Hot, Hot, Hot! & The Shack School

March 23, 2013

Hot, Hot, Hot!

After my adventure to Ouahigouya at the end of February, I got back to village and didn’t do anything too exciting, besides give some math quizzes and then spend every day from noon to 3pm lying on the cement floor in my house fanning myself and dumping water on my face every 10 minutes in an attempt to combat the suffocating heat.  You know it’s bad when you actually think it’s a relatively “cool” day because you’re not sweating profusely, only to find that the temperature (inside the “cool” house) is higher than the number of when we’re supposed to call our Peace Corps doctors if we have a fever (102.5 degrees Farenheit).  Most days, my house is around 104 or 105 degrees, and if you step outside, you will honestly feel as if your skin is being touched against a hot pan or is 2 inches away from the flames of a blazing fire.  The sun hurts.  Even if you’re in the shade.  

My dog and cat, Sabari and Kamikaze, haven’t been doing too well with the heat either.  They, like me, spend all afternoon inside my house, passed out on the cement floor, panting.  In fact, Sabari refuses to go outside.  She will stay in my house ALL day, until about 5pm, and then she’s up all night wandering around outside with the other neighborhood dogs.  A few days ago, I had to run some errands, so I told Sabari, “Out,” but she just looked at me and then closed her eyes again.  I had to actually drag her by her collar out the door, and as soon as I let go, she ran right back into the far corner of the house.  So I left her there inside and locked the door.  A few hours later I came back, opened my door, and expected Sabari to burst out.  But she was sound asleep.  She woke up briefly in order to look at me, and then put her head back down and went back to sleep, with absolutely no interest of going outside yet.  Kamikazee, I realized, was also still in the house, keeping Sabari company (i.e. gnawing on the dog’s ears), and even though Sabari still isn’t happy about having a cat around the house, she tolerates him (usually), and sometimes they even nap together (aww, animal love!). 

Kamikazee continues to catch rodents in my house, and his favorite pastime is to catch a mouse and kinda kill it, but only cause enough damage so that the mouse can’t run away and is still alive.  Then Kamikazee will play with the mouse for at least an hour.  He’ll pounce on it, let it crawl away, pounce again, drag it around, bite it, throw it, carry it to my bed (eww), climb onto the kitchen counter and then drop it to the floor, etc.  It’s gross and I’ve tried to get Kamikazee outside with the semi-dead creatures, but I have had no success thus far.  So instead, I get to enjoy minute animal remains and blood stains on my floor, as Kamikazee takes his time slowly killing the mouse, and then eating its brains.

The Shack School

March 6th found Molly and I biking out in the heat of the day to visit Zephrin’s school.  Zephrin is Molly’s counterpart who is working closely with us on the library project.  He’s a primary school teacher at New Oure, or whatever the village is called – it’s complicated.  Apparently there’s the village of Oure, but it’s on an island (surrounded by the river water) and the government has been trying to relocate the people for years now, since every year it floods and there’s lots of problems and they’re kinda isolated and people can’t easily get to the village unless they have a boat…

Anyways, slowly throughout the past couple years the village has started to relocate on the mainland, and so now there’s “New Oure” and it’s on our side of the river, just a few kilometers from my village.  As the village is new-ish, it’s still in the process of getting organized and developing a school.  Last year marked the first year New Oure’s kids didn’t need to travel all the way to my village for school.   They built a hangar with a straw roof and straw walls, and this hangar is the kindergarten and first grade “classroom.”  Anyone older than that must still journey out of the village every day for school, but at least now the youngest children don’t need to make the trek, and hopefully next year, another hangar will be built to house second grade.  And the year after that, third grade, and maybe someday, they’ll actually have a real school building as opposed to a straw shack.  But until then, the straw shack will do. 

Our journey out to New Oure took place at about 2:30pm (heat of the day), and Molly and I rode our bikes there, following Zephrin on his moto.  Along the way, we encountered some awesome sights, like lines of banana and papaya trees and the fields bursting with onions, red tomatoes, cabbages, and more.  We also happened to spot a huge TORNADO, just a kilometer or two from us, roaring across the land.  Not a real tornado, mind you, though I’m not really sure why it couldn’t be called a tornado, besides the fact that “they” say tornadoes don’t happen here.  Sure, it was made “only” of swirling red dust, but it was also huge and reached up to the sky and traveled across the land.  It was a sight, and I’d definitely call the swirling dust turbine a real tornado…but whatever.  It disappeared back up into the sky after a couple minutes, and apparently no damage was done, except for a lot of the trash that’s normally strewn across the ground being relocated into another patch of land or caught in a tree, and for a lot of houses and freshly strung laundry being really really dusty.

