Attention Colts and Bears fans

This (in addition to my myspace page) is not the proper forum for superbowl smack-talking. I think you guys probably have plenty of other areas to express your team spirit. Dad, Mo behave!

That being said...




Go Colts! Go Colts! Goooooooo Colts!!!!


Hey! It's MY blog! Thank you for abiding by the rules;) Go Colts.

Random pics

1. Here's Aissa (my Judo girl) getting some mangoes for us. Not sure why I was suprised that it was hot when I bit into it. Maybe because I've only ever had mango in a smoothie or mixed drink of some sort. Guess when it's 100F outside the mango is going to taste warm - different, but still yummy:)
2. Mdm O #1 - my fav lady in Bobo with her problem child, and then my little stutterer on the right. That's really how all the women carry their kids here. He's a little old, but she still babies him - maybe that's why he's rotten!
3. Me with some other volunteers. The beginning of a wild night in Bobo:)

Alright Steph!! - Here's my house.

1. Where the magic happens...sleeping of course! without mosquitoes:)
2. Thanks to my friends and fam it looks like Wal-greens exploded on my top shelf. More beauty products than clothes! Oh how times have changed!
3. My "kitchen."
4. My "living room." - same room as kitchen:)
5. This color of blue is probably my least favorite in the world, but that's what it was when I moved in. How does the saying go...volunteers can't be choosers? Something like that:) So I worked with what I had.

C'est la vie.

Problems on the home front have resulted in Mdm O taking her kids to live with a neighbor a couple of blocks away for a few weeks. When I went to talk to her about it she had a smile on her face and kept saying there’s really not “a problem.” Where I’m from, taking your kids to go stay with a friend for a few weeks usually is the result of some kind of problem. But she just said, “that’s life sometimes.” She wasn’t crying and depressed and making it a bigger deal than it was. She was smiling and friendly and realistic. You do what you have to do and you move on. Tomorrow brings another day. This is life here. Some things are so different and I feel I have so much more to learn from them than I could possibly teach them. Sure I’ll teach them accounting and business management skills, but they are teaching me basic human skills (that so much of America lacks) all the time. Burkinabes generally don’t sit around feeling sorry for themselves. Sure there are problems here - malnutrition, corruption, domestic violence – heck, show me a society that doesn’t have problems. Are their problems any worse than ours? At least people here take care of each other.
I was sitting in my courtyard yesterday cutting up my watermelon and talking with Mdm O (the first wife – my fav woman in this city) and her 20 yr old daughter Aissa (my Judo girl and now my French tutor). They were asking about America and we got on the subject of homeless people. I was telling them that there are many more homeless people in America than there are here. They asked me why and I told them it was because Americans are self-centered and indivualistic. People work and earn money for themselves. And when someone has a lot, they keep it. Here, when someone gets something, they turn and share it with others. It’s almost automatic. I give Aissa a bag of M&Ms (a little individual size!) and she doesn’t open them and eat them or keep them to eat later, she turns and splits them among everyone in the courtyard. (Steph, in this way I feel that you are a little Burkinabe. I don’t know anyone who shares like you do – and you always share the good stuff; the best bite of your sandwich with the middle of the meat and the tomato, not the edge with too much bun; the part of the ice cream that is perfectly mixed with the chocolate chips and the nuts, not just some plain vanilla. You would fit in perfectly here.) Here, beggars come by the courtyard and ask for food or money and people give what they can. If they have an extra 100CFA they give it to them, or if they have prepared some rice, they give them a bowl. They don’t yell at the guy and tell him to get a job or ask him why he is in the situation he is in. Maybe they don’t care, or maybe they know that could be them or their brother some day and would want someone to take care of them. They don’t sit around and theorize that if you feed these people it will only perpetuate “the problem.” Whatever the case, they take care of them because that’s what people do. And wouldn’t you know it, just then a guy comes to the door and they look at me and tell me that he is a beggar. I thought to myself, why hadn’t I noticed them before? People are always stopping by the courtyard – some are friends and apparently some are beggars – and I’ve never been able to distinguish between them before. I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be. So I gave him the rest of my watermelon.
A girl that finished her service just as I was getting here wrote an article about the Burkinabe culture and things that we could learn from them. Below are the highlights:
They take care of each other.
They live with the environment and use what they need – not in excess.
Families live together – aunts and uncles and cousins grow and share their lives together.
Children are raised by the community – every adult is their aunt or uncle.
People here don’t have much, but they are generally happy.
Psychological disorders are rare – many don’t know what depression means.
When there is a conflict, they resolve it, forgive and forget in order to maintain peace.
People greet one another – quite literally, everyone!

