Thursday, November 10, 2011
My Village Friends
Today is the first time I’m using my computer in village! Epic accomplishment! And yes, it is possible to use a computer in village. You just need to find a place to hide while using it (so that you don’t have a million petites and other villagers wondering what weird “American” contraption you’re using and attempting to use/touch/play with/destroy it), and an electricity source to charge it (or if your computer battery is worthless like mine, an energy source to be plugged into at all times -- not just during charging). After being in village for about a month and half, I’ve been able to scout out who has what in town, and so I now know which families have electricity, a TV, a DVD player, a fridge, a computer (gasp! oh my goodness, yes, there are other computers besides mine in the village of Lanfiera!), etc. Do realize that it’s not at all common for most people in Burkina to have these things -- especially people who live in tiny villages in the middle of nowhere -- but some are fortunate enough (aka educated enough) to have a consistent job and, thus, a decent income (by Burkinabe standards). These people are called “functionaires” and the work they do is generally in the public service sector: hospital nurses, teachers, police officers, school/mayor’s office secretaries, etc. Even the smallest of villages usually has at least one functionaire-status type person, if not several. Often times functionaires don’t really consider the village they work in their home. They might live in village, but on weekends and/or holidays they go to the big city (i.e. Ouaga or Bobo) that they more than likely grew up in and have family in. Because functionaires are essentially government employees, they usually move/relocate to a different community every couple of years (think church priests/pastors: every 2-5 years they change to a different parish), but some functionaires choose to make the village they work in their actual home, get married, raise a family, and invest in their homes and community (i.e. install electricity, purchase a fridge, etc.).
And these are the people I’ve decided I want to be friends with. Of course I’m “friends” with everyone in village, even the crazy/weird people that I try to avoid. But naturally, there are people that I’m more prone to spending time with. Here’s the rundown of who I “hang out” with while in village:
1. The five women and bazillion kids who live in the courtyard next to my house. And I’m not exaggerating when I say bazillion. There’s seriously like four kids of each age: 4 babies, 4 toddlers, 4 first-grade-age kids, etc. Okay, maybe I exaggerate a little, but not much! Oh, and don’t ask me where their men are. Or possibly man, as in just one male, as in they share a husband... I haven’t quite figured that out yet, and I have yet to ever see a man there, though I’ve spent whole days with them. But oh well, these women speak a little bit of French, as opposed to the majority of other adults in my village who only speak Jula or Daffing. (FYI, it’s really hard to have a conversation with someone or to figure out what their needs/ideas for the community are, when you can’t get past, “Good morning, my name is…”). Also, another plus, these women feed me, and usually the food is decentish compared to some of the village food I’ve eaten!
2. The young woman who makes gateau every afternoon and sells it at school every morning. She lives near me, gives me food if I’m around at mealtimes, as well as more free gateau than is healthy for me to eat. Her gateau (the word used here for “cake” or “cookie” or carb-like snack substance) is salty, comparable to a tortilla chip, with a smidgen of onion and fish in one of the corners, and (of course, like all things here) deep-fried. They’re not bad. Actually, fresh and hot out of the oil, they’re great. Now if I just had some salsa to go with them, they’d be amazing. I’ve spent many a afternoon with her, helping her deep-fry gateau. I’ve also burned myself a number of times, when the hot oil splashes me. Although she’s married, she doesn’t have any kids yet and her house walls/floors are extremely clean and new-looking, and thus I have reason to suspect she’s quite young and was recently married -- her husband is also young. For all I know, she could be my age (23-24 years old) or still a teenager (16-17 years old). I can’t tell. And I haven’t yet asked. But she’s nice and speaks French and doesn’t really have anything “else” to occupy her time with (i.e. babies) besides the general house work, laundry, making food for her husband, frying gateau, and entertaining me.
3. The hospital nurses. Functionaires, as well as all female and around my age…I think…my “best friends” at the hospital aren’t married yet, I for sure know that – they’ve asked me to find them a good American man to marry! There are a couple of women who are older and married and live here in Lanfiera with their husbands and kids…but as for my “best friends,” Aza and Olga, I’m going to assume they’re not past 30-years-old. They also feed me on a regular basis, and their food is generally a huge step up from typical village food: refined white rice, good sauce loaded with veggies, chunks of beef or chicken, etc. They speak great French, a practical amount of English, and of course 1-2 local languages. They also have great fashion sense, always dressing to a T, and one of these days I’ll have them help me get an awesome, but traditional, African outfit designed by the local tailor. The nurses recently had fun braiding my hair into a bunch of little braids and are trying to convince me to let them braid my hair in “African” designs/styles every week. We’ll see. They’ve succeeded in braiding my hair twice now within the past 8 days. I have to admit, having my hair in a bazillion little braids this past week has been quite nice. I don’t feel as hot, it stays out of my face, and it hasn’t turned into a rat’s nest full of knots or dred-like clumps like my hair normally does each day here, with all the wind, dust, and sweat it has to endure. Fun fact: the local hospital (called a CSPS – basically it’s just a clinic and a place for women to have babies) has a computer! All the little babies born at the CSPS within the last year or so, as well as anyone else who comes in for medical care (often children sick with malaria), now have records stored on the computer. It’s not much compared to medical-records in Americaland, but their name, birthdate, village, parents, height/weight, medical issues/diagnosis, prescribed medicines, etc., and even a photo taken digitally by the computer (wow! technology!), is entered into the database! I was shocked when I first saw that the hospital here (which kinda looks like a run-down building from the outside), actually has a computer and keeps records of its patients. Very high-tech and advanced for a village in the middle of nowhere, don’t ya think?
