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!