I have to admit, I’m growing pretty fond of this place;)

4 months down

So I've been in this country for 4 months now and here are a few observations:

Happens every day…I’m riding my bike down the street and I come upon a group of 5-6 guys sitting on the street corner in my neighborhood (or the next neighborhood or downtown or anywhere for that matter – it’s never hard to find a group of 5-6 guys sitting on a street corner). They are just staring at me (all of them, without fail) and what, from my experience in the states, I would refer to as mean-mugging me – straight mean-mugging. But I know better because they aren’t like that here. So I say “Bonjour” or “Bonsoir” and all at the same time they are smiling and waving and yelling “Bonjour! Bonsoir! Ca va? Et la famille? Et la journee?” and on and on and on. Happens every day, on just about any corner. It’s like it has to be silence until I say go and then they race to see who can get the most words in before I ride out of earshot. It’s so bizarre! It makes me giggle. And I wonder, what are they thinking when they are just staring at me? Are they waiting for me to saluate them? Are they waiting for me to fall down or something? Are they wondering where I’m going, what I’m doing, why I’m in their country? Some are because they ask after I greet them. They never speak first. The only people that speak first are the kids who are responsible for letting everyone around know that there’s a white person in the vicinity and the guys (usually walking alone) that want to sell me something or become “friends” or what-have-you. Women never speak to me until I speak first.

I have also noticed that when I decide to walk from our Peace Corps office here in Bobo to downtown or from downtown back to the office (which is about a 20 minute walk one way) I never walk far before I have someone more than happy to walk along with me, as far as I am going that day. So far they have been really nice guys just gathering information about me, and I satisfy their curiousity because it’s nice to have someone to walk with and talk with sometimes. I wonder if I just kept on walking right out of downtown to the edge of the city and then out “en brusse” if they would keep going with me. I’ll test this at a future time.

Most everyone I come in contact with assumes I am French at first. They don’t get a bunch of Americans in these parts I guess. But when they find out that I’m American it’s like well that changes everything. Many request that I take them back with me when I leave. I tell them I’ll think about it over the next 2 years and get back to them. Everyone wants to go to the land of everything – oh America.

So I was out in the city last week and some guy comes up to me and is talking a mile a minute about how beautiful I am (good Lord that is a stretch!) and do I have a cell phone because he would really love to have my number and blah blah blah and oh I’m American, well he really would like to marry me. So I stopped and I looked at him and smiled and then told him that I would really love to marry him but that I already have one husband in the U.S. and one in France and one in Burkina and that I’m only allowed to have one per country. Really wish I would have had my camera out for that one. The look on his face was priceless. I think the ridiculousness of each of our stories was about equal – what do you think? Sometimes ya gotta have a little fun, right?

Christmas in January!

I went to the post office today to find 4 packages waiting for me! I don’t know why, but when it rains it pours here! And it was such the greatest day to receive these! I am right now sitting in my house in what can only be described as a Target explosion! I have been opening and unwrapping things for the last 45 minutes and now I sit amidst all the things I forgot I liked so much! I am surrounded by so many wonderful things that my friends and family so thoughtfully sent halfway around the world for me and I feel soooo loved. Gosh, everyone is so great!

First of all, to my amazing co-workers at Blue, you guys are wonderful! I knew when I was there that I worked with the most fantastic people in the world, and this just proves that again and again! I love you guys. Shawn - the picture of you and Kara and Barklie is hanging on my wall. You guys look so happy and beautiful! Lisa – of course I should have known you would be concerned with my dental health! You are such a sweet person! The card is really really nice (and also on my wall), and the tea if perrrrrfect. The books were a really great idea. April - you are adorable. I have already started The Pursuit of Happyness. The lip gloss and shampoo and shower gel (which is now bucket bath gel) and the tank tops and the nail polish and the BURT’S BEES stuff is all so fantastic!!! I am going to look (and smell) like a girl again! Oh my gosh I forgot this stuff existed. Thank you thank you thank you everyone for thinking of me and going through the trouble to get this stuff together and send it all the way here. I really do appreciate it!

