It's official, I'm now a Peace Corps Volunteer!
After a few days of air conditioning, burgers, ice cream and toilet seats, I'm now ready to go to site and not have any of those things once again. I'm anxious and excited, so it's a pretty good combination.
These last few days have been a bit disconcerting because sometimes I've felt like I've been on vacation in Europe, what with the food and the nice air-conditioned buildings and all the tourists. But then I'd walk down the street and see donkeys pulling carts--all right, I'm still in Africa.
Swear-in was last night at the Embassy, and it was lovely and everyone was all gussied up, even me. I'll post pictures eventually.
All right, signing off now because the driver is here to take me away, away, away to Bouroum-Bouroum. Next time I write (it'll be a longer entry), I'll have been at my site for about a week, by my lonesome. Wheeew! But my site mate is making me dinner tonight, so I'm really looking forward to that.
Au revoir and thanks for the birthday wishes! I had a great one!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
The Day Before, or The Last Day, I guess
I thought I'd write a short post today since I have the time and yes, I have been recommended for swear-in. I passed all of my exit exams and so now they tell me that I'm ready to become a Peace Corps Volunteer. Thank you, thank you.
I posted a few pictures (above and below), so take a gander. Most of them are of my host family (Abiba making me cucumber abd tomato salad, my host family ensemble, and then me and Abiba).
Going to Ouaga tomorrow! And tomorrow also happens to be my birthday! Yay!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Happy Birthday, Doug!
Weekend birthdays are spectacular, so I hope yours is extra amazing. I’m certain that the bar-b-q yesterday was delicious, and I’m a little jealous. Okay I’m more than a little jealous. If I could remember my dreams, I’m sure that most of them would be about food. Anywho, Happy Birthday, Mr. Man!
Speaking of birthdays, mine is next Sunday. My golden birthday—23 on the 23rd. Please send goodies!
My birthday also means that I’ll be 2 days away from becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer. All I can say is it’s about time. I know I moaned and groaned about this in my last entry, but somehow my level of irritability with everything and everyone has grown exponentially in the last week. I desperately want my privacy back; I want to be able to eat what I want when I want; I’d like to get away from a few people; and I don’t want any more training sessions. Once I have these things, I think I’ll be ducky.
Throughout stage I’ve found that I’ve received the most useful information from my informal conversations with volunteers. Hearing about their experiences in village and how they deal with day-to-day frustrations has put me more at ease. Now I know to expect that my first month in Bouroum-Bouroum will be one of the most difficult times. Getting to know people, trying to integrate into the community, and waiting and preparing for school to start might make me lose some of my hair. Hairdressers have told me that though my hair is fine, there’s lots of it. So I guess I can afford to lose some here and there. At least I’m el prepared.
I have one week left with my host family. All in all, it was a great experience and I adore my host mom, Abiba. We talk all the time and do the snappy finger handshake. She makes me food that I like and never forgets which foods I detest (oh yes, I’m talking about benga, tô, bouille). We joke, talk about life in the U.S. and life in Africa, and we sit in a very unladylike manner in our chairs slurping delicious bissap. I think Abiba’s incredibly modern compared to other Burkinabé women, and I feel like there’s more “equality” in her marriage than most here. I feel like she’s a very opinionated, strong-willed woman stuck in a stifling cultural situation. But most importantly, I think she’s happy. Incredibly happy, in fact.
And I’m going to miss her. She told me that she’s going to cry when I leave next Saturday, and asked me what I’d like to have as my last meal with the family. I asked for pasta, meat (cross your fingers for some poulet!) and jus de weda. I’m going to bring out my camera next week to take some photos and then give my host family their gifts (thanks for the cool New Mexico stuff, Mom!). Saturday morning will be difficult, but I’m ready for the next step. I think.
I was told yesterday that the house that was supposed to be mine in Bouroum-Bouroum is actually not the house where I’ll be living. Apparently the Peace Corps doesn’t want me living so close to the road (for security/traffic reasons, though it’s in a pretty secluded, low-traffic area) and so close to the school (where students could peak into my courtyard). So now I have a new house. Obviously I haven’t seen it, but I was told that it’s in the same general area as the other one—thank goodness because I absolutely adore that part of BB. Also, it’s a traditional Lobi-style house (see picture from about 4 weeks ago) with 3 rooms, including a salon and an indoor douche. I was told I have a huge enclosed courtyard as well. Once I see it in person, I’ll give you the real in-depth scoop and post pictures.
Other Stuff: 3 more days left of Model School. I kind of enjoy teaching math, and now I have to plan an exam for next Tuesday. I have a report/presentation due next week on female genital mutilation in Burkina Faso. I finally finished reading Angels & Demons. It only took me practically the entire stage, though in my defense I did put the book down for about 3 weeks before I remembered that I had it. It was an enjoyable read, and now I’m on to The Shining. Living with kids for the past 9 weeks has confirmed for me that I never want children. Ever. Aside from the occasional stomach cramping I’m in good health, which is more than I can say for some of the other stagiaires. By the way, no one on my stage has left Burkina (in shame or otherwise), which is unusual according to the volunteers. It’s because of me—I’m simply amazing and everyone wants to stay in Burkina because I’m here. Actually we’re all still here because we love flies flying into every orifice and mosquitoes sucking blood from our derrières when we have to use the latrine. I’m trying to decide what I’m going to use as a light source in BB—I think I’m going to buy a solar panel. Any thoughts? And finally, if you come across Chocolate Teddy Grahams, please send them my way!
This may be my last entry before I go to Bouroum-Bouroum for the next two years of my life. So next time you hear from me, I just might be a bona fide Peace Corps Volunteer. Recognize, yo! Word.
And thanks for reading!
Speaking of birthdays, mine is next Sunday. My golden birthday—23 on the 23rd. Please send goodies!
My birthday also means that I’ll be 2 days away from becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer. All I can say is it’s about time. I know I moaned and groaned about this in my last entry, but somehow my level of irritability with everything and everyone has grown exponentially in the last week. I desperately want my privacy back; I want to be able to eat what I want when I want; I’d like to get away from a few people; and I don’t want any more training sessions. Once I have these things, I think I’ll be ducky.
Throughout stage I’ve found that I’ve received the most useful information from my informal conversations with volunteers. Hearing about their experiences in village and how they deal with day-to-day frustrations has put me more at ease. Now I know to expect that my first month in Bouroum-Bouroum will be one of the most difficult times. Getting to know people, trying to integrate into the community, and waiting and preparing for school to start might make me lose some of my hair. Hairdressers have told me that though my hair is fine, there’s lots of it. So I guess I can afford to lose some here and there. At least I’m el prepared.
I have one week left with my host family. All in all, it was a great experience and I adore my host mom, Abiba. We talk all the time and do the snappy finger handshake. She makes me food that I like and never forgets which foods I detest (oh yes, I’m talking about benga, tô, bouille). We joke, talk about life in the U.S. and life in Africa, and we sit in a very unladylike manner in our chairs slurping delicious bissap. I think Abiba’s incredibly modern compared to other Burkinabé women, and I feel like there’s more “equality” in her marriage than most here. I feel like she’s a very opinionated, strong-willed woman stuck in a stifling cultural situation. But most importantly, I think she’s happy. Incredibly happy, in fact.
And I’m going to miss her. She told me that she’s going to cry when I leave next Saturday, and asked me what I’d like to have as my last meal with the family. I asked for pasta, meat (cross your fingers for some poulet!) and jus de weda. I’m going to bring out my camera next week to take some photos and then give my host family their gifts (thanks for the cool New Mexico stuff, Mom!). Saturday morning will be difficult, but I’m ready for the next step. I think.
I was told yesterday that the house that was supposed to be mine in Bouroum-Bouroum is actually not the house where I’ll be living. Apparently the Peace Corps doesn’t want me living so close to the road (for security/traffic reasons, though it’s in a pretty secluded, low-traffic area) and so close to the school (where students could peak into my courtyard). So now I have a new house. Obviously I haven’t seen it, but I was told that it’s in the same general area as the other one—thank goodness because I absolutely adore that part of BB. Also, it’s a traditional Lobi-style house (see picture from about 4 weeks ago) with 3 rooms, including a salon and an indoor douche. I was told I have a huge enclosed courtyard as well. Once I see it in person, I’ll give you the real in-depth scoop and post pictures.
