how to live and not die in my village. There are many aspects to what exactly PCV's do everyday. My "on paper" job is just one small thing BUT it was the shape that PC service had taken in my mind before i set off on the adventure - I AM A TEACHER. So it had taken me 4 months to get to the day when I started my job. Up until that point it was all training and now it was time to put it all to use . . . money where my mouth is etc. So i stood there outside the classroom that first day of real teaching last year and thought . . . geez, this is it. This is the exact moment where you decide if you really want to be a PCV. You can walk in the classroom and teach and live in an african village for two years and do all that goes with that OR you can go home and enjoy all the comfort and peace that goes with that. In one step I was deciding to be a PCV and I really considered both options. The only thought that was in my head was this: "Well, you have to at least TRY. Yeah . . . i do. I have to try. Its gonna be hard. Yeah its gonna be hard. I have to try. Deeeeeeeep breath. Ok. Fuck it. Here I go." And I walked in and decided to be a PCV. (END flashback).
This year was not nearly so pivotal in my mind but I had a little giggle and burn of pride in thinking about how FAR i had come and how much I had learned since then.
samedi 1 novembre 2008
mercredi 3 septembre 2008
Benefits of a Concrete House
This past June, indeed for my 23rd birthday, i moved houses. This was easily the best b-day present I ever received. Before I lived in a filthy old mud hut. I think it qualified as a hut at least - no the roof wasn't mud but tin - however, there were bits of straw sticking out of my walls in some places. I would brush against the wall and have a spaz attack because I knew that a freakishly poisonous animal was about to strike and I would be seizing on my floor and no one would hear me because i would be too paralyzed to scream. Turning to face my inevitable end and it would just be dirty straw that was coming loose from my wall. When the wind would blow hard, small rocks and dirt would fall on my head. There are myriad joys and annoyances of life surrounded by dirt. (That's my old house on the left)
But then on June 2nd I moved on up. To a deluxe apartment in the sky. Or at least a deluxe concrete two room house in the west African Sahel. I'll take what I can get and that's it to the right with the awesome smurf pride blue paint. Really, though I love the concrete house. It's new so the bugs are just now moving in (I killed 3 small scorpion carriers last week) and when the wind blows my house doesn't crumble on top of my head. It's wonderfully cool compared to the old house which had low ceilings (friends over 6ft tall had to duck to get in the doorway). But these all pale in comparison to one other bonus that my neighbor David pointed out to me . . .One day right before moving into the house David and I were discussing all the wonderful things about concrete houses. The house David and I live in (he lives in one half of the concrete duplex paradise and I in the other side) is the ONLY concrete building on my side of town except for the high school. These glorious sentinels of sensible housing are rare in villages so the fact that David and I were actually discussing the joys of getting to live in one makes sense. I mentioned all of the things I said earlier in this post and then David mentioned just like it was a normal thing that the best part about living in concrete is that your neighbors won't push through your walls and steal your stuff. Geez! Push through walls?? That is soooo typical of Africa. How do do-gooders expect to start "sustainble" business or education or any foreign project etc. in a place that doesn't even have sustainable buildings. Most buildings in the more rural parts of West Africa build with mud and sometimes a bamboo lattice (but that's only in countries that can grow things). Eventually houses literally melt away from wind and water abuse. There is a Mosque in Mali that is the largest mud structure in the world which has a festival every year where people come and "build back" the Mosque where it has wasted away over the previous year. As far as houses are concerned, a family will just build a new mud house when the old one gets beyond repair. It's essentially free because the earth under your toes is belongs to who stands on it, just mix it with straw and water and you've got a house.
Geez. Now I've gone and abused my Peace Corps soap box when really I just wanted to laugh about what David said. Hahaha push through the walls!
samedi 30 août 2008
Stealing from the Poor
In rural Africa, homelessness is a realtive term. Buildings are little more than enclosures that keep some of the wind, dirt, and rain out of your face. People don't really live in their houses and are likely to sleep anywhere. In every village however, there are les fous or people with mental illnesses who are family exiles and their care becomes the responsibility of the neighborhood. Neighbors make sure they get some food, enough clothingm, an occasional handout etc. There are 4 fous in Tougouri.
