So we've entered the "mini-hot season". While folks in Michigan are strolling through apple orchards, eating donuts, watching the leaves change, and pulling out their favorite sweaters; us Saheliens are sweating in 110° heat. This season occurs after the rains have stopped but before the cool months of November and December. My friend Mohammad tells me "December is COLD!", as he hugs himself and pretends to shiver. I can't wait.
Despite the sometimes brutal heat, I feel that I have adjusted pretty well to the country itself. The water, food, and climate pose no real problem for me. Cultural adjustment, has been a bit more elusive. One example, sleep is NOT sacred here. In the U.S. if someone is napping generally those around him/her will make an effort to keep somewhat quiet. They certainly wouldn't call the persons name until they woke up simply to say hello and ask how things are going. That would just be rude.
Last week I was dozing in front of my fan, trying to beat the midday heat. I was very tired from a lot of housework, and hadn't slept well the night before due to some mild G.I issues. Enter my 12 year old neighbor boy. He comes right up to my screen door, sees that I am asleep, and calls my name. When I don't wake up (because I am ignoring the child) he just calls me louder. I finally turn to him and ask "Oui?".
"ça va bien?" he responds.
"Please leave me alone right now I'm relaxing, I am very tired", I say to him (in French of course). This works for about 20 minutes but finally he returns and asks to borrow my bike, to which I respond, "definitley no". He leaves again but sure enough returns, succeeding in waking me up 3 times in the course of an hour. Not to mention the fact that he does it everyday at 6AM. Every day I say to leave me alone, every next day he returns. I don't get it.
The problem is my fault as well. Kids here don't pick up verbal and non-verbal clues that way I wan't them to. They also don't think critically, which has to do with the system of education. If I don't want this boy at my front door at 6AM everyday. I'll have to say "Don't come here in the mornings until you see that I am awake and moving around, if I am asleep then do not bother me". Simply telling him to leave every morning won't get the point across. Another cultural difference.
Something else I've had to get used to is the complete lack of automated appliances and running water. If I want to cook or bake something, its going to be from scratch. There aren't many shortcuts. If the floor is dirty, and often is due to the wind and sand; I have to pull everything out of the house and sweep. What I wouldn't give for a shop vac. When its time to do dishes, I haul water from a pump and fill buckets to wash, rinse, and sterilize. The most difficult of all these things is laundry. Doing laundry by hand is time-consuming, difficult work. I suggest everyone try it at least once.
There is a generalized chart that tracks the contentedness of volunteers. It looks like a piece of spaghetti someone threw against the fridge. There is a markedly low point between 3-6 months in country. I'm at 4 right now. It is after training, and now we have to re-adjust to a new culture and place yet again; only this time we do it completely on our own. This isn't to say I'm not content. Though readjustment is certainly no easy task. Then again, I wouldn't have signed up for the job if I thought it were an easy one. Cheers.
P.S Go right through for MSU! Watch the points keep growing! Spartan teams are bound to win they're fighting with a vim! rah! rah! rah! See their team is WEEEEAAAK, we're going to win this game! Fight! Fight! Rah team fight! Victory for MSU!
MSU 26 UM 20. Boom.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Prophylaxis may result in hypnogogic vertigo.
It is required that all volunteers take anti-malarial medication. There are two types. One; Doxycycline is taken daily and can great slight stomach discomfort. The one I take, Mephaquin, is taken weekly, and has been known to induce lucid dreams bordering on waking hallucinations. But hey, at least I won't be getting Malaria any time soon.
Needless to say I've experienced these side effects somewhat, though they haven't been unpleasant or infringed on a good nights sleep.
