Sorry friends!
I came to Leo hoping that I could spend some extensive time at the internet cafe however the internet has been down for the past week so I havent had the chance to share much. In good news, our project plan was passed and we are back in Bourra tomorrow for the next month. In other good news I have found myself more husbands, 2 under the age of 10, become one heck of a dancer and have discovered a talent for chicken whispering. Confused? Sorry, some of these stories will have to wait for home!
In the meantime, I hope that the following journal excerpt engages some of you all to understand why coming to Africa was so important to me. It makes me happy to know that there are things that we can do at home to make life better for people around the world. I am of the opinion that it is a responsibility to care for you neighbor, whether they be your friend who is ill at home, or the child who is not in school in Burkina Faso. Don't get me wrong, not everyone can or will care about everything. . . gah I am now doing that waffly - indecisive - not - really -making- any - statement thing that I so like to do . . . I just hope that this blog helps everyone to recognize the importance of foreign aid and international development. Even moreso, I hope it is convincing because its true, not because its preachy which I know I can do . . . haha enjoy.
June 16, 2007
I went to sleep frustrated last night for the first time. The crazy thing is that I was not frustrated by the realities here, rather by some ridiculous internal struggle with leadership and writing. When I woke up this morning, I felt myself needing to ask the question, “am I becoming desensitized by the realities?” How could I be as angry at myself for something so minour, when there is so many other things that could, and arguably shoud, keep me awake at night?
Before coming, my parents expressed to me that they were scared that my idealism and optimism would take a big hit during my time in Burkina Faso; considering that those characteristics are definitely defining for me, it could have been a relevant fear. At the time I was offended that they assumed me to be so starry eyed that I was unable to see reality too. With time, I came to scoff at it because it seemed so ironic to suggest that optimism (and the chance of losing it) could be the something that holds me back.
Now, being here for 24 days, I feel more optimistic that I did before coming. In Canada, poverty is really this overwhelming, mysterious shadow lurking in other parts of the world. We know that we don’t like it, and we know that we never want to experience it, but we really don’t seem to think we can do anything about it. We justify its existence by saying that maybe it’s just a form of population control, or that maybe the people are tougher than us, and are truly happy despite it all. Mostly, we say stuff like we can’t afford to help, nothing we can do will help, and they must ultimately help themselves. I’m excited to have this very proud opportunity to let ya’ll know . . . none of it is absolutely true! Poverty is not a form of population control, it is a symptom of injustices and inequalities. There are most definitely happy people, but allowing that fact to let us sleep better at night diminishes the unfair struggles they face regularly. Better yet, the world CAN afford to help, and that which we can afford WILL help and the people here. Most importantly, these people must help themselves, but ultimately there must be external assistance. Just as no individual is a rock, no country is even remotely independent.
These few facts are so full of hope and opportunity it isn’t even funny. Now if I was a glass half empty type of person, I would dwell on the fact that we have screwed up in the past, doing nothing or worse. However, armed with that never failing confidence that my parents were so wary of me losing, I know that the situations that exist here are CHANGEABLE. There is no need for any magic formula, the stars had been aligned for years and will be for many more years. All that is needed to make life better for millions of people is some empathy that translates into action and positive conditions here. In a conversation with Nathan, a friend here, he made the brilliant point that Burkina Faso doesn’t have much for natural resources, when so many other African countries do; what they do have is peace.
This point doesn’t only illustrate what I was trying to say (for those who may have missed it, I wanted to say that investment in a country like this will work because the people are ready and willing), but it also forced me to step back and look at the concepts of peace and natural resources differently. I had never thought of Peace as being something of a resource or as an opportunity. I thought of peace as being the way the world should be. This is definitely the idealist in me shining through. After the conversation, I realize how precious peace and stability is in this world, a wake of call to say the least.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Kristinas Thoughts
Hey everyone
So KDawg and I just got into Leo today, our means of transportation was an ambulance. No, dont worry mother, there was no practical need for it to be an ambulance, BHM just needed some stuff and we needed to be dropped off so into the ambulance we got. To make it better, it was an English ambulance, so the wheel was on the ACTUAL wrong side of the road = not the "it doesnt feel right" wrong side when you are in England and it is right. It was just chalked up to another experience.
What follows here is actually thoughts that Kristina has penned, not I. They are far more articulate than anything I could say (our favorite new Emily line is "They were Communist so they like had stuff but life like blew" = there was no context when I said it either) so I got her permission to post them. It basically goes through what our biggest struggle is right now; luckily it still has nothing to do with culture shock, at least not country culture, though it can probably be considered organizational culture shock after years of brainwashing on sustainability from RC and EWB. Anyhow, I`ll be sure to let you know how it pans out.