I bring this up because I recently found out that i've been stealing from my fous. I told some of you about how I find money on the ground and will ask around, "hey, is that yours? No" Nobody ever claims money found on the ground. I always thought this was kinda strange in a country so poor. Anyways, if no one would claim the money I'd pick it up for myself. Well . . . I was talking about this to another volunteer who informed me that Burkinabe never pick up fallen money because it's God's way of giving income to les fous. Like manna from heaven.
So shameful!! I've been stealing from the poor and needy. I have stopped picking up fallen money and reformed my ways.
I bring this up because I recently found out that i've been stealing from my fous. I told some of you about how I find money on the ground and will ask around, "hey, is that yours? No" Nobody ever claims money found on the ground. I always thought this was kinda strange in a country so poor. Anyways, if no one would claim the money I'd pick it up for myself. Well . . . I was talking about this to another volunteer who informed me that Burkinabe never pick up fallen money because it's God's way of giving income to les fous. Like manna from heaven.
So shameful!! I've been stealing from the poor and needy. I have stopped picking up fallen money and reformed my ways.
Happy Anniversary
I just recently celebrated two major Peace Corps milestones. My one year anniversary as a Peace Corps Volunteer and my one year anniversary as a resident of the genial village of Tougouri in the Namenatenga (province) which is part of Centre Nord (region) in Burkina Faso (country), West Africa (continent) on Earth (planet) . . . to be specific. Congrats to me et felicitations! I am intensely proud that i've made it so far.
Both special days turned out to be nothing quite special at all. They were typical days in village. I woke up around 7am and journaled while I breakfasted on oatmeal and coffee. I alternated staring into space and chores and reading. Everday I make myself go for a walk as the sunsets. I say "make" because somedays I just dont have the patience or am not in the mood to be stared at and called white every 3 seconds. But I always make myself go. On the anniversary of my arrival in Tougouri I was walking down the paved road in my village like I do every evening. I bought some bread etc. and I am just thinking about how amazing and ridiculous living in a village in Africa is and enjoying the beautiful sunset and the general absurdity of my being there in the first place. I hear this rumbling behind me and panicked voices. I turn around and almost got gored by some runaway bulls and a goat tearing through the middle fo town. How wonderfully appropriate. Twenty paces down the road and Bundi, one of my little neighbor children, brings me a galette for a present which is a kind of fried doughnut made from millet. So my anniversary was celebrated by two of my favorite things about living in this country: the wonderful hospitality and warmth of its people and the ridiculous and bizarre circumstances I find myself in.
Both special days turned out to be nothing quite special at all. They were typical days in village. I woke up around 7am and journaled while I breakfasted on oatmeal and coffee. I alternated staring into space and chores and reading. Everday I make myself go for a walk as the sunsets. I say "make" because somedays I just dont have the patience or am not in the mood to be stared at and called white every 3 seconds. But I always make myself go. On the anniversary of my arrival in Tougouri I was walking down the paved road in my village like I do every evening. I bought some bread etc. and I am just thinking about how amazing and ridiculous living in a village in Africa is and enjoying the beautiful sunset and the general absurdity of my being there in the first place. I hear this rumbling behind me and panicked voices. I turn around and almost got gored by some runaway bulls and a goat tearing through the middle fo town. How wonderfully appropriate. Twenty paces down the road and Bundi, one of my little neighbor children, brings me a galette for a present which is a kind of fried doughnut made from millet. So my anniversary was celebrated by two of my favorite things about living in this country: the wonderful hospitality and warmth of its people and the ridiculous and bizarre circumstances I find myself in.
