I have a couple of countdowns going on right now: The first is the countdown to the end of the school year (21 days) and the second is the countdown to August 3 (74 days) and a Parisian rendez-vous avec Remus!
The end is nigh!
I have one week left of teaching, the second week will be devoted to exams and the final week will be about grading and wrapping things up. The excitement is palpable among the students and teachers. The teachers are talking about their upcoming vacations in Ouaga or Bobo. And the students, who for the most part will be spending the summer cultivating in Bouroum-Bouroum or the other surrounding villages, are just excited to not have to go to school. My students asked me if, during my youth (I overlook the fact that some of my students are my age or just a few years younger), I cultivated during vacations as well. They were quite surprised to hear that I spent my summers amusing myself, not working. I didn't delve into details (i.e. trips with the family, soccer camps, sleeping until noon, generally being lazy and happy) because the differences between our summer activities are so glaring it's depressing. But cultivate I did not, and that's something that my students have a hard time understanding. What would a person be doing during the rainy season if they didn't farm?
Well, I'm currently writing math and English exams. I've been using some tools I learned from my TEFL training to amp up the excitement in my English class. Too many kids have been falling asleep, but I suspect their fatigue is not entirely due to my being a bore (as all teachers have trouble with sleepy kiddies and said kiddies aren't getting enough sleep because they walk miles to get to school/work at home/work in the market/etc.). Okay, maybe I am a bore but that's a harsh reality, and I will not yield to it! So as a way to catch their interest for an hour or two, we've been leaving note-taking behind (not entirely). Role-playing, group work and pretty pictures! My students like the pictures the best because one, I am always the artist and two, they like to laugh at my artistry. We compare and contrast pictures, I read a short story to the class and they have to reorder a series of pictures according to the timeline of the story, we identify objects in pictures, and we discuss what's happening in them. I also sing and act out scenarios (not part of the TEFL training) but effective nonetheless. And before I know it, my students are pulling out verbs, nouns, adjectives and adverbs and making grammatically correct sentences! Woot woot!
I recently sent the last batch of my students' letters to my correspondent in Pennsylvania. Most of these kids don't have a mailing address so unfortunately this will most likely be the last letter they receive or give. Those who do have a mailbox in Gaoua or Diebougou were willing to share space, so hopefully some of them can continue with the correspondence.
I've been feeding a calf in village. His mother doesn't produce milk and so whenever I'm over at my friend's house I get to feed him from a bottle. He's messy, he slurps, and when he's finished with each bottle he finds its necessary to rub his face on my pants. I've named him Bruce. He sneezed on me once. It was not pleasant, but not as unpleasant as being twice thrown-up on. I'll take cow snot over human puke anyday. Bruce also likes to chew on my pants and he nibbles on my hand. Big teeth. When he's suffuciently full he runs around the courtyard at top speed, scaring the crap out of my friend's daughter (who, let's face it, is annoying like all little kids). When he runs around like that he reminds me of Suzi, my dog, and the way she used to throw herself across the grass in the backyard even when she was old and arthritic.
Bruce is adorable and he's growing at an alarming rate. I'm already too attached to him, which sucks because I know he'll be food someday soon. It's a good thing I never eat beef here.
Another day, another creeper shunned. It really isn't worth mentioning because it's so commonplace, but I like the sound of that statement. Since we're on the topic though, because I informed this creeper that I'm married, he said that I need to go back to the States and find a white woman to send to him. Yeah buddy, I 'll just FedEx her to you.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
you see your gypsy
The events of the last two months culminated in all the volunteers in my area having a week-long slumber party ensemble. This just didn't happen in my area, but countrywide. In mid-April the crap hit the fan here in Burkina (some of you may have seen this on the news), and all the volunteers were consolidated at various villages or towns.
For the first two days I had ten volunteers at my site, which wasn't too much fun. Not everyone could sleep at my house because it's not big enough and I live too far in the bush for the comfort and convenience of water and food. And since we all had to stay in the same casa, I had to locate a suitable alternative. After a few chats with the director of my school and an interesting conversation involving mainly hand gestures and facial expressions with a man who owns a large and vacant house in town (and who speaks only Lobiri), we were moved in! With nothing to sleep on! It was a supremely uncomfortable sleeping situation because not everyone had a thermorest or a bug hut and therefore had sleep upon the nice fluffy down of concrete.
There was also a random kid sleeping on the porch with us. My night vision is pretty bad, especially without my glasses, and so I was only a few feet away from the kid when I noticed him. But I kept my cool, and I simply asked, "What are you doing here?" He replied, "Sleeping." No kidding. "Yes, but why are you sleeping here?" "I'm tired." This conversation reminded me of other painfully obvious replies/statements/questions I've received over my time here such as: "Are you eating rice?" (as I'm eating rice), or "You're white. Why?", or "You're sweating a lot."
Anywho, all eleven of us (ten volunteers, one Burkinabe boy) had a rough couple of nights in my village. The fact that I never cook and therefore didn't have any food stocked or things like plates and pots to offer anyone didn't help the morale of the group. We ate rice, attieke, village peanut butter sandwiches, omelets--the usual crap that I subsist off of but that can't sustain everyone (especially those volunteers from the cities who are not accustomed to village life).
