A Month in Manila: Week ONE - FAITH & Outreach Ministries
Tuesday, September 24 – Sunday, September 29
So while Jacque was teaching at school every day, what was I
doing? Well, I usually went with her to
Faith, but I didn’t just sit in the back of her Bible classes all day every
day. Oh no. I definitely found things to do. And even if I didn’t have anything to do,
there was really fast Internet, which allowed for efficient YouTube video
watching and facebook stalking. All in
all, basically, I spent the week living the expat missionary life.
Tuesday: Went to school, wandered around a bit to get
better acquainted with the school layout, found the music practice rooms and
played piano for the first time since I left America. I was surprised at how fast my piano fingers
came back (as well as just my general memory of how to play several different
songs). Fur Elise came out almost
perfectly, and even Maple Leaf Rag started coming back. I was in that practice room most the
morning…. The afternoon found me
chatting with some of the music teachers and watching the high school band rehearsal. Once school was over, Jacque and I went back
to her apartment and chatted all evening, getting caught up on hometown
happenings and rumors, who’s married, who has kids, etc. -- good ole Springfield, Minnesota!
Wednesday: I spent the morning in the practice room
again, playing my clarinet and flute, and a bunch of piano. Wednesdays are “Chapel” so for about 30
minutes of the morning, everyone meets in the large Chapel, sings, and listens
to a guest speaker reflect on the Bible.
The music was partially led by the middle school music team
themselves. It was cool to see
13-year-olds playing guitars and drums, leading the vocals, and more. Once normal classes resumed, I helped the 6th
grade band with their “small ensemble performances” and sat in on the 7-8th
grade band’s rehearsal. Wouldn’t you
know it, they happened to be playing “Just a Closer Walk Thee” – like the exact
same arrangement that Springfield’s band always performed every year at the
Pops Concert! I told Todd, the band
teacher, that Jacque and I played this piece each spring during high school,
and right away he said, “We have a concert next week. You and Jacque should join us during this
piece!!!” So it then seemed that I was
signed up for performing with the middle school band… It was only noon, but I was requested in the
elementary music room by Mark, the elementary music teacher, to help give
clarinet lessons to 5th graders.
“Thank goodness you’re here. I do
not know how to play this instrument – I’m a vocalist! The kids will really love having someone who
actually can play the clarinet today!”
The little 5th graders were SO cute. “Listen to me play Jingle Bells!” “Miss Hauth, I can’t do it. I just can’t.
I HAVE to puff my cheeks.” After
school, I went to Jacque’s bible study with her. They had Pizza Hut pizza!!! Like thick crust, extra cheesy, 4-meat with
mushrooms and olives pizza. Sure,
there’s pizza in Burkina, but it’s Italian style (which is delicious) but not
at all comparable to greasy American pizza.
We also drank Pepsi.
Pepsi!!! I hadn’t had anything
except Coke and Fanta (and the occasional Sprite) in Burkina….
Thursday: This was a big day. So again I was at school, but I spent the
morning helping in the Middle School Learning Room (i.e. Special
Education). Since it was almost the end
of the quarter, the kids had a lot of tests, and some of the students needed
help test-taking. For example: reading the problems aloud to them, and
sometimes helping them think through an answer if they got stuck. I also got to accompany a 6th
grade boy to his Science and Reading classes.
“Alright let’s focus. Question number 2, name the 3 fossil
fuels. What do you think?” “Whoa!
I think I figured it out! I
worked it out! I know why they call
black gold “black gold” – it’s simple, really!
You see, it’s made up of…..”
“Great….but what are you going to write for question number 2?” Also in the Learning Room for the day was
another volunteer, Philip Farris. He’s
my age, and he just got done teaching English in Korea this past year, and has
now spent the last month traveling around the Philippines. He’ll be going to Hawaii in a couple weeks to
start a new job, but until then, he’s just killing time by volunteering at Faith. He said that after traveling around so much
and staying in hostels, he wanted to “rejoin” the real world, have his own
bed/space, and do some volunteering, though he didn’t know where. So he ends up randomly meeting someone at the
airport who was also from Idaho like Phillip, etc. and this guy mentions Faith
Academy, and he finds a place stay, and everything falls into place…. Since Philip has finished his tour of the
Philippines, he had some good advice for me, as to what to do and where to go
(or not). He was very helpful, and he even
gave me his Philippines Guidebook.