"Its not that we want to experience the culture: there is no culture. We want to experience a culture. Somehow this is hard to communicate: maybe they aren’t used to it. I don’t want to learn the traditional dances, or about the festival of masks. This is the stuff we use at home as filler. We accentuate it in visiting other places because the differences when we go to visit Alberta or California aren’t significant enough that they are interesting on their own otherwise. So we supplement whatever day-to-day, down-to-earth culture, with the museums and the festivals and the guided tours. Don’t get me wrong: I love that stuff, its interesting, and tells neat stories. But when there is more available, when the living culture is more than enough, more than huge, then that is what I have to go for.
Culture is how people live day-to-day. You don’t get that from museums or festivals or parks. It is the small, meaningless things, like the walk into town for groceries, or the chatting with strangers, or the laughter among friends. You get that from interactions with people. You get that from ongoing, sustained, continuing, simple interactions. This kind of culture isn’t easy. I don’t know how to speak the first languages. I can’t understand the politics. I’m not familiar with the foods. I don’t follow the religion. It’s work. It’s impossible. But I’m up to trying: I don’t want to feel cheated of that opportunity to put in the effort.
I hate that I’ve gotten attached to that idea: it would have been much easier if I hadn’t, if I had stuck with the initial broad project, if this place hadn’t stolen our hearts. Heart and Soul. That’s what Emily said. That we’d put it into whatever project. If it isn’t this one, she’s going to have to re-convince me, which won’t be nearly as easy as it was the first time.
I can completely justify this in what I’m seeing is a neat, logical way. I could begin with the easy one, we are paying for it. However, that isn’t really a fair justification, as we are here for more than that, we are asking for more than that. But there’s justification beyond that. We’re compromising, we’re making things work, we’re bending over backwards to be allowed to contribute. We continually ask what we can do, we are flexible, but we want it to be real. We understand that tourism is different, and that this is what they are seemingly more used to. Maybe that isn’t a fair statement either. But still, it shouldn’t be this hard. We’ve now had to apologize for being difficult, but append that with the statement that though we were sorry, we weren’t going to stop being difficult if we still hold any hope.
Beyond the logical, we just want to. I’ve already said it, Heart and Soul. Not normally one for a home, I’ve gotten attached to settling it, to a routine, so dramatically different from any previous one. I’ve gotten attached to seeing familiar faces, to wondering who will come up the road, to expecting ‘good morning’s from friends, to constant teasing, to awkward attempts at complicated conversations with second languages.
It’s a good thing its on paper: we may have to burn it.
Emily says I should give this context, and she’s right as usual, so here it comes.
Since early on in planning internships, Emily and I have been planning to do different projects while in Burkina Faso. She was to be working with NGO’s, on capacity building programs with them. I was to be working in education (the plan of exactly what changed 6 or 7 times before I left) in speaking with different stakeholders in the education system about the challenges they were seeing, and what might be done to lessen these.
About a month before Emily and I left home, because of some confusion in wording of conversations, we emailed Daniel to clarify that he knew we expected to be together, that though Emily and I were doing separate projects, we needed to come home to the same house each evening. We clarified that this was an expectation that we ourselves held, that our parents held, and that RC wanted (good ol’ RC, always stepping in where we need them to) for safety concerns. The response was slightly confusing: we were told that of course we would be together, but also that we would be fine if we were apart, that it had been done before by individuals our age and that they had managed fine and that we need not worry about being separated. So, though it seemed like a slight backtrack, we assumed that it could be taken care of. No worries.
As we arrived in Ouaga, we were presented with two separate schedules that had been drawn up for us: Emily was to spend a lot of time in Leo (where most of the NGO’s were based), and I most of the time in Boura (the center of the school district). They said that they had heard the week before that we were actually supposed to be together, and that they were still unsure how to make this work out. Easy enough, we decided to start together on most of my schedule and compact Emily’s a bit to do together later in the summer. It was reiterated several times that the schedule was not written in stone, and would be as flexible as we needed it to be.
So, its now week 3, and Emily and I have been visiting schools in Boura and generally settling in. (see previous postings if you aren’t convinced that we love it here).
Ah, I’d better explain why we love it here. We are able to be fairly independent, we are doing interesting work, and we are getting to talk with a lot of people. All of this was non-existant in both Leo and Ouaga. Ouaga is a giant city, having the benefits of some ‘from home’ ammeneties, but mostly the problems of urban centers. We were isolated, cut off, and generally stuck on our own, unable to be independent or meet with people, unable to settle in: we would always be ‘new’ in Ouaga, because we would invariably always see people to whom we were new. This means that both we are unable to feel at home and non-new ourselves, and, as importantly, that we are unable to get beyond very basic, surface conversations with anyone. Leo presents challenges of another kind. Where we stay in Leo is far from town, and we have to rely on someone to drive us to and from anyplace we want to go. As well, Pascaline (our translator) grew up there, and so has family and friends to visit, which is good for her, but necessarily leaves us even more isolated. We’ve become quite attached to the independence we’ve been able to assume in Boura, and to the relationships forged because of this, and aren’t anxious to give it up.
