Swearing in and the move

Saturday, December 2, 2006

I am currently sitting in my new house for my second night in Bobo. I have a really good 2-room house in the courtyard of the president of the association with which I will be working.
I guess I should first rewind and explain the completion of training and swearing in and getting to my site. Training came to a crashing, disorganized end for a variety of reasons (welcome to working for the U.S. government), but was successful nonetheless. My family had a small goodbye party for me with chicken and wine and cake – what more could I ask for? I love that family and will miss them dearly. I think I mentioned that there were 2 dogs at the house. Well the female had 4 puppies the day before I left. They were ridiculously cute and I was promised the only male of the litter. I do want a dog, but I need to evaluate the situation here before taking him. I met my counterpart a couple of days before swearing-in. She (yes “she,” and I am so happy that it’s a “she” and not a “he.” There were only 3 female counterparts out of the 38 new volunteers. Not to say a “he” wouldn’t be fine, but I saw some of the other volunteers’ counterparts and let’s just say they – the volunteers - have their hands full. Sometimes it is difficult for women to work with male counterparts because sometimes they are not respected like they would be if they were male. And sometimes the counterparts end up trying to be more than a counterpart to the volunteer and that can turn out to be a stressful situation. I am lucky to not have to worry about either.) She is a beautiful woman probably in her mid-fifties (this is strictly a guess based on the fact that she has 5 children between the ages of 26 and 36), and from now on will be referred to as Mdm D. The first day we met she barely would speak French to me and we ended up using a translator for a decent amount of the discussions, during which she spoke Jula. Of course I was freaked out at first because I just spent the last 2 months learning French and now the woman I will be working beside for the next 2 years doesn’t speak French. She commented multiple times about how I would soon be speaking Jula. I wanted to say, “Hey lady, I got here 2 months ago without being able to say anything in French and now that I can get my point across (however elementary and grammatically incorrect) you can’t wait for me to learn ANOTHER language?” She actually does speak French (and speaks it well), but is most confident speaking Jula. This is very common amongst the people here, especially the women. They might know how to speak a language but are very shy to speak it for fear of making mistakes. The first time I learned this was at my host-family’s house and I was shocked. I asked them if they even remotely noticed how I had been butchering French day in and day out?? Of course they had! But that’s how you learn! Now that I know people here are shy to speak a language they may know but aren’t comfortable with, I get less freaked out and just patiently try little by little. Every day is a struggle to communicate, but I must say it gets easier everyday and people here are not shy to say how far I’ve come. “Petit a petit” (little by little) is the motto by which I live here.
The swearing-in ceremony was really nice. I had a traditional outfit made for it and it turned out really nice. I also got my hair braided so I wouldn’t have to deal with it for a month or two, so I totally looked the part The American Ambassador spoke, as well as the Peace Corps Country Director for Burkina, the Governor of the province we lived in and the Mayor of Ouahigouya. There were a slew of other dignitaries present, like the head of the police, the head of the military (still getting those 2 confused), the Chief of the province, etc. and it was televised. My host family came, as did my priest (I have talked about him before, his name is Armand) and Mdm D. After the ceremony I took a nap and then we (the 38 new Peace Corps volunteers in Burkina Faso!) had a swear-in party for our last night together, complete with drinks and A LOT of dancing! It was super fun!
Then came the travel day. That was yesterday. It was one of the longest days of my life. I, along with Mdm D and 5 other volunteers in my area and their counterparts, boarded a bus at 6:45am for the 2 ½ hour ride to the capital, where we got off one bus and immediately got on a bigger bus with significantly more people and significantly less individual room for the 5 ½ hour ride to Bobo. I must say I am proud of myself for enduring the torturous ride. I am being so selfish too because this was the end for me, while others had another 5 or more hours before they reached their sites to which they took a significantly smaller bush taxi with significantly less room and probably a couple of goats and chickens to boot. I am lucky. So I traveled all the way here with Mdm D and when we arrived, the President of the Association (which is also the person’s courtyard in which I will live for the next 2 years) met us at the bus station. The look on her face was enough for me to know I am definitely wanted here. She kissed me on each cheek twice, held my hand tightly as she looked me up and down with big eyes and a bigger smile and kept calling me beautiful (in English and French).
Before arriving at my house I stopped at the market to buy a bed and some other household things I would need for the first couple of days. Shopping in this country is EXHAUSTING. There is never a set price for anything it seems (other than food I think). You have to negotiate for everything, and being white makes the process that much harder. I had Mdm D with me, as well as a taxi man that she knew well, to help with the negotiations, but even with them the vendor knows I’m the one making the purchase and still jacks the price higher than he would if I were Burkinabe, even though I’m not a tourist and don’t have the money I would if I were. Regardless, I made it out with the things I needed and headed for my new house. Like I said at the beginning of this post, I have a 2-room house in the courtyard of the President. The courtyard is much smaller than I anticipated. There are at least 3-7 children around at all times ranging in age from 4-20, though I’m not sure where they live – maybe here. I was anticipating having more space (though I’m not sure why because that is not something people here generally have much of), but what I have lost in privacy I feel I have gained in security and that is ok with me.