Thursday evening, Jacque and I went with a group of people (including
Philip and Mark who I now knew…sorta) to “Kids’ Street Ministry.” We met early so we could grab supper at the
mall together and socialize. We had the
equivalent of Filipino fast food – all you can eat rice and soup and iced tea,
with a one-time serving of your choice of meat.
And for dessert, we went to DAIRY QUEEN.
Yes, DQ!!! I got a banana split
blizzard and it was amazing. It was my
first time being in a mall in 2.5 years, so I was a little overwhelmed and
wasn’t exactly sure how to handle the insane number of people and bright lights
and stores with items to buy EVERYWHERE I looked. Coming from Burkina, where I would get
excited over a lady selling beans on the street, really, a mall was too
much. Maybe next time I won’t walk
around with a “deer-in-the-headlights” look on my face. Anyways, so Kids’ Street Ministry. Basically, every Thursday evening, people
(including Faith volunteers and the young Filipino adults who run the program)
go to inner-city Manila by one of the malls, and play with the neighborhood’s
little kids for about an hour. Then a
bible story is read or acted out, some songs are sung, and every child receives
a cup of beans to eat. Many of the
Filipinos involved in this ministry were on the streets, in this same
neighborhood, themselves when they were growing up. They were “rescued” and given a home in a
boys’ shelter, and so now they’re giving back to their community. The little kids just wanted to be held and
given piggy-back rides. At one point, I
had a girl on my back, a boy in each arm, and yet another child pulling on my
leg to get lifted up also. There’s a
good chance these kids’ parents are MIA, or at the very least, the dad is
non-existent, and the mom works on the street or at an upstairs brothel…..
Besides the Filipino leaders and our van-full of people of Faith, there
was a third party present: the World Race Team.
I’d never heard of this before, but it sounds pretty cool. Young adults, ages 21-35 raise money (about
$16,000 I think?) and get sponsors so that they can participate on a World Race
team. Teams are made up of about 40
individuals, which are then divided into small groups of 5-8 people. The teams have training in the U.S. and then
travel to 11 different countries in 11 months, volunteering at different
Christian missions, orphanages, schools, etc.
Thus, at Kids’ Street Ministry that night, we had one of the small
groups with us (not all 40 people on the team).
One of the World Race group members was even from Minnesota (St.
Paul)! It’s a small world….
Friday: Another long day. Yet again, I went to school with Jacque and
we started out the morning with a mug of coffee from the teacher’s lounge, of
course. I checked my email – it’s so
weird being able to check email every day; in fact, I’m almost “expected” to
look at my email every day now, if not a few times throughout the day. Gosh, is this how the real world
operates? Glued to computers and
expecting responses the same day? I
don’t think I wanna return to that aspect of America. I liked not having electricity or internet
access, being able to use the excuse “I don’t have internet” on a regular
basis, whether it was the truth or sorta a lie, just because I was lazy and
didn’t want to deal with it at the moment, and so I’d reply a month later, and
say “Sorry, I didn’t have internet until now….”
Hehehe. Anyways, so I checked my
email and I had a request from the high school office at Faith, asking me to
sub for the Home Ec teacher that morning.
Sure. Why not? I got the keys to the Home Ec room, looked to
see what the lesson plan was, and made copies of the worksheet that I was
supposed to hand out. The kids came in,
with that all-too-expected look of shock and “Who are you?!” written on their
faces, and we started class. I let them
ask me questions about Burkina and Peace Corps, since they knew I was the weird
one from Africa with “dreads” in my hair who wears brightly patterned African
clothes, and that was fun. They had good
questions and were amazed to hear that I lived without electricity and running
water in my village. Really guys, it’s
not that hard. If anything, that was the
easiest thing to get used to… Being able
to actually sub that morning (as opposed to simply assisting teachers in their
classrooms) was great, and once again, this was something that made me really
excited to re-enter the American school system, even if “only” as a substitute
teacher.
In the evening, Jacque and I went to JAZ Home (Josie’s Angels’
Zone). What is JAZ? This is a home/shelter for 11-19 year-old
girls (36 of them currently!) who have been abused, typically sexual abuse, and
often from a family member. JAZ left me
speechless. It’s one of those things you
have to see – words will not do it justice.
I got to speak with Josie for a few minutes. She’s 27-years-old, lives at the home 24
hours a day, 7 days a week, basically serving as the girls’ mom. She started JAZ Home on her own a few years
ago, after conducting weekly bible studies with the kids in this particular
neighborhood, and having many of them confide in her about their home lives and
the sexual abuse they suffered. Before she
knew it, there were donors and sponsors, and she was able to buy an ex-mission
guest house to function as the JAZ Home.
