Update - 21 December 2007

Bonjour/soir! I am now over six months into my Peace Corps service and just loving all of it. Things are moving along - I am integrating, making friends, starting to visualize my future work... Allow me to gush just for a moment.

Being a Peace Corps Volunteer, at this point in my life, is just the coolest job, ever. Admittedly, I am high off the holiday season and all the great times I have been spending out of site with my American friends. But I am loving being in site too...

We've started a volleyball team that has been playing in front of the school in the evening until the sun goes down. One fonctionnaire, a teacher in village, played volleyball for years up to the national level in BF. The first time he and I got together to hit the ball around, we were both shocked. You can play! And it's the perfect marriage of skills - I'm a setter, he's a hitter. Now we are training other adults in village to play, thus creating a regular group.

I am also spending time almost every day sitting and working in village, with women. In a previous post I mentioned my Koranfe-speaking Fulfulde tutor who has been introducing me to village life. Well, Poitiba and I have stopped language class for the moment (I want to buckle down and study before I go back to vocabulary instruction) but lately I have benefited from her simply as a connection to the villageoise! I'll show up, for example, in the morning to say hi. Then we will gather with other women outside her courtyard to pound millet, corn, and nuts. Every time I join the women, I pound at least a little bit. Sometimes I help clean or prepare beans or other grains and foodstuff. The women don't speak French but Poitiba, as a rare exception, can translate most things if I ask. There are also young, out-of-school girls who haven't yet lost their French. With or without translation though, I am finding that communication is constant. Whether we are silent, gesturing, or speaking in our own mother tongues, at the bottom line, we are sharing physical work. It's just not hard to spend hours on end in the company of these women sharing tasks, food, and work.

I am also loving the challenges. Heck, that's what I came here for! Some of you may have heard me say that following university graduation, I wanted to do something hard. Well, living in Burkina is not that easy but it is also, honestly, not that hard. There are so many diverse (and daily) challenges that you are constantly experiencing both failure and success. I love this dichotomy. I love to succeed. Yet, is there no better motivation than complete non-success? failure? blunder? misadventure? loss? The language issue is a good example. As I struggle to make local language progress, I am succeeding in communicating my intent. Most people I deal with now understand that I want to speak Fulfulde.

I have worked to set my own precedent. And it is a pleasure to demonstrate that all Americans are not the same, and for that matter neither are all "whites". At the beginning, it felt like all my predecessors' friends and acquaintances approached me, visited me, even accosted me with news of and obligations for our "friendship". You will come visit me. You will teach me English. We are friends, I met you once. You will do this for me. I will show you how to properly do that. But you met me - you do not remember my name? You know me and I know you because you waved while you were passing by riding your bike once.

I actually enjoy the process of making my own friends; my own personal connections. Many of those initial people have finally backed off. I am glad for this and grateful to have also met so many enthusiastic and encouraging people so far. I have enjoyed watching the changes in people's behavior - they are no longer greeting Sara when I walk down the road or into the market, they are instead adapting to interacting with me, a different individual. As time goes on, village feels only calmer and more comfortable. So, I am grateful to have done much of the hard work that I have already done.

I will start a girls' sports club in January. Eventually, it will be open to the equivalent of girls in grades 5 and 6. But I will work with the older girls first to train them as leaders for the group.

I am also going to start holding once-a-week English classes for the teachers and a few other fonctionnaires. Fonctionnaires are people who work for the government and are therefore much better educated than the average Joe, or should I say Moussa. We will work on improving conversational skills.

Finally, there is a long way to go to define the new white woman in town, and I am only just starting to tempt my real work... but I actually do love an uphill battle.

'Tis the season :)

21 December 2007

Happy holidays everyone!! I hope you are all doing well and enjoying quality time with family and friends. Here in West Africa, the holiday season has been great!

A few weeks ago I spent a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend with about 20 other volunteers. We gathered at our friends' Jill and Markus' place to feast and party for two days straight. Memorable moments include: Adlai slaughtering a pig, Mac slaughtering a turkey, and David playing guitar next to a raging bonfire Thanksgiving night.*

We prepared salad, falafel, mashed potatoes, chicken, and some kind of apple cobbler dish. The night before the slaughter/ feast Markus made impressive spicy-tuna sushi and we broke out a few cases (really, crates) of Burkina's standard beer. The cheapest brand is called "Brakina" or "Sobbibra"and each bottle is twice the size of a standard American beer.

