Hello all. I do wish I had access to the internet more often. It is frustrating to be so busy all the time (and/or sick) that you can not communicate with your friends and family when you really, really want to. Once I begin my service in Béléhédé (yes, that is my site!!!), I should have a lot more free time than during this grueling training period.
Well... don't get too excited yet. Indeed I will have lots of "unstructured" time, especially during my first three months. But I will also be 40 kilometers away from a bad internet connection that supposedly costs so much that it's "not even worth it". I do have a cell phone! For those who are interested, you can buy a reasonably priced phone card and call me sometime!* But still don't get excited yet. There is no cell phone service in beautiful Béléhédé so I'll be biking, running, or walking to the top of a hill 2 kilometers away to receive or make any phone calls. But I can receive texts! (on the hill...)
Now with eight (ooh just added another fifteen) minutes left on my internet connection before another training session - sigh - I will just highlight a few notable moments:
I have been sick for the past three weeks. Actually I have felt good for four days in a row now (so exactly three weeks from this past Friday) and all I can say is UGH. I'll spare you the details which are exhausting just to think about. But I will say - it started with a four day unidentified fever of like 102F (yes I was still attending classes and training sessions) and it ended with the death of an amoeba by the marvel of modern medicine!
We lost another two GREAT trainees who decided to go home. Jaime and Chris were one of our two married couples and I am really going to miss them. Now we are 24. Every time someone else leaves it gets harder to say goodbye.
Nonetheless, as a group we have pretty good morale and relatively positive attitudes. At this point, everyone is ready and waiting to finish up training and move to their sites. Over the past two weeks we all had the opportunity to visit our sites (or at least our regions) and meet our Burkinabé counterparts.
My site is in the north, in the Soum province which is part of the Sahel region. (Remember - where desert meets savannah?) Well now I have two minutes left and that is just not enough so I'll put this off until next time. Suffice it to say that I will have access to vegetables most of the year round and there is a lake. what!?
*If you are so inclined/awesome and would like to give me a ring, shoot an email and I'll send you my digits. Also, Mom has the number.
25 July 2007
12 July 2007
When The Rain Comes II
The second* time it stormed I had visitors. Two of my secondary education friends who live in the city decided to try out a night of village life. The other trainees in my village (three at the time) also had visitors so we gathered in a group of about 10 at a my friend Yaneth's house.
The Burkinabé had known that it would rain. We promised that we would get back in time. Yaneth's home is technically next to mine and in the daylight you can theoretically see it across the peanut/millet/corn fields. Anyway, I had a general idea of where it was when I took my two buddies tramping off into the darkness and we got there just fine.
Yaneth's extended Burkinabé family gave us a very warm welcome. They set up mats for us to sit on and more mats so they could sit next to us. Eventually the two groups chatted separately in their respective languages as everyone enjoyed the fine night.
After only a half hour my friends noticed that the children (girls) behind us were calling me.** They were telling me that "the rain had come". Well, clearly it hadn't since I was still DRY. So I acknowledged the girls and kept on chatting.
A few minutes later they were calling me again, "Adjara, regards la pluie est venue". I looked where they were pointing and could not see a darn thing. Throughout the evening we had been watching the other part of the sky light up in silent flashes. It appeared to us that nothing had changed.
Finally, the young girls insisted that we go home. "Faut partir, maintenant. La pluie est venue." We said our goodbyes and began walking off into the dark. Thankfully both of my friends brought flashlights but we could still only see a few feet ahead. After a few minutes they noticed someone calling me. Why is it that everyone else notices when someone is talking to me? "Adjara, à droite!" They were telling us to go right. So, we started to veer a little bit more to the right.
"A droite, Adjara, à droite!!" So we veered a little more. Eventually the girls must have been a football field away monitoring our two dinky headlamps bob off into the wrong direction in the night... "A DROITE, ADJARA! FAUT ALLER A DROITE!" OK! We finally turned right.
Ten or fifteen minutes after leaving Yaneth's we arrived home and entered my hut. We dropped our things, thanked goodness and started to laugh. Of course, right then, it began to rain.
*Could have been the second time... but also could have been the third or fourth?
**Just a note: they were only a few feet behind us but Burkinabé girls (and children in general) tend to speak softly. Sometimes it takes a moment to notice when they are talking to you.
The Burkinabé had known that it would rain. We promised that we would get back in time. Yaneth's home is technically next to mine and in the daylight you can theoretically see it across the peanut/millet/corn fields. Anyway, I had a general idea of where it was when I took my two buddies tramping off into the darkness and we got there just fine.
Yaneth's extended Burkinabé family gave us a very warm welcome. They set up mats for us to sit on and more mats so they could sit next to us. Eventually the two groups chatted separately in their respective languages as everyone enjoyed the fine night.
After only a half hour my friends noticed that the children (girls) behind us were calling me.** They were telling me that "the rain had come". Well, clearly it hadn't since I was still DRY. So I acknowledged the girls and kept on chatting.
A few minutes later they were calling me again, "Adjara, regards la pluie est venue". I looked where they were pointing and could not see a darn thing. Throughout the evening we had been watching the other part of the sky light up in silent flashes. It appeared to us that nothing had changed.