Thus, the set-up was beyond perfect for her and the girls. She has her own space, with a little kitchen,
bathroom, and bedroom; but, the rest of the house (houses?) consists of at
least 10 different decent-sized rooms (or “dorms”) for 4-6 girls in bunk beds,
with closet space, and a bathroom/shower for each dorm. There are a couple different kitchens, a huge
family room, a study room and computer lab, pianos and guitars to play, an
entertainment room with a large flatscreen TV (they can only watch TV on
weekends), a large screened-in porch, and outside, a swimming pool and a
basketball court. Wow. What a beautiful house. The night view from the porch is awesome, as
you can see the Manila skyscrapers, all lit up, and there are tons of trees and
flowers in the backyard. All the walls
are covered with bright colors and an inspirational phrase or bible verse is
painted onto one wall in each room.
There are 36 8x10 framed photos lining the main hallway (one photo for
each girl who currently resides at the home), with the girl’s name posted under
the photo. All the girls go to school
during the day (most of them on scholarships), but they don’t all go to the
same school, and most of the girls participate in sports and other afterschool
activities. In fact, there’s a whole
shelf full of basketball trophies that the girls have won when they compete in
summer leagues as Team JAZ. These girls
are tough! No wonder they win all the
time…
As if the environment itself wasn’t cool enough, my initial impression
and observing their evening reflection was emotional enough to make anyone shed
a tear. When Jacque and I arrived, the
girls were all seated in the family room, practically sitting on top of each
other; girls crammed into every inch of couch space, girls all over the
floor. You couldn’t have walked through
the room if you tried. Everyone was singing
at the top of their lungs, a couple girls were playing guitar, and another was
holding up a large poster of the lyrics.
There are these cute fluffy little dogs being held in girls’ arms, and
you’d swear they’re just stuffed animals or toys, until you actually see them
move (or get thrown through the air across the room, to another girl who wants
her turn at cuddling with a puppy). As
Jacque put it, “These puppies are probably the most loved and spoiled dogs in
the world. They have 36 girls who all want
to play with them and give them table scraps.
No wonder they’re perfectly content getting tossed through the
air….” On the wall is hanging a huge
hand-drawn poster that says “Happy 18th Birthday!” and balloons and
streamers are strung from the ceiling.
We find out it’s one girl’s birthday (well that was sorta obvious), and
the girl is sitting on the center couch, with a couple boys on either side of
her, an older lady, and several kids under age 5 running around. “Who’s that?”
I asked. “Family,” Jacque
said.
After Happy Birthday was sung, my favorite part of the night happened. I had no idea what to expect, and maybe
that’s what made me even more sensitive and teary-eyed. 16 girls were called into the kitchen, and
one by one they came out holding a real rose.
They handed the rose to the birthday girl, said something nice, and
kissed her on the cheek. This was all
fine and dandy until Josie herself came out with her rose. Her speech to the birthday girl was beautiful
and everyone started tearing up. But it
wasn’t over yet. Next was the birthday
girl’s little sister, also a resident at JAZ.
I don’t know what was said, since it was in Tagalog, but both sisters
were crying and hugging, and so everyone else cried too. All the girls sang a blessing song. Then the birthday girl presented her 18 red
roses (one for each year of her life) to her mom, who’d been sitting on the
couch with her the whole time, to say thank you for giving her the gift of life
18 years ago. About 10 minutes of quiet
dialogue, hugging, and hand-holding passed between the mom and daughter, with
everyone else in the room being absolutely silent and simultaneously crying and
smiling as they watched the love (and what I can only imagine was at least
partially a forgiveness scene). I just
can’t even describe it. So many
emotions! The mom, appearing old and
worn-down, probably wearing her best outfit, missing a few teeth, looking so
proud of her daughter, yet on her face you could tell she felt inadequate for
not being able to protect and provide for her own child. However, all the while, you can see how
content she is to know that her daughter is in a much better place now, with
the love of 36+ sisters and a couple “moms” who take care of them all, and with
many more opportunities than she ever would have had, had she remained in their
abusive home. Even the teenage brothers
were crying. Everyone was crying. It was a moment.