The heat was a killer even though we weren’t even biking that far, and I almost thought I was going to pass out or at least be severely sunburned.   When we finally arrived, I immediately downed my water in one gulp and cursed myself for not having planned better and brought more than a half liter bottle of water.  But, ca va aller.  I figured I’d just grab some water from the local well if I got thirsty enough.  It might give me a parasite or diarrhea, but that’s better than suffering from dehydration…. 

Zephrin had wanted us to visit his school for quite some time now, and I wanted to see it too.  While most schools in Burkina aren’t very “nice” (in comparison to American schools), they are at least real buildings with a large chalkboard across the front of the room…not straw shacks, like in New Oure.  I wasn’t sure what I expected to see, but I was simultaneously both shocked and not surprised in the least when I finally saw Zephrin’s school.   But, Zephrin makes do of his straw shack situation.  His 40 six to eight-year-olds speak next to no French (not unusual for village kids) and his classroom supplies consist of a small portable chalkboard along with a desk and chair for himself.  The kids sit at wooden benches/tables, but many aren’t well-built and so they’re falling apart.

When Molly and I entered the classroom, all the little boys and girls immediately stood up and chanted in unison, “Bonsoir Madames!”  I’m sure they had been practicing saying that for weeks in preparation for our visit.  They all looked so excited and scared and confused.  For some of them, it was probably their first time ever seeing a white person, and to be honest, I’d probably be scared after seeing a pasty white person splotched with sunburn like myself, too.  We introduced ourselves to the class, and after every couple of words they would respond with essentially a verbal grunt to show that they were listening and following what we were saying, though I’m sure most have had no clue what we were actually saying…

Me: My name is Madame Elizabeth.

Kids: mmhhmm

Me:  I live in Lanfiera.

Kids: uhhhuh

Me: I teach math at the middle school.

Kids: eyyy

The kids were thrilled to sing a song Zephrin had taught them for us, and though it sounded awful, we enjoyed them sharing it with us.  Molly and I then tried to implement some activities of our own.  First we sang “Funga Alafiya” (an echo song) which was mildly successful, and then we did the shakes, which is a movement activity that requires doing fist pumps or leg kicks while simultaneously counting to eight….and that failed miserably.  It turns out that these 6-8 years old can’t count to huit (eight) yet.  In fact, they couldn’t even get past quatre (four).  I understand that being taught things in a language you don’t understand – a language that is not your mother tongue – is very difficult and takes time to adjust.  However, these kids have been in school for 6 months now.  You would think they’d at least be able to handle counting aloud in francais to eight, if not 10 or 15.  But they can’t.  Most of them have managed to memorize the sounds/words of numbers 1-4, but I’m pretty sure they don’t actually understand what they’re saying, i.e. that saying trois means THREE, or that if you hold up two crayons and ask how many, that you would respond with deux.   They just don’t get it.  No wonder why school is so challenging for them, particularly once they pass elementary school:  they miss out on the very basic foundations of their education, because they spend those first 2-3 years just trying to figure out what the heck is going on and what their teacher is saying.  Consequently, they spend the rest of their lives trying to catch up…

Things like this might cause you to blame the teacher for not being effective, and while in some cases, yes, you should hold the teacher responsible for his students’ failure, I also realize that the problem goes so much deeper than the teacher.  It’s the entire system here, from parenting skills and preschool-readiness, to teacher training and classroom pedagogy, to a language barrier.  Very complicated issues indeed, and not easily resolved.  I think Zephrin is a great teacher; he’s very motivated and clearly cares about his students.  It’s not his fault he’s stuck in the Burkina Faso school system without resources or adequate training to help him better reach these kids while speaking in a foreign tongue…

So, the shakes didn’t work out so well with the class, but they loved it anyways.  We actually ended up just practicing counting 1-5, and they liked that too.  It’s probably cuz we’re white.  Seriously.  Something about strange looking foreigners is really attention grabbing and the kids focus all their energy into trying to participate as best they can. 

After that, we broke out our box of crayons and stack of white paper.  Each child received a half sheet of white paper and exactly 2 crayons.  We’ve learned in Burkina that you can NEVER just give children a box of crayons.  They will fight each other til the death over the colors, not share, break things, hit, etc.  Politeness doesn’t exist when a free-for-all is present, such as setting out a box of crayons.  Also, they will try to steal the materials.  Thus, if each child got 2 crayons, at the end of class, each child needs to give back 2 crayons.  It’s as simple as thought, and it prevents a lot of problems, even if it takes a bit of time to hand each child his crayons and then go around to pick them all up again. 

The class was tres content (very happy) to see us unveil the huge 96 pack of Crayola colors and the white paper.  It was such a treat for them and they all had the hugest grins I’ve ever seen.   Even if the Crayola crayons we gave them were melting. Seriously. It was so hot that the crayons were soft and moldable, like clay.  