Not wanting to leave Boura is one reason we are trying to modify our schedule, though there are others. Emily’s project, as explained here, has turned into more of a ‘sightseeing’ expedition: go see what these NGO’s are doing, and be amazed by what they accomplish. Which means that we ourselves are accomplishing nothing, except being foreigners (in French, they use the same word for this and ‘stranger’, which more aptly describes our predicament) coming in to inspect, supervise, and gawk. We don’t want to encourage any sense of us being there to ‘check up’ on them and their work: we are not managers, we have no expertise, and we can’t understand an organization from a few translated meetings. We don’t see what BoH can possibly gain from this (we both see a lot to lose, in perpetuating stereotypes), and are mystified as to why they would have us do this.
Thirdly, from what we have seen in the schools and the very real challenges they face (mostly in students not going to school or not going very far in school), and ongoing projects within BoH to assist with these challenges, we see real opportunity to put in some of the grunt work needed to expand on these to increase their contributions to the community. On encouragement from one of the people here, and from Daniel in Canada, we’ve dreamt up (and apparently become quite attached to) a project which would help children who aren’t going to school to further their learning and to show them opportunities available to them in their community. Emily and I drew up a plan that would have us finish the work with the schools before they are out for the summer in July, and do the report on them as planned, and use shortened versions of Emily’s NGO visits to understand resources available in the community to individuals. From there, we would devote all of July to expanding on a club for children, in running programming and testing how its impact can be furthered. Both wary of short-term projects, the idea of this would be as a test-run, or proof that such a concept can (or cannot) work with positive impact in the community, with the idea that BoH would then take on the resulting group as a permanent project.
We are quite thrilled with this project and it’s potential. We would get to stay in Boura, build significant relationships with a group of youth and build leadership (how RC) and self-confidence ideas in them. We would be starting a project which would have long-term impact, long-term duration, and a lot of support from the Canadian head (which is where (unfortunately) all funding comes from at this time) (they’re working on changing that). It’s enormous.
And it’s recognized as such. Except that so far, people in charge of us (our schedule) aren’t seeing on the same page as us. They are trying to take Emily and I’s two very different schedules and cram everything into one common schedule. Life doesn’t work that way, or at least it doesn’t work well that way. We had two separate things: now we are being asked to do two things at once. We could do it, but not well. Never mind that one of the projects is ineffective on its own, it would cramp the other enough that both end up being ineffective. It is hard to be enthusiastic about. On top of that, it seems that, they are quite attached to the idea of us visiting as much of the country as possible, in as short amount of time as possible. They’ve got us travelling all over the place (a very expensive prospect, and not an effective use of time), spending a few days in Bobo-Diasolou doing tourist-y stuff, a few days visiting a small village in the north, and a lot of visits to Ouagadougou, where we are apparently supposed to visit the American Recreation Center (it has a pool and movies) and feel ‘at home’. Its so hard to explain that we aren’t here to feel ‘at home’, but that we are quite content to feel ‘at home in Boura.’
So, we have a final chance to convince BoH on either Thursday or Friday: wish us luck, wish us tears if that will help convince them, wish us good health until then, and wish us … I have no idea. Just make it happen, I’m not sure if we’re ready for alternatives."
So KDawg and I just got into Leo today, our means of transportation was an ambulance. No, dont worry mother, there was no practical need for it to be an ambulance, BHM just needed some stuff and we needed to be dropped off so into the ambulance we got. To make it better, it was an English ambulance, so the wheel was on the ACTUAL wrong side of the road = not the "it doesnt feel right" wrong side when you are in England and it is right. It was just chalked up to another experience.
What follows here is actually thoughts that Kristina has penned, not I. They are far more articulate than anything I could say (our favorite new Emily line is "They were Communist so they like had stuff but life like blew" = there was no context when I said it either) so I got her permission to post them. It basically goes through what our biggest struggle is right now; luckily it still has nothing to do with culture shock, at least not country culture, though it can probably be considered organizational culture shock after years of brainwashing on sustainability from RC and EWB. Anyhow, I`ll be sure to let you know how it pans out.
"Its not that we want to experience the culture: there is no culture. We want to experience a culture. Somehow this is hard to communicate: maybe they aren’t used to it. I don’t want to learn the traditional dances, or about the festival of masks. This is the stuff we use at home as filler. We accentuate it in visiting other places because the differences when we go to visit Alberta or California aren’t significant enough that they are interesting on their own otherwise. So we supplement whatever day-to-day, down-to-earth culture, with the museums and the festivals and the guided tours. Don’t get me wrong: I love that stuff, its interesting, and tells neat stories. But when there is more available, when the living culture is more than enough, more than huge, then that is what I have to go for.