I'm usually not one to talk or write about my dreams. I usually groan or roll my eyes when someone starts a story with 'So I had this dream last night...'. Its as if they are saying 'here is a complete fabrication of my unconscious, which may or may not expose embarassing foibles in my personality'. But enough with the disclaimers. So I had this dream last night; I was in Burger King ready to indulge in a Whopper, when the portly woman at the counter demanded that I pay. I reached into my pocket, and produced a wad of CFA (burkinabe currency). She looked at me like I was crazy for trying to pay with west african currency in this quinessentially American establishment. Needless to say I awoke frustrated and craving a big juicy burger.
Which leads me to my next thought. My goal for the next couple of months is to put on some weight. I've received emails from worried parties in the U.S., pointing out that I am looking very very skinny lately. I would like to acknowledge the fact that I worked at a "Greek" restaurant before I came here, and spent most of my time running around eating Gyros slathered in Tzatziki, with Saganaki, and Spinach Pie on the side. Where do these items fall on the food pyramid? For any health-conscious individual they should be floating around the top. But for me, for 9 months at least, they formed the solid, immovable base. Now that I eat rice all the time, and my daily activities are walking, sweating, biking, and sweating; its only natural that I've dropped a few pounds.
I'll post the recipies that I come up with here on the blog, so that you can join me on this culinary odessy. To start!! A favorite of mine taken from the "Where There Is No Microwave" volunteer cookbook. Foccacia Bread! YUM!
1 1/4 cup water
2 1/2 cups white flour
2tsp dry yeast
1tsp sugar (for proofing yeast)
1tsp salt
Olive oil for glaze, and greasing rising surface.
PROOF your yeast! MIX the yeast and sugar with 1/4 cup of warm (not hot) water. Let sit for about 10-15 minutes, when small bubbles begin to appear on the surface. Just a few bubbles is okay.
Put your flour and salt into a large mixing bowl and create a basin of sorts to pour the water into. Use your hands to mix it all together (its messy). Sift in flour as needed until the dough is a workable ball, and is no longer sticky. Flip this dough ball onto an oiled surface, and cover with a damp towel, put it in a warm place (in front of a window) and let rise for 1 hour, or until doubled in bulk.
Now the fun part. Sift flour onto a surface and coat your hands as well. flip the dough onto this floured surface and beat it sensless. The dough owes you money, and I heard it say your sister is easy. Fold the dough into itself several times and punch it with your closed fist four about 10 minutes. Cover again and let rise for 30-45 minutes. Score decoratively and then brush with Olive Oil (or sprinkle with seasonings, I like Zahtar). Put it in the oven at 375° for 40 minutes. (WARNING, this bake time is for using an improvised dutch oven, those with Viking convection ovens adjust time accordingly). Use spray bottle with cold water and spray the loaf every 5 minutes for the first 15 minutes of baking for a crispy crust. Remove from oven, let cool, and enjoy.
Needless to say I've experienced these side effects somewhat, though they haven't been unpleasant or infringed on a good nights sleep.
I'm usually not one to talk or write about my dreams. I usually groan or roll my eyes when someone starts a story with 'So I had this dream last night...'. Its as if they are saying 'here is a complete fabrication of my unconscious, which may or may not expose embarassing foibles in my personality'. But enough with the disclaimers. So I had this dream last night; I was in Burger King ready to indulge in a Whopper, when the portly woman at the counter demanded that I pay. I reached into my pocket, and produced a wad of CFA (burkinabe currency). She looked at me like I was crazy for trying to pay with west african currency in this quinessentially American establishment. Needless to say I awoke frustrated and craving a big juicy burger.
Which leads me to my next thought. My goal for the next couple of months is to put on some weight. I've received emails from worried parties in the U.S., pointing out that I am looking very very skinny lately. I would like to acknowledge the fact that I worked at a "Greek" restaurant before I came here, and spent most of my time running around eating Gyros slathered in Tzatziki, with Saganaki, and Spinach Pie on the side. Where do these items fall on the food pyramid? For any health-conscious individual they should be floating around the top. But for me, for 9 months at least, they formed the solid, immovable base. Now that I eat rice all the time, and my daily activities are walking, sweating, biking, and sweating; its only natural that I've dropped a few pounds.