Teresa - my favorite Martha Stewart clone! I could smell your package before they even brought it out of the back room of the post office! You have thought of everything – from the fruit roll-ups to the little bottle of wine (I miss getting together with you, but we will catch up when I’m home in April). And packed it so professionally! Thank you so much for thinking of me during the hectic holiday season and sending this stuff. Your wedding pictures are also on my wall. You look absolutely beautiful! I am really sad I couldn’t be there for it. It looks amazing! Thank you so much for sending the pictures.

Diana - you are the best. Thank you so much for the goodiesJ It is exactly what I needed. All of it. Perfect.

And Steph – as always, you come through like a champ with everything from protein shakes all the way down to Betty’s Christmas cookies. I love you.

When I go to the post office, or anywhere in this city, I ride my bike. When I receive 4 packages in the mail, the only way to get them home is to strap them to the bike and pedal them home. So I was able to put the 2 packages sent in envelopes in my bookbag and then I strapped the 2 boxes to the back of my bike. I was just pedaling along, thinking how lucky I am to have so many great, thoughtful friends and just having a good day when, as I was going through a busy intersection, the boxes fell off the back of my bike. It didn’t even occur to me to get upset or frustrated. I just picked the boxes up and walked them and my bike to the other side of the intersection and for 10 minutes (during which 4 different people approached me and offered to help) tried to find the best way to restrap them on my bike. As I was standing there I thought how I would have been so self-conscious in the U.S. if this happened. I would care who saw me and how stupid I looked. But it didn’t occur to me to care here. And that’s a great feeling!

Fear not, everything arrived safely at my house and now I am going to go take a bath and wash (and condition) my hair and put lotion and deodorant (which I always wear anyway - come on, I'm not THAT out of touch with being a woman:) and lip gloss on and paint my toenails and brush my teeth with this whitening expressions toothpaste and drink some tea while I read my book – thanks to my friends and family! I love you guys!

No doesn't always mean no...kind of

My brother’s girlfriend (Jenny – who moved to Shanghai, China with him just after I came to Africa) posted a blog (http://johnandjeninchina.blogspot.com) this week that made me think about the fact that no doesn’t always mean no (similar to “yes doesn’t always mean yes” – see prior post). My brother and Jenny are going through many of the same experiences I have been (frustrations with differences between cultures, amusing language mistakes, and a ton of things that just don’t make sense…to us), even though they are in China and I am in Africa. This post is dedicated to John and Jen in China – you are not alone mes amis.

This particular situation has actually happened more than once. I am at a restaurant with a few other volunteers. On the menu for breakfast they have plain bread, omelettes, and omelette sandwiches (which is just plain bread with an omelette on it). I order an omelette sandwich and the waiter tells me “c’est fini” which means “it’s finished,” or “there are none.” (This expression is one of the many Peace Corps jokes because we get this response to the strangest requests…for instance, at the gas station we pull up for gas and they tell us “c’est fini!” or we go to the market for eggs or bananas or just about anything and on any given day you get “c’est fini.” Oh, ok, so all the eggs in Burkina Faso are gone? Yes. Thank you. It’s unbelievable, because the next day they have them. But that’s just my reaction because I come from the land of plenty where there is always gas and there are always eggs.) Ok, back to the waiter…so I ask him if they have eggs and he says yes, so I get an omelette. Then he moves on to the next person at the table who asks if they have just plain bread and he says yes! Ok, hold up, so you have eggs and you have bread, but the omelette sandwich “c’est fini?” He responds, “yes.” Ok, then I would like to order just an omelette and just plain bread, separately – which, by the way, costs the same as an omelette sandwich. Ok, that is fine. Arrrrgh! It’s just one of the many things I come across daily in this country that does not make sense to me. It seems logical if they have bread and they have eggs that they would be able to provide an omelette sandwich. But it is not so. I used to get really confused and wonder if I was missing something, but have since given up and just accepted that this is the way it is sometimes. Oh Burkina.

Ok Jen – there ya go. I hope you get your cold sprite (at McDonalds - please keep in mind that you are lucky to have McDonalds and KFC) next time without the 15 minute debateJ

Trip to village

(Ok, sorry the pics are out of order - I really suck at this!)