Culture is how people live day-to-day. You don’t get that from museums or festivals or parks. It is the small, meaningless things, like the walk into town for groceries, or the chatting with strangers, or the laughter among friends. You get that from interactions with people. You get that from ongoing, sustained, continuing, simple interactions. This kind of culture isn’t easy. I don’t know how to speak the first languages. I can’t understand the politics. I’m not familiar with the foods. I don’t follow the religion. It’s work. It’s impossible. But I’m up to trying: I don’t want to feel cheated of that opportunity to put in the effort.
I hate that I’ve gotten attached to that idea: it would have been much easier if I hadn’t, if I had stuck with the initial broad project, if this place hadn’t stolen our hearts. Heart and Soul. That’s what Emily said. That we’d put it into whatever project. If it isn’t this one, she’s going to have to re-convince me, which won’t be nearly as easy as it was the first time.
I can completely justify this in what I’m seeing is a neat, logical way. I could begin with the easy one, we are paying for it. However, that isn’t really a fair justification, as we are here for more than that, we are asking for more than that. But there’s justification beyond that. We’re compromising, we’re making things work, we’re bending over backwards to be allowed to contribute. We continually ask what we can do, we are flexible, but we want it to be real. We understand that tourism is different, and that this is what they are seemingly more used to. Maybe that isn’t a fair statement either. But still, it shouldn’t be this hard. We’ve now had to apologize for being difficult, but append that with the statement that though we were sorry, we weren’t going to stop being difficult if we still hold any hope.
Beyond the logical, we just want to. I’ve already said it, Heart and Soul. Not normally one for a home, I’ve gotten attached to settling it, to a routine, so dramatically different from any previous one. I’ve gotten attached to seeing familiar faces, to wondering who will come up the road, to expecting ‘good morning’s from friends, to constant teasing, to awkward attempts at complicated conversations with second languages.
It’s a good thing its on paper: we may have to burn it.
Emily says I should give this context, and she’s right as usual, so here it comes.
Since early on in planning internships, Emily and I have been planning to do different projects while in Burkina Faso. She was to be working with NGO’s, on capacity building programs with them. I was to be working in education (the plan of exactly what changed 6 or 7 times before I left) in speaking with different stakeholders in the education system about the challenges they were seeing, and what might be done to lessen these.
About a month before Emily and I left home, because of some confusion in wording of conversations, we emailed Daniel to clarify that he knew we expected to be together, that though Emily and I were doing separate projects, we needed to come home to the same house each evening. We clarified that this was an expectation that we ourselves held, that our parents held, and that RC wanted (good ol’ RC, always stepping in where we need them to) for safety concerns. The response was slightly confusing: we were told that of course we would be together, but also that we would be fine if we were apart, that it had been done before by individuals our age and that they had managed fine and that we need not worry about being separated. So, though it seemed like a slight backtrack, we assumed that it could be taken care of. No worries.
As we arrived in Ouaga, we were presented with two separate schedules that had been drawn up for us: Emily was to spend a lot of time in Leo (where most of the NGO’s were based), and I most of the time in Boura (the center of the school district). They said that they had heard the week before that we were actually supposed to be together, and that they were still unsure how to make this work out. Easy enough, we decided to start together on most of my schedule and compact Emily’s a bit to do together later in the summer. It was reiterated several times that the schedule was not written in stone, and would be as flexible as we needed it to be.
So, its now week 3, and Emily and I have been visiting schools in Boura and generally settling in. (see previous postings if you aren’t convinced that we love it here).
Ah, I’d better explain why we love it here. We are able to be fairly independent, we are doing interesting work, and we are getting to talk with a lot of people. All of this was non-existant in both Leo and Ouaga. Ouaga is a giant city, having the benefits of some ‘from home’ ammeneties, but mostly the problems of urban centers. We were isolated, cut off, and generally stuck on our own, unable to be independent or meet with people, unable to settle in: we would always be ‘new’ in Ouaga, because we would invariably always see people to whom we were new. This means that both we are unable to feel at home and non-new ourselves, and, as importantly, that we are unable to get beyond very basic, surface conversations with anyone. Leo presents challenges of another kind. Where we stay in Leo is far from town, and we have to rely on someone to drive us to and from anyplace we want to go. As well, Pascaline (our translator) grew up there, and so has family and friends to visit, which is good for her, but necessarily leaves us even more isolated. We’ve become quite attached to the independence we’ve been able to assume in Boura, and to the relationships forged because of this, and aren’t anxious to give it up.