We didn’t give them any specific instructions on what to draw, since we knew they probably wouldn’t understand anyways, and furthermore, the kids probably have next to no skills in drawing.  So, we gave them no guidance or stipulations, and just let them go at it.  Results ranged from kids who had stick figures in front of what looked like the family mud hut, all drawn in blue, to kids who had a variety of squiggles and other organic forms, each in a different color.  All in all, most drawings were comparable to the artwork of a toddler in America: unrecognizable shapes that are supposedly houses, people consisting only of some lines with no eyes or smiling faces, uncontrolled lines running off the paper.
 I loved walking around and asking kids what they drew; the responses were priceless.




Me: What did you draw here?
Kid: It's my mom and our donkey and a fish.
Me: That's great!  
**really, all I see is a bunch of random squiggles on the paper

Molly: What's that? Is that you?
Kid: No, it's a circle.

Molly: Oh….

Zephrin had to write all the kids' names on their paper for them, because they haven't yet learned how to write their names...

At the end of the afternoon, around 5pm, it was time to say good-bye and go home. Zephrin had to go around and write each child's name on his/her paper, because they haven't yet learned how to write their names...  When we left, all the kids continued to follow Molly and me as we went into the village and greeted the village elders and other important people.

The journey back to our village was much cooler at 5pm, compared to earlier that afternoon, and we allowed ourselves to stop and take in the scenic views: seas of onion fields with beautiful flowering onion tops, banana trees, villagers biking back home from the fields....

I finally got back just before sunset, and having spent all afternoon “playing” with little kids, I now had to get my own work done: packing for La Festival des Chevaux (Horse Festival).  I was about to take an epic adventure, and I wasn’t the least bit prepared…

**If you're interested in more pictures and descriptions, check out my facebook.  I was able to upload most of my pictures from my day at the shack school!

Football, Valentines, and Carrot Cake

Saturday, March 02, 2013

Where did February go?  I know it’s the shortest month of the year…but still.  Time is just going by way too fast – I’m already having to make official plans for post Peace Corps life…which will be happening in about 5-6 months, depending on when I decide to officially “close” my service.  We are allowed to COS (close of service) starting September 2, give or take a month.  So, if I want, I could be home the beginning of August!  FIVE months from now!   But, as I have a lot of work to do yet (mainly with this library/literacy project that Molly and I are doing), and as I also want to take a cool COS trip to southeast Asia before returning to Americaland, I’m currently anticipating COSing mid-September and getting back to America the first week of October or so.  We’ll see…    But I gotta figure it out soon: I have my “official” (gosh, everything’s getting official nowadays…) COS conference March 26-28 in Ouaga, where we turn in forms, watch a slideshow of ourselves throughout the past 2 years, get our bank account info straightened out ,and request if we want a plane ticket arranged to our home airport, or would rather receive cash in lieu and arrange a flight home ourselves (this is the better option, especially if, like most volunteers, you choose not to go straight home and instead visit another part of the world first…). 

So, besides having to think about the future, what’s all consumed my life the month of February?

**Football (aka Soccer):  
For anyone who followed CAN (Cup of African Nations), aka the Superbowl of African soccer, you might already know that Burkina, was, for once, quite awesome and successful!  Considering that most of Burkina is characterized by high malnutrition rates, kids (and adults) who can’t read, mud huts that fall down with the rains each summer, and just a general lack of development compared to the rest of the world, Burkina’s team, Les Etalons (The Stallions), making it to the CHAMPIONSHIP game was…unimaginable.  It was great.  Everyone was so excited and proud to be a Burkinabe each time Les Etalons won a game in the playoff rounds.  By the way they yelled and screamed and threw chairs and hugged each other and rode their donkeys up and down what is essentially the main street (aka dirt path) in my village, you’d have thought someone had just given them a million dollars AND a ticket to America to shake Barak Obama’s hand.  But that’s fine.  Let them be proud and excited.  They should be.  Lord knows there isn’t much else to celebrate in this country.  Unless boiled flour paste and slimy leaf sauce and fish head soup is something to give a fist pump about? 

