Yes, I do realize that I haven't posted any new blogs writeups or facebook status updates or uploaded any new pictures for quite some time now -- since before Christmas, in fact. It's been a struggle to get to this point, but today, after many, many struggles, my goal of doing some internetting has finally been achieved. (P.S. I'll try to post as many blogs and pictures, as well as send as many emails, as is possible today with my extremely slow interent connection...provided the electricity doesn't randomly cut out....) Enjoy!
February 6, 2012
I don’t even know where to begin. What a day. Well, morning is more like it. It hasn’t even been a whole day – it’s only 2pm – and yet so many things have gone wrong.
To combat all of the issues I’ve been dealing with today, I’m currently sitting in my house (doors and windows shut and locked so no one can bother me), alone, typing away on my computer (obviously), eating some treats from my American stash of food, because certainly food will make me feel better, right? Thank you, Mya and Dan Herscher, for the package of addicting sea-salted Cashews that are doing a lovely job of complimenting the bag of Sunmaid dried fruit (apples, plums, pears, and peaches) that I also pulled from my chest of American food. Two different types of treats removed from my collection of goodies at the same time, in the same sitting, when I generally only let myself splurge on one thing every 1-2 weeks, and even then, it’s shared with friends? Yup, it must’ve been a rough morning.
For one, I should currently be in Ouahigouya (a “big city” about 3-4 hours from my village) visiting a friend and checking my email along with other internetting luxuries, which I have not had a chance to do since before Christmas. But I’m not. Instead I’m still in village because there was “no room” on the bus this morning. I waited over an hour and a half for the dang bus to show up, and when it does, it doesn’t even stop. It only slows down enough for one of the workers to open up the door and shout to me and the small crowd of people that were also planning on traveling today that the bus was full. A few courageous young men wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and so they ran alongside the bus, trying to get in the door or swing in through a window. But the bus really was full. Beyond full. Honestly. There were already people from the previous stop who had barely made it on the bus themselves, and their arms and legs were sticking out of windows and about 7 people (plus a couple of babies, a sack of rice or onions or something, and a chicken) were tangled together and piled onto the 3 steps that (ideally) we’d be able to climb to enter the bus. There truthfully was “pas d’un place” (not a place) ... anywhere… on the bus, like the worker had shouted. A few of the courageous men trying to get on the bus tripped or fell as they attempted to hop on the moving bus, and one was actually pushed off by a women who didn’t want to be even more squished than she already was and have this young guy’s feet against her face, as was happening as he tried to squeeze through the window. Yes, it was crazy. No, I did not participate in the attempt to run alongside the bus. But Augustin (pharmacy owner) and his kids did, pounding on the sides of the bus with their hands, in an effort to convince the bus driver to stop for me and find me a place. After all, I’m American. I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer. I get special privileges, right? I was really hoping that today would be a day when me being a white girl would come in handy, but it didn’t work today. It’s worked numerous other times in this country, but not today. Of course. Of all days. When I most need to have a status that gets me things. It’s just my luck. Jeesh.
Everyone was angry and disappointed as the bus drove off into the distance and we were left standing in its dust, but there was nothing we could do. A few people told me, “You can go tomorrow.” And I know they meant well, but they don’t understand: no, I can’t. Primèrent, I have school. I guess I could leave and miss my classes for a few days, or even a whole week, and it’d be fine. It’s fairly acceptable here for teachers to make their own schedules and cancel/reschedule classes as desired. But I hate to miss school, and rescheduling my class hours is almost impossible, since I do have other activities and “work” that I do. It’s not like I’m just sitting in my house reading a book or watching a movie on my computer, eating yummy candy bars sent from America, when I’m not at school. (ok, I’ll admit I kinda do that sometimes – every now and then you need a break from village and reading a book inside your house while eating a melted Snickers bar that’s barely survived being shipped over here can be quite relaxing and comforting…) Unlike 99% of people in this country, schedules, time management, deadlines, and work obligations are a part of my life, even when I’m in Africa. I can’t just up and leave one day, or the next, or decide to stay a day later, or altogether just “go next week” or next month. All of which are possible options for most Burkinabe that don’t hold many dire consequences, if any at all. They don’t have to submit forms and reports by the end of the month. They aren’t required (well, “highly encouraged”) by Peace Corps to check email at least once a month, but ideally every 2 weeks, for important information related to our work here as volunteers. They don’t have family and friends to write emails to and let them know that they’re still alive. I have things I need to do, and I can’t just continually postpone them. Of course, Peace Corps understands that this is African where things constantly seem to be going wrong and things (like transport or a constant electricity source) can be beyond difficult, and so not meeting a deadline isn’t the worst offense in the world. We do have a little leeway. But how far is too far? One week late? One month? One year? Heck, just turn it in sometime before you go back to America in 2 years, that’s good enough. Interestingly, one of my colleagues at school commented the other day about my “work schedule” and “deadlines” and how “[We] Americans do [our] work with computers and internet, just like if [we] were still in the United Sates, but [we’re] not. [We’re] in Burkina Faso and [we] don’t even have electricity in [our] houses.” I replied with saying that that was true, but because we are Americans and Peace Corps is an American organization, we do need to work both like Americans and Burkinabe, and that means using Internet and submitting reports, even if the closest internet source is 3 hours away.