Finally, the young girls insisted that we go home. "Faut partir, maintenant. La pluie est venue." We said our goodbyes and began walking off into the dark. Thankfully both of my friends brought flashlights but we could still only see a few feet ahead. After a few minutes they noticed someone calling me. Why is it that everyone else notices when someone is talking to me? "Adjara, à droite!" They were telling us to go right. So, we started to veer a little bit more to the right.
"A droite, Adjara, à droite!!" So we veered a little more. Eventually the girls must have been a football field away monitoring our two dinky headlamps bob off into the wrong direction in the night... "A DROITE, ADJARA! FAUT ALLER A DROITE!" OK! We finally turned right.
Ten or fifteen minutes after leaving Yaneth's we arrived home and entered my hut. We dropped our things, thanked goodness and started to laugh. Of course, right then, it began to rain.
*Could have been the second time... but also could have been the third or fourth?
**Just a note: they were only a few feet behind us but Burkinabé girls (and children in general) tend to speak softly. Sometimes it takes a moment to notice when they are talking to you.
05 July 2007
When The Rain Comes
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.
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.
30 June 2007
Jusqu'ici, tout va bien...
Oh, where should I begin following my last post? That was now a full x days ago.
Everything is still going very well. Since I last described my life in village I have done the following things:
Everything is still going very well. Since I last described my life in village I have done the following things:
- Attended my first marriage - the second night of a three-day a Muslim ceremony outside the husband's family's concession in the pitch-black Burkinabé bush.
- Played my first "football" match with other Peace Corps trainees against a team of Burkinabé girls - neither group was empowered since it ended in a 0-0 tie. I played D.
- Participated in two panel discussions Burkuinabé girls - Girls' Education/Empowerment trainees met with middle/high school girls to discuss their experiences in local schools.
- Met with two different parents' groups similar to American PTAs - the AME is a mother's association and the APE is for parents in general. At our second meeting with the AME, my friend Yaneth and I learned about women's daily tasks (before sunrise to after sunset).
- Discovered my first village night club in the bush - it was dark, the music was all African, and there was a donkey on the dance floor.
- Eaten dinner with only my right hand - this is how the Burkinabé do it; they do not use utensils or their traditionally (and realistically) dirty left hands.
- Swept my hut completely on my own once and observed my host sister Kadidia do my laundry twice - this weekend I will take my first crack at the multi-step process...
- Demonstrated how to modestly climb a tree in a skirt - this was an exercise in facilitation and just one example of creative group work. Peace Corps has us constantly getting up in front of the group trying new things, speaking in public, and sometimes inviting us to embarrass ourselves. (Just kidding, sort of.)
I have also shopped at the local marché, enjoyed eating many local specialties, talked with Burkinabé in Mooré, Fulfuldé, and of course French, and finally I have already seen three friends decide to go home. We started as a group of 29 and have whittled down to a current 26. So, it has been up and down already after three weeks but I really look forward to being assigned a site and visiting it for the first time in about 2 or 3 weeks.
For my next post, I'll try to tell a story and hope to make things a little more interesting. At the moment I have not properly slept in days (and even weeks) and I am actually completely spent. Happy to post information for you though... thanks for reading!
à plus tard, mes amis, et grosses bisous!
17 June 2007
I had a nice long chat with Christina
Hello all,
I heard from Christina yesterday by way of a phone building that is barely more than a booth. She rode her bike to this site, which is just outside Ouahigouya. She pays via a meter for her time, and then I call her back. We had a nice long talk and it was wonderful.
She is well--in fact, very healthy so far. As many of half of the volunteers have gotten sick already. I’ve given her probiotics to keep her immune system strong. And of course, she takes malaria pills every week.
I was standing the the sunny, 85 degree heat today thinking of her as she slogs her way through 105+ temperatures with humidity. “You want to die in the middle of the day,” she says.
The night before, there were storm rumblings in the sky because the rainy season is almost upon them. The farm animals were running around screaming all night, so she got little sleep and then rose at first light at 5:30 am, when their day begins. I’m imagining Chicken Little with “The sky is falling” hysterics!
Christina says the animals are everywhere: in the huts, in the latrine, in the shower, in the common open areas with thatched roofed coverings. In the mornings she goes and says good morning to her host family parents and there are always ten or more animals around them. At night she wishes them a good evening.
When the Burkinabé greet each other, it is never with a simple hello. You commonly ask about each other’s health, sleep, family and more. You can exchange greetings with each person for as long as 15 minutes. Just as well--Christina says you break into a sweat just by moving!
Her family’s father, “Baba”, gave her a gift of a small goat. One of her “sisters” said that this makes her an offical sister of the family.
When she and others met the chief of about 40 villages, they brought him a chicken. They also met the Iman, or religious leader.