Unfortunately Burkina did not win it all to take home the biggest trophy – they got second place, but a lot of good came by playing in the championship. (Check out the NY Times article http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/09/sports/soccer/09iht-soccer09.html?_r=0 )  Burkinabe developed a sense of pride in their country and friends got together and made tea and ate peanuts while gathered around whatever TV screens could be found in village.  (There seemed to be a major influx of people owning TVs during the CAN, especially as Burkina continued to progress and win games.  Why listen to scratchy radio static when you can SEE your home team playing live, plus watch all the fancy half-time commercials!?)   Additionally, more of Africa (and Europe, and the rest of the world, besides for America since we’re just not all that hyped up about football, unless it’s the football that involves cheerleaders and a pigskin and touchdowns...), now knows that Burkina Faso EXISTS.  Yes, yes we do.  Burkina is in fact a country.  In Africa.  No, it’s not that new; it’s been around for a while.  It used to be called Upper Volta.  Yes, a lot of people live here. It’s actually not that small of a country (population wise or land-area wise); it’s bigger than a lot of other specks on the map.  And yet, no one knows where or who Burkina is.  But I think football might have helped that.  At least a little bit anyways.  And, even more importanly, at least we all now know that Burkina isn’t awful at everything.  Even if they can’t read or put their feces into a contained hole in ground or wash their hands before they eat, at least they can play soccer!  Go Etalons!

**Valentine’s Day:  I showed up to school the morning of February 14 wearing an obnoxious Valentine’s Day outfit that I had my tailor make.   I had imagined/foreseen myself wearing this outfit back in Americaland every Valentine’s Day for the next 20 years, picturing it as being cute, ironic, maybe even sexy?!  But when I actually saw what was created for me, I realized that I could never get away with wearing this in America.  Unless I was an elementary music school teacher.  Which, well, there’s a good chance that that’s what I’ll be.  So maybe I will boast my bright pink outfit with cupids and hearts and “Je t’aime” (“I love you”) written all over in America.  I had it made into a sleeveless V-neck top and a knee-length skirt with a small slit on the back (which turned into a much larger slit than is probably appropriate for Burkina while riding my bike to school…whoops.  The kids saw a lot more leg – pasty white leg – than they’re used to.  Scandalous.)  When I walked into my classroom all the kids stood and clapped, laughing and cheering, “Merci, Madame!  Merci!  C’est jolie!  Merci!”  which literally, is “Thank you!  Thank you!  It’s pretty!” but more accurately, what they were saying was “Oh my god!  Our teacher’s wearing that!?!  Nice!  But why are her legs so white?).

I had planned to do a regular math lesson that day because all the kids have been pains in my butt lately and I didn’t feel like being nice or fun and wanted to give them tons of math homework…  but for some reason I had a change of heart and decided to start class by talking about Valentine’s Day in America.  And this led to me drawing a picture of Cupid on the board and explaining how he helps people fall in love by shooting arrows at them.  My chalk-board drawing of a blue-eyed, curly blond hair, chubby cupid looked more creepy than cute, especially when I added his wings and gave him bow-and-arrow set.  I also neglected to say that he wasn’t real, because I assumed most kids would know it was just a story… but they didn’t.  They thought that there actually is some guy named Cupid running around America.  Whoops.  When I clarified to them it was just a story, they seemed sad and disappointed.  However some students were relieved – I think the notion of a guy shooting a love arrow into Moussa’s heart and “forcing” him to fall in love with Fatimata, the girl who sits next to him in school, was utterly terrifying.  Not to mention just gross.  (13-year-olds in Burkina are just like those in America, in that anytime you so much as mention a word like love, or husband, or girlfriend, or kiss, they all go berserk and giggle for at least 15 minutes and slap their friends in the back.)

We also ended up making cut-out hearts.  You know, where you fold the paper in half, cut out a half heart and then open it up to find, voila! A perfectly symmetrical heart!  I explained that in American schools, kids would make a heart for each of their friends, write a nice message on it, and attach a piece of candy.  These are called valentines.  (Yes, I realize most kids do not make their own valentines now days – I almost always made my own valentines, with my heart stamps and red glitter!  Instead, they buy pre-made glittery, shiny “Justin Bieber” or “Care Bears” or “Power Rangers” valentines.  Well, ok, maybe not Power Rangers, but I’m so out of touch with American kid culture that I haven’t the slightest idea what is currently cool with the preteens…  But anyways, I wasn’t about to get into explaining pre-made cards with cartoon characters on them…just saying that everyone cut out hearts was a lot easier.)  Furthermore, I discovered that the fact that valentines (i.e. the cards) have the same name as the day itself was too confusing for the kids, so we ended up just referring to valentines as “messages.”  One kid was very proud of himself when he added on to my bit about attaching a piece of candy, that the candy is individually wrapped in plastic so it stays clean when you glue it onto the “message.”  Good job, little buddy!  Way to use those critically thinking skills. 