After spending the day preparing a slow-cook, 18-bean soup for Thanksgiving night, I made the mistake of letting my soup sit unguarded in the kitchen. Someone tasted it and word got around it was good. Eventually, sneaky party-goers (meaning all of them) ate the whole thing that very night! I was ineffective against the crazed masses - I could do nothing to protect my soup!

Halloween was a low key but nonetheless fun experience. I showed up unannounced to Mac's place that night demanding something sweet. Graciously, he gave me precious dried pineapple chunks from America and I told him trick or treat!

Two days ago Burkina Faso shut down in honor of the Muslim holiday Tabaski which happens about 40 days following the end of Ramadan. Unfortunately I was not in village to celebrate with my Burkinabe friends. Instead I came to Ouaga to prepare for my own December holiday, Christmas. Next year I will surely spend Tabaski with my friends and neighbors, though, dressed in traditional Burkinabe clothing, passing out small money to kids for the fete, and eating fresh lamb and goat meat!

Finally, Christmas is just around the corner! We expect this and New Years to be two more fabulous holidays. Every remaining member of my Peace Corps training group, minus three people, are heading to Ghana for about the next 14 days. We rented an entire bus to ourselves which we'll be hopping on for 24 hours to Accra. Amazingly, ten of us will get to spend Christmas together on the beach at the house of one of my best friends from college in the States. Megan McSherry has landed a kick-butt volunteer job for four months on the coast. She's living in Ghana and tracking gigantic sea turtles at the mouth of the Upper Volta River for 4 months!

Finally, at this point I am the only person with even some Jewish blood among my Peace Corps friends. Therefore, there has been little talk of Hannukah. Many Burkinabe have never heard of Judaism. I did receive one cute email from my little brother. Thanks, Michael! And Happy Hannukah, Sobiloffs!


*All captured on video and available upon request.

Update - 28 November 2007

I just made FIVE new posts (not including this one). Kindly, see below. I apologize for the delay!

Two more are coming soon from November 8 and November 12. If I get the chance I will put them up tomorrow.

My apologies that I do not have the energy to write up a general update here and now. But suffice it to say - all is well! And, thank you so much for being such supportive family, friends, and readers!

Much love,
Christina

An Uphill Battle

27 November 2007

It has taken me a full two months to get the word out to my defiant villagers: I AM LEARNING FULFULDE. Allow me to backtrack a little and explain.

If you have been following my blog, you may have noted that once I arrived in country I began learning Fulfulde: the language spoken by the nomadic Peuhl (Fr.) or Fulani (En.) people throughout the North of Burkina Faso. Well, despite the fact that I live in an almost entirely Peuhl region of the country (including Djibo), the people of my village, Béléhédé, are almost entirely Fulsi or Koromba. They speak Koronfe.

Honestly, this situation was extremely discouraging at first. I consulted with several people including Béléhédé's former volunteer (Sara), my school director, and Peace Corps. The consensus was that it was best to learn Fulfulde because, no matter what, all people in this region can speak that language. When I first got to village I was content to catch up with my solitude, read, clean, organize, cook, and settle in. But once I started leaving my house I realized that everyone seemed to believe that they obviously knew me, that we were already buddies, and that I would invariably greet them in their local language as if we were just old friends.

They expected of me what they perceived of Sara. Well, by the beginning of October, every time I left the house I went emotionally armed to battle one more day of my private war.

I would address a passer-by in Fulfulde. Or if I knew they spoke it well enough, French. Honestly, every single person would answer in Koranfe. I don't speak Koranfe. I am learning Fulfulde (said in French). Mi jangan Fulfulde (in Fulfulde). Every day someone would tell me I NEED to speak Koranfe; I MUST speak Koranfe; SARA spoke KORANFE; Sara spoke it REALLY well. I tried different tactics over time:

Strategy #1: Go with your gut.
Plan to face it another day. I took a leave of absence from learning and/or practicing any language that wasn't English. During this time I got by on my French and limited local language skills. I was gathering my strength and firming up my resolve.
Strategy #2: Get into it.
I started telling people what my deal was - I am learning Fulfulde, not Koranfe. On the one hand, I know laid useful groundwork for life in village by highlighting one major difference between myself and the former volunteer. This strategy was upfront and honest. I am strong, right? Good for me telling it like it is! Well, Strategy #2 also SUCKED. Every time I left my house I was getting into another fight. Big surprise - people don't like it when you tell them you are not interested in their language. Sigh.
Strategy #3: Defiance!
Oh my, I was very frustrated, things only seemed to be getting worse on the local language front. Not only was I fighting the not-good fight every day but I wasn't making ANY progress at all in local Fulfulde because at the end of the day I was emotionally exhausted. I ignored the people who relentlessly addressed me in Koranfe even when they looked me in the face. I felt - you KNOW I don't know what you are saying. I answered everyone in the little Fulfulde I could still muster.
Strategy #4: Acceptance
Finally, I think this is where I am at. But it is possible for me to be here because it seems to be where the villagers are "at" as well. We've reached a middle ground. I have relaxed and let my guard down. I am going with the flow and avoiding the trap of justifying myself to any and every person who passes me on the road. I've got a good two or three phrases down in Koranfe and everything else can at the least be muddled through with polite gestures and some French. I have a language tutor who is actually Fulsi (Koranfe-speaking) but is graciously instructing me in Fulfulde. She is also helping me integrate into the village. I finally have buy-in and acceptance from a few, kind, village friends.

So, the lesson is...

What is the lesson? Should I have had acceptance from the get go? Should one always just go with the flow? Actually, I don't think so. My first few months in village have been great but really frustrating at times too. Sometimes, I utterly did not want to leave my house. But I don't think I would change a thing. This is better than just getting what I wanted - I think I can see the top of the first hill.

Back to School

10 November 2007

For the past month or so, I have observed classes at the village school. There are 440 children in 6 grades with 6 teachers and 6 classrooms. The teachers are 3 men (including the director) and 3 women. The school was built by an NGO a few years ago and is therefore relatively new and very nice. The teachers instruct on all subjects, including phys ed, and classes run from 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning to 5:00 at night with a break in the morning and a three hour break for lunch.

Nonetheless, this elementary school system is very different from anything I have known. The largest class, let's call them fourth graders, numbers at almost 100 students in one packed classroom. The smallest class, only two years ahead of this one, has dwindled to 17 students. This reflects the fact that elementary students often repeat grades and drop out. In my sixth grade there are 6 girls and 11 boys.

It is even harder for these kids to move on to junior high than it is for them to reach sixth grade. In order to attend junior high, children must first pass an end-of-the-year exam. If they do not pass, they repeat sixth grade or drop out. If the child passes the exam, the father must find housing for the upcoming school year. The closest junior highs and high schools are 40 and 50 kilometers away. For fear of bad behavior among other things, it is unlikely for a village father to send his child, especially his daughter, on for more school.

When students read aloud in class, they identically sound as if they are chanting or singing. It makes me wonder if that's not how they learned to pray. The kids are not quick. They have trouble making simple connections. In the fifth grade class, for example, the students were doing a fill-in-the-blank exercise with only four blanks and four choices. But many students missed the objective; some students used the words from the instructions, like fill-in while others did not fill in anything at all.

When the teacher or any adult walks into the room, the kids all stand. When a teacher walks by them outside of class, they bow with their arms crossed and their arms their elbows bent out - think cross between pre-teen angst and I Dream of Genie. Bonjour, madame is barely audible. In fact, often the bonjours can't be heard at all as students mumble and hussle to bow inconspicuously behind teachers' backs.

To speak in the classrooms the kids raise their hands, snap, and cry moi, Monsieur, moi! When they speak they stand up but often double over their desks and sometimes wrap their arm(s) around their head and neck while squirming and mumbling. Girls are painfully shy and often silent in the classroom setting. Corporal punishment is illegal but the not-so-tacit understanding is that it happens everywhere, anyway. If you don't hit the kids, they will never listen and never pay you respect.

School was suppose to start on October 1st, nationwide. In major cities , it certainly did. In my village, the start date may as well have been in November. The first day that more than 10 kids arrived on the premises was October 22nd and the teachers probably started new lessons in earnest around November 1st. Children were too busy, prior, helping their families with the harvest. At this time of year, working hands are indispensable. Plus, there were weeds four feet high covering all the space in front of the school. Classes could not start until the children cleared this space. Otherwise, they would be in danger of bites from snakes.