Not wanting to leave Boura is one reason we are trying to modify our schedule, though there are others. Emily’s project, as explained here, has turned into more of a ‘sightseeing’ expedition: go see what these NGO’s are doing, and be amazed by what they accomplish. Which means that we ourselves are accomplishing nothing, except being foreigners (in French, they use the same word for this and ‘stranger’, which more aptly describes our predicament) coming in to inspect, supervise, and gawk. We don’t want to encourage any sense of us being there to ‘check up’ on them and their work: we are not managers, we have no expertise, and we can’t understand an organization from a few translated meetings. We don’t see what BoH can possibly gain from this (we both see a lot to lose, in perpetuating stereotypes), and are mystified as to why they would have us do this.
Thirdly, from what we have seen in the schools and the very real challenges they face (mostly in students not going to school or not going very far in school), and ongoing projects within BoH to assist with these challenges, we see real opportunity to put in some of the grunt work needed to expand on these to increase their contributions to the community. On encouragement from one of the people here, and from Daniel in Canada, we’ve dreamt up (and apparently become quite attached to) a project which would help children who aren’t going to school to further their learning and to show them opportunities available to them in their community. Emily and I drew up a plan that would have us finish the work with the schools before they are out for the summer in July, and do the report on them as planned, and use shortened versions of Emily’s NGO visits to understand resources available in the community to individuals. From there, we would devote all of July to expanding on a club for children, in running programming and testing how its impact can be furthered. Both wary of short-term projects, the idea of this would be as a test-run, or proof that such a concept can (or cannot) work with positive impact in the community, with the idea that BoH would then take on the resulting group as a permanent project.
We are quite thrilled with this project and it’s potential. We would get to stay in Boura, build significant relationships with a group of youth and build leadership (how RC) and self-confidence ideas in them. We would be starting a project which would have long-term impact, long-term duration, and a lot of support from the Canadian head (which is where (unfortunately) all funding comes from at this time) (they’re working on changing that). It’s enormous.
And it’s recognized as such. Except that so far, people in charge of us (our schedule) aren’t seeing on the same page as us. They are trying to take Emily and I’s two very different schedules and cram everything into one common schedule. Life doesn’t work that way, or at least it doesn’t work well that way. We had two separate things: now we are being asked to do two things at once. We could do it, but not well. Never mind that one of the projects is ineffective on its own, it would cramp the other enough that both end up being ineffective. It is hard to be enthusiastic about. On top of that, it seems that, they are quite attached to the idea of us visiting as much of the country as possible, in as short amount of time as possible. They’ve got us travelling all over the place (a very expensive prospect, and not an effective use of time), spending a few days in Bobo-Diasolou doing tourist-y stuff, a few days visiting a small village in the north, and a lot of visits to Ouagadougou, where we are apparently supposed to visit the American Recreation Center (it has a pool and movies) and feel ‘at home’. Its so hard to explain that we aren’t here to feel ‘at home’, but that we are quite content to feel ‘at home in Boura.’
So, we have a final chance to convince BoH on either Thursday or Friday: wish us luck, wish us tears if that will help convince them, wish us good health until then, and wish us … I have no idea. Just make it happen, I’m not sure if we’re ready for alternatives."
Sunday, June 10, 2007
“The Honeymoon Ends”
Between insects and the Burkinabae inability to grasp the concept of rugby, I have discovered that Boura, Burkina Faso is in fact, not perfect; however, it is still bloody close.
I was tested the other night, and I failed miserably. Thus far I have been pleasantly surprised by the lack of a challenge the bugs of the nation have given me; the other night, that all changed. After a great rain, there were many bugs out the other day, none scary, just annoying, so Kristina and I decided to retreat to our bed, under the mosquito net, to do work before tucking in for the night. Around 2am, I woke to an itch which I scratched. Then something tickled again. Groggily I swatted at my leg, when I realized I was swatting something pretty big. Heart beating, due to my very irrational but prevalent fear of bugs, I sat bolt upright, and grabbed for the flashlight in time to see the huge spider that has been my terrified fascination from a far for the past week or so. It is about the size of 3 fingers and it moves really fast, scaling walls up and down easily. Apparently, it does battles with scorpions and wins. Anyhow, I see it scuttle across the bed, I squeal a little and the flashlight burns out. Kristina wakes up, realizing pretty quickly what is up and I frantically reach for the cell phone, as she tries to make the flashlight work. Her conscious and calm presence, and the evil thing crawling over my leg once more, gives me liberty to end the episode appropriately, by jumping up and standing on the bed with the cell phone light, hunched over because of the mosquito net. We think we see it crawl out from the mosquito net, and despite the heat I cocoon myself into my sheet.