… speaking of internet 3 hours away… why did I need to go all the way to Ouahigouya and spend 3 days (Monday-Wednesday) out of my village with the main purpose of Internetting? Well, here’s another interesting story for you. Tougan, my regional capital that’s only about an hour away by bus, does not have Internet. It used to have Internet. It should have Internet. But it doesn’t. And it hasn’t. For over 2 and a half months now. Why? Because the people at the cyber café haven’t paid their bills. Throughout the past two months, we volunteers have stopped by numerous times and asked if the Internet is working yet, and every time they reply with, “No, there’s no connection,” as they sit outside under a shade tree and drink tea and play cards. But there IS connection. We’ve talked to the actual Internet company, and they’ve informed us that the connection is working fine; the problem is that the cyber has not paid their bills, and thus their connection has been cut. Ironically, the cyber workers also like to say that their internet connection is getting fixed, that the technicians are coming tomorrow, and the Internet will be ready next week. We’ve heard this each week for 2 months now. And we’ve even told them (and by “we” I mean other volunteers, not me…I just like to pretend like I’ve been directly involved with this whole situation), “It’s not broken, you just need to pay your bills!” You’d think that this café, being the sole internet provider for this entire corner of the country (which, by the way, is currently “loaded” with tubabus (foreigners), Europeans, and other Americans doing development work who have a need to use Internet regularly and don’t mind paying the fee for it), would jump right on this problem and get internet back on their computers, toute de suite. If your business is providing Internet, why would you let over 2 months slide without working Internet, and thus, without customers paying you? You’re losing a lot of business by not have your Internet up and running… This would never fly in America. But then again, this isn’t America – this is Africa – and this serves as a perfect example of why we’re here: to help their country and its people develop, whether it’s through improving health, agriculture, education, or business activities.
So, no internet. No bus to take me to internet. And, to make matters even worse, no food. In preparation for my voyage, I had given most of my fresh fruits and veggies to my neighbors – there’s no sense in letting them go bad in my house. Besides, I was planning to return Wednesday evening, with the next day (Thursday) being the marché so I would be able to again stock up on produce. But as I didn’t voyage anywhere and was still stuck in village, I also now have 3 days to endure without tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, bananas, or any of the other yummy things I had opted to give away. It’s not like I could go ask for them back (that would be rude), or just hop on my bike and pedal to the store to buy a few more things to last me until the marché on Thursday (stores with produce…or really any food at all…don’t exist here). What I have in my house – onions, garlic, ginger, a bell pepper, powdered milk, and a potato – is all I got. …well, besides my treasure chest of goodies consisting of such things as American granola bars, sugar-covered peanuts from Ouaga, and cans of tuna and other questionable “luncheon meats” that are even more questionable than Spam… all of which I try to avoid digging into unless it’s an emergency or special occasion….or just a really bad day that can be fixed at least a little bit by eating some melted chocolate. But anyways, having next to nothing edible in my house (not counting the treasure chest), is not that big of a deal. I’m a pretty good cook and can make up something edible with next to nothing besides onions and a can of tomato paste. Furthermore, I eat with neighbors and other villagers quite often, almost to the point that they expect me to show up every lunchtime or each evening at their house, and when I don’t (like when I eat at someone else’s house or opt to stay in my own house and make some good “American” food for myself), they get really concerned and possibly even offended that I only ate supper with them 4 out of the 7 nights this week… You see, the main issue with giving my food away is not that I’ll necessarily “go hungry” but more so that the things I gave away aren’t exactly plentiful and abundant (or cheap) in this area, and so to have a bunch of carrots is a luxury and indulgence (for both me and the villagers). In their eyes, I must be rich if I’m able to buy carrots and papayas. It’s not that I don’t want to “share” with them and give their lives a bit of “luxury,” but if I give them