For breakfast everyday there is coffee and bread . But for Christina, one of the brothers makes her three eggs. For lunch and dinner there is always a staple such as rice, potatoes, yams, or millet. Sometimes the staple is spaghetti with elbow macaroni! In addition there is always some kind of sauce such as peanut or cabbage and tomato with a little meat. Another common dish consists of peas with a sauce. Some sauces are spicy. The most common dish, sometimes eaten for all meals is “to” (spelling? pronounced with a long o). This is a pasty dough made of millet and eaten with the fingers.
Christina is living with Peul people who are herders and who speak Fulfude. She is learning ther language aw well as the language of the Mooré people who are crop farmers. Mooré is the first language that she is expected to learn in this country of 50 languages!
For these three months of training, there are four Peace Corps volunteers in her village. They get their training in the village and in the city. Next week, for example, a vehicle will drive them into the city for one day and they will bike it back. The rest of the week will be spent in the village. Other weeks, there may be more days in the city with some overnight stays.
Some of you have asked what you can send her. For the first three months, just things that will get used up, and the lighter the better. She would love packets of Gatorade powder or the like, to flavor the gallons of filtered and purified water she consumes to stay hydrated. Small boxes of matches from your favorite retaurants would also be helpful. She needs them herself for her kerosene lantern and the local people love to receive unusual and interesting boxes of matches. So you can make many people happy with these smallest of items. Cliff Bars and Power Bars or the like would also be appreciated.
I just sent four lbs of goods air mail and it cost me about $40. So that’s about $10 per pound. She will also have to pay at her end.
Her address is:
Christina Sobiloff, PCT
S/C Corps de la Paix
01 B.P. 6031
Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso
Africa
Despite the challenges, Christina is very happy. She really likes the other volunteers and the Burkinabé. The kids are cute, the food is great and healthy, the training is intensive and she is relishing the experience. And your good vibes are the wind beneath her wings!
Love,
Imelda
I heard from Christina yesterday by way of a phone building that is barely more than a booth. She rode her bike to this site, which is just outside Ouahigouya. She pays via a meter for her time, and then I call her back. We had a nice long talk and it was wonderful.
She is well--in fact, very healthy so far. As many of half of the volunteers have gotten sick already. I’ve given her probiotics to keep her immune system strong. And of course, she takes malaria pills every week.
I was standing the the sunny, 85 degree heat today thinking of her as she slogs her way through 105+ temperatures with humidity. “You want to die in the middle of the day,” she says.
The night before, there were storm rumblings in the sky because the rainy season is almost upon them. The farm animals were running around screaming all night, so she got little sleep and then rose at first light at 5:30 am, when their day begins. I’m imagining Chicken Little with “The sky is falling” hysterics!
Christina says the animals are everywhere: in the huts, in the latrine, in the shower, in the common open areas with thatched roofed coverings. In the mornings she goes and says good morning to her host family parents and there are always ten or more animals around them. At night she wishes them a good evening.
When the Burkinabé greet each other, it is never with a simple hello. You commonly ask about each other’s health, sleep, family and more. You can exchange greetings with each person for as long as 15 minutes. Just as well--Christina says you break into a sweat just by moving!
Her family’s father, “Baba”, gave her a gift of a small goat. One of her “sisters” said that this makes her an offical sister of the family.
When she and others met the chief of about 40 villages, they brought him a chicken. They also met the Iman, or religious leader.
For breakfast everyday there is coffee and bread . But for Christina, one of the brothers makes her three eggs. For lunch and dinner there is always a staple such as rice, potatoes, yams, or millet. Sometimes the staple is spaghetti with elbow macaroni! In addition there is always some kind of sauce such as peanut or cabbage and tomato with a little meat. Another common dish consists of peas with a sauce. Some sauces are spicy. The most common dish, sometimes eaten for all meals is “to” (spelling? pronounced with a long o). This is a pasty dough made of millet and eaten with the fingers.
Christina is living with Peul people who are herders and who speak Fulfude. She is learning ther language aw well as the language of the Mooré people who are crop farmers. Mooré is the first language that she is expected to learn in this country of 50 languages!
For these three months of training, there are four Peace Corps volunteers in her village. They get their training in the village and in the city. Next week, for example, a vehicle will drive them into the city for one day and they will bike it back. The rest of the week will be spent in the village. Other weeks, there may be more days in the city with some overnight stays.
Some of you have asked what you can send her. For the first three months, just things that will get used up, and the lighter the better. She would love packets of Gatorade powder or the like, to flavor the gallons of filtered and purified water she consumes to stay hydrated. Small boxes of matches from your favorite retaurants would also be helpful. She needs them herself for her kerosene lantern and the local people love to receive unusual and interesting boxes of matches. So you can make many people happy with these smallest of items. Cliff Bars and Power Bars or the like would also be appreciated.
I just sent four lbs of goods air mail and it cost me about $40. So that’s about $10 per pound. She will also have to pay at her end.
Her address is:
Christina Sobiloff, PCT
S/C Corps de la Paix
01 B.P. 6031
Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso
Africa
Despite the challenges, Christina is very happy. She really likes the other volunteers and the Burkinabé. The kids are cute, the food is great and healthy, the training is intensive and she is relishing the experience. And your good vibes are the wind beneath her wings!
Love,
Imelda
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