Despite evil bugs, and football with the rugby ball, this places hasn’t ceased in its wonderfulness (I mean, look at the words I’m using – I’m running out of ways to describe it all). We had a successful week, with a series of interviews with the teachers, students and headmaster of Boura Public school (which is the equivalent of grades 1-6) and with the teachers, students and parents of Boura Private School SDK (run by Bridges of Hope with 102 first grade students). It has definitely been fascinating, though eye opening. There are definite limitations that face teachers, but after observing classes it is clear that the students in school are getting a spectacular education. However, it has become clear that there are actually more students not in school than are, due to a lack of room. We are continually made aware of the fact that it is the girls who will often not make it to school, for a series of traditional reasons that most commonly includes the fact that an educated girl will leave home and leave her family without a dowry, but also includes the young girl’s household responsibilities. From what Kristina and I can tell, most reasons that parents would hesitate sending their children (boy or girl) to school is waning; this generation seems to really value education, but school fees (which at Boura Public is about $4 a child) are too much and there is often simply not enough room for those students.
Something that I had been very wary of before coming was the concept of teaching a colonial language in schools. Burkina Faso has one of the lowest (if I recall correctly, it may be the lowest) literacy rates in the world. Previous to coming, I was convinced that was because school was taught in French, the colonial language, where most of the population speaks a series of indigenous languages. While this is indeed a prominent reason for low literacy rates, I have come to recognize that it may be completely necessary. With so many languages in one country – there are several in this small community – a common language like French for all is really important. Besides, while there is indeed an alphabet for these languages, very little is actually written to be read making that kind of literacy difficult. There is a group of community leaders in Boura who are just now working on translating certain books in the Old Testament to Sissali.
Next week we are back to Leo, this time for about 10 days. The idea will be for us to visit the Leo School, as well a several NGOs. Bridges of Hope wants us to get a better idea of what each of those NGOs do, so that they can better understand how they can help. Then we will be back in Boura. I will have access to an internet café there, so here’s to hoping I get some pictures up soon!
In the meantime, some of the lists KDawg and I made up to pass the time :)
Talents I have developed in Africa
o Speaking French – kinda
o Donkey Riding – kinda
o Burkinabae Dancing
o Canadian Dancing – kinda
o Playing the Spoons – kinda
o Eating without utensils
o Walking with stuff balanced on my head – really!
o Drinking lots of water
o Putting on sunscreen
o Staring down bugs / not touching the floor after dark
o Imitating Animals
o Converting thousands of CFAs to a couple Cnd Dollars
o Playing football with a rugby ball
o Saying football when we mean soccer
o Feeding/Bathing/Entertaining babies
o Owning a cel phone?!? This comes slooooowwwwly.
o Having private conversations across huge crowds
o Wearing pieces of cloth for skirts and frequently adjusting them without offending
o Rain Dances
o Communicating without talking (though, it is a constant struggle)
o “Helping”
o Dancing in public places
o Making up random songs
o Conjugation of irregular French verbs (aka ALL VERBS)
o Laughing at ourselves
o Laughing on command (thanks to Kdawg’s new game)
o Singing on command
o Sleeping without a fan
o Doing our laundry
o Having translated conversations
o Tucking in the bed net
o Using a donkey instead of a watch
o Dying African Dirt Shirts
Different kinds of weather in Africa
o The cool sun, usually accompanied by a breeze
o The sun that doesn’t stay out for long, and is followed by rain
o The burning sun, that is just ‘hard’ – not necessarily hot
o The non-existent sun that is as humid as all get-out
o The rain that falls like hail
o A slightly cloudy night sky, where the moon reflects off of the clouds and lights up the night naturally
o The red wind in Ouagadougou (dust storm)
o The sun that leaves the shade as a place relief
o The type of heat that you don’t notice until your knees are sweating and you realize that you absolutely reek
o The 20 minutes violent sun shower
o The cloudy days that indicate the potential for rain . . . within the next week
o The clearest night sky, full of more stars that you can possibly imagine (particularly perfect for making up constellations)
o The rain!!!!!
I was tested the other night, and I failed miserably. Thus far I have been pleasantly surprised by the lack of a challenge the bugs of the nation have given me; the other night, that all changed. After a great rain, there were many bugs out the other day, none scary, just annoying, so Kristina and I decided to retreat to our bed, under the mosquito net, to do work before tucking in for the night. Around 2am, I woke to an itch which I scratched. Then something tickled again. Groggily I swatted at my leg, when I realized I was swatting something pretty big. Heart beating, due to my very irrational but prevalent fear of bugs, I sat bolt upright, and grabbed for the flashlight in time to see the huge spider that has been my terrified fascination from a far for the past week or so. It is about the size of 3 fingers and it moves really fast, scaling walls up and down easily. Apparently, it does battles with scorpions and wins. Anyhow, I see it scuttle across the bed, I squeal a little and the flashlight burns out. Kristina wakes up, realizing pretty quickly what is up and I frantically reach for the cell phone, as she tries to make the flashlight work. Her conscious and calm presence, and the evil thing crawling over my leg once more, gives me liberty to end the episode appropriately, by jumping up and standing on the bed with the cell phone light, hunched over because of the mosquito net. We think we see it crawl out from the mosquito net, and despite the heat I cocoon myself into my sheet.