Other Stuff: 3 more days left of Model School. I kind of enjoy teaching math, and now I have to plan an exam for next Tuesday. I have a report/presentation due next week on female genital mutilation in Burkina Faso. I finally finished reading Angels & Demons. It only took me practically the entire stage, though in my defense I did put the book down for about 3 weeks before I remembered that I had it. It was an enjoyable read, and now I’m on to The Shining. Living with kids for the past 9 weeks has confirmed for me that I never want children. Ever. Aside from the occasional stomach cramping I’m in good health, which is more than I can say for some of the other stagiaires. By the way, no one on my stage has left Burkina (in shame or otherwise), which is unusual according to the volunteers. It’s because of me—I’m simply amazing and everyone wants to stay in Burkina because I’m here. Actually we’re all still here because we love flies flying into every orifice and mosquitoes sucking blood from our derrières when we have to use the latrine. I’m trying to decide what I’m going to use as a light source in BB—I think I’m going to buy a solar panel. Any thoughts? And finally, if you come across Chocolate Teddy Grahams, please send them my way!
This may be my last entry before I go to Bouroum-Bouroum for the next two years of my life. So next time you hear from me, I just might be a bona fide Peace Corps Volunteer. Recognize, yo! Word.
And thanks for reading!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Darren's got an appetite
I am exhausted and I have beautiful half-moons under my eyes. However, I am sleeping extremely well and even when I wake up in the middle of the night sweating buckets, I tend to fall right back to sleep. My bike manual makes a really good fan and it is my constant companion.
I think a major part of why I’m exhausted is the stress of Model School—which has been going well, by the way—but I can also attribute my constant le tiredness to having every minute of my day planned out for me. I kind of feel like I’m being infantilized, but I also realize that the scheduling and training is necessary. And the truth is that I’ll probably miss being told what to do once I’m at site and I’m completely on my own. But let’s face it, right now it’s a little annoying. I’ve noticed that most of the people in my stage are a little more on edge now than we were in the beginning. Patience has gone down and sarcasm has risen. I love it.
But we only have two more weeks of stage! We go to Ouagadougou on my birthday and then two days later we swear-in. Yaowzers. I’m ready for stage to be over, but at the same time I feel like I’m in no way ready to go to site. Ready or not, I’ll be there spouting out the few Lobiri phrases I’ve learned. Mi fuoré!
Model School Update: I’m switching my subject next week from Physics/Chemistry to Math. There’s a good chance that I’ll be teaching Math in Bouroum-Bouroum, so some practice in that subject would probably be helpful. I also administered my first exam this week. Amusing news before the bad news: A mother and her little chickies wandered into my classroom during the exam. I shooed them away, but they were so cute! And now the bad news: Most of the class performed abysmally. Students need a 10/20 to pass the test, and out of 37 students only 5 passed in my class. I was horrified and depressed, and then I drank a coke so I felt a little better. What confuses me is that I thought my test was fairly easy—I took questions from the lectures and I tweaked them a little bit to make sure the students weren’t simply memorizing everything they wrote down without understanding it. But alas, it seems like most of them did just that.
The Burkinabé education system is based on rote learning, which is a problem when it comes to critical thinking. When the same questions are asked in a different way, blank stares are usually the response, and maybe some drool. Or blank or blatantly wrong answers that make no sense are written on exams. But thank gobbledygook, one girl in my class got a 16.5/20 on the exam. She actually took the time to learn the material and understand the mechanics of it. I praised her in front of the class, and she was embarrassed but happy. And now I know that my test wasn’t impossibly hard—it was just a test that demanded critical thinking rather than a direct regurgitation of the material. That’s that.
We’ll see how my algebra class goes next week. I’m glad that I’m getting a taste of what school will be like at site because now I know that I need to ask questions and teach the material in a way that discourages rote learning. I’ll be tackling fractions next week—woot to the woot!
Today I’m going to the tailor with my host mom to have an outfit made for swear-in. I bought a couple of panyés last week at the marché to use as the material. It’s black, with a red, green and white repeating pattern. For some reason the pattern looks Irish to me, but I can’t explain why. Maybe Celtic is what I’m going for. Anywho, I’m hoping to get a short-sleeve top and long skirt made, and this is my first time going to the tailor. I explained to my host mom what I wanted, and she offered to take me to have it made. It will be our first host mom-daughter outing! Precious moments. Side note: my host mom bought a 24-pack of soda (coke, sprite and orange fanta), which is something she hasn't done before. I don't know what she means by this and if I will be the lucky recipient of 1 or 5 cokes. I'll investigate and get back to you.
