Since I have been in Burkina, we have had say, somewhere between 3-6 storms. It is the rainy season now when many Burkinabé depend on the sky to open up and allow them to cultivate their fields.
The first storm was at night. I was sleeping* in my round, thatched-roof hut during one of our first nights in village. I was woken up by the wind slamming my tin door at against the frame repeatedly. The first time I think I screamed... after I shut and locked the door a voice cried through the one of my two windows - faut-pas avoir peur! or don't be afraid.
The next thing that happened was probably that I started to cough. There was dust everywhere! Was this a sandstorm? Do I live in the dessert? Instinctively I wrapped one of my two bed sheets around my head like a head scarf. I left my eyes exposed so I could try to see something (ha). Another voice screamed through the other one of my two windows - faut fermer la porte! or shut the door. (Didn't I already do this?)
The other sounds that followed were the usual (though not yet usual to me at the time) -- goats, donkeys, cows, bulls, chickens, guinea fowls, and cocks. The next thing to come was, of course, the rain. Well this was the best sound of all. I discovered that when it rains outside, it also rains inside a little bit too. It was raining on my bed. I scrunched over. People were outside maybe running around? Or just talking? Or maybe passing from here to there -- there is a lot to do when it rains.
This particular storm didn't last very long. When it was over there were voices at the door of my hut, people were calling my name... I opened the door and used my flashlight.** Well the family came pouring in, within minutes I had 15 people in my hut fawning all over me laughing and discussing the storm. There was an inch of dust on everything.
*At least I think I was sleeping. Am I ever sleeping here?
**I think I remember using my flashlight but if it was as early as my second night in village, I did not yet have a working flashlight to complement my kerosene lamp.
Girls Learning Life Skills
Tenth grade students listen attentively to an introductory lesson on the "bridge model".
Christina in Burkina
Posts
Comments
The content of this blog is mine personally and does not reflect any position of the U.S. government or the Peace Corps.
Eating Yogurt
Local liquids comes like this - in unmarked, plastic sachets. So, we often eat and drink in the street by biting off corners of plastic bags and sucking out juice. We also sometimes pass a bag around to share.
Aiesha, Nafi & Baby Megan
Voila the beautiful mother with daughters Nafi and Megan. Many Burkinabe children around Nafi's age have never seen a white person. They are old enough to grasp and feel familar with all their regular surroundings. In turn, they are young enough to be terrified of goulish white skin. OK, so maybe we sometimes DID amuse ourselves making Nafi cry...
Holding Baby Megan, Komsilga
If you've been following my blog, you may remember that I named a baby. Well, here she is. What were they thinking letting ME name a baby!? Just kidding. But on this day I carried Megan around for a good 45 minutes. Now THAT is crazy. What were they thinking letting ME hold a baby!?
Mud-Brick Mosque, Bani
Bani is a small village near Dori in the Sahel. Seven mud-brick mosques are scattered around the village's hilltops. This photo was taken inside the main mosque which has 100 columns said to stand for the 100 names of God.
International Women's Day
The 8th of March is International Women's Day. The fontionnaires in village all bought this fabric to make matching outfits for the celebration. The concept of getting a tailored "uniform" for any given event is very important in Burkinabe culture.
1 comment:
Merci pour cette jolie histoire ! J'espère que la pluie te permet au moins d'avoir moins chaud. J'ai hâte de lire ton prochain post, gros bisous !
Post a Comment