Following the moment was more singing, cake and ice cream distribution,
socializing, girls touching my hair (“Nice hair, mam!”), and a family photo of
the birthday girl with her mom, the roses, and her 7 (or 8?) younger
siblings. No dad in the picture (both
literally and metaphorically, ha), but that’s not surprising…
Yeah. So JAZ Home was cool, to
say the least. It’s amazing what people
can realize when they work together, pray, and give to those in need. JAZ is almost entirely funded by donors, from
paying the electricity to providing food for the girls to eat every day. Wow.
Saturday: Jacque and I slept in, then headed up to
school. Some high school students were
sponsoring a 24-hour prayer vigil, and Jacque was the adult “chaperone” from
11am-2pm. The short uphill walk to Faith
was good…until I fell. (I slipped on
some mud on the road.) And then I
slipped (aka almost fell) a few minutes after that….and then I completely wiped
out the third time and scraped up my right knee and my right foot. “Jeez, why is this water so slippery?!?” I
asked. “Well, you see there’s a lot of
bacteria and smog and who knows what else mixed in with that water, plus a
layer of dust on the road….so in other words, you need to watch where you’re
going,” Jacque informed me. Urgh, now my
knee was all bloody and my toe cut-up right where my flip-flop rubbed. Falling three times? Really?
Is this a sign? God’s way of
telling me something?
I spent most the day on the computer in her classroom, doing some
research about sights to see in the Philippines and sending emails to
people. After Jacque was done with her
portion of the prayer vigil, we took a trip to downtown Manila: the
MegaMall. We needed some groceries, not
to mention I was still wearing crazy African clothes….it was time for me to
acquire a more normal wardrobe. Taking
public transport in the Philippines is very different from the transport in
Burkina, but it was adventure, nonetheless.
First we had to get on a trike, which is like a motorcycle with extra
seating attached on the side. Often 4-6
people, plus the driver, can fit onto one trike. It’s not comfortable, but it’s cheap and gets
you where you need to go. After the
trike, we waited for a white van to come by labeled “MegaMall.” Simple enough. A more common form of transport is the
jeepneys, and they are really fun looking!
So many colors and pictures. We
even saw one jeepneys decorated in Minnesota Timberwolves posters. But we weren’t taking the jeepneys today; we
were taking a white van. It only took a
few minutes and a van pulled over. It
was clean and air-conditioned inside, and exactly opposite in every way of a
Burkinabe bush taxi. We passed our money
up to the driver, and in between steering and swerving in and out of lanes, he
got us our change. It took over an hour,
but eventually we arrived at the MegaMall.
Jacque said that the distance we covered was only about 3-4 miles…..so
basically we could have walked there in that amount of time. Maybe even faster. However this was air-conditioned, it was
raining outside, and it was an easy way to gawk at the people and buildings we
passed by without anyone realizing that I was staring.
The MegaMall was definitely huge.
There was even a security checkpoint, where my bag had to be searched
and my body patted down, in order to enter the building. First we went to a clothing store so I could
pick up a pair of shorts and a couple shirts that were more appropriate and
didn’t make me stand-out so much.
Unfortunately, this is also when my camera and Philippine guidebook got
stolen….or rather, pickpocketed (?) from my little backpack. I know, I know. I should have known better. But at the same time, I don’t know how they
did it! Well that’s not true. I do know how they did, and when, too. So I had my little bag on the front of me,
and Jacque, who’s in front of me, walks over to a rack in the corner of the
store, and motions for me to cover over and check out the good finds. I start walking towards her – there’s
literally only about 5 feet between us – and two youngish Filipina girls cut me
off. They somehow came from behind me to
right in front of me, and start picking up shirts from the pile. There’s not enough room to go around them, so
I say “Excuse me,” and wait for them to move apart a few inches so I can
squeeze through. They don’t even look at
me. So I say “Excuse me,” again, louder,
and tap one of them on the shoulder. She
still doesn’t acknowledge me. Seriously?
What are they doing? How
rude. Jacque’s looking at me like,
“Why are you waiting behind them? Push
them outta the way!” And so I quite
literally try to push/squeeze my way between the two girls, but to no
success. It’s like they don’t even know
I’m there, despite me physically touching them. I take a step back, thinking maybe I’d just
backtrack a few steps and go around the table.
But there’s someone right behind me.
And that’s when I knew that I was probably being pickpocketed.
All of a sudden everyone is gone (the two who were cutting me off and
the one behind me) and a store employee is trying to get my attention: “Mam,
your bag!” I look down, and sure enough
EVERY SINGLE ZIPPER was opened up. Dannnnnggggg.