I'll post the recipies that I come up with here on the blog, so that you can join me on this culinary odessy. To start!! A favorite of mine taken from the "Where There Is No Microwave" volunteer cookbook. Foccacia Bread! YUM!
1 1/4 cup water
2 1/2 cups white flour
2tsp dry yeast
1tsp sugar (for proofing yeast)
1tsp salt
Olive oil for glaze, and greasing rising surface.
PROOF your yeast! MIX the yeast and sugar with 1/4 cup of warm (not hot) water. Let sit for about 10-15 minutes, when small bubbles begin to appear on the surface. Just a few bubbles is okay.
Put your flour and salt into a large mixing bowl and create a basin of sorts to pour the water into. Use your hands to mix it all together (its messy). Sift in flour as needed until the dough is a workable ball, and is no longer sticky. Flip this dough ball onto an oiled surface, and cover with a damp towel, put it in a warm place (in front of a window) and let rise for 1 hour, or until doubled in bulk.
Now the fun part. Sift flour onto a surface and coat your hands as well. flip the dough onto this floured surface and beat it sensless. The dough owes you money, and I heard it say your sister is easy. Fold the dough into itself several times and punch it with your closed fist four about 10 minutes. Cover again and let rise for 30-45 minutes. Score decoratively and then brush with Olive Oil (or sprinkle with seasonings, I like Zahtar). Put it in the oven at 375° for 40 minutes. (WARNING, this bake time is for using an improvised dutch oven, those with Viking convection ovens adjust time accordingly). Use spray bottle with cold water and spray the loaf every 5 minutes for the first 15 minutes of baking for a crispy crust. Remove from oven, let cool, and enjoy.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Why I hate the bus station.
"KING BROTHER! AFRICA IS VERY NICE! ME AND YOU WE ARE LIKE THE SAME, WE ARE BROTHERS. YES! KING BROTHER! IT IS NICE LIKE THAT IN AFRICA! BARACK OBAMA!" And so on, he shouted at me as I approached the ticket window at the bus station. The man in the window seemed nonplussed when I stated my inquiry. It was a rather simple question.
"How often does the bus run between Dori and Kaya, at what times, and how much does it cost"? However my question was overpowered by the tall man yelling at me in broken, rehearsed, english. I had gotten the same verbal assault the first time I arrived in Dori. That time he was wearing tight fitting jeans, beige boots, and a 50 Cent tshirt. Now he was wearing traditional african garb, complete with a white prayer cap. He stood directly next to me as I tried to communicate with the man in the window. I began to wonder, "when is this idiot going to ask for money like a normal bus-station leech". I finally got my information and continued to ignore the screaming moron to my left. It is common courtesy in west africa to say hello to people when they greet you. But I figure social decorum doesn't matter when I'm not concerned with starting or maintaining even the most casual of relationships.
I walked across the street and sat down at my usual spot at a roadside rice stand. Oh no, here he comes, hes following me, hooray.
"KING BROTHER, YOU DON'T EVEN SAY HELLO? WE ARE LIKE BROTHERS OUR SKIN COLOR THAT DOES NOT MATTER". The man who runs the restaurant and I exchanged a knowing look as he served me my plate of rice. I ate quietly while the man from the bus station stood next to me and attempted conversation, to which I didn't respond.
Finally, realizing that he was getting nowhere, he asked me.
"My friend I am hungry give me 300cfa". I felt some sense of relief at this as I now had a good excuse to tell him to bother someone else, that I wasn't a tourist, and that I don't give money away to people. I exchanged looks with the restaurant owner (a friend of mine) again, and he asked the man to leave politely in Mooré.