I have a few last things to day for this week’s entry: One, arm sweat. I’m not talking about underarm sweat because there’s nothing interesting about that. I’m talking about sweating on every square inch of my arms. While sitting. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed arm sweat when I was in the States, probably because arms are the last part of the body that should be sweating. Golly gee it’s chaud!
Two, I now hate Saturdays. Four straight hours of Lobiri on a Saturday is no bueno for my health. Especially when I finish the fourth hour feeling like I’ve retained very little information.
Third and Last, I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of a couple of packages that were sent some weeks ago. I want chocolate! I’ll let you know, Mom and Grandma, once they arrive—thanks so much for sending the love!
And just in case the rest of you were wondering, I’m not averse to receiving packages and/or letters. Again, just in case you’re wondering, I love receiving packages and/or letters.
Sa ha gbe!
Hope you all have a ducky weekend!
I think a major part of why I’m exhausted is the stress of Model School—which has been going well, by the way—but I can also attribute my constant le tiredness to having every minute of my day planned out for me. I kind of feel like I’m being infantilized, but I also realize that the scheduling and training is necessary. And the truth is that I’ll probably miss being told what to do once I’m at site and I’m completely on my own. But let’s face it, right now it’s a little annoying. I’ve noticed that most of the people in my stage are a little more on edge now than we were in the beginning. Patience has gone down and sarcasm has risen. I love it.
But we only have two more weeks of stage! We go to Ouagadougou on my birthday and then two days later we swear-in. Yaowzers. I’m ready for stage to be over, but at the same time I feel like I’m in no way ready to go to site. Ready or not, I’ll be there spouting out the few Lobiri phrases I’ve learned. Mi fuoré!
Model School Update: I’m switching my subject next week from Physics/Chemistry to Math. There’s a good chance that I’ll be teaching Math in Bouroum-Bouroum, so some practice in that subject would probably be helpful. I also administered my first exam this week. Amusing news before the bad news: A mother and her little chickies wandered into my classroom during the exam. I shooed them away, but they were so cute! And now the bad news: Most of the class performed abysmally. Students need a 10/20 to pass the test, and out of 37 students only 5 passed in my class. I was horrified and depressed, and then I drank a coke so I felt a little better. What confuses me is that I thought my test was fairly easy—I took questions from the lectures and I tweaked them a little bit to make sure the students weren’t simply memorizing everything they wrote down without understanding it. But alas, it seems like most of them did just that.
The Burkinabé education system is based on rote learning, which is a problem when it comes to critical thinking. When the same questions are asked in a different way, blank stares are usually the response, and maybe some drool. Or blank or blatantly wrong answers that make no sense are written on exams. But thank gobbledygook, one girl in my class got a 16.5/20 on the exam. She actually took the time to learn the material and understand the mechanics of it. I praised her in front of the class, and she was embarrassed but happy. And now I know that my test wasn’t impossibly hard—it was just a test that demanded critical thinking rather than a direct regurgitation of the material. That’s that.
We’ll see how my algebra class goes next week. I’m glad that I’m getting a taste of what school will be like at site because now I know that I need to ask questions and teach the material in a way that discourages rote learning. I’ll be tackling fractions next week—woot to the woot!
Today I’m going to the tailor with my host mom to have an outfit made for swear-in. I bought a couple of panyés last week at the marché to use as the material. It’s black, with a red, green and white repeating pattern. For some reason the pattern looks Irish to me, but I can’t explain why. Maybe Celtic is what I’m going for. Anywho, I’m hoping to get a short-sleeve top and long skirt made, and this is my first time going to the tailor. I explained to my host mom what I wanted, and she offered to take me to have it made. It will be our first host mom-daughter outing! Precious moments. Side note: my host mom bought a 24-pack of soda (coke, sprite and orange fanta), which is something she hasn't done before. I don't know what she means by this and if I will be the lucky recipient of 1 or 5 cokes. I'll investigate and get back to you.
I have a few last things to day for this week’s entry: One, arm sweat. I’m not talking about underarm sweat because there’s nothing interesting about that. I’m talking about sweating on every square inch of my arms. While sitting. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed arm sweat when I was in the States, probably because arms are the last part of the body that should be sweating. Golly gee it’s chaud!
Two, I now hate Saturdays. Four straight hours of Lobiri on a Saturday is no bueno for my health. Especially when I finish the fourth hour feeling like I’ve retained very little information.
Third and Last, I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of a couple of packages that were sent some weeks ago. I want chocolate! I’ll let you know, Mom and Grandma, once they arrive—thanks so much for sending the love!
And just in case the rest of you were wondering, I’m not averse to receiving packages and/or letters. Again, just in case you’re wondering, I love receiving packages and/or letters.
Sa ha gbe!
Hope you all have a ducky weekend!
Monday, August 3, 2009
A Day in the Life of Jane--That's Me!
In addition to the adventures I had in my first week of model school, I think I’ll also describe to you what a typical day in Ouahigouya, Burkina Faso is like for me. I’ll begin to commence! And yes, I’m aware that that’s redundant. What a chuckle.
5:30-6:10: I get up. Even on Sundays I can’t sleep past 7. Why? My body won’t let me, and I suppose the screaming kids in my courtyard could also have something to do with that. On the positive side, my host twin sisters have stopped calling me “Nasara.” Now every time they see me they shout “Jane Lindborg!” Although it sounds more like “Gane Inbor!” but I’m not fussy about pronunciation. Prisca, one of the twins, sometimes sings a song that goes something like this: “Nasara, Nasara, ma soeur Gane (Jane).” Even though she calls me Nasara, she also calls me her sister. I dig it.
6:30: I carry my bucket outside in our courtyard and fill it up with water. Then I bathe bucket-bath style.
7:00: My breakfast is always waiting for me on the table in the living room after I get dressed. Often breakfast consists of plain bread (baguette) with Nescafe. I know it’s scary, but I’ve started to drink coffee in the morning. I need the caffeine, and if I put tons of sugar in the coffee it only tastes semi-horrible. Every once in a blue moon my host mom gives me gateau instead of bread. I love the gateau! Gateau is cake in French, though it’s not really cake in the way that we Americans think of it, with glorious gobs of frosting. Instead it’s like fried bread, or beignets like the ones I had in New Orleans. Sometimes the gateau is sold with this topping (which, silly me, the first time I tried it I thought it was cinnamon) that actually tastes like Ramen noodle flavoring mix, the beef one. It is no bueno with the gateau, but other people really like it. I take mine plain and greasy.
7:30: I bike to school. On the way I say “bonjour” to about 100 people, including the kids who shout “Nasara!” and “La blanche!” at me. White I am, thank you captain obvious.
8-12:30: Class, usually language or technical/cross-cultural sessions, sometimes medical sessions. Since the beginning of last week, this time is reserved for Model School.
12:30-2: Lunch! I usually have avocado sandwiches, omelet sandwiches or spaghetti, or sometimes rice with a tomato-base sauce. But I’m not a huge fan of rice, unless it’s with sushi or it’s Mom’s green chile cheesy rice dish. The other trainees and I frequent several places around Ouahigouya, and I usually stop by an alimentation store to pick up a delicious coke.
2-5:15: Class encore.
5:15-6:30: I usually need some time to decompress before heading back to my host family. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy their company and I can actually have conversations with them now, albeit short ones because my vocabulary is still quite limited. But I like to hang out with the other trainees before going home. We play cards, got to the buvette to have a drink, make inappropriate remarks. It’s lovely.
6:30: I return chez moi. I talk to my host mom for a while and then I take another bucket bath. Clean Jane! At first I was impressed with how tan my feet were getting, and then I really scrubbed them hard during one bucket bath and discovered that the “tan” was merely a film of dirt. Nice.
7:00-8:30: Hang out with the family and eat dinner. We sit outside because it’s usually so hot inside the house. My family likes to watch soap opera TV from Brazil, and then it’s the news at 8. By the way, they’re still talking about Michael Jackson’s death over here. Peculiar. For dinner, my host mom knows that I like pasta and cucumber salads the best. Other times I’m served rice dishes with sauce and fish. I usually eat inside by myself. I don’t really mind eating all by my lonesome, and I am glad that my family doesn’t see me struggling with my fork. It’s custom to eat with your right hand, and sometimes my aim isn’t great with my right hand. But I am improving! And now I don’t even have to remember to eat with my right hand—it comes naturally.
8:30-9: Homework and/or bedtime.
I am a party animal.