Nooooooooo. How do they move so
fast!??! How did I not notice?!??! I was slightly paranoid that they had
gotten my credit card, but it was still there, as was my passport and
ipod. I didn’t have much cash on me, but
it was all there too. So what’d they get
then? I was beginning to think nothing,
or at least nothing that mattered. Even
my phone was still there. Then hit it
me. I had had my Philippine guidebook,
“gift” from Philip and full of good notes that he had hand-written in, and now
it was gone. Oh well, that’s not the end
of the world. Better that than my credit
card. In fact, I can’t believe they got
the book, but not my money. What
luck! I zip up all my pockets and try
to regain my composure. And then I
remember: my camera. I check all the pockets again, but there’s no
camera. NOOOO!!! Anything but my
camera!!! Come back! I’ll give you my ipod, my money, I don’t
care. Even the camera. I just want the memory card. Please!!!!
They had gotten away with my camera, containing an almost full 8gb
memory card that had pictures and videos from my last week in village. I wanted to cry. These were my LAST pictures of my life in
Burkina. With the kids and neighbors
that were my family. With videotaped
goodbye messages from my best friends.
With scenes of Molly and me riding our bikes through the dirt paths and
buying things at the marché. With
pictures of each individual letter family and friends had written to me, since
I couldn’t fit them into my luggage and had to throw them away. Seriously, of all things to take, this was
probably the worst one. I can do without
my phone or $50 less cash. I can cancel
my credit card, my ipod is like 6-years-old anyways, and heck, I actually have
a second passport in my suitcase. But my
memories? URGHHH. I can never get those back or recreate them. Ever.
RAGE.
The funny thing is, that very morning, I had taken my memory card out
of my camera and thought, “Maybe I could upload everything to Jacque’s school
computer, and from there to Facebook or something, just so it’s backed-up
somewhere.” (My laptop is full and
nothing more can be deleted, plus my external hard drive seems to have been
destroyed and is digitally inaccessible.
So. I have no space anywhere for
pictures stored on my memory card.) But
unfortunately, Jacque’s computer didn’t have a memory card slot and I didn’t
have my camera cord with me. If only. If only…..
On a positive note, though I’d only had this camera for a year (my mom
gave it to me when we met in Italy last September), recently something went
haywire, and so now the flash doesn’t work and the shutter often doesn’t open
and/or close and it makes this awkward beeping and clicking sound like it’s in
pain. Really annoying. I was already planning on asking for a new
one for Christmas (dear parents: hint, hint!).
The camera is probably worthless.
So ha. Take that
pickpocketers. You got a Philippine
guidebook and a broken camera. (And a
memory card full of some of my most cherished events and people…. I will never
forgive you whoever you are!!!)
Well, so I picked out a few “normal” clothes (pink shorts are normal,
right?) and then Jacque and I got supper at this fancy sandwich place. It was weird to eat “real” bread (sliced
rye!?!) as opposed to simply white flavorless French baguettes – it was SO
good! Also, I had a salad with more than
just lettuce in it, and it had dressing on the side that wasn’t made with just
oil and vinegar. SO good! After supper, we went grocery shopping and I
picked out one of every kind of fruit to try.
Some of them I’d heard of, like dragon fruit, and others I didn’t even
know existed. Since this was the
MegaMall grocery store, it was significantly bigger than Ouaga’s Marina Market
(I dunno, maybe about 30 times bigger!?!?!) and so there was a lot for my eyes
to look at. Just so many choices. How does one choose, when there are 50
different kinds of crackers alone? I
also got some veggies so that I could make a curry stir-fry (typical Peace
Corps Burkina food when we cook on our own) for Jacque to taste, along with a
few containers of yogurt. All in all, it
wasn’t that much. Yet when I checked-out,
the total was the equivalent of about $15.
WHAT??!?! Are you kidding
me? Some veggies and fruit, and a couple
small yogurts? If this was Burkina, my
total would have been like $3.
Seriously. Jacque warned me that
if I thought this was expensive, I better prepare myself for American
prices. I’m not looking forward to
it. I think I really will just grow all
my own food. Seriously. (No really, don’t laugh. I have this crazy idea that I think I’m
actually gonna try to make a reality once I’m back on Minnesota soil. I’m not joking. I could talk for hours about it, but I’ll save
it for a different post. Also, I should
probably talk to my parents first before informing the whole world about my
future schemes, especially since it would definitely require my parents’ help –
aka support, words of encouragement, large sums of money, a decent chunk of
their farmland (or all of it), maybe even the cattle barn(s)….. yeah.)