The bus station is rife with hangers on like this. There are the occasional tourists that make it out to Dori and these "guides" offer to take them on camel rides, to see the dunes, etc. There is even a man on the bus who telephones ahead if there is a "nasarra" bound for Dori. However tourism isnt an enormous industry in Dori so many of these "guides" find it hard to get work, and end up guilting people in to giving them money. Im a target because I'm white, and it is assumed that I have money. The result is that even when I pass by the station, or go to make a simple inquiriy, I'm harassed by these men. I've gotten pretty good at deflecting them though. If I feel particularly tired and have to go by the station I'll ask one of my Burkinabé friends to walk with me, which they are usually more than happy to do.
Well there ya go thats why I hate the bus station.
"How often does the bus run between Dori and Kaya, at what times, and how much does it cost"? However my question was overpowered by the tall man yelling at me in broken, rehearsed, english. I had gotten the same verbal assault the first time I arrived in Dori. That time he was wearing tight fitting jeans, beige boots, and a 50 Cent tshirt. Now he was wearing traditional african garb, complete with a white prayer cap. He stood directly next to me as I tried to communicate with the man in the window. I began to wonder, "when is this idiot going to ask for money like a normal bus-station leech". I finally got my information and continued to ignore the screaming moron to my left. It is common courtesy in west africa to say hello to people when they greet you. But I figure social decorum doesn't matter when I'm not concerned with starting or maintaining even the most casual of relationships.
I walked across the street and sat down at my usual spot at a roadside rice stand. Oh no, here he comes, hes following me, hooray.
"KING BROTHER, YOU DON'T EVEN SAY HELLO? WE ARE LIKE BROTHERS OUR SKIN COLOR THAT DOES NOT MATTER". The man who runs the restaurant and I exchanged a knowing look as he served me my plate of rice. I ate quietly while the man from the bus station stood next to me and attempted conversation, to which I didn't respond.
Finally, realizing that he was getting nowhere, he asked me.
"My friend I am hungry give me 300cfa". I felt some sense of relief at this as I now had a good excuse to tell him to bother someone else, that I wasn't a tourist, and that I don't give money away to people. I exchanged looks with the restaurant owner (a friend of mine) again, and he asked the man to leave politely in Mooré.
The bus station is rife with hangers on like this. There are the occasional tourists that make it out to Dori and these "guides" offer to take them on camel rides, to see the dunes, etc. There is even a man on the bus who telephones ahead if there is a "nasarra" bound for Dori. However tourism isnt an enormous industry in Dori so many of these "guides" find it hard to get work, and end up guilting people in to giving them money. Im a target because I'm white, and it is assumed that I have money. The result is that even when I pass by the station, or go to make a simple inquiriy, I'm harassed by these men. I've gotten pretty good at deflecting them though. If I feel particularly tired and have to go by the station I'll ask one of my Burkinabé friends to walk with me, which they are usually more than happy to do.
Well there ya go thats why I hate the bus station.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Back in Dori
I just returned from Ouaga on a rather unpleasant bus ride. I wasn't all that well educated on the bus times from Ouaga to Dori, So I showed up at the station before noon. I found out that the bus wouldn't leave until 3 o'clock. I'm not a huge fan of bus stations; I don't know anyone who is. Save Brandon Bennage; who spends his time there with a guitar for the purpose of entertaining the homeless. He's got a great heart that Bennage, I don't know anyone else who would spend an entire night in a greyhound station strictly for the entertainment of others, out of the goodness of his pure and altruistic heart.
I was fairly tired, and the heat wasn't helping, so I tried resting against a wall to read. I was asleep in about 30 seconds. 45 minutes had passed when I awoke, and some kid was trying to sell me a bag full of eggs. This all seemed normal. I realize that I'm becoming comfortably desensitized to the absurd. This is probably to my benefit. I don't think that this kind of work is for those who have strong convictions about that way things ought to be. If you spend all your time here lucidly aware of the cultural differences, and the day to day difficulties; you run the risk of losing it. It's necessary to procede with your work, knowing that it will matter in the long run, but at the same time accept the world around you as is. You have to go with the flow of things. Going against the grain is a surefire way to wear yourself out. Im not advocating apathy by any means; but this kind of work I believe requires collaboration and cultural understanding. Coming in to Burkina as an American is difficult, and it is necessary to make slight mental changes.