They also got a kick out of me telling them that we have candy and cookies in the shape of hearts!  And sometimes, it will even say “I love you” on the cookie/candy, like written in frosting.  “Madame, are these for eating, or for looking?”  “No, we eat them.”  “Eh-bay!  The words are edible!?”   We also practiced saying common Valentine’s Day phrases in English, such as “Be Mine!” and “Happy Valentine’s Day!” and, because women are “inferior” to men in Burkina and men often do next to nothing for their wives besides “give” them 7, 10, or even 12 children,  I really played up how nice and romantic men are to women:  men give their wives candy, cookies, chocolate, wine, a dozen roses, jewelry, a fancy dinner at an expensive restaurant, etc.  (Yes, I realize this is a lie and a complete falsification of how men REALLY are…but even in my own head, it was nice to imagine that guys are actualy like this, even if for only one day a year.)  All of this was too much for the kids. Too much.  The girls were saying, “Madame, I’m going to America and going to marry a white man because they’re nicer than the boys here.” And the boys were saying “Men do all that?  For their wife?  Why?  What does the woman do?  Give him lots of money?” 

The brief intro to Valentine’s Day turned into an entire lesson, and thus, my kids were spared from seeing numbers that day or even having any math homework at all… lucky them.  Oh yeah, and I may or may not have taught them the Barney song.  You know, “I love you, you love me.  We’re a happy family.  With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you, won’t you say you love me too!”  Yeah, that one.  We learned it.  They loved it.  I don’t feel bad for sharing this part of our American “culture.”  Barney was very prominent in many children’s lives while I was growing up…and besides, it’s a nice song and the only thing that came to my head when I tried to think of simple “love” songs appropriate/applicable to Valentine’s Day.

**Camp VSA: Toumbila: On Valentine’s Day, after my morning classes, Molly and I biked to Toumbila, the village of our friend and fellow volunteer, Careth.  It’s typically about a 40 minute bike ride, but, because of the wind constantly coming directly against us no matter what direction we were going, the journey took about an hour.  It probably didn’t help that my tire kept going kinda flat.  Not flat to the point where I couldn’t bike on it (thank god, since my tire pump wasn’t working and we were in the middle of nowhere).

Just kinda flat, in that I couldn’t bike very well and my front tire would kinda swerve left and right on the loose gravel.  Man, was I ever winded and fatigued when we got to Toumbila.  It was hot and dusty, shortly after noon.  I was hungry and dehydrated: it seems like I can never drink enough water in this country!   A little sport, and I’m out of breath and on the verge of dehydration.  But, it was Valentine’s Day, and Careth, Molly, and I had plans.  And these plans included eating lots of yummy food (chocolate, specifically), drinking several boxes of wine, and napping.




These plans did not include teaching kids.  Even though that was the main reason we were even in Toumbila in the first place: we were putting on Camp VSA for Careth’s 5^th graders – basically the same day camp program and activities that Molly and I had done in our own villages back in December.

Camp was a lot of fun – we played games and sang songs, read books and ate popcorn.  And every afternoon at 5pm when camp was done, Molly, Careth, and I went back to Careth’s house and made something yummy to eat.



One night was Chinese sweet and sour stir-fry with spring rolls, another night was vegetable and bean soup, another meal Indian curry cabbage over rice and chips with homemade salsa.  And of course, lots of desserts: brownies, lemon cake, cookies, cookie dough, granola, and more.  We had chai tea and crepes for breakfast, also cookie dough and leftover lemon cake.  What a way to start the morning!

The highlight of camp was probably playing tug-of-war with the kids.  At the end we did boys versus girls, but we didn’t have an equal number of boys and girls.  There were 15 girls and 27 boys…so Careth, Molly, and I joined the girls’ side.  We all pulled as hard as we could, and in the end, the girls prevailed and the boys ate dust.  The girls were so happy and empowered and the boys looked like they were going to cry.  They said it wasn’t fair because we helped the girls, but we tried to argue that they still had way more boys than our side did, and had we not helped, that would’ve been very unfair.  But the boys still wanted to do a rematch – this time, the 27 boys against only the 15 girls.  They were stubborn, but in the end we were able to convince them to pick 15 boys to go against the girls.  That also was a close match, but the boys did end up winning. 

Also, at the end of camp, I undid my braids.  It was time.  And so, braids are out -- the fro is in!  After exactly one month of 54 tiny braids woven tightly around my head with purple beads dangling at the ends, and thus 5 weeks of not washing my hair, my braids are finally gone!  and man, did that hurt.
















I think it was even more painful than getting them in.  It took the combined efforts of about 6 little girls with nimble fingers to undo each braid, resulting in over 2 hours of torture on my scalp and several handfuls of lost hair at the end....and possibly even a few tears: though they kept asking if it hurt, I always responded with "No, everything's fine."   They kept forgetting that my hair was REAL (not some fake mesh stuff) and so when they pulled on my hairs, I could feel it...and it kinda hurt...a lot.