My job assignment is exciting. I will be working with a women’s association of 374 members (it was 373 until today, but now I’m a member too). These women operate a Moulin (which is a mill that grinds up flour or corn or millet), operate a public water pump (where many households without running water in their courtyards buy their water and wheel it in big barrels to their houses), make soap, hold literacy classes and run a daycare center. For the next 3 months I will meet a huge number of people from the mayor of Bobo to the heads of various organizations with whom I might collaborate to the
Chief of the province to the head of the police and military (hopefully I will be able to distinguish between the 2 one day) and observe and talk with the members to assess and evaluate the various needs and prioritize and plan what I will be doing for the next 2 years. After the 3 months I will reunite with the other volunteers to discuss what we have observed and our plans of action. It is really wise to do this 3 month evaluation in order to follow proper protocol and meet the appropriate people and really gain an understanding from the association and the community of what they need before jumping in and potentially messing things up. It also gives me some time to get better with French and learn some of the local language in order to communicate more effectively. The association has a really big campus that houses the offices and classrooms and daycare center – the Moulin and the water pump are at the edge of the property. It’s a pretty impressive organization and I’m excited to be working with them.
I live right next to a school where there is a really big track and soccer field and basketball goals. I told Mdm D that I wanted to workout and she took me to the track and introduced me to the guardian who lives on the premises. He is a very nice old man who told me to come there anytime morning or night to run or play. I have already talked to some women about getting a basketball tournament started. They are willing, which is surprising to me. It’s going to be really fun! I also live within walking distance of a boutique which has essentials (soap, bleach, powdered milk, bottled water), and within biking distance of a Protestant and Catholic Church and the small market where I can buy fruits and vegetables. Not a bad location I think.
The President of the Association and the lady’s courtyard in which I live, I will from now on refer to as Mdm O. She is a beautiful woman much younger than Mdm D. I learned today that she is 33 and has 3 children – 16 and 8 year old daughters, and a 5 year old son. She lives in the other house in the courtyard with her husband and his other wife and some of their kids. The first wife of the husband has 7 kids and some of them live in the capital city. I think it goes without saying that this is hard for me to digest, but it is how things are done here, so that’s life. They are Muslim, but I have not yet heard any calls to prayer which means one of my prayers has been answered because I must not live very close to a mosque!
Mdm O is not a skinny woman, though I would not say she is obese – just sturdy. I guess I haven’t eaten much since I have been here, partly because I haven’t been overly hungry and partly because I am trying to be very careful with what I eat so as to not get sick. I have a glass of tea and a glass of milk for breakfast and usually have some sort of rice with sauce for lunch and then oranges and bananas and watermelon for the rest of the day because those are safe. Being sick here really sucks, so I do what I can to prevent it. Mdm O has commented on how little I eat and told me that it’s good here for women to be big so I should eat more. This, I told her, was not so good in the U.S. and that I had no intention of letting her fatten me up. While I was living with my host family I had less control over what I ate, and felt obliged to eat at least some of what they offered me. We had bread for breakfast everyday and I am happy to say that I won’t be doing that any more (although the bread here is magnificent – one of the only 2 positive remnants of French colonization, the other being fantastic cheap French wine). After my luggage arrives with my running shoes, I will be off to the track every morning. I’m convinced that if I am healthy, my stay here will be that much better. Healthy in body and healthy in soul, which is also in good condition thanks to Brian’s (Peace Corps Uganda) suggested reading material “Blue Like Jazz.” This is an excellent book about nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality that I hope everyone I know will read – Christian or not.