Ouaga was very refreshing; I attended a closing of service party for the volunteers who arrived here 2 years ago. There was lots of food and drink, and even a dance number by the departing volunteers. Ouaga is the closest thing to America that one can find in Burkina Faso. There are many restaurants, bars, and night clubs that cater to tourists, and ex-pats. I managed to have a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and something resembling coffee at the International School of Ouagadougou. The only thing missing was some aging waitress who calls me 'hon' and refills my coffee faster than I can drink it. I miss her a whole lot. My coffee arrived warm halfway through my meal, and when I asked for a refill I was charged for another cup and it took 15 minutes. Despite the coffee situation, the meal was one of the best Ive had in months and I left ISO with a smile on my face.
Despite its nicities, there is a madness to Ouaga, an energy and bustle that can become very overwhelming. The throngs of motos spewing fumes, the animal smell, and calls of vendors combined with the fact that Americans stick out like a sore thumb holding a $100 bill. Its like no city I've ever experienced. It was a good couple of days, with plenty of cold drinks and good food. But I am very happy to be back in familiar Dori, with my books, and my familar market. My neighbors were very glad to see me returned, and I ate and drank tea with them. When I returned to my house last night I found that I have electricity; which filled me with unexpressable joy. I immediately found the fan I had stored away, stripped down, and sat in front of it reading in my underwear with a smile on my face.
The Japanese volunteers are going to return to Dori in several days and we are going to start work on the exposition for Dori NGOs. I am really looking forward to getting some real work done.
I was fairly tired, and the heat wasn't helping, so I tried resting against a wall to read. I was asleep in about 30 seconds. 45 minutes had passed when I awoke, and some kid was trying to sell me a bag full of eggs. This all seemed normal. I realize that I'm becoming comfortably desensitized to the absurd. This is probably to my benefit. I don't think that this kind of work is for those who have strong convictions about that way things ought to be. If you spend all your time here lucidly aware of the cultural differences, and the day to day difficulties; you run the risk of losing it. It's necessary to procede with your work, knowing that it will matter in the long run, but at the same time accept the world around you as is. You have to go with the flow of things. Going against the grain is a surefire way to wear yourself out. Im not advocating apathy by any means; but this kind of work I believe requires collaboration and cultural understanding. Coming in to Burkina as an American is difficult, and it is necessary to make slight mental changes.
Ouaga was very refreshing; I attended a closing of service party for the volunteers who arrived here 2 years ago. There was lots of food and drink, and even a dance number by the departing volunteers. Ouaga is the closest thing to America that one can find in Burkina Faso. There are many restaurants, bars, and night clubs that cater to tourists, and ex-pats. I managed to have a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and something resembling coffee at the International School of Ouagadougou. The only thing missing was some aging waitress who calls me 'hon' and refills my coffee faster than I can drink it. I miss her a whole lot. My coffee arrived warm halfway through my meal, and when I asked for a refill I was charged for another cup and it took 15 minutes. Despite the coffee situation, the meal was one of the best Ive had in months and I left ISO with a smile on my face.
Despite its nicities, there is a madness to Ouaga, an energy and bustle that can become very overwhelming. The throngs of motos spewing fumes, the animal smell, and calls of vendors combined with the fact that Americans stick out like a sore thumb holding a $100 bill. Its like no city I've ever experienced. It was a good couple of days, with plenty of cold drinks and good food. But I am very happy to be back in familiar Dori, with my books, and my familar market. My neighbors were very glad to see me returned, and I ate and drank tea with them. When I returned to my house last night I found that I have electricity; which filled me with unexpressable joy. I immediately found the fan I had stored away, stripped down, and sat in front of it reading in my underwear with a smile on my face.