things too often, it sets up a standard that, one, I am rich, and two, that my job as a volunteer here is to give them things. Plus, the greater issue within this whole situation is that I’m greedy. I want to eat fresh carrots for lunch and tomato-cucumber salads for supper and bananas with peanut butter for breakfast. I know my normal diet in Burkina Faso is far better than most everyone else’s (it also costs more), but I want to avoid eating exactly like the Burkinabe whenever possible, even for the short time span of 3 days. However, now, for the next three days, I’m being reduced to lots of carbs (aka, to and slimy green sauce) and possibly toast with fake butter spread, if I can locate some bread in my village. I realize that this will not result in me becoming malnourished or deathly ill, but I don’t care. I want my carrots and other fresh produce. And unfortunately, it’s not a given that I will be able to get more carrots (or anything else) again the next marché. In fact, I’ve only ever seen carrots 2 times in my marché now. For all I know, I might not see another carrot until next year… or at least until I travel to Ouaga…or until the carrots in my garden are ready…provided they decided to grow at all…which, given the awful soil here, they probably won’t. So, sad day, I might not get to eat another carrot for quite some time, all because I gave them away…for what has turned out to be no reason at all… all due to the bus being full.
So. No bus. No internet. No food. And then….no cellphone. When calling a friend to rant and complain about all my problems, my phone battery died. I wisely have a spare battery…but apparently it was not fully charged anymore: it died within an hour. (**Turns out that the battery died right away because it was a fake – a bad battery. It doesn’t really hold a charge or recharge. I got scammed buying this extra battery. Dangit. Of course. Looks like I’ll have to search (and pay) for a new spare battery.)
To top matters off, it’s a dust storm here, and visibility is non-existent. It’s like a blizzard (but with dust, not pure-white-pretty-soft snow) and past 100 feet or so, I can’t see a thing, besides the reddish-brown-gray sheet of dust devouring everything. Some of my friends have decided to deem this event, “The Apocalypse.” Fair enough. The name certainly fits. The dust, plus the accompanying howling wind storm, has prevented even the slightest ray of sun to shine through, and thus the solar panels are not functioning today. Which means I can’t recharge my phone batteries, since there’s no sun to power the battery charger… Urgh. Can anything else go wrong? Let’s hope not…
Luckily, a few good things have come out of the dust storm. With no sun, it’s actually a decent temperature at present. In fact, I’m currently sporting a thin long-sleeved shirt over my dress. And because of this “cold” (in combination with the nasty dust storm), no one is venturing outside their huts or doing much of anything outside. It’s rather quiet, there aren’t bazillions of petites (children) playing outside my house using broken flip-flops in place of a soccer ball, and no one is brave enough to face the wind/dust and venture to my house “just to say, ‘Bonjour.’” There aren’t even any animals going crazy or making their odd animal shrieks. Thank god. Peace and quiet. What a rare, rare occurrence. Yes, everything inside my house may now be covered with an inch of dust (despite me closing all the windows and pulling the curtains shut), but that’s alright. I’ll find a bunch of children tomorrow to wipe up all the dust, and maybe even give them a piece of candy as a reward. But isn’t just being able to enter the American’s house reward enough? Sure it is…plus I have lots of weird stuff they can look at while they’re cleaning, like forks and spoons that I eat with, a water filter that magically gives me water to drink, and a bookshelf with books on it.
My day may be ruined, in spite of it only being the middle of the afternoon, but I’m going to make the most of what’s left and enjoy my peace and quiet. Perhaps I’ll finally finish my book on the history of salt (by flashlight, of course, since there’s no sun to naturally light up my house), and I’ll probably take a nap or two, since I can actually cuddle up in my bed with a blanket and not sweat to death. I should use this extra time to correct the stacks of tests lying on my floor, but I probably won’t. Maybe I’ll make something good to eat – come to think of it, I do have a package of whole wheat pasta that I have yet to touch in village. It does need to get eaten eventually. And I think today’s the day. Mhmm, good pasta topped with homemade onion-garlic-tomato paste spaghetti sauce. Sounds heavenly to me!
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