Well I made it to village and back (with the help of my friend dragging me onto the bus…if that’s what you want to call it…to get there). But I am happy I went. I had the best time. Her village is only 60 km away, but it takes 2 ½ hours to get there because the road is so horrible. Let’s start from the beginning. The transportation we used to get there can only be described as Jed Clampitt’s (from the Beverly Hillbillies) OLD truck (see pic #4 above). It was essentially a ridiculously old pick-up type truck with a cover to pack all the luggage on top. We had to stop every 40 minutes to put water in the radiator (I’m guessing since I am no mechanic). The driver could turn the steering wheel a complete turn before it would catch the wheel – so he was basically turning that thing back and forth over and over the whole trip. The very good thing about this trip was that my friend negotiated for us to sit in the cab with the driver – just me, her and the driver. I say this was a good thing, but it also meant that we could see the road ahead and that was scary. It is amazing to me how they travel that road (if you can even call it that) day after day. It’s safe to say I feared for my life approximately 4 times during the 3 hour ride – maybe “feared for my life” isn’t the correct phrase to use, but I definitely thought we were going to tip over – partly due to the road conditions and partly due to the vehicle conditions...oh Burkina. And there are these guys who ride on top of the vehicle. They are there to load and unload the goods up top – we had 3 bags and 2 bicycles between the two of us; I saw them put a motorcycle up there and then the baggage for the other 15 passengers in the back. I see these guys all the time on all kinds of trucks in this country. Some trucks have as many as 30 guys on top! Ours only had 3 or 4 maybe – who knows, I wasn’t leaning out the window trying to look – but at least that many hopped down at one time or another.

So we finally arrived, unloaded our stuff, and headed to the market to greet her co-workers (and the rest of the village). I think she told me there are approximately 8,000 in her village, and I’m quite sure I met all of them – or at least they saw me. I’m kidding, but it was like being center stage the entire time. I live in a city where there are always a few foreigners running around so I am less of an anomaly, but in the village there is just her (and we’ve only been here for 6 weeks, so she’s relatively new). So when I showed up it was an event. This was the same girl I was supposed to visit a few weeks ago and couldn’t get on the bus (if you can call it that). She had told them I was coming and then I didn’t, so I essentially stood her and the village up. I really have never been in a situation where I am stared at from every direction. Wherever we went in village there were people around, and they would stop what they were doing and just look. At any given time I could count 6-10 people just looking at me – from down the block, from across the street, from 2 feet away, everywhere. That took a little getting used to. Of course the people were super friendly (most people in this country are) and they seemed happy to put the face with the name.

Her village is absolutely beautiful. There is a river and rice fields and a mango grove (where we went running every morning - see pic #1 above). It was quiet and relaxing and when the sun set I got to see the magnificent starry sky I’ve been waiting to see since I got here. It is impossible to put into words the magnificence of the black night lit up by a zillion stars. I loved it. We rode our bikes to a neighboring village to visit a potential partner organization. More than a few times along the way I had to remind myself that I am getting paid to ride my bike through the West African countryside! It was beautiful!

Monday afternoon we met one of her co-workers for lunch (if you can call it that). We ordered a couple of beers (see pic #2 above) and then he ordered some food for us – which ended up being “rat de brusse.” From the sound of it we decided it was some type of rodent, and it’s impolite to turn down meat, so we ate it! I’m still not 100% sure what it was, and it was good up until I looked down and saw that I was about to take a bite of a claw at which point I lost my appetite. All in a days work here in Burkina.

It was really a great trip. I’m going back in February because we have decided to bike the road from her village to Bobo – 60 km. It might take a while…actually it might be faster than that truck we took! Stay tuned for that story in Feb.

Pic #3 above is a beautiful African sunset - on the toughest days this seems to make everything ok.

Care packages

I have received a lot of emails about what I want in care packages. If you are planning to send me one and haven't yet, hold off and let's just do lunch when I'm home in April (or dinner or breakfast - heck my schedule is open. oooh, or Starbucks. how I miss Starbucks...). I'm going to be gone to training during the month of March and then home for April and I don't want any packages sitting here that long, especially during those months because it is CRAZY hot here during that time. Thank you for your desire to help me out. Can't wait to see everyone when I'm home.

Pictures encore

1. This is just a really cool picture taken by one of my co-volunteers.
2. This is the bus I took to a village with one of my friends last week. This is a really great bus and it was only half-full. Super comfy ride - not at all like the bush taxi I couldn't take.
3. This is an everyday site here. The donkey carts are used to haul stuff around. Notice the lady in the background pumping water. I don't have to do that because I actually have a water spicket in my courtyard, but most of the other volunteers have to do this to get water. It's a workout (so I hear).