As we left the grocery store, I stopped and got a “Mango Pearl”
smoothie, you know, like with the big balls (“pearls”) of tapioca or whatever
the substance is, and then mango slushy.
It was pretty good. I like things with interesting textures now,
especially after eating far too much tô and sauce and other no-texture foods in
Burkina. We exited the store and went
out into the taxi waiting area. The line
was ridiculous. We waited about an hour
I think. Finally we were at the front of
the line and it was our turn to get into a taxi to take us back to Jacque’s
apartment. We finished out the night by
watching a couple episodes of Boy Meets World, Season 1. Corey Matthews, Mr. Feeny, Shawn,
Tapanga……those were the days.
Sunday: Of course Sunday morning equated to
church. We went with two Faith teachers
who are our age (well, younger actually, and married, and pregnant with their
second kid…..if that doesn’t make me feel “old” or what….) to some church held
in the auditorium of a college in Eastwood, Manila. Sorta like the “rich” suburb of Manila where
everything looks like you should be in America.
Decorative sidewalks, fountains, artificial ponds with bridges over
them, shrubs cut into fancy shapes, coffee shops on every corner… Church was interesting. Very different from village church in
Burkina, and also about as different as could be from a Catholic Mass. The music and speakers were really good, and the
youth group did a theater performance and dance sort of thing, but overall, I
didn’t really like going to the church.
It was just too much like a pep rally – not “churchy” enough for me. Where was the quiet? The hymns that have been sung for decades? Heck, where were the old people who’ve been
living for decades? Everyone at this
church was either a teenager or an adult under 40. It was cool to experience, but when it was
over, I didn’t feel as if I had even gone to church at all. Also, maybe I just never noticed this in the
USA, but at least here in the Philippines, protestant churches really focus on
“Saving your soul” and “The day you accepted your salvation, Christ Jesus as
your Savior.” In my opinion, the
Catholic Church isn’t so verbal about these concepts, which are, for better or
worse, perhaps more implied (or assumed?), and so sermons during Mass focus on
a variety of topics. But in the
Philippines (thus far), at various Christian churches and gatherings, I feel
that “saving your soul” is the only message I hear anyone share. So maybe it’s just emphasized a lot (maybe
too much?)…. Or maybe it’s a sign that my soul needs to be saved.....which,
come to think of it, it probably does.
After church, I hit up the pool outside of Jacque’s apartment
complex. For once it was sunny and not
raining, and we were actually “home” in the afternoon, so I was definitely
going to take advantage of this pool. I
swam for about an hour, and napped in the sun a bit, too. Surprisingly, I didn’t get burnt. Besides for my face and arms and lower legs,
the rest of my body is pasty white and not at all used to sun exposure. In Burkina, I was almost always in the shade
and wearing t-shirts with long skirts.
So not getting burnt, despite being outside for a couple hours and only
wearing a thin layer of sunscreen, was a miracle. I also noticed that, post-pool, my scrapes
from falling the day before looked MUCH better.
“Hey Jacque! Look at my
scrapes! They’ve healed so much since
this morning….and they don’t hurt so much anymore!”
“Well did you clean ‘em with
soap and water after you fell yesterday?”
Jacque questioned.
“Nope, I didn’t do anything except wipe away the clear liquid that kept
oozing out.”
“Well that was probably you’re
first mistake. So of course the pool’s
chlorine performed a miracle on those scrapes.
You’re lucky they didn’t actually get infected. Just cuz you lived in Africa doesn’t mean
you’re immune to everything now, ya know…”
After swimming, I passed out in
front of Jacque’s fan and napped some more until suppertime, when Daisy and
Mark were invited to eat with us. I got
right to work on making hummus and cutting up veggies, and also made a
coconut-curry stir-fry. All was
delicious and everyone was like, “Is this a normal Burkinabe dish?” No.
No, it is definitely not. Boiled
flour paste and leaves – that’s your only normal Burkinabe dish. But I myself, and many other volunteers,
prepared dishes like curry when/if we could find the ingredients, so it is a
dish that partially captures my Peace Corps experience. We had a nice evening of conversation, ate
way too much food, and for dessert we had s’mores! (Which were made in the microwave! Microwaves!?!? Ah, the technology!)
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