The Japanese volunteers are going to return to Dori in several days and we are going to start work on the exposition for Dori NGOs. I am really looking forward to getting some real work done.
Monday, September 7, 2009
A Cultural Exchange
Well the time is just flying by and its wild to think that I've already been here for a week. I've been settling in slowly but surely. I finally got gas hooked up and am able to cook without waiting for coals to heat up (ahh, the comforts of modern living).
The director of the school that I live near is still MIA. He really doesn't have much reason to stay in Dori, as the school year hasn't started yet. I'd really like to talk to him though, as he controls my electricity. I've been getting by just fine without it though. I just finished reading Cat's Cradle, and Breakfast of Champions by Vonnegut, and am slowly working through The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins (which I would reccommend to even the devoutly religious).
I'm just about finished with a large mural on my wall, and will try to post some pictures eventually somehow.
Last night I met up with some Japanese volunteers who are currently working here in Dori. They are with a program that is similar to Peace Corps in many respects. We went to a restaurant for chicken, fries, and beer. One of them is planning an exposition for a bunch of NGOs in Dori, and invited me to attend. Basically I'll be running a booth with information about Peace Corps. It was really nice to get out and chat for a while, even if the language barrier was sometimes a bit difficult to overcome. We spoke French, I fielded questions about the U.S., and asked a few about Japan. A good time was had by all, and we concluded that everyone will come chez-moi by the end of the week for some hommus, tabouli, and whatever else I can pull off (homemade arabic bread perhaps).
During dinner I lamented the fact that it is difficult to prepare certain foods without refridgeration. It's wise to buy meat from the market earlier in the day, if you want to get good quality, fresh meat. However, nobody wants to chow down on a hot steak at 9 a.m. when its 80 some degrees out. One of the Japanese volunteers informed me that not only do they have a fridge, but also RUNNING WATER!!!!!!!! Not to mention an generous living allowance, and even an air-conditioned palace for volunteers in Ouaga. I told him that I would be having a talk with PC Washington asap.
Apparently the application process for PC is far more competative than for the Japanese organization, so it is necessary to provide certain amenities to volunteers. There simply aren't as many applicants; and the number would drop even lower if people didn't have the nicities of modern living.
Don't get me wrong I am more than comfortable in my home right now, I live rather simply but there is something to be said for that. You don't really appreciate running water until you've had to lug two 10 gallon tanks from your pump back to your house every morning. And that cold bucket bath is so much sweeter after you've worked up a sweat.
The director of the school that I live near is still MIA. He really doesn't have much reason to stay in Dori, as the school year hasn't started yet. I'd really like to talk to him though, as he controls my electricity. I've been getting by just fine without it though. I just finished reading Cat's Cradle, and Breakfast of Champions by Vonnegut, and am slowly working through The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins (which I would reccommend to even the devoutly religious).
I'm just about finished with a large mural on my wall, and will try to post some pictures eventually somehow.
Last night I met up with some Japanese volunteers who are currently working here in Dori. They are with a program that is similar to Peace Corps in many respects. We went to a restaurant for chicken, fries, and beer. One of them is planning an exposition for a bunch of NGOs in Dori, and invited me to attend. Basically I'll be running a booth with information about Peace Corps. It was really nice to get out and chat for a while, even if the language barrier was sometimes a bit difficult to overcome. We spoke French, I fielded questions about the U.S., and asked a few about Japan. A good time was had by all, and we concluded that everyone will come chez-moi by the end of the week for some hommus, tabouli, and whatever else I can pull off (homemade arabic bread perhaps).
During dinner I lamented the fact that it is difficult to prepare certain foods without refridgeration. It's wise to buy meat from the market earlier in the day, if you want to get good quality, fresh meat. However, nobody wants to chow down on a hot steak at 9 a.m. when its 80 some degrees out. One of the Japanese volunteers informed me that not only do they have a fridge, but also RUNNING WATER!!!!!!!! Not to mention an generous living allowance, and even an air-conditioned palace for volunteers in Ouaga. I told him that I would be having a talk with PC Washington asap.