Sunday is my only day off, and that day is reserved for laundry. I miss washing machines.
Okay, new subject. Model School.
I taught 5 classes last week. It felt like 20. I’m teaching the Chemistry section of the Physics/Chemistry program to about 40 Burkinabé students at the 8th grade level who want to get ahead for the upcoming school year. I attempted to teach the students about combustion, and I brought in candles and wood to burn. I felt like I improved as a teacher throughout the week (in terms of board use and communication skills), but I finished each class with the feeling that not everyone understood the material. Like Friday, for instance. I was talking about explosive combustion reactions, and why some reactions are more explosive than others. The example I used was butane/oxygen compared to butane/air. I don’t know how many times throughout the week that I explained that oxygen was absolutely necessary for combustion reactions, but the students still didn’t understand why pure oxygen mixed with butane was more explosive than a mixture of air, which has a lot more nitrogen in it than oxygen. It was frustrating because my French isn’t fabulous, so I struggled to try to explain it to them in a different way. However (and this makes me happy), by Friday I was starting to rephrase some things for the students if they didn’t understand it the first time I said it. Yay for improving French skills. Slow and steady.
I’m administering a test next week, so I have to plan that out soon. I’m also trying to be a strict disciplinarian in class. If people were more than 5 minutes late to class I sent them to the surveillant (person who takes care of disciplinary issues). Some kids tried to sneak in on Wednesday with late slips. At first I didn’t look at the slips closely, but after they sat down I noticed that the time for reentry wasn’t until after my class was over. So I kicked them out, and no one misbehaved for the rest of the class. I like to think that I’ll be a strict but fair teacher. Maybe the kids will like me, but it’s more important that they learn and understand the material, and know that they can’t screw with me.
So I have another week of chemistry to teach, and then I think that I might change my subject to math. Since I don’t know which subjects I’ll be teaching in Bouroum-Bouroum, I figure it will be better to get some practice in on teaching all the subjects.
Last thing before I sign off:
I spent last night in Bogoya with some of my amis. Bogoya is a village about 8 km from Ouahigouya. The GEE (Girls’ Education and Empowerment) trainees live and go to class there, and I and two other SE trainees (Krystle and Emma) stayed with Sabrina there (my roomie in Philadelphia).
What a change from Ouahigouya. For one thing a lot of people don’t speak French, so I used what little Moore I know to greet people. Aside from “Ny yibeogo,” “Laafi,” and “Y barka” I’m pretty useless when it comes to Moore. Also, the kids there haven’t seen as many white folk as the average city kid, so there was even more shouting and me almost running over kids with my bike than usual.
But the people were incredibly nice and helpful, especially when we were using the foot pump to get our water. It was kind of like a dance, stepping on the pump at the right moment and then shoving off again. However comma it made me le tired.
I did carry a bucket of water on my head! Though I spilled all down my front, I walked all the way to Sabrina’s house from the pump with a bucket of water on my head. I’m really impressed with the women here—they carry 3 times as much weight on their head and they make it look effortless, whereas I’m soaked from water and sweat and I’m dragging my feet. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I’m a constant source of amusement for the Burkinabé.
Below are some pictures from my Bogoya sleepover. There were about 20 kids in Sabrina’s courtyard last night because there were 4 Nasara all in the same place. So we decided to get them even more riled up by taking out our cameras. Another picture is from our delicious dinner of pasta, rice and lentils in one huge bowl with four forks. We had mangos for dessert! There are a couple of goats tied up next to Sabrina’s courtyard, and we gave them the peels of our mangos. We slept right next to the goats and throughout the night they’d wander over to our tent, “Baaah!” at us, and then go back to sleep. Sabrina’s family also has a cat that follows you into the latrine and purrs at you/rubs up against you while you’re doing your business. I have to say it was comforting knowing that the cat would eat any cockroaches that cross my path while using the latrine.
This morning we were fed chicken for breakfast and it was aaaamazing! Chicken is really expensive here and so I don’t get it too often. But last night Sabrina’s dad called her outside; he was holding the poor bird upside down and asked her if we wanted to eat it. At some point in the night he killed the bird, we ate it for breakfast this morning, and then the kids in the courtyard were playing with its feathers.