**School:  Teaching math at the middle school is typical…same old stuff.  My classes, in all honesty, have been quite awful (behavior-wise) and I’m not really sure what to do about that.  I can’t seem to do anything, and that’s the problem.  The kids don’t care if you give them extra homework or take away points from their overall grade or send them to talk to the director.  I’ve even stared at them for over 30 minutes without saying or doing anything – just stared.  I’ve also walked out on them after they stole all the chalk and then claimed no one took it.  They only time they “care” is if they’re going to be hit…and, naturally, violence is not a punishment that I use and they know it.  Thus, they do what they want and don’t care.  Also, I’ve lost a lot of my motivation for teaching them.  They’re just SO behind on basic skills and math facts that we can’t do anything on the level that they’re supposed to be learning (and I’m referring to their set Burkinabe curriculum and levels; if we were going by American standards, well, wow, these 14 and 15 year-olds would all be sent back to third grade, seriously…).  I spend my entire class time each day just trying to catch them up on material they should have grasped in primary school.    And they still don’t understand it.  Or remember it from day to day.  I think a good part of it has to do with them being malnourished.  No, they’re not starving.  But they don’t eat well or get nearly enough protein and this was especially true when they were infants and their brains were developing in leaps and bounds.  If you don’t get enough of the vitamins and minerals your body needs, your brain doesn’t develop.  It’s a fact.  And this might explain why so many of my students are, well, stupid.  They just can’t seem to learn, nor do they have much of a memory base for storing facts.  It’s so sad.  But like I said, I really don’t know what to do about it, except to encourage those students who do seem to be breaking through the system and show some potential.

The second trimester will be over soon (mid-March) and so this next week or two will have me spending all my “free-time” correcting tests and calculating grades.  Fun fun.  I’m looking forward to seeing how many kids I’m gonna give failing grades to.  I think the students think I’m “too nice” and wouldn’t give a bad grade out…little do they know…. ZEROS FOR EVERYONE THIS TRIMESTER….muhahaha!   (I’m not joking.)

**Volleyball:  The Phy. Ed. teacher finally got his act together and got the volleyball net up.  He’s been teaching all the classes how to play, and the kids love it.  It’s not often that they get to learn a new game/sport and participate in an organized activity, and this is particularly true for the girls.  I’ve gone by a few of the afternoons and helped out.  The students think it’s hilarious to see me playing and doing warm-ups with them.  We have to run around the field for 2 minutes, and it’s not like I’m trying really hard or anything (but I’m also not slacking) and all the kids will try to keep up with me (they run barefooted, I run with tennis shoes or my chacos sandals), and laugh and shout, “Madame!  Madame!  Are you tired?  I’m tired.  This is fast!”  They were also blown out of their minds the first time Ahmed (the gym teacher) passed me the volleyball and I bumped it back right to him (not over his head, not sideways, not straight up 50 feet in the air…)   Sure, I’m a little rusty….but I’m still a ton better than these kids.  I mainly worked with the girls in trying to help them not be scared of the ball.  Serving?  Some bump, set, spike action?  Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.  Let’s just try to get these kids not afraid to touch the ball. That’d be a good start. 

**Library Preparations:  The community library and elementary school literacy projects are coming along.  We’re still waiting for money, so we can actually start buying stuff….speaking of which, if you haven’t donated yet, PLEASE HELP FUND OUR LIBRARY PROJECT!!!!  Time is running out!  And the library still needs about $1700 for the grant to be complete.  If we don’t get the money soon, like in the next week, the project will have to be reevaluated and possibly it will be canceled.  This is not good.  Please help, and give what you can.  Every dollar makes a difference!  If you’d like to donate, go to: www.pcburkina.org, click on the “donate” tab, and look for my project (or rather, Molly’s name) under “volunteer projects” and donate!  Or, similarly, you can go to www.peacecorps.gov/donate and search for the project by typing in any of the following information criteria.

    Project Name:  “Local Community Library”

                Project Number:  13-686-010

                Country: Burkina Faso

                Volunteer Name:  Morrison M.

                Volunteer State: CO (Colorado)

In other library and literacy project news, Molly and I made a bombin’ PowerPoint presentation, and with the help of Zephrin and Mane, our Burkinabe counterparts -- and translators from French into local language(s) -- for this project, we held a community meeting with representatives from each neighborhood in the tri-village area.  We told them about the importance of a library in the community, what all needs to get done (i.e. building repairs, buy tables and books, etc.) and, of course, explained a bit about ourselves and what Peace Corps is.  Overall, it was a very successful meeting, even though almost everyone showed up an hour late (typical Burkinabe punctuality) and the projector we had rented from Ouaga failed and so we ended up just showing the PowerPoint on my computer, which was fine.  Not as cool as projecting huge images up on the wall, but it was still cool and more “advanced” and “professional” than most Burkinabe are ever used to experiencing. 

I’m hoping to have the money for my literacy project in the elementary schools by the end of the month, and then I can actually get my project rolling.  It’s been kinda at a standstill for the last few weeks, since there’s really nothing else we can do until I get the money to buy the supplies and books.  Hopefully it comes in soon!  As well as the funds for the community library!