Despite evil bugs, and football with the rugby ball, this places hasn’t ceased in its wonderfulness (I mean, look at the words I’m using – I’m running out of ways to describe it all). We had a successful week, with a series of interviews with the teachers, students and headmaster of Boura Public school (which is the equivalent of grades 1-6) and with the teachers, students and parents of Boura Private School SDK (run by Bridges of Hope with 102 first grade students). It has definitely been fascinating, though eye opening. There are definite limitations that face teachers, but after observing classes it is clear that the students in school are getting a spectacular education. However, it has become clear that there are actually more students not in school than are, due to a lack of room. We are continually made aware of the fact that it is the girls who will often not make it to school, for a series of traditional reasons that most commonly includes the fact that an educated girl will leave home and leave her family without a dowry, but also includes the young girl’s household responsibilities. From what Kristina and I can tell, most reasons that parents would hesitate sending their children (boy or girl) to school is waning; this generation seems to really value education, but school fees (which at Boura Public is about $4 a child) are too much and there is often simply not enough room for those students.
Something that I had been very wary of before coming was the concept of teaching a colonial language in schools. Burkina Faso has one of the lowest (if I recall correctly, it may be the lowest) literacy rates in the world. Previous to coming, I was convinced that was because school was taught in French, the colonial language, where most of the population speaks a series of indigenous languages. While this is indeed a prominent reason for low literacy rates, I have come to recognize that it may be completely necessary. With so many languages in one country – there are several in this small community – a common language like French for all is really important. Besides, while there is indeed an alphabet for these languages, very little is actually written to be read making that kind of literacy difficult. There is a group of community leaders in Boura who are just now working on translating certain books in the Old Testament to Sissali.
Next week we are back to Leo, this time for about 10 days. The idea will be for us to visit the Leo School, as well a several NGOs. Bridges of Hope wants us to get a better idea of what each of those NGOs do, so that they can better understand how they can help. Then we will be back in Boura. I will have access to an internet café there, so here’s to hoping I get some pictures up soon!
In the meantime, some of the lists KDawg and I made up to pass the time :)
Talents I have developed in Africa
o Speaking French – kinda
o Donkey Riding – kinda
o Burkinabae Dancing
o Canadian Dancing – kinda
o Playing the Spoons – kinda
o Eating without utensils
o Walking with stuff balanced on my head – really!
o Drinking lots of water
o Putting on sunscreen
o Staring down bugs / not touching the floor after dark
o Imitating Animals
o Converting thousands of CFAs to a couple Cnd Dollars
o Playing football with a rugby ball
o Saying football when we mean soccer
o Feeding/Bathing/Entertaining babies
o Owning a cel phone?!? This comes slooooowwwwly.
o Having private conversations across huge crowds
o Wearing pieces of cloth for skirts and frequently adjusting them without offending
o Rain Dances
o Communicating without talking (though, it is a constant struggle)
o “Helping”
o Dancing in public places
o Making up random songs
o Conjugation of irregular French verbs (aka ALL VERBS)
o Laughing at ourselves
o Laughing on command (thanks to Kdawg’s new game)
o Singing on command
o Sleeping without a fan
o Doing our laundry
o Having translated conversations
o Tucking in the bed net
o Using a donkey instead of a watch
o Dying African Dirt Shirts
Different kinds of weather in Africa
o The cool sun, usually accompanied by a breeze
o The sun that doesn’t stay out for long, and is followed by rain
o The burning sun, that is just ‘hard’ – not necessarily hot
o The non-existent sun that is as humid as all get-out
o The rain that falls like hail
o A slightly cloudy night sky, where the moon reflects off of the clouds and lights up the night naturally
o The red wind in Ouagadougou (dust storm)
o The sun that leaves the shade as a place relief
o The type of heat that you don’t notice until your knees are sweating and you realize that you absolutely reek
o The 20 minutes violent sun shower
o The cloudy days that indicate the potential for rain . . . within the next week
o The clearest night sky, full of more stars that you can possibly imagine (particularly perfect for making up constellations)
o The rain!!!!!