lundi 11 août 2008
Second Hand T-Shirts
One of the perks about living in the third world is the t-shirts. All those clothes out there that are donated to charity by countless self-less Americans end-up in open markets across the world. Burkina Faso is no exception. The market in Tougouri is no exception. I see Africans wearing the most random and ironic t-shirts. Just today, somebody put an "I'm Big on Little Rock" t-shirt in my box. Some self-sacrificing Arkansan decided to share the joy of Little Rock with Africa and now the t-shirt is mine! Some things I see are just sort of . . . incongruous. For example, I saw a huge grown man . . . you know, the type that would be cast in movies as the semi-neanderthal who stomps about grunting. A really big guy. And he was wearing a t-shirt that said "Princess" in pink sparkles. Seriously. In Tougouri we have something called APE which is the Burkina equivalent of the PTA. It's made up of rich parents in the village just like in America and the president (an important man in the village) often sports a shirt that says "It's gettin Hot in huuuur! So take off all your clothes!" Soooo professional.
When men wear ridiculous shirts its funny but when it's little girls in wildly inappropriate garb it becomes kind of tragic. For example . . . we PCV's really try to get involved in International Women's Day (March 8th) because the women of this country are at best second class citizens. I had a friend who was playing soccer with a bunch of neighborhood girls when she noticed one of her team mates (a 12 year old girl) was sporting a t-shirt that read, in puff paint, "A suck, a buck." I'm sure some sorority girl donated her shirt to a "good cause." Gee whiz. Another time i was proctoring a test in my 7th grade class when I noticed one little girl wearing a shirt that said "I killed a 6 pack just to watch it die" I don't even know how I would go about explaining that. Ridiculous.
The weirdest thing about all this is that they don't even care what their t-shirt says. I love explaining to Burkinabe what their t-shirts say but they never really care. In America we are always conscious of what our t-shirts say: what will people think if I wear this "Phish" t-shirt?? Will they think i'm a jobless druggie?? What if I bump into a really big Phish fan? Will they think I'm a complete phony if I don't know all the words to Reba?? Maybe that's just me. But these Burkinabe honestly dont care if they are a man wearing a shirt that says "I have the p@#$y so I make the rules."
So if you have a particularly offensive shirt you might as well donate it to Africa because they don't know what it says nor are they effected one way or another by the t-shirts meaning. So keep on keepin on America! Donate those t-shirts!
When men wear ridiculous shirts its funny but when it's little girls in wildly inappropriate garb it becomes kind of tragic. For example . . . we PCV's really try to get involved in International Women's Day (March 8th) because the women of this country are at best second class citizens. I had a friend who was playing soccer with a bunch of neighborhood girls when she noticed one of her team mates (a 12 year old girl) was sporting a t-shirt that read, in puff paint, "A suck, a buck." I'm sure some sorority girl donated her shirt to a "good cause." Gee whiz. Another time i was proctoring a test in my 7th grade class when I noticed one little girl wearing a shirt that said "I killed a 6 pack just to watch it die" I don't even know how I would go about explaining that. Ridiculous.
The weirdest thing about all this is that they don't even care what their t-shirt says. I love explaining to Burkinabe what their t-shirts say but they never really care. In America we are always conscious of what our t-shirts say: what will people think if I wear this "Phish" t-shirt?? Will they think i'm a jobless druggie?? What if I bump into a really big Phish fan? Will they think I'm a complete phony if I don't know all the words to Reba?? Maybe that's just me. But these Burkinabe honestly dont care if they are a man wearing a shirt that says "I have the p@#$y so I make the rules."
So if you have a particularly offensive shirt you might as well donate it to Africa because they don't know what it says nor are they effected one way or another by the t-shirts meaning. So keep on keepin on America! Donate those t-shirts!
vendredi 18 juillet 2008
Peace Corps Part II
It's funny how I feel like I've been here before. I'm in the Memphis Airport NWA terminal on a LONG trip to Africa. This last June (2007) I sat in a very similar terminal waiting for one of many flights drinking my Starbucks Latte and saying to myself "This . . . is your last . . . vanilla latte . . ." When in reality I'll probably have about three more latte's but every one could be the last good one. Maybe they'll burn the coffee or put too much vanilla in the coffee etc. After this it's back to insatnt coffee . . . (bereaved sigh). I'm even listneing to my iPod like i was last time. And listening to a song that I was obsessed with when I left the first time: John Mayer's "Stop This Train."