Back from Ouaga

My stay in the capital city ended up being twice as long as originally planned, so when I returned home yesterday I got quite the welcome. People were kissing me on my cheeks and telling me how much they missed me and how happy they were that I was back. The kids came from everywhere and for a split second I thought to myself, “Wow, they are really happy to see me.” But I know better…so out came the bonbons and they were literally squealing with delight. I think it was Jenny that sent me Pop Rocks (great idea!) and I decided to give them to the kids today along with the lollipops. I’m pretty sure they thought it was Christmas all over again (well, they would have if people here got presents on Christmas like we do in the U.S. – but you get the analogy). I had to recheck the ingredients on the wrapper because I would have sworn that those were straight crack. They were literally hopping around like bunnies. Poor things must have been going through terrible withdrawals while I was away. It was hilarious.

Today was an awesome day. The weather was absolutely beautiful; it was sunny and there was a light steady breeze all day and it was the perfect temperature; I got to talk to my sister twice (thanks for calling Steph); I washed my clothes on my front porch while I listened to jazz music; I finished a great book about the life of a phenomenal neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins – Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story…read it if you get the chance. It was an awesome day.

I was sitting under the mango tree looking up at the clear blue sky wondering why today seemed so great and I realized that it was just so quiet and peaceful. Then I realized that I had not seen the man of this compound (Mr. O) since I got back yesterday afternoon, which is odd because he is ALWAYS around. I could just feel a sense of peacefulness from everyone. The courtyard was vacant this afternoon and I was sitting under the tree when Mdm O (the first wife) came and sat with me. The concept of living in the courtyard with a polygamous family was annoying to me at first, but I have really taken a liking to the first wife. She is the sweetest woman. She works and works from way before I wake up in the morning until after I go to sleep at night. She is patient and easy-going and her face always lights up when I come around and she always says, “Oh, Nanette.” But she also keeps her little problem child in check (at least when she’s at home). I always try to keep her laughing because she has the best smile. So she sat next to me and we just talked for a while. Then she brought out her photo album to show me. She showed me pictures of her mom and brothers and sisters, and then she showed me pictures of her 4 older kids that don’t live here. I’ve only lived here a month, but I’ve been here through the “holidays,” and thought at least one or two of them might “come home” for the holidays. But none showed up. So I asked her if they ever come to visit. She told me they never do because her husband is so mean. When they were growing up he apparently hit them (and her) a lot, so when they moved away they never came back. She asked me if I noticed how he is always mean to the kids, and I had to admit that I have. I haven’t seen anything physical. I’ve actually tried to just not notice him because he’s not nice and I didn’t want to build this disliking towards him, but it is what it is I guess. I asked her if she ever went to see her kids and she said she doesn’t have the money. I ask these questions like they are just common sense…”why don’t you just hop on a bus and go see your sons and daughters like I go see my friends for the weekend.” But it’s just not that easy here. Things that used to seem easy to me just aren’t. “If you want to take a trip, save your money and go.” But she doesn’t have a “job.” She is a mother of 7, with 3 kids still at home. She is the first wife in a compound where she works nonstop, everyday. I used to think, “If you can’t afford 7 kids, don’t have 7 kids.” But many women here don’t have a say in “family planning.” Men have multiple wives that they impregnate at will and they just deal with it. Oh, things used to be so simple. She has a sadness in her eyes that I see a lot here and I hate it. It’s peaceful today because he is not here. Sitting there today, just her and me, under the beautiful blue sky with the wind in the mango trees, I felt so sad for her. I’m used to seeing a problem and fixing it, but how do I fix this? I just want to say, “It doesn’t have to be this way.” Ok Miss Smarty-Pants-Fix-Everything-American…what are you going to do about it then?

And some more...

1. Soccer game
2. My host mom, brother and sister (how can you not love them!)
3. Me (with braids) with my priest
4. Me last week with the only chiuahua (taco bell dog) in this country. I had a hard time giving him back to his owner.

Tabaski photos (beware)

Here is the goat killing holiday in its full glory.
1. The boys skinning it.
2. Omar cookin' up the head. (I didn't taste it.)

More pics

Ok, here are some more for you picture addicts!
1. My gremlins (problem child on far right, my little stutterer on far left, the gremlins in the middle)
2. My house. There's a lot going on here. Please notice the ever-present goats, all the chairs on my front porch where the in-depth conversations take place, the house on the right is where people live, the beautiful mango trees, the green door is the entrance into the courtyard, the door on the left of the picture is the one to my shower:)
3. My monopoly money.