Apparently the application process for PC is far more competative than for the Japanese organization, so it is necessary to provide certain amenities to volunteers. There simply aren't as many applicants; and the number would drop even lower if people didn't have the nicities of modern living.
Don't get me wrong I am more than comfortable in my home right now, I live rather simply but there is something to be said for that. You don't really appreciate running water until you've had to lug two 10 gallon tanks from your pump back to your house every morning. And that cold bucket bath is so much sweeter after you've worked up a sweat.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Hunky Dori
So I didnt live up to my promise of posting shortly following swear-in. Our days in Ouaga were really packed. Between swimming, dancing, eating, and touring the embassy we really didnt have much time.
Ouaga was incredible, but once again a bittersweet experience. We arrived early this week and checked into a Hotel in centre-ville. We were close to Marina Market (heaven) which is a western style supermarket complete with flourescent lighting and check out counters. After three months in Bogoya I got a little weak in the knees upon entering this air-conditioned paradise. Street food in Ouaga is amazing, and the restaurants are even better (double bacon cheeseburger and onion rings anyone?). There was a man outside our hotel selling brochette sandwiches (meat grilled on a stick, with grilled onions, veggies, and spicy mustard). He serves it all hot off the grill on a baguette. I finished mine off during a medical session in which we were advised against eating street food.
Our swearing in ceremony was very nice. Five volunteers gave speeches in different languages including French. It was really a testament to how far we have all come. The Charger Daffairs at the embassy gave a very nice speech to us in French and English. He is the main man at the embassy, and an American (of course).
We all went out for dinner and dancing following the ceremony. It was tons of fun, but many of us had to part ways the following morning. I stayed in Ouaga until Friday morning (yesterday), and got to relax for a few days.
I Arrived in Dori in the midday heat to find that the rainy season has destroyed my courtyard wall and hanger, leaving me without much shade. The wind also blew my windows open and covered everything in the house with a thick layer of sand. Mais, ca va aller. I enlisted the help of some EXTREMELY energetic Burkinabe kids to help me sweep out the house. I tried to move most of my things into another room before they showed up so that they wouldnt be distracted but it didnt help all that much. After a solid 15 minutes of work they started saying ¨Donnez-moi un cadeaux¨(give me a present). I told them they could have a bon-bon each when they finished and I managed to squeeze another 5 minutes out of them. I was really grateful for their help, but I dont want to establish myself as the white guy who gives out candy.
I received three packages full of books, spices, and beef jerky immediately before my departure, they really made my day. Im already at the end of Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. I dont just devour books here, I inhale without chewing. These first three months are supposed to be spent relaxing and settling in, getting to know the community, etc. So with the schools still on break for another month or more, Im taking things slowly and reading a lot. I should have a new tank of gas for cooking (which I am very excited to do) by tommorow, and electricity by the end of the week. For now; Im getting by on canned tuna (a luxury), and rice from local restaurants. There is even a nice cafe 2 minutes away from my house that makes a killer omlette sandwich.
For now, Im going to take a much needed cold bucket bath. Its funny the stuff you find yourself looking forward to here. In the process of cleaning my house I managed to become coated in a layer of sand and sweat; something else Ill have to get used to. Thanks for reading!! Next time you are out to eat order a cold milkshake for me.
Ouaga was incredible, but once again a bittersweet experience. We arrived early this week and checked into a Hotel in centre-ville. We were close to Marina Market (heaven) which is a western style supermarket complete with flourescent lighting and check out counters. After three months in Bogoya I got a little weak in the knees upon entering this air-conditioned paradise. Street food in Ouaga is amazing, and the restaurants are even better (double bacon cheeseburger and onion rings anyone?). There was a man outside our hotel selling brochette sandwiches (meat grilled on a stick, with grilled onions, veggies, and spicy mustard). He serves it all hot off the grill on a baguette. I finished mine off during a medical session in which we were advised against eating street food.
