25 short stories of which even Raymond Chandler would approve

A couple months ago, everyone and their mother was posting notes on Facebook telling 25 random things about themselves. I won’t flatter myself by pretending you are interested in 25 factoids about me, but if you’re reading this blog I will venture that you are indeed interested in 25 things about Burkina Faso. Let’s compromise and make this a post about 25 things that have happened to or near me in Burkina Faso since the last time I posted.

1. Dave and I recently spent the weekend in Bobo to escape Lô, an annual mask ritual in Orodara. I had to flee because women are not supposed to leave their courtyards while this festival is occurring. I’m still not clear on why women are shunned during this festival but it has something to do with not catching sight of male rites and masks. Some say that a woman would die if she saw the Lô. Our courtyard mom told us that in actuality, while this probably wouldn’t happen to me because I’m a foreigner (see Amanda’s post on the third gender), if I were to accidentally see part of the festivities, (they occur in secluded areas so I’d really have to seek it out), someone might try to poison me next time I was out drinking in public. So Dave and I thought we should err on the side of caution and consequently left town.
2. If you think Lô sounds bad, you should be glad that you don’t live in Zogore like our fellow PCV Aaron. They have an annual Fête de Frapper, which, contrary to the name, does not sound like a party at all. During this fête, anyone who is not originally from the village of Zogore gets beaten. Boo for xenophobia!
3. Okra is now in season and I have become acquainted with and seduced by the wonderful sauce gombo. I wish I could post a picture but somehow it was always gobbled up before I had the chance to pull out the camera. I tried to think of a description that doesn’t make it sound vomit-rocious, but the most honest way to depict it would be to admit that it’s totally slimey and a little fishy. But oh so delicious!
4. Dave and I are starting Summer Enterprise Clubs with students from a nearby high school. After middle school, students must pay to attend school, and average fees for a year of high school amount to CFA 50,000 ($100, or about 25% of average income per capita). Our aim is to help and encourage these students to pursue small income generating activities over the summer to fund their schooling fees. We also want to teach them about personal financial management, small business management best practices, etc. About 89 students are interested so we are going to split into two groups whereby Dave will lead one club and I will lead the other.
5. Do you guys remember the episode of Sex and the City when Charlotte tries to convert to Judaism but the rabbi keeps playing hard to get? Well, that’s sort of how I feel about trying to work with the local CSPS (Centre de Santé et Promotion Sociale, government-run health clinics). The head nurse has not responded to my myriad attempts to offer my services to weigh babies, help with vaccinations, etc. Its puzzling to me that anyone would turn down eager, enthusiastic, free labor. The APCD for Health volunteers recently stopped by Orodara and suggested I leapfrog the head nurse by going to the district medical head-honcho to request work assignments. I felt a little uncomfortable about this approach so ultimately I didn’t pursue it. I did get in touch with the Bureau de Charge de Vaccinations at the District Health Center and hopefully by the end of the month I will be helping out with the Polio vaccination campaign occurring throughout West Africa.
6. Story #5 reminds me of a huh? factoid about Burkina – tuberculosis, polio, measles, all those diseases that children in developed countries get vaccinated against are still problematic in this region. It’s really a shame and quite sad. The vaccinations are available but for some reason not all of the children get reached, particularly those out in remote villages. L
7. It finally happened. I fell off a bike and landed face first in the dirt and ate sand. (Violet, stop laughing.) It happened during the aforementioned weekend in Bobo. I was riding a loaner-bike from the Bobo Peace Corps office whose frame was a bit large for someone of my stature. I was following too closely behind Dave and knocked against his tire, which caused me to lose my balance. I couldn’t hop off the bike because it was too gigantic, so I had to go down with the ship and eat dirt. I only had minor cuts and abrasions, but of course this happened on a busy street so everyone was all aghast at the delicate tubabu taking a tumble. Some very nice people came over to help. One guy even brought a water sachet over so I could clean the dirt out of my bloody chin and hands. I was really touched by that gesture because sachets of water cost money and people are really conscious about spending money, no matter how small the amount.
8. Nary has a day gone by without me being asked if I am from China or Japan, or people calling me Chinese or Japanese. People bluntly ask “So, are you from China or Japan?” and I respond that I am from America to their shock and awe. This is actually something I have gotten accustomed to since my semester abroad in Paris way back in 2000, but its still pretty annoying to deal with all the time, especially when people refuse to accept that I am from America. Instead, they formulate this wacky theory that despite my “Asian eyes” I am actually white; thus they are satisfied that they have solved the conundrum of how I can look the way I do but be American. I am usually too taken aback to correct them. One of the other PCV’s is of Mexican descent and has experienced comparable situations. Apparently, most people in her region are not familiar with the concept of Hispanic people. She told me that people approach her, a bit apprehensive and confused, and ask, “Are you Chinese?”
9. The Fishsticks episode of South Park is one of the funniest ever. You’re probably thinking, ‘what does that have to do with Burkina Faso?’ and what you don’t realize is that there are many closeted fish in the sea surrounding Burkina Faso.
10. I will be holding a formation (training session) on making mud stoves with a group of women next Monday. Teaching appropriate technology to host country partners is one of the objectives of the SED project plan in Burkina Faso. Mud stoves are improved cooking stoves that use less wood and are thus more economical and better for the environment. Hopefully it will go well and I’ll be able to train more groups over the next couple weeks. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even blog in detail about it.
11. My hair is now an awkward length that is too short for ponytails but too long to not be bothersome in the extreme Sahelian heat. So secretly at night I have been wearing my hair in braided pigtails. As Wagz said to me in 9^th grade, “You just don’t look your best in pigtails (wince).”
