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!