Pictures

These are pics from back in training, so a little old but better late than never.
1. Me with my favorite dog in this country (I have a story to tell about him. Maybe next time) and the baby goat that always tried to mate with him (also a boy - nobody told him about the birds and the bees I imagine:)
2. Here are the boys we played soccer against - notice his feet...no shoes. These guys are tough!
3. Me with my host mom, sister and dad at a ceremony for them. My host mom ALWAYS dressed nicely like this. I miss her! And how cute is my sister!
Stay tuned...more to come!

Yes doesn't always mean yes

I have learned when someone nods his head and responds "yes" to the question "do you understand?" that he doesn't always understand. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I was warned about this during training, but I forgot. I'm not sure why they do it. Take, for instance, my (previous) tailor. A couple of weeks ago I went to him and asked him to make me a pair of pants. I provided the material AND a model - I had a pair of pants (my fav) from the states and asked him to make the exact same thing, except a little smaller because the old ones are too big and long (since I don't wear heels anymore:). I said it slowly, multiple times and when I asked if he understood, of course he nodded and said yes he would have them for me at the end of the week. I was so excited to have a pair of pants that were going to fit perfectly, but when I picked them up and tried them on total confusion took over. I am realtively certain he did not even look at the pants I gave him as a model. So I've been back to him a couple of times to "fix" them, but to no real avail, so I'm tailor-hunting now. Another instance was earlier this week. I came into the capital city to get an xray (not broken, no worries:) and had to take a taxi from the bus station to the hostel. First of all, negotiating prices for taxis in the capital city is a NIGHTMARE, 100 times worse than in Bobo. So I explain where I need to go and finally find one who will charge me a reasonable (only 200% of the going rate - heck, after a 5 1/2 hour bus ride, I'll take it). The taxi system here is pretty basic. Essentially, it costs 200CFA in the day time and 300CFA at night to go anywhere within the taxi's "region." (but that is only if you are Burkinabe. Foreigners have to fight for that price and often end up paying 5 times more. I have passed on up to 4 taxis in one day for refusing to give me the going rate. It sucks sometimes!). Sometimes he will take you to the edge of his region, where you have to catch another taxi in the other region. The interesting thing is that the taxi will stop and pick up people along the way (usually people going in the same direction, but not always) until the car is jam packed. In addition, the charge is per person, so if I had 5 people with me all going to the same place, each of us would have to pay the 200 or 300CFA. So I am riding with this taxi guy, who seems pretty nice (I always try to talk to them, mostly they think I'm funny and I even taught one old guy A LOT of english one night on the way home. It makes the ride seem shorter and if they are distracted talking to me, sometimes they forget to pick up more people to sit on my lap:) and he picks up people along the way, and drops them off, and picks more up and drops them off (all while I'm sitting in the front seat right next to him), and after about 25 minutes of driving around he looks at me and asks where I am going. Are you kidding me? Please be reminded that this is after a 5 1/2 bus ride, before which I had a 20 minute bike ride, 20 minute walk and a 15 minute cab ride back in Bobo - I had already had a LONG day. So I explain it to him and he tells me that he now wants me to pay him 3 times more than he originally said (which was the reason I got in his cab in the first place). Clearly I was not a happy camper, but at that point I was so tired and just wanted to get to the hostel and didn't know where I was in the city and if I tried to negotiate with him it would have turned into a negative situation, so I gave in and we were on our way. I did get a tour of the city, without someone on my lap, and I learned (again) that the head nodding and affirmative response doesn't always mean what I used to think it meant.

Mike Hertel - you rock. I miss working with you. Thanks for the words of inspiration and encouragement. That goes for all my friends and family.