After two days of voicing our concerns to the Peace Corps staff they moved us to a town with a hotel, electricity and running water. And air conditioning! Jen and I didn't have air-conditioning for the first two nights because we inadvertently chose the crappiest room (I slept in a bughut outside because the heat was suffocating), but we grabbed a different room once it became available. And then I lived in that air-conditioned room for three days. I only came out to feed.
Earlier in our stay we visited the famous caves of our consolidation site. The caves were constructed in the early 1900s as barracks for the military but have since become the home of hundreds of bats and a few crocodiles. The caves were approximately seven feet tall, but we all had to crouch down to avoid being assaulted by all of the bats. They were literally everywhere--they covered the ceilings, they flew past our heads in huge bat conglomerates, they hated the flash of cameras (obviously) and let us know about it. It was a little unsettling, and I thought fondly of Boris back home. Boris never flies pass my head at lightning speed, and since he kicked Natasha to the curb he doesn't make that awful squeaking noise.
But worrying about getting a bat in the face wasn't nearly as unsettling as turning a corner in one of the caves and meeting a huge crocodile. Needless to say we all kind of freaked out in various degrees, and I remember someone screeching, "Should we be making so much noise?" But the crocodile was unconcerned with us. He just remained where he was, as did the other three smaller ones we happened upon. We were told that during the hot season (February-May) some of the crocodiles move from the barrage and hibernate in the caves until the rainy season (June-September). I didn't know that crocodiles hibernate. Neat.
We continued our way through the labyrinth of caves, crouching, using each other's derrieres as shields against the onslaught of bats barreling through the air. After our fill of bats, crocodiles and the smell of urine, we left the caves and celebrated our having an interesting and fun morning during the stressful time of consolidation by going to one of the local bars and drinking cold cokes. It was a good day.
The rest of consolidation passed by with air-conditioning, food, tv, and a bit of work completed. After one week of slumber partying we were allowed to go back to our sites. And now we're hoping for the best. It's looking pretty good right now.
89 days and counting!
Happy Mother's Day!
For the first two days I had ten volunteers at my site, which wasn't too much fun. Not everyone could sleep at my house because it's not big enough and I live too far in the bush for the comfort and convenience of water and food. And since we all had to stay in the same casa, I had to locate a suitable alternative. After a few chats with the director of my school and an interesting conversation involving mainly hand gestures and facial expressions with a man who owns a large and vacant house in town (and who speaks only Lobiri), we were moved in! With nothing to sleep on! It was a supremely uncomfortable sleeping situation because not everyone had a thermorest or a bug hut and therefore had sleep upon the nice fluffy down of concrete.
There was also a random kid sleeping on the porch with us. My night vision is pretty bad, especially without my glasses, and so I was only a few feet away from the kid when I noticed him. But I kept my cool, and I simply asked, "What are you doing here?" He replied, "Sleeping." No kidding. "Yes, but why are you sleeping here?" "I'm tired." This conversation reminded me of other painfully obvious replies/statements/questions I've received over my time here such as: "Are you eating rice?" (as I'm eating rice), or "You're white. Why?", or "You're sweating a lot."
Anywho, all eleven of us (ten volunteers, one Burkinabe boy) had a rough couple of nights in my village. The fact that I never cook and therefore didn't have any food stocked or things like plates and pots to offer anyone didn't help the morale of the group. We ate rice, attieke, village peanut butter sandwiches, omelets--the usual crap that I subsist off of but that can't sustain everyone (especially those volunteers from the cities who are not accustomed to village life).
After two days of voicing our concerns to the Peace Corps staff they moved us to a town with a hotel, electricity and running water. And air conditioning! Jen and I didn't have air-conditioning for the first two nights because we inadvertently chose the crappiest room (I slept in a bughut outside because the heat was suffocating), but we grabbed a different room once it became available. And then I lived in that air-conditioned room for three days. I only came out to feed.
Earlier in our stay we visited the famous caves of our consolidation site. The caves were constructed in the early 1900s as barracks for the military but have since become the home of hundreds of bats and a few crocodiles. The caves were approximately seven feet tall, but we all had to crouch down to avoid being assaulted by all of the bats. They were literally everywhere--they covered the ceilings, they flew past our heads in huge bat conglomerates, they hated the flash of cameras (obviously) and let us know about it. It was a little unsettling, and I thought fondly of Boris back home. Boris never flies pass my head at lightning speed, and since he kicked Natasha to the curb he doesn't make that awful squeaking noise.
But worrying about getting a bat in the face wasn't nearly as unsettling as turning a corner in one of the caves and meeting a huge crocodile. Needless to say we all kind of freaked out in various degrees, and I remember someone screeching, "Should we be making so much noise?" But the crocodile was unconcerned with us. He just remained where he was, as did the other three smaller ones we happened upon. We were told that during the hot season (February-May) some of the crocodiles move from the barrage and hibernate in the caves until the rainy season (June-September). I didn't know that crocodiles hibernate. Neat.
We continued our way through the labyrinth of caves, crouching, using each other's derrieres as shields against the onslaught of bats barreling through the air. After our fill of bats, crocodiles and the smell of urine, we left the caves and celebrated our having an interesting and fun morning during the stressful time of consolidation by going to one of the local bars and drinking cold cokes. It was a good day.
The rest of consolidation passed by with air-conditioning, food, tv, and a bit of work completed. After one week of slumber partying we were allowed to go back to our sites. And now we're hoping for the best. It's looking pretty good right now.
89 days and counting!
Happy Mother's Day!
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