I felt bad because after breakfast her dad asked us if we were going to help him cultivate, but I told my host mom that I was going to be home in the morning (as did Krystle and Emma, and Sabrina wanted to spend the day in Ouahigouya), so we had to decline. But maybe before stage is over I’ll help her dad cultivate. If not, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so when I’m in Bouroum-Bouroum.
The last couple of pictures are silly ones of us in bike helmets on the side of the road in Bogoya. I posed with my trademark Jane look (Mamita calls it the “village idiot” look), and then I got the rest of them to do it. Word.
5:30-6:10: I get up. Even on Sundays I can’t sleep past 7. Why? My body won’t let me, and I suppose the screaming kids in my courtyard could also have something to do with that. On the positive side, my host twin sisters have stopped calling me “Nasara.” Now every time they see me they shout “Jane Lindborg!” Although it sounds more like “Gane Inbor!” but I’m not fussy about pronunciation. Prisca, one of the twins, sometimes sings a song that goes something like this: “Nasara, Nasara, ma soeur Gane (Jane).” Even though she calls me Nasara, she also calls me her sister. I dig it.
6:30: I carry my bucket outside in our courtyard and fill it up with water. Then I bathe bucket-bath style.
7:00: My breakfast is always waiting for me on the table in the living room after I get dressed. Often breakfast consists of plain bread (baguette) with Nescafe. I know it’s scary, but I’ve started to drink coffee in the morning. I need the caffeine, and if I put tons of sugar in the coffee it only tastes semi-horrible. Every once in a blue moon my host mom gives me gateau instead of bread. I love the gateau! Gateau is cake in French, though it’s not really cake in the way that we Americans think of it, with glorious gobs of frosting. Instead it’s like fried bread, or beignets like the ones I had in New Orleans. Sometimes the gateau is sold with this topping (which, silly me, the first time I tried it I thought it was cinnamon) that actually tastes like Ramen noodle flavoring mix, the beef one. It is no bueno with the gateau, but other people really like it. I take mine plain and greasy.
7:30: I bike to school. On the way I say “bonjour” to about 100 people, including the kids who shout “Nasara!” and “La blanche!” at me. White I am, thank you captain obvious.
8-12:30: Class, usually language or technical/cross-cultural sessions, sometimes medical sessions. Since the beginning of last week, this time is reserved for Model School.
12:30-2: Lunch! I usually have avocado sandwiches, omelet sandwiches or spaghetti, or sometimes rice with a tomato-base sauce. But I’m not a huge fan of rice, unless it’s with sushi or it’s Mom’s green chile cheesy rice dish. The other trainees and I frequent several places around Ouahigouya, and I usually stop by an alimentation store to pick up a delicious coke.
2-5:15: Class encore.
5:15-6:30: I usually need some time to decompress before heading back to my host family. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy their company and I can actually have conversations with them now, albeit short ones because my vocabulary is still quite limited. But I like to hang out with the other trainees before going home. We play cards, got to the buvette to have a drink, make inappropriate remarks. It’s lovely.
6:30: I return chez moi. I talk to my host mom for a while and then I take another bucket bath. Clean Jane! At first I was impressed with how tan my feet were getting, and then I really scrubbed them hard during one bucket bath and discovered that the “tan” was merely a film of dirt. Nice.
7:00-8:30: Hang out with the family and eat dinner. We sit outside because it’s usually so hot inside the house. My family likes to watch soap opera TV from Brazil, and then it’s the news at 8. By the way, they’re still talking about Michael Jackson’s death over here. Peculiar. For dinner, my host mom knows that I like pasta and cucumber salads the best. Other times I’m served rice dishes with sauce and fish. I usually eat inside by myself. I don’t really mind eating all by my lonesome, and I am glad that my family doesn’t see me struggling with my fork. It’s custom to eat with your right hand, and sometimes my aim isn’t great with my right hand. But I am improving! And now I don’t even have to remember to eat with my right hand—it comes naturally.
8:30-9: Homework and/or bedtime.
I am a party animal.
Sunday is my only day off, and that day is reserved for laundry. I miss washing machines.
Okay, new subject. Model School.