Hello 2007

Happy 2007 to everyone!
New Year’s Eve started off great. I went running early and then helped prepare the food for the day. New Year’s Eve was also shared with the Muslim holiday Tabaski this year. Tabaski involves the killing of a goat in the morning, which is then cut up and cooked and shared for everyone’s enjoyment. My compound neighbors spared me from having to watch the actual killing, but I watched a little of the skinning and cleaning and cooking. Apparently the head is the best part, and I watched with one eye closed and often looking away as the son removed and cooked the head. I got some good pictures, but cannot bring myself to take a bite. Mdm O asked me what I wanted to eat for New Year’s and I told her cake. There is always plenty of goat, salad, rice, but no cake around these parts. This is very unlike my host family back in training, because my host mom made cakes and sold them in her boutique. Oh, the good ol’ days. Anywho, we made cakes together and they were goooood.
I got the crayons out today and all the kids drew pictures for my house. I haven’t noticed any of the kids, at least in my courtyard, having toys here. Not one toy. They play with sticks and run around without shoes on waving knives or whatever they find laying around. Every part of my upbringing makes me want to take the sharp objects from them and tell them they aren’t toys, but here apparently they are. Little 4-yr olds cut up their own fruit and run around with the knife afterwards, and it’s fine. I have yet to see the notorious “accident” that I was always warned would happen if I ran around with sharp objects when I was little, but I’m sure it happens. My point in all this is that the kids here don’t have toys, yet they play just the same and get along fantastically. It’s really a phenomenon to me: Here, there are no toys, yet all the kids play and get along; Back home, there are millions of toys, and I have never seen kids just get along like they do here. Interesting. Even when I got the crayons out, they all colored and shared the different colors around the table of 4 boys and 1 girl. After completion of each masterpiece, each child would run up to me to give me the picture and request a new piece of paper for the next one. We wrote everybody’s names and spelled each one out loud. Maybe next week we’ll work on numbers. Then, one of the boys saw my high-bounce ball and it was over. I was hoping to bring that out on a different day so as not to overwhelm with all the toys at once, but it was discovered, so the games began. We bounced it high and then everyone scrambled to get it. It was so fun watching them crash into each other just as the little ball scrambled in another direction, all the while they were exploding with laughter. This went on until after sunset when it got really hard to see the ball. Everyone in the courtyard had fun with it.
So the other day I was in my house cleaning and cooking and doing stuff. Usually when I’m in my house I lock my screen door mostly to keep it closed so the wind doesn’t blow it open (sometimes it blows that hard!) allowing mosquitoes and insects and chickens to wander in, but also to keep anyone (namely my problem child) from being tempted to enter without permission. Today I forgot to lock it and my little angel was on my front porch hanging around and doing nothing. When I looked up and he was taking his second step into the forbidden territory, and before I could say anything I heard his mother scream at him to stop. He did and she came after him and gave him a harsher beating then was probably deserved just for stepping in my house (which is common here - the punishment doesn't always fit the crime by my american standards). I can’t say I really ever enjoy seeing someone be hurt or cry, but he is a professional at pushing the limit and hopefully won’t venture to no-man’s land anymore.
One thing I love about this culture is that I can ask anyone younger than me to do something for me and they do it! Usually they do it happily. This has come in handy on many occasions. Back with my host family during training my host brother would wash my bicycle, my tennis shoes and my backpack – every week. He actually told me he would be doing this and that weekly I needed to give him these things for cleaning. No problem whatsoever. This hasn’t happened here in Bobo, so needless to say, my bicycle, running shoes and backpack have not been cleaned in a month. But I have sent one of the little 8-yr old girls to get things for me – bread, bananas, sugar, peanut butter. It is such an ordeal even to go to the boutique around the corner for something that I find it easier to just send Massoura, and she’s back in a flash with my correct change. So I give her some candy, and everyone is happy. It’s really a no-brainer. And it’s not me being lazy – it’s a strategic plan to save my sanity. I might work up to sending her to the market for the big stuff. I will of course have to increase her pay, but it’s well worth it to me.
It has been really cold here lately. My thermometer read 72F in my room this morning and I was shivering! After I went running I told Mdm O that I wanted to wash my clothes and she looked at me like I was crazy! (This is a look I get almost daily, so I’m used to it. I get it when I go running in the morning. I get it when I refuse warm water for my showers at night. I get it when I tell them I can wash my own dishes and sweep my own house. I get it all the time. Crazy American.) She told me it was way too cold to be washing clothes. I told her that was ridiculous, that it is snowing where I’m from right now and that would be too cold to wash clothes outside, but this is beautiful weather and I went about my washing. I’m sure they sit around and talk about how crazy I am in their local language. I have caught them doing it a couple of times because they slip up and say toubabou or nasara and then I look up and give them the you-know-I-don’t-like-to-be-referred-to-as-that look. They just smile and look embarrassed because they know I know they are talking about me.
The people I live around don’t drink tea here like my host family did. I miss that. I had to buy some from some guy in the grand market last week because I miss it. It was good, but not like having it every Monday, Thursday and Saturday evening, like clockwork, with all the friends at the house. Maybe I should start the trend here.