the dashboard melted but we still had the radio

March days passing by, no school, but plenty of flies.

What have I been doing during these blisteringly hot March days, you ask? Well I've been hanging out in Bouroum-Bouroum. There are quite a few students who continue to study even without having school, and so I've been having groups come to my house and do math and English exercises. I've also been reading like a maniac--nothing by Proust or Faulkner. More like Dan Brown and the dude who writes those monster-ridden alterative versions of classic Jane Austen novels. I also find myself seeking shade (where I'll only sweat off half of my body weight) and watching the clouds roll by. I spend my time poking the bat, Boris, that's been living in my house for the past month. Boris is the best bat I've ever had--he doesn't fly around at night in my house and I believe he's been eating quite a few insects. Good Boris. Sometimes I'll scare little Burkinabe children, but most of them in my village are used to me now so that void filler has lost its entertainment value. I gave in and sort of cleaned my house. I swept, which is something I haven't done since September. I eat--gateau, rice, foutou and peanut butter sandwiches. I sleep. I try to catch chickens. I still can't whistle.

8 Mars 2011 has come and gone. It wasn't nearly as good as the one last year. The women slaved away and cooked chicken; they served the men who naturally complained about the size of their portions. The women cleaned up after the meal. My girls soccer club was allowed only 30 minutes of game time (very few attended), and then the boys, of course, were given the complete 90 minutes (and tons of people came to cheer them on). When I complained to one of the (male) officials of BrBr, he told me that men are superior and should therefore have more playing time. On International Women's Day. It was lame.

And I know I should be used to the way women are perceived and treated here in Burkina. But I have yet to witness an injustice against women where I don't get pissed off.

Brenda and I are going to continue our girls' soccer club, and we're talking about putting on an end of the school year match. Girls vs. girls, 90 minutes, and I'm inviting the mayor. We may also buy each girl a soccer ball. May all the boys be wildly jealous--but that's only a bonus and not the purpose of the match/giving of soccer balls.

My Close of Service Conference is coming up at the end of the month. We'll discuss how to reintegrate back into our native land. Did you know it was inappropriate to pick your nose in front of people?

I'll also figure out the date when I can COS and return to the land of bacon, ice cream, green chile, air conditioning, toilets, men cooking their own damn meals and cleaning up their messes, etc.

In less than 5 months, the bacon will be mine!