Our swearing in ceremony was very nice. Five volunteers gave speeches in different languages including French. It was really a testament to how far we have all come. The Charger Daffairs at the embassy gave a very nice speech to us in French and English. He is the main man at the embassy, and an American (of course).
We all went out for dinner and dancing following the ceremony. It was tons of fun, but many of us had to part ways the following morning. I stayed in Ouaga until Friday morning (yesterday), and got to relax for a few days.
I Arrived in Dori in the midday heat to find that the rainy season has destroyed my courtyard wall and hanger, leaving me without much shade. The wind also blew my windows open and covered everything in the house with a thick layer of sand. Mais, ca va aller. I enlisted the help of some EXTREMELY energetic Burkinabe kids to help me sweep out the house. I tried to move most of my things into another room before they showed up so that they wouldnt be distracted but it didnt help all that much. After a solid 15 minutes of work they started saying ¨Donnez-moi un cadeaux¨(give me a present). I told them they could have a bon-bon each when they finished and I managed to squeeze another 5 minutes out of them. I was really grateful for their help, but I dont want to establish myself as the white guy who gives out candy.
I received three packages full of books, spices, and beef jerky immediately before my departure, they really made my day. Im already at the end of Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. I dont just devour books here, I inhale without chewing. These first three months are supposed to be spent relaxing and settling in, getting to know the community, etc. So with the schools still on break for another month or more, Im taking things slowly and reading a lot. I should have a new tank of gas for cooking (which I am very excited to do) by tommorow, and electricity by the end of the week. For now; Im getting by on canned tuna (a luxury), and rice from local restaurants. There is even a nice cafe 2 minutes away from my house that makes a killer omlette sandwich.
For now, Im going to take a much needed cold bucket bath. Its funny the stuff you find yourself looking forward to here. In the process of cleaning my house I managed to become coated in a layer of sand and sweat; something else Ill have to get used to. Thanks for reading!! Next time you are out to eat order a cold milkshake for me.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wakka Wakka Ouaga
Im currently sitting on a blindingly fast computer using free internet in an air conditioned hotel. When we find ourselves in situations like this we refer to it as "posh corps". Why am I here in Ouaga? I dont have a parasite or an IT meeting, so it could only mean SWEAR IN IN 2 DAYS!!!
Everyone is in really high spirits. We said goodbye to our host families in Bogoya (training village) and had a couple of days in Ouahigouya doing last minute stuff. Last night we had a big dinner followed by dancing to celebrate the end of training. The closing ceremony in Bogoya was really great for everyone, my host father translated our French into Moore for the rest of the villageois. We ate a questionable but palatable melange of macaroni and fish. The following morning before final goodbyes we had a photographer come in and take a family photograph. Unfortunately; I was unable to obtain a copy as we had to leave before they were developed. The whole ordeal was definitley bittersweet, but I am glad to have the homestay part of training behind me.
Ill post again in a few days following swear-in, Ill be in Ouaga until Friday before being driven out to Dori to get settled in for 2 years at site!
Everyone is in really high spirits. We said goodbye to our host families in Bogoya (training village) and had a couple of days in Ouahigouya doing last minute stuff. Last night we had a big dinner followed by dancing to celebrate the end of training. The closing ceremony in Bogoya was really great for everyone, my host father translated our French into Moore for the rest of the villageois. We ate a questionable but palatable melange of macaroni and fish. The following morning before final goodbyes we had a photographer come in and take a family photograph. Unfortunately; I was unable to obtain a copy as we had to leave before they were developed. The whole ordeal was definitley bittersweet, but I am glad to have the homestay part of training behind me.
Ill post again in a few days following swear-in, Ill be in Ouaga until Friday before being driven out to Dori to get settled in for 2 years at site!
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