i'm mr. solo dolo

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.

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!

rolling in the deep

I'm sitting on a bench in town, chatting occassionally with the people around me. But for the most part my attention is focused on my Kakuro math puzzle (thanks Remus!). I love math puzzles. As I'm figuring out all the ways to add the numbers 1-9 to make 27 without using the same number twice, I'm pulled out of my math bubb
le of concentration when I notice three sets of four very long, large, tan-colored hairy legs. I look up and there they be.

My first camel sighting in Bouroum-Bouroum. The camels stand right in front of me and stare me down. When they get bored with me they start to nose through the treasures (aka garbage and excrement) littering the ground. The camels return to staring at me, chewing in that slow sideways motion characterisitic of cows and people who never learned to chew with their mouths closed. Did your mothers not teach you manners? I prefer this type of chewing when animals are doing it. They're much cuter.

One camel starts to chew on the cord to his harness and his owner scolds him. The camel stops gnawing on the cord, but when his owner turns away he takes it in his mouth again. Defiant camel.

These three camels are about eight feet tall. They're not too smelly and none of them spit in my presence. They were carrying a lot of cargo, not to mention each had to carry one man on its back. I asked if I could touch one of them, and one of the men obligingly lowered the camel into a sitting position so that I could scratch his head. I wish I could say that the camel purred like a cat when I scratched his ears, but he seemed uninterested in all of it. The man who lowered the camel wasn't though--I received another marriage proposal. Though I almost accepted (I mean, the man travels around on a camel. That's pretty sweet.), I had to decline because he wore socks with sandals. Deal breaker. Especially to someone like me who's a slave to fashion.

In other news, school has started back up, hooray! The school year will end in June instead of May because of all the lost time due to the strikes in February and March. So now I'm back to teaching, giving tests, grading, tutoring, coaching soccer. Brenda and I are putting on an end-of-the-school-year girls soccer game. The first ever in my village. We had to push hard to allow the girls to play 90 minutes, instead of the measly 30 minutes everyone else wanted to give them. They're also going to wear the boys' uniforms for their game! The game is scheduled for May 26, so Brenda and I are going to start writing the invitations.

Yesterday I walked into my latrine and I was greeted by a very surprised snake. He was long and thin, kind of brownish with a darker head. He freaked out when I opened the latrine door and then he slithered away into a hole. I was hoping he was gone for good, and I actually thought he was. When I went back to my latrine later in the day I didn't see him, and so I happily went about my business as usual. But then he popped out, and he wasn't expecting me (or I him). He jumped slightly in the air, and I responded by screaming and hitting my head on the doorframe in my attempt to escape. One of my neighbors heard the commotion and came over to investigate; I told her my tale and her response was, "Oh. That's it?" And then she walked away. That's all I need is for a snake to come upon me unawares and bite me in the butt. It's bad enough that my bathroom consists of a hole in a ground. Add one snake. Fortunately I haven't run into the thing today, and I'm really hoping he's slithered elsewhere.

I also had a huge cockroach crawl on me today while I was eating my lunch (the ususal--rice with tomato sauce and cabbage). He met his end. And he didn't ruin my appetite.

My COS (Close of Service) date has been approved. My last official day as a Peace Corps Volunteer is August 3. A European trip is in the works before my return to the glorious U.S. of A.

The countdown is on...

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!

World Map Photos

I find the map and draw a straight line

World Map Project!

It took me four weeks to complete it, but complete it I did with the help of six students at the CEG of Bouroum-Bouroum. And I can't be modest. It's gorgeous.

The wall on the side of the 4eme B building was scraped, measured, and painted ocean blue. Then there was the grid, then the map design, then the paint, followed by labelling and touch-ups. My students and I had a mini celebration with juice and nasty mango and banana cookies (the students enjoyed them). I gave them a thank-you gift for their work on the map: Each student received a big box of chalk and a new pencil/ruler kit.

It was an interesting experience doing this map project. I worked on it practically every day over the past four weeks, and I always had an audience. I had students watch me for hours as I set up the grid. They watched as I erased, drew, painted, stared, cursed, swatted bugs, talked on the phone, mixed paint, nearly fell off the unstable ladder (not the kind you'd find at Home Depot). They were entralled, and here I thought watching me do this would be almost as fun as watching paint dry. Which is exactly what they did. But they certainly were not bored. And the funny thing is that I wasn't bothered by the constant company and chatter going on directly behind me. Perhaps I've become a more patient person! Who would've thought? Or, perhaps I've simply become more adept at blocking out unpleasant things. Well, we'll just call it patience.

I must boast that I'm now skilled at carrying beaucoup de crap while riding my bike. I've been carrying the ladder to and fro my house and the school. There was this one time when I had my backpack full of paint on my back, another bag full of water and juice situated on my chest, my right hand holding up the ladder, and my left on the handlebar. As I was pedaling, the bag full of liquid would slosh from side to side with the movement of my knees. It was awkward, and people stared at me. One little girl followed me on her bike all the way to school, and then turned around and left when I reached the wall. She was a lovely escort.

Now the map is completed. I can remove the paint that's been coating my hands for a month. I also need to make sure that I remove it from any other odd places on my body. A couple of weeks ago I went to Gaoua and another volunteer mentioned that I had blue paint in my ear. It most likely had been there for a day or two. Must do a careful examination. Maybe I managed to get some up my nose, but I'm sure I would've noticed that--crusty paint up there would be uncomfortable.

Aside from the map project, I've just had school and tutoring, tests and grading. I've also started a girls' soccer club with my sitemate. We have about 20-25 girls show up every Sunday and Monday afternoons. I've been teaching them techniques: how to pass, dribble, control the ball. Then they scrimmage against each other and manage not to use any of the skills they were practicing just a moment earlier. It's kind of like watching six-year-olds play. But that's understandable considering they've never had any training. The boys don't play much differently than the girls, except they tend to maintain field positions. Still, for the most part the boys just try to kick the ball as far and as high as they can manage. High-kicks galore, and no one does a proper throw-in. But there's raw talent, and I've noticed that in some of the girls as well. The girls are enjoying themselves, and they get a kick out of the fact that I'm excluding all boys and that the field is reserved solely for them at 15h and 17h every Sunday and Monday, respectively.

I attended a Lobi funeral this past week. They’re kind of interesting. When a Lobi person dies, his or her body is displayed outside of the courtyard, usually under a tree, in view of the mourners for three days (I once attended a Lobi funeral where the deceased was propped up against a tree wearing a U.S. baseball cap). There is constant drumming and the women carry on this crying/singing (and sometimes dancing) for about 24 hours. The singing is actually quite beautiful, except at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. After the 3 days of singing/dancing/mourning, the body is buried inside the courtyard.

Hope you like the pictures of the map! If I can ever get them all uploaded…