13 months ago I was completely freaked out and feeling naive and out of my mind. Who moves to Africa? Especially someone who considers themselves a major home-body. Nothing like 2 weeks in your parents house will help cure you of that latter sentiment. But I do miss Little Rock very much when I'm gone. It's so cute. I am sitting in this terminal and thinking . . . I have a second chance. It feels so much like I'm just doing it over again. Let me see if I can explain a bit. I have already been there over a year and feel like I've seen all there is to see and now all i have before me is the opportunity to do it again but maybe better this time. The learning curve has dropped off and along with it most of the novelty of living in Africa. Things that were once cute are now annoying ("Nasara!! Nasara!!"). Things that were once insane are now commonplace (Ladies biking while talking on cell phones with 20lbs of stuff on their heads and a baby on their back). I already feel like I'm doing it all over again (13 months of being a teacher gone and 13 to go) and the added scenery - airports and their endless terminals of "lasts"- last coffee, last burger, last good beer, last country full of cute well-dressed men etc - leaves me feeling like I have been given a second chance to do things with my service that i wanted to get done but hadn't yet.
So Peace Corps round II here we go! Allons-y!! This time around I have some SERIOUS advantages. I speak French and Mooré. I know how to live in Africa. I have a pumice stone. I packed a bag full of the things that really matter: tuna, chicken, folgers individual coffee bags, books, and clothes made of cotton. This year will be much easier. There are two things I really want to work on and get going in my community:
First: Moringa!! Moringa is a tree that grows in Burkina (it's native to India) and is rich in vitamins A and C, potassium, calcium, and proteins. It actually is richer in vitamin C than oranges as well as richer in calcium than milk. Needless to say, in a village abounding in malnutrition this is a miracle tree. The thing is to make its growth sustainable and to educate the people about its use. Really, the most sustainable way I can see of spreading it around is to grow the trees for my immediate neighbors and educate them in a really informal way. The only stipulation being that they grow seedlings and give trees away to family and friends. My fingers are crossed but I've been in Africa long enough to know not to get my hopes up.
The second project I want to do is Women's Health. This will hopefully meet two important goals: the first being to empower girls to take care of their own mental and physical health and secondly to teach them about basic health. I have already mentioned this particular project in past blogs but I hope it goes well. These girls are just not in charge of or educated about their own bodies and it makes me sad. My hope is to bring in locals (the midwife, the doctor, etc) to educated the girls.
So, yes - I am glad to be going back. So many of you have been asking if I am sad to be getting back to Burkina after being on vacation, i mean, being in America. I have built a life there, I have a nice little niche that took time to create. So my hopes this time around are to really do some things that could benefit my community. So much of my last year in Burkina was devoted to learning how to simply not die and not freak out constantly. This is why PC is two years long - it has to be in order to be effective and sustainable. Lesson learned. So now I can get back to business.
Thanks to all you faithful blog readers out there!!! I really appreciate y'all's enthusiasm and comments. It was good to see you all and to be a part of Mobert's and Jarkie's nuptials. Congratulations.
13 months ago I was completely freaked out and feeling naive and out of my mind. Who moves to Africa? Especially someone who considers themselves a major home-body. Nothing like 2 weeks in your parents house will help cure you of that latter sentiment. But I do miss Little Rock very much when I'm gone. It's so cute. I am sitting in this terminal and thinking . . . I have a second chance. It feels so much like I'm just doing it over again. Let me see if I can explain a bit. I have already been there over a year and feel like I've seen all there is to see and now all i have before me is the opportunity to do it again but maybe better this time. The learning curve has dropped off and along with it most of the novelty of living in Africa. Things that were once cute are now annoying ("Nasara!! Nasara!!"). Things that were once insane are now commonplace (Ladies biking while talking on cell phones with 20lbs of stuff on their heads and a baby on their back). I already feel like I'm doing it all over again (13 months of being a teacher gone and 13 to go) and the added scenery - airports and their endless terminals of "lasts"- last coffee, last burger, last good beer, last country full of cute well-dressed men etc - leaves me feeling like I have been given a second chance to do things with my service that i wanted to get done but hadn't yet.