4. The teachers at my school. All men; all rather young, probably between the ages of 25-35. I believe only one of them (my homologue) is married. The rest are all up for grabs, as far as I know. Not that I’m interested… but anyways, they like to take me out for grilled fish and a drink of beer or dolo. We also play Scrabble…first in French (I’m really bad) and then in English (they’re really bad). I’ve convinced them that, for now, until my French improves, any word I come up with on my own and actually spell correctly (in Français) without their help earns me double points, automatically. I still always lose…by a lot… despite this advantage. Although, my French has been improving and vocabulary expanding, and lately I’ve been able to successfully pull off a few jokes and phrases of sarcasm, which they actually laugh at. Whether they’re laughing because I’m truly funny or because my French is horrible and I’m a white girl and altogether my trying to use sarcasm in African French is just too hilarious for them, I don’t know, but either one is fine with me.
5. The mairie (mayor). He’s about 50-years-old, has an awesome house and a really nice wife. Although we’re not yet exactly “friends,” he’s offered to help me with anything I need and to use his house for privacy/work space if necessary (like when I need to use a computer). Plus, I can’t discredit the fact that we’ve shared a bottle wine together…I think that makes us at least kinda friends…right?
6. The owner of the pharmacy. I feel awful, but I don’t even know his name. I always forget. But I know his kids: Arnaud (he’s in my sixième class at school!), Steve, and Kevin (he’s preschooled-age and refers to me as “tanti,” literally “auntie”…gosh that makes me feel old, but oh well). The pharmacy doctor purchased a copy machine within the past year, and within the past month added a desktop Dell computer with a printer to his business! Not that he really knows how to use the computer… I’ve been helping him with the basics: turning the computer on and off, using a mouse, typing on a keyboard, saving documents, and recently we’ve advanced to using Microsoft Word and creating tables/charts, which he is using to write, as an electronic copy rather than a handwritten document, Lanfiera’s 2012 Community Action Plan and Budget. We have a system: I help him learn how to use the computer and I get “stuff” in return. I can’t accept payment since I’m a volunteer and the reason I’m here is to be a resource and provide technical assistance with their needs, not to make money/financial gain, but I can accept “stuff,” such as eating a meal with their family, watching TV with them, charging my computer (they have electricity, obviously), and graciously accepting offers of cold drinks, be it water, juice, or alcohol (they have a mini fridge!). As nice as this sounds -- and trust me, it is nice -- I also have to endure lots of not so nice things. Sometimes this includes long, boring hours of watching him painfully type words one letter at time, using only his pointer fingers, rather than all five fingers on each hand…maybe I’ll teach him how to type in the next month? But the keyboard is arranged for the French alphabet, so I can’t really type on it either…at least not yet, anyways. Also, don’t forget that all the computer lingo is in French so I’m learning as I go, too, like how to say “Double-click two times really quickly with the right side of the mouse.” Often times I experience a language barrier and can’t accurately verbally express how to do something on the computer, or even figure out how to do the simplest of tasks on Microsoft Word myself, like inserting page numbers, all because I don’t understand the French or formatting used in Microsoft Word (French version). But I’m learning. Plus, as he lets me charge me laptop (I’m currently in the pharmacy office right now, 7pm in the evening, typing away as my computer charges), I really can’t complain. Electricity is scare in these parts, so to have a place where I can safely charge my computer (provided the power isn’t out) is definitely worth the long hours of “Computer Basics 101.” Furthermore, I can type math tests on my computer, print copies of the test as well as other items/photos/sheetmusic (thank goodness for the invention of flash-drives, they really makes things extremely easy and actually possible, even in African villages!), and give my students typed tests on paper, as opposed to typical method used here, which consists of writing 5-9 questions on the chalk board and having students rewrite the questions with their answers on a piece of notebook paper. More to come on the subjects of school and tests in Africa, later. Anyways, I like the family at the pharmacy, and so they’re good people to know and be friends with. Now if only I would learn the man’s name…
You might have noticed that most of the people on my list of “friends” are pretty important people within the community, so to speak. I find it interesting how easy it was for me to get in contact with them and begin working alongside them. Well, at this stage, there’s more chatting/eating/drinking than working, but the work and planning of activities/projects will come…right now it’s more important to build relationships with the people in my village. In America, a stranger would never be able to so effortlessly and quickly play an “active role” in the happenings of a community…more or less a foreigner who barely speaks the town’s language. We Americans would be thinking, “Who are you to tell us what to do and what to eat? Who do you think you are, foreigner who doesn’t even speak English? You want to meet with our state’s governor or the CEO of some big company? Yeah right, go back to wherever you came from. And learn to speak English.” But here, right away, everyone was like, “Hey! Tubabu! Eat with us! What can you help us with? Plan activities for our kids! Meet with the mayor! Discuss pertinent issues with the regional director!” It’s a whole different ballgame here, and I’ll probably never be “so important” or “well-known” in a community again.
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