Monday, June 04, 2007
“Don’t drink the local water, drink the local beer”
While emotions had inevitably been up and down, I am so happy to currently be in
Something we are constantly reminding ourselves are is that we are not always being treated as “white people” but as guests; it just so happens that being white is a dead give-away that we are guests. I was raised in such a way, however, that I like to be the one hosting people, making people feel at home and I’m not entirely sure as to how to react as the one being hosted. Moreover, I want to return the favours, but that’s so bloody hard to do genuinely, relatively
speaking. I mean, someone who shares as much as they can possibly spare makes it far less meaningful for me to share a lot of anything, because I can get more.
Anyhow, yesterday morning, Kristina and I spent the morning with Jonas and Joshua, sharing in the wonderful sport of rugby, the difference between our homes, education, careers, etc. It was clear that there was a bit of jealousy at times. It is times like that when I am not only massively grateful for the material goods I have, but the opportunity I have.
I’m on this constant high at the moment, which suffers from a minour nagging doubt that says I’m still on the honeymoon, and what is romantic and wonderful here will soon be marred by reality. Conscious of this, I am asking myself, what is reality? The reality definitely includes the fact that the beauty of this place is simply indescribable – I can only hope that my pictures and memories will be able to always make this place as vivid in my mind as the greens, blues and oranges I’m seeing. The dirt is red like home and the greens are fresh, lush, healthy and of many shades. The sun is far less harsh than in Ouaga, but just as bright, accentuating the colorus. Its undisturbed and natural here, yet not easy to agitate and available for enjoyment and exploration. Throw in the constant sounds: children, the wind in the trees, women singing praises off key, roosters, goats and my favorite, donkey’s crying on the hour – and there is something to constantly leave me in awe and make me confident that this is indeed paridise.
We walked through the market yesterday, rows of unstable stalls with straw on the top, goods both manufactured in
May 29, 2007; “How I nearly violated many young Burkinabes. . .”
Wow, so much has happened now in just a couple short days! Sunday morning, Kristina and I were up early for church. We had been warned before hand that this, the Pentecost, would be a very long service, and both of us knew that that meant it could get very hot, so we came prepared with lots of water.
Tatiana sang in the choir, so we found ourselves a seat and watched as the church filled up. From time to time people would extend their hands and say hello. We expected there to be some spectacular music and we were disappointed. To my benefit, they projected the words to the songs onto two walls, so that Kristina and I could join in. People were clearly enthused with Kristina and my effort with not only the French songs, but with the More songs (which I actually felt were easier to keep up with!). People clapped and swayed to the music easily, and as many of you can all imagine, I was quick to join in. It was so exciting to be in a place where so many people were so clearly wanting to be together – you could feel the enthusiasm and the unity. After the first song, “Le Saint Esprit est la” or the Holy Spirit is Here, I found myself so excited to be present that I almost started to cry.
The service was in French with concurrent translation in More; the head pastor would say a phrase and the More pastor would follow up, giving me extra time to translate in my head, or allowing Kristina the time to translate for me. My French is undoubtedly getting better; I find myself able to follow more conversations, and get by in the simpler of conversations. After a lot of singing, everyone seemed to go to their knees. Kristina and I, naturally followed. What ensued was definitely a bit different, both exciting and scarey. A number of people were at the front and the various pastors began to pray upon them. Some of the choir members continued to sing, and the congregation remained on their knees, praying aloud themselves and singing. I too prayed, but to myself, and I was pleased when the pastor later said that some feel the grace of God and fall to their knees and others receive him less dramatically – that neither was better than the other. This continued for about a half hour, with lots of yelling and crying and various noises filling the church.
As this segment of the service concluded, we were about 3 hours in church. Fortunately, what followed was simpler and less intense; first there was a long list of announcements and then new people were asked to stand and introduce themselves; we had been warned of this, and so we did so without too much problem. Finally, ‘witnesses’ or people who had felt God that morning, were invited to come up and talk. I was definitely a bit tired at this point and found it hard to follow. Finally at 12 pm or so, church was concluded, and after sitting since about 8am, Kristina and I got up eager to leave. As we turned, however, a white woman was standing there waiting to greet us enthusiastically. She introduced herself as Dorothy.
Dorothy as it turns out, is the Canadian warden for the Leo area – meaning that just the day before, she had been in the consular to find that two new young girls named Emily and Kristina had registered in
After church, Kristina and I took it mostly easy. I meant to write, but I just couldn’t concentrate to do so. I definitely cannot wait for next Sunday though. Later in the evening, before supper, we decided we would go for a walk. I took my camera, but as I have said, I have been scared to use it. Outside our house, however, with the kids who have greeted us everytime we left the house, I asked in my horrible French if I could take a picture. This, as I should have known, drew a large crowd of kids, and I had people laughing. Two young boys, about 16 or 17 were walking down the street, and in broken English asked if we wanted in the picture and we agreed.
The brothers, continued to talk to us, and one ironically, was just in 
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