Burkina By Bobby

The first month flew by with remarkable speed. A lot of the initial shock and wonder has worn off. I am still amazed each day by something I have never seen before, but I feel much more comfortable and at home. Moreover, some of the things that would have seemed disgusting or strange on August 1st have now become normal and commonplace and actually quite good. (I am referring to things like rabbit soup, latrines and bugs). There is time to read, listen to music, write and actually be productive. I find all these activities to be superior to watching meaningless Television; though, I am unsure that if I were to return to the States that my love for TV would be fundamentally. I really don’t miss anything on television accept for college and professional Football. It would be nice to keep up on the Cardinals World Series chances, and it was always nice to actually have the news at your fingertips. Other than these things I think life is better without watching the latest episode of “Real World Road Rules Challenge”. It should be made clear that I and most other volunteers crave and speak wistfully about the glorious aspects of western culture. Great food, Movies, Concerts, TV, etc. etc., the list goes on and on. I think the wait will make these things that much better.

P.S. I am going to try to upload pictures later this week. I found out what city I will be living in for the next two years and I am initially optimistic about my chances of staying in closer communication with everyone in th States.

Today was the first of three birthdays that will be spent in Burkina Faso. It had easily won the title for most unique birthday before 1pm. I started my birthday by participating in a Muslim Baptism. (This was my first) I then had a French lesson under a massive Karite tree. We conjugated verbs and learned to negotiate with street vendors in front of a crowd of 30 children. It should be noted that it is hard to do anything without an audience of 30 children, because... well, this country has a bunch of kids. After we completed the lesson I sat in the shade and drank tea with my instructor and my friends Kevin and Diego. My instructor pulled out his cassette player and we listened to Dire Straights and Bob Marley as we told jokes and took our siesta.
As I relaxed I watched the children play in trash and animal waste. I am sure this might sound revolting to anyone who has not seen kids play in trash and waste - and it is in fact quite gross the first time you see it. But it is like so many things here, you see these kids with open sores, bloated stomachs, skinny legs, playing in filth as they are covered in flies and your initial reaction is to only see the horror of the situation. While this is very bad and there are very real very negative consequences to this kind of squalor it is also true that these are some of the happiest kids you have ever seen. In this moment they are playing, having fun and generally content. The children and Burkinabe in general don’t need sympathy and charity exclusively; they need to develop a better way of living that is not tied exclusively to money and aid. Bad times are bad but you can be content and improve the standard of living at the same time. It is strange to compare what makes a ten year old boy content here with what it takes in the States. In this regard it is tough to say we are more humble or content.
After our class was finished I was given a chicken by a classmates host father. I walked two miles carrying a chicken by its legs. When we reached my friends house we pulled out our space age technology of I-PODS, I-TRIPS and Shortwave radios. Within two minutes we had an audience of fifty 3-15 year olds at our gate. We had a kid fetch us two beers a piece and got ready for our chicken dinner, (which was the first of many to come). When it was time to kill the chicken I felt it was my obligation to prepare the chicken since it was my Birthday. My Burkinabe friend twisted the chicken’s wings behind it back, stepped on its feet and showed me the neck so I could kill the chicken in a way that is kosher with Muslim practices. As I pulled out my Swiss Army Knife my adrenaline raised a little, then with three clean strokes, I decapitated the chicken. I thought this was the standard practice for killing chickens but apparently this was some kind of feat because they do not usually remove the head. They generally use knifes that are not especially sharp, and it is something they just don’t do. After we all had a good laugh at my expense we began to prepare the chicken.
This was just another one of the surreal experiences that have become so commonplace. You have so much time to think that you are prone to introspection and then you realize you are sitting in the middle of Africa under the most beautiful night sky you have ever seen, you are drinking beer and eating chicken in front of a crowd of 50 children and you are listening to the latest hip hop on technology that is 30 years ahead of closest thing in the village. Once you start showing the kids how to do the “Robot” and the “Harlem Shake” it just gets plain weird.
On the way home from the fun birthday party we began to hear a heavy drum beat and chanting. Upon further inspection we came upon a Protestant Church. It was about 9:30 at night and the room was filled with… (What else?) children. The chorus director was the lone adult who was able to make these kids sing and dance with remarkable precision and clarity. The church was lit with one simple lantern for the entire choir. The modest confines in no way reflected the performance that we were given. These kids were skilled and it was especially moving to see people singing about being thankful for everything they have been given while singing in such a simple setting. It was a wonderful conclusion to the most surreal birthday that I have ever experienced.

I think today was the first day that I truly saw the gritty side of Africa. To be sure, the hotels in Ouagadougou are gritty by American standards but there are toilets, running water and air conditioning. The Peace Corps is pretty clever in the way that they wean you off the luxuries that we have become so accustomed to in the United States. The first night was spent in something equivalent to one of the worst youth hostels in a bad part of New York City. The next week was spent in an African “motel”. Today, I moved to the village with six other Americans and the amenities that so flippantly dismissed in Ouaga decidedly do not exist in village. We will be living in a village of 5,000 people for the next three months and I will have my very own host family. Today there was a ceremony where we were matched with our host family. It was a somewhat strange process because we sat across from a panel of six Burkinabe men who had just come from their jobs (mainly cultivating) to pick up their new American sons and daughters.
My Dad was excited to meet me though there was little conversation on account that he speaks neither English nor French and I don’t speak the local language of Moree. The absence of conversation or any communication beyond hand signals was a trend that lasted throughout the rest of the night because I live in a family with exactly zero French speakers. If the events of my first night in village are any indication of things to come over the next two years it would be euphemistic to say that I will build character…
As I sat in my cramped one room mud hut, I sweat like I have never sweat before. It was almost like I was living in a tin roofed mud hut in Africa. As I sat sweating profusely over my piping hot dinner of Spaghetti and dirt, my brother brought in my kerosene lantern. For those of you not familiar with kerosene lanterns they give off light by burning oil. This is nice for staring at the dirt in you pasta but there is also a downside, because the lantern gives off heat. This makes matters worse if you are perspiring at an uncontrollable rate. When you add in the onset of diarrhea and your first experience with an African latrine – you have a nice little night planned for yourself.
I was feeling sorry for myself as I ran between the latrine and my sauna, but then I turned off the lantern, acclimated to the heat and fell asleep. As I was sleeping a funny thing happened: my brother entered my room lit the lantern and closed the heavy wooden door. When you wake up to this scene you think it is some type of sick practical joke. When it happens two more times the same night you cannot help but laugh at yourself and the absurdity of it all. My family is nice, incredibly hospitable and wants nothing more than for me to be happy and in time I am sure that will be the case.