I taught 5 classes last week. It felt like 20. I’m teaching the Chemistry section of the Physics/Chemistry program to about 40 Burkinabé students at the 8th grade level who want to get ahead for the upcoming school year. I attempted to teach the students about combustion, and I brought in candles and wood to burn. I felt like I improved as a teacher throughout the week (in terms of board use and communication skills), but I finished each class with the feeling that not everyone understood the material. Like Friday, for instance. I was talking about explosive combustion reactions, and why some reactions are more explosive than others. The example I used was butane/oxygen compared to butane/air. I don’t know how many times throughout the week that I explained that oxygen was absolutely necessary for combustion reactions, but the students still didn’t understand why pure oxygen mixed with butane was more explosive than a mixture of air, which has a lot more nitrogen in it than oxygen. It was frustrating because my French isn’t fabulous, so I struggled to try to explain it to them in a different way. However (and this makes me happy), by Friday I was starting to rephrase some things for the students if they didn’t understand it the first time I said it. Yay for improving French skills. Slow and steady.
I’m administering a test next week, so I have to plan that out soon. I’m also trying to be a strict disciplinarian in class. If people were more than 5 minutes late to class I sent them to the surveillant (person who takes care of disciplinary issues). Some kids tried to sneak in on Wednesday with late slips. At first I didn’t look at the slips closely, but after they sat down I noticed that the time for reentry wasn’t until after my class was over. So I kicked them out, and no one misbehaved for the rest of the class. I like to think that I’ll be a strict but fair teacher. Maybe the kids will like me, but it’s more important that they learn and understand the material, and know that they can’t screw with me.
So I have another week of chemistry to teach, and then I think that I might change my subject to math. Since I don’t know which subjects I’ll be teaching in Bouroum-Bouroum, I figure it will be better to get some practice in on teaching all the subjects.
Last thing before I sign off:
I spent last night in Bogoya with some of my amis. Bogoya is a village about 8 km from Ouahigouya. The GEE (Girls’ Education and Empowerment) trainees live and go to class there, and I and two other SE trainees (Krystle and Emma) stayed with Sabrina there (my roomie in Philadelphia).
What a change from Ouahigouya. For one thing a lot of people don’t speak French, so I used what little Moore I know to greet people. Aside from “Ny yibeogo,” “Laafi,” and “Y barka” I’m pretty useless when it comes to Moore. Also, the kids there haven’t seen as many white folk as the average city kid, so there was even more shouting and me almost running over kids with my bike than usual.
But the people were incredibly nice and helpful, especially when we were using the foot pump to get our water. It was kind of like a dance, stepping on the pump at the right moment and then shoving off again. However comma it made me le tired.
I did carry a bucket of water on my head! Though I spilled all down my front, I walked all the way to Sabrina’s house from the pump with a bucket of water on my head. I’m really impressed with the women here—they carry 3 times as much weight on their head and they make it look effortless, whereas I’m soaked from water and sweat and I’m dragging my feet. At least I can take comfort in the fact that I’m a constant source of amusement for the Burkinabé.
Below are some pictures from my Bogoya sleepover. There were about 20 kids in Sabrina’s courtyard last night because there were 4 Nasara all in the same place. So we decided to get them even more riled up by taking out our cameras. Another picture is from our delicious dinner of pasta, rice and lentils in one huge bowl with four forks. We had mangos for dessert! There are a couple of goats tied up next to Sabrina’s courtyard, and we gave them the peels of our mangos. We slept right next to the goats and throughout the night they’d wander over to our tent, “Baaah!” at us, and then go back to sleep. Sabrina’s family also has a cat that follows you into the latrine and purrs at you/rubs up against you while you’re doing your business. I have to say it was comforting knowing that the cat would eat any cockroaches that cross my path while using the latrine.
This morning we were fed chicken for breakfast and it was aaaamazing! Chicken is really expensive here and so I don’t get it too often. But last night Sabrina’s dad called her outside; he was holding the poor bird upside down and asked her if we wanted to eat it. At some point in the night he killed the bird, we ate it for breakfast this morning, and then the kids in the courtyard were playing with its feathers.
I felt bad because after breakfast her dad asked us if we were going to help him cultivate, but I told my host mom that I was going to be home in the morning (as did Krystle and Emma, and Sabrina wanted to spend the day in Ouahigouya), so we had to decline. But maybe before stage is over I’ll help her dad cultivate. If not, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so when I’m in Bouroum-Bouroum.
The last couple of pictures are silly ones of us in bike helmets on the side of the road in Bogoya. I posed with my trademark Jane look (Mamita calls it the “village idiot” look), and then I got the rest of them to do it. Word.
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