So Peace Corps round II here we go! Allons-y!! This time around I have some SERIOUS advantages. I speak French and Mooré. I know how to live in Africa. I have a pumice stone. I packed a bag full of the things that really matter: tuna, chicken, folgers individual coffee bags, books, and clothes made of cotton. This year will be much easier. There are two things I really want to work on and get going in my community:
First: Moringa!! Moringa is a tree that grows in Burkina (it's native to India) and is rich in vitamins A and C, potassium, calcium, and proteins. It actually is richer in vitamin C than oranges as well as richer in calcium than milk. Needless to say, in a village abounding in malnutrition this is a miracle tree. The thing is to make its growth sustainable and to educate the people about its use. Really, the most sustainable way I can see of spreading it around is to grow the trees for my immediate neighbors and educate them in a really informal way. The only stipulation being that they grow seedlings and give trees away to family and friends. My fingers are crossed but I've been in Africa long enough to know not to get my hopes up.
The second project I want to do is Women's Health. This will hopefully meet two important goals: the first being to empower girls to take care of their own mental and physical health and secondly to teach them about basic health. I have already mentioned this particular project in past blogs but I hope it goes well. These girls are just not in charge of or educated about their own bodies and it makes me sad. My hope is to bring in locals (the midwife, the doctor, etc) to educated the girls.
So, yes - I am glad to be going back. So many of you have been asking if I am sad to be getting back to Burkina after being on vacation, i mean, being in America. I have built a life there, I have a nice little niche that took time to create. So my hopes this time around are to really do some things that could benefit my community. So much of my last year in Burkina was devoted to learning how to simply not die and not freak out constantly. This is why PC is two years long - it has to be in order to be effective and sustainable. Lesson learned. So now I can get back to business.
Thanks to all you faithful blog readers out there!!! I really appreciate y'all's enthusiasm and comments. It was good to see you all and to be a part of Mobert's and Jarkie's nuptials. Congratulations.
Yes, I'll have the Crunchy Rolls
Greetings from the Detroit Airport. Man . . . I love America. I am on the internet while drinking a Blue Moon . . . and its cold!! So awesome. Maybe I'll have sushi for dinner . . . or mexican? I don't know!!! Anything is possible!!! Goodbye land of cold beverages! Land of free education!! Land of English speakers!! Before I moved to Africa, I liked America - you know, we have our share of political . . . how should i say it . . . embarrassments and idiocies. Is that a word? I'm not sure but Im American; therefore it is now. That's how America works. You are born there and are privy to its free education (until 12th grade and after that you basically have to sell your soul to government loans or to your parents) and then all you have to do is work hard - and you'll be rewarded (of course this doesn't include people on minimum wage). But in Africa you can work hard all your life and its like treading water.
This is my answer to a question that was posed my direction repeatedly over my visit to the Glorious Land Of The United States of Cold Libations and Tasty Food of America. The question being: Doesn't being over there just make you really appreciate what you have here." Yes. Dear God. Yes. Everyday, I see something that makes me soooo glad that I had the luck and fortune to have been born in America. My life is insanely easier just by virtue of being born in this wonderful place.
This is my answer to a question that was posed my direction repeatedly over my visit to the Glorious Land Of The United States of Cold Libations and Tasty Food of America. The question being: Doesn't being over there just make you really appreciate what you have here." Yes. Dear God. Yes. Everyday, I see something that makes me soooo glad that I had the luck and fortune to have been born in America. My life is insanely easier just by virtue of being born in this wonderful place.
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