**Tougan Trip:  It’s been awhile since I’ve gone to Tougan.  Sure, I’ve passed through it on my way to/from Ouaga, but I haven’t actually spent the day and ran errands in Tougan for a while.  So, last Friday, when I didn’t have school, I grabbed my backpack and a book and some tests to correct, and hopped on the 8am bus to Tougan.  I went to the bank (the ATM actually worked and I got money out, no problem!), ate some cold yogurt and a fresh mango, browsed the marché, bought myself new flip-flops, and went to the cyber to do some internetting.  But of course, there was no internet at the cyber.  Typical.  Fortunately for me, a guy with his private internet key was there, and offered to let me sit at his computer and use his key to check my email.  The connection wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing and I was able to check my email and read the important stuff.  At the end, the guy, whose name was Robert, paid for my computer time and refused to accept anything for the use of his internet key.  He then asked me if I had time for a drink, and well, it was almost noon, and it was hot, and of course if someone wants to buy me something, I’m gonna accept.   So I did.  We went to a nearby outdoor restaurant and had a beer.  Then Robert also bought freshly grilled pork.  Mhmm, mhmm.  Love me some pork.  I never get pork in village since most people are Muslim and Muslims don’t eat pork.  (Clearly Robert was not Muslim.)  And then he bought me a second drink.  We actually had a very nice conversation – he’s a teacher in Kassoum (halfway between my village and Lanfiera) and didn’t seem too creepy or faux-type-ish.  He also didn’t hit on me (in any direct manner) nor did he ask me to marry him.  All in all, I’d say it was a great lunch date.  We then went to buy some trees and flowers.  Now that I have a wall around my house, I can actually plant some trees and pretty green things around my cement porch, and don’t have to fear for my life that goats will eat them.  I picked out a whole box of things to transplant (equating to about $8 American total) and then Robert carried the box for me (it was kinda heavy) all the way to the bus station and arranged to have it looked after for the rest of the afternoon until I came back to get on the bus.   With all my errands done, and my belly full of beer and pork, there was nothing left for me to do except plop myself down in the shade, sip cold water (into which I dumped a Crystal Light lemonade packet into), and correct some of my 5eme class’s math tests, which were awful by the way.  So many bad grades.   So many stupid answers.  Good thing I was in Tougan, having a good day, and so the bad scores didn’t depress me so much.  Had I been in village having a bad day, I might have burned all the tests instead of continuing to correct them.  Much to my luck, the bus didn’t come too late (it wasn’t dark yet, and so I think we could all say that that was a success.  In fact, you might even say the bus was “early”…even though the sign says it’s supposed to arrive at 2pm. Ha.)  I was able to eat a yummy fresh salad made by Djeneba (cook for Camp Heere) and chat with her until the bus was ready to leave.  Since the bus didn’t leave right away, I ate a second salad (Djeneba does such a good job!) and chatted some more.  Finally, at sunset, the bus driver was ready to go and so I got on the bus with my box of plants.  It was strange, but the bus was actually NOT overcrowded for once.  In fact, I had 2 seats all for myself --- a much different change from the typical 2 women and 3 children and me all being squished into 3 tiny seats.


 I was able to put my plants on the floor without too much of a problem, and there weren’t all that many people who had to step over my plants, and thus my beautiful babies were hardly touched and not damaged a bit on the bumpy hour-long ride back to my village.  Also, another highlight of the bus was that a huge Barack Obama sign was on the front window, along with an American and Burkinabe flag and a white hand shaking a black hand.  Here in Burkina, everyone thinks that Barack is their best friend.  And who’s to say that he’s not?

**Girls’ Night:  The day after my excursion to Tougan was the marché.   Like usual, I stocked up on veggies and Molly, Brook, Careth, and I watched a movie (Pitch Perfect) in the afternoon since it was too hot to do anything else.  We might have also been sipping on cocktails.   Around 5pm, Aza and Olga, my two best Burkinabe friends in village – both young, unmarried, beautiful, fashionable nurses at the local clinic – came over to my house.  We made peanut butter cookies, lemon bars, and carrot cake.  I had picked up “butter” and eggs in Tougan so the desserts were actually pretty close to being real cookies and cake!  Aza and Olga loved helping and seeing me turn flour and carrots into a delicious bread/cake.