12. Dave is really good at catching mosquitoes that invade our home and threaten my health and happiness. He can catch them single-handedly. He can also turn on his ninja-senses to detect when one is lurking nearby. He’s pretty amazing.
13. I am officially addicted to lying on our couch in front of an oscillating fan. It’s not even a real couch, but a lit pico with a hunk of foam rubber on top covered with a bed sheet. I don’t want to tell you too much about laying on the couch, since it might unfavorably color your impressions of what I’m doing here in Burkina Faso.
14. Some Peace Corps blogs that I read prior to arrival proclaimed that female PCV’s gain weight and male PCV’s lose weight during their service. I scoffed at this, wondering how anyone could substantially gain weight in a desert-like climate with little food diversity, or why gender would even matter. Even when the wife of the SED APCD, herself an RPCV from Niger, reiterated as much, I scoffed again. And now that scoffing has come back to bite me in the ever-blossoming derrière. Dave is getting really thin (Helmut Lang has been calling him to the catwalk for his summer collection) and I am…, well let’s just say that I’m glad I brought a lot of drawstring pants. I’ve been blessed, or cursed, to not be afflicted with many of the gastro-intestinal problems plaguing other volunteers, and consequently haven’t lost any weight that way either.
15. We’re trying to team up with a Burkinabé NGO to help with health sensibilisations in satellite villages. It’s a little tricky because they often travel there by moto and PCV’s are generally not allowed on motos (some PCV’s have moto privileges, but Orodara is too big a city to justify such honors). Tomorrow they are going out to a village via car that they borrowed from the hospital (huh?) so hopefully it’ll work out. I’ll let you guys know… or will I?
16. Inside the seed pods of the Neere tree, the seeds are encased in a chalky yellow spongy matter that is deliciously sweet! To partake of the natural goodness, open the seed pod and remove a portion of the spongy yellow stuff therein and pop it into your mouth – the yellow stuff will melt away and leave you with the neere seeds. These seeds are called soumbala and once crushed / ground with a mortar and pestle, sun dried and washed, they can be used to flavor rice, soups, etc. Here they are used as a natural alternative to Maggi cubes.
17. Its mango season and all the kids are running around with large pole-vaulting sticks to knock mangos out of the trees and slurp away. I actually got beaned in the head one night walking back from the latrine by a low-hanging unripe mango from the tree outside our front door. (Violet, stop laughing.)
18. One day I bought bread at the bakery and they didn’t have any bags into which I could put the baguette. This is pretty common (they usually wrap a small piece of brown paper around the middle of the bread as packaging) but this time I forgot the reusable shopping bag I usually tote (thanks Aunt Judy!), so I had to ride my bike home with the baguette flopping out of my hand. Children called out the following phrases to me during my ride home: “White one! White one! Some bread!” “A unit of bread!” “White one, I want bread!” “Come, let us eat the bread together!” It was the most bizarre taunting I have experienced yet.
19. I’m desperate to ameliorate my abilities in Dioula. I’ve been studying but the progress is slow and unrelenting. Its very frustrating because speaking French is so natural for me, but not being able to speak Dioula keeps me separated from a population that actually needs me, IMHO. What’s really maddening is that the same word can have several different unrelated meanings, depending on the context. For example, the word “Kòò” could mean articles, to wash, back / behind, or river / pond. Kòkò means salt. “Kòrò” could mean old, big or next to. I am learning some good lessons about patience.
20. Here’s a recipe that I’ve been using a lot recently from “Where There is No Microwave,” the Peace Corps-issued cookbook. Grill onions, garlic and sliced habanera peppers in a pan with oil. Boil spaghetti noodles. Once cooked, drain the noodles and leave some water just barely covering the top. Add onions, garlic, peppers and a couple heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter to the spaghetti pot. Mix and boil down. Eat with great joy.
21. Another food-related tidbit. Did you know that I manually pick out tiny pebbles from rice every time I prepare it? Usually the bugs are easy to pick out because they float to the top of the water while I’m washing it. The dark rocks are easy to see against the white rice but difficult to grab with my clumsy fingers. It takes a bit of work and patience but it’s worth it to avoid breaking teeth later.
22. Usually toddlers and young children are scared of me when they see me, but today I was able to play with a very cute 8 month old chubby baby for an extended period of time. A woman sitting near me told me that the baby wasn’t scared of me because she was too young to recognize my white skin (and apparently its inherent dangers).
23. Going to Tunisia last month made us realize how West-African-ized our French is becoming. We confused a lot of people in Tunisia with our foreign colloquial expressions and mannerisms. For example, in Burkina, if a street vendor tries to hassle you to purchase something, one can say ça va, meaning “no thanks, I’m good.” A taxi driver was trying to lure us into his cab in Tunisia, so Dave told him ça va, to which the guy replied ça va très bien! Another example is that here in Burkina, it is pretty rude to not ask someone how they slept upon greeting them in the morning. At breakfast in Tunisia, Dave said good morning to the waiter and asked if he slept well, and the waiter responded with a bewildered look. My erstwhile Parisian accent is slipping away and becoming very Burkina-fied, which is good because now people here can understand me (unlike when I first arrived) but questionable for the long-term.
24. More and more I find myself embracing a Buddhist-like calm in letting go of my desire for possessions. When I first arrived here, all I could think about was the material items I didn’t have but desperately needed. Now the thought of amassing more possessions is burdensome, especially when I consider the legwork in locating such items and the hassle of bargaining the price with the vendor. Whenever possible, I try to do without. I wonder if I will still feel this way when I return to the US and enter a Marc Jacobs store
25. Wow, if you’ve made it this far, I’m proud of you! This was certainly one of the longest posts yet. I’ll end this post on a positive note with an inspirational quote from Dave:

“What?”