I have been in this country over 2 months now and have observed a lot. Throughout the 2 months I have been trying to figure out exactly what I can do to help this place. As far as I have been concerned so far, Burkinabe have a lot more to teach the world than I have to teach them. Unlike a lot of other African countries, Burkina is packed with different ethnic groups and religions living in harmony with each other. I watched 2 men on mopeds get into an accident. The one who got hit helped the other put his flip-flop back on and they each continued along his way. There was no shouting or fighting or blaming. Accidents happen and then you go on. There are very few homeless people or starving children (malnourished maybe, but not starving). People here take care of each other. And I have been trying to figure out what the heck I’m doing here. This country is like a little oasis of humans living like we were made to live. Granted they are poor, but I’m starting to wonder if that is as bad as everyone seems to think. (I don’t mean to say being poor isn’t difficult, but when you don’t have all the money and possessions and greed in the way, it seems like it’s easier to be decent to one another. I have been struggling with my purpose here. Am I here to help to “develop” this country? Into what? Something more like the U.S.? Why? So they can run around without time for each other and place such an enormous amount of importance on gaining material things for themselves that they devalue their families and personal relationships like we have? I don’t want to be responsible for taking away any of what makes this country so fantastic in my mind. What does “developed” mean anyway and who set those standards? They might not have oil and diamonds here, (which I think is one of the reasons they live harmoniously together – there’s not a lot here to fight over, so I don’t think the Europeans were so concerned with exploiting Burkina), but they have basic human values and I’ll take that over gold any day. However, my views changed tonight…
Tonight Mdm O and Mdm D and 3-4 other ladies (including the other Mdm O – Mr O’s first wife) and Mr O were sitting around one of the trees in the courtyard (that’s right, a MANGO tree and I love it!) asking me questions about the U.S. They would explain something about life here and ask how it compared to life in the U.S. The U.S., to many people here, is like a fantasy land. It is only what they have seen on TV and heard about through the grapevine and no matter what it must be the best place in the world. I tried to explain to them that there are a lot of problems in the U.S.; it’s not all peaches and crème. As usual, the topic of why I’m not married came up. We were comparing ages and when Mdm O found out that I was only 3 years younger than her yet not married, she needed to know why. I explained that I haven’t found the man I want to spend the rest of my life with yet. I explained that there are a lot of divorces in the U.S., and everyone agreed that that was not a good thing. I told them I was looking for someone intelligent and who was passionate about helping people. They told me that I should find my husband here, which beautifully led us to reason #1 why I won’t find my husband here – polygamy. I explained that it was against the law in the U.S. Mdm O told me that she knew a guy with 7 wives and like 40 kids and I told her that he must be rich, but she said he wasn’t. Why, then, does he have so many wives? Because they were arranged marriages, which is evidently still alive and kicking here. From the look on her face, I think hers was an arranged marriage – but I’m not sure. Next came reason #2 why I won’t find my husband here – domestic violence. It is not against the law here to beat your wife (or wives) and is actually very common and accepted. They told me about black eyes and knocked-out teeth and bloody lips and they laughed about it (which is probably what you have to do when it’s your reality) and I literally almost started crying. Literally. They were laughing and joking and I was in shock. I managed to compose myself and in the most respectful tone possible, (because please keep in mind Mr O was sitting right in front of me throughout the conversation – not that a man who beats his wife deserves any respect, especially mine, but I do live in his courtyard and don’t want to make life harder here than necessary by making an enemy of the man of this compound) I told them that was also against the law in the U.S. and that it is not ok and that there are men in jail today for hitting their wives. The looks on the faces of these women basically gave me reason enough for being here. I think they were shocked that such a place exists where women do not get beat by their husbands. (I am not saying that domestic violence does not happen in the U.S., but it is against the law and there are ways to stop it and get out of that situation, but here there are not.) Mdm O told me that the association even holds sensibilisations about domestic violence and how it is not good. So I assumed out loud that it didn’t happen in her house, here in this courtyard and she just lowered her head (as did the first wife) and I looked at their husband who also lowered his head because I’m sure he saw flames where my eyes once were because my blood was boiling and I wanted to reach out and choke him. I’m sorry but I did. Apparently I was in the most unusual household in this country during training, unless I just didn’t see a lot of what was really happening, because I never saw any sign of anything but respect between Mr and Mdm B back in Ouahigouya. If it happens in the houses of the president and vice-president and secretary of an association of 373 women, I’m guessing it happens in a few others too. The women told me that I must talk to men here because if I talk people will listen – even men. Dear God if I can help one woman to not be beaten by her husband it will be worth it. I explained that it is essential for everyone to have respect for each other. When a woman and man respect each other, there is never a need for one to hit the other. Why can’t the men in this frickin’ country just respect these women? They bust their butts from 4am until 11pm every day working and washing and cleaning and taking care of the children and the men work a little and watch tv and take naps and drink tea and beer with their friends. (I am making huge sweeping generalizations right now that are not fair to many men in this country and it’s wrong and I’m sorry. I have met a lot of really great Burkinabe men.) But why is it so hard to respect each other? Just talk and respect each other – that’s all you need, right? I hope so. For these women I hope so. I went to my room that night and cried. I cried for these women. Because I did grow up in a fantasy land where I was taught that you don’t hit women (or anyone for that matter) and you say thank you and please and you are respectful to your wife and your husband and your parents and your children. I cried because this is the life they were given and they are not free, they are trapped in a life of poverty and domestic violence. There is no take it or leave it. There is just take it. They just have to take it day in and day out. I cried because they are strong and beautiful and generous and loving and they don’t deserve this.
I do not know exactly what I will be doing for the next 2 years. I’m not under the delusion that I will be able to eradicate domestic violence in this country. I'm supposed to be in business development. But I think these women see in me possibilities that maybe weren’t there before, and I pray that I have the ability to somehow make their lives and the lives of their daughters a little easier, a little more pleasant, a little less hopeless. I have been blessed my entire life and I have had the opportunity to choose to do what I want to do and go where I want to go and for that I am so very thankful. Many women here do what they do because they have to, not because they chose to. Maybe I’m here to help open the possibility of choice.