Molly, Brook, and Careth also joined us, and soon we had a girls’ night.  We all drank cocktails, listened to music, ate cookies, made Chinese stir-fry (Aza and Olga also loved eating this), and debated the quality of men in this world and whether or not there is such a thing as “true love.”  Around midnight we called it a night:  Aza and Olga drove home on their motos; Molly, Careth, and Brook (and Kamikazee, my kitty) crashed on my floor.   The next morning we ate cookies and bars and cake for breakfast and drank tea.  And then we watched a movie.  We weren’t being lazy…just…slow to start the day.  Finally we got ourselves together and around noon, we wrapped up our slumber party and set out on our separate ways to hopefully do something productive the rest of the day.

                                                      

**Ouahigouya:  And now, as I write this, I am in Ouahigouya.  No, this is not Ouagadougou, the capital city.  But it is one of the top five biggest cities in Burkina Faso and it’s only about 5 hours from my village, as opposed to Ouaga which is a good 10 hours (or more).  My friend Sara is located pretty close to Ouahigouya, and so we met up for the weekend.  I needed to get some internetting and computer work done.  Plus, I just wanted to get out of my village, eat some “good” food, sleep on a real bed under a fan, and hit up the pool.  I got here on Thursday (today is Saturday) and I will leave tomorrow around noon (or whenever my bus gets here, provided it doesn’t break down).  Sara and I have watched movies, eaten tons of salads and meat brochettes, gone shopping and spent more money than necessary (but you can’t turn down sex beads for babies!  Or fun printed pagnes!  Or sparkly, pointy-toed shoed! ... I just realized that "sex beads for babies" probably sounds really bad.  It's not.  They're litereally beads, like a necklace, that you tie around your waist and wear under your clothes, kinda like an accessory to underwear.  And ALL the babies are decorated in them!  And most girls and women too, not so much the boys and men, once they get past about 5 years old.).  Oh, and I spent yesterday afternoon at the pool.  We’ve got some lovely weather here in the Sahel right now....I'm really enjoying these 40+ degree days....oh wait. that's celsius....and in the SHADE. (i.e. it's a comfortable 104 Fahrenheit under a tree or in my mud hut... and in the sun, well, let's just say that a few days ago, the thermometer soared to its limit of 120 and is now broken/melted).  It’s getting so hot out, you can just feel the sun frying your skin, even when you’re in the shade wearing sunscreen and a hat.     Gosh, with the beautiful climate and attractive day-long dust storms that result in not being able see or breathe, who wouldn't want to live in Burkina Faso?!?

Today, Sara and I met up with Carrie (another volunteer in the area) and watched her help with a soy transformation, aka making tofu.  We helped them run the crushed up soy through the cloth strainer, cooked the milk over a huge fire, and pressed the tofu.  Tomorrow morning they’ll cut it up and season it, and then it will be grilled and sold.  Tofu is very possible to make in Burkina, it’s fairly cheap, and it’s a great source of protein.  Long story short, people should eat it.  So a lot of volunteers are trying to help restaurants trial run tofu.  Hopefully it goes over well tomorrow.  I also was able to buy some homemade artisan soap (honey, citron, and carrot based) that smells wonderful!  I’m looking forward to using it.  For lunch we went to a nearby bar/restaurant, and much to our surprise, a guy dressed in white wearing a chef’s hat brought us a menu.  A “real” menu, like listing hamburgers and pizza and salad and rabbit in wine sauce.  That rarely happens in Burkina.  And a guy wearing a chef’s hat, well, that is a sight I have NEVER seen in Burkina, until today.  I didn’t know any better cuz I don’t spend time in Ouahigouya, but Sara and Carrie said this was the first time they had experience this anywhere in Ouahigouya, and especially at this place which typically just had a woman who sold rice and sauce.  We didn’t know what to expect, but took our chances ordering pizza and a cheeseburger.  It was pretty good!  Not the greatest in the world, but not bad.  Especially if you consider the fact that, besides for Ouaga and Bobo, there aren’t many other restaurants in other cities with “American” food.  The chef was young and was so bubbly and excited.  After we finished he pulled a chair up to us and asked us for feedback.  Was the food good?  How was the pizza crust?  What should he change?  Clearly he’s had some culinary training, but of course he was curious as to how “white people” respond to a Burkinabe preparing what is typically thought of as “white people food.”

And now, I’m relaxing in my hotel room, trying to finish this blog update, so that I can go to the library, use their internet (the hotel’s internet connection has been down since yesterday), and post this online!  And maybe check my facebook, too!  There’s a lot of people that I haven’t stalked in a while, so I gots a lot of facebook creepin’ to do, and rumor has it that Ouahigouya’s internet at the library is the fastest in country, due to some rich Spanish person donating a lot of money.

As aforementioned, my COS conference is in Ouaga in a few weeks (March 26-28), so I’ll have internet again then.  But possibly sooner.  Right now some friends and I have the awesome plan of heading out east for a few days and visiting one of the animal parks there, immediately preceding COS, so probably around March 20 or so.  Elephants here I come!

Until next time,

Beth