Demystification

Hey all...finally got some internet going- here are three blogs I've been meaning to publish. Enjoy!

What an amazing weekend. We left on Thursday for Takaladougou (in the southwest near Banfora) bright and early from the TDC. Our bikes (supposedly) already in Ouaga. I had been placed with the Mrs’ language group so we could travel together. I entertained a quiet concern about our LCF, a soft-spoken Burkinabé, younger than any of us and who we later learned had been employed by the Peace Corps for only two months. We were driven to the bus station with all of our things. My backpacking pack was too big to take on the bus (a lesson for next time). The bus itself was rather plush, though the pothole-pocked road, constantly blaring horn and terrible Burkinabé soap operas detracted a bit from the luxury. After about five hours, we arrived in Bobo-Dioulasso, the bustling, artsy, second-largest city in the country. My instinct about our LCF proved true when his vague leadership placed us all in a single taxi verte (including our bikes) which drove us in the wrong direction for awhile. We eventually made it to the grande route where we hailed a taxi-brusse.

Now the taxi-brusse is a true West African enigma. It is itself a gutted out van crammed with seats from front to back. Usually the goal is to fit as many people as possible in the thing, regardless of the number of seats, and the conducteurs seem to relish the challenge of strapping various cumbersome objects to the roof. I heard a story once that involved a cow, no joke. The taxi is always in motion, even when picking up passengers. One must be nimble, well-tempered to hot, close quareters, willing to swap sweat with whomever one ends up sandwhiched between, and be able to find peace with the ultimate condition of ones’ possessions at the end of the wild ride. And heaven help the rider with stomach issues (this includes all PCV’s).

After about an hour of this we arrived in Banfora, but not after having driven past our stop by a few hundred meters, again, under the direction of our LCF. We met Chad and Tana, a married couple living and working in Takaladougou with Business and Health, respectively. We were greeted with chairs, water (non-bleachy!) and mac and cheese. The amazingness didn’t stop there. During the course of the weekend we dined on French toast, breakfast burritos, spaghetti, polenta and mashed potatoes, real coffee, Milo, some delicious dried and fresh mangos, cashew bars and watermelon. The food, as great as it was, comprised only a fraction of what made demyst an amazing experience. We visited a local mango drying factory and met Chad’s counterpart who explained the process and answered our questions. We met a woman who makes shea butter which was extremely interesting and sparked an idea- shea brownies- which we won’t go into for proprietary reasons. The next day we visited the CSPS and met Tana’s counterpart after which we biked across the gorge on this awesome trail to another village to see the much larger-scale cashew processing plant. Also very interesting. Just seeing how all of this stuff actually works, what’s left after all the bullshit of training, the ambiguity, made demyst the most rewarding part of being here so far. It was real. I became extremely excited after seeing the possibilities, the work being done, the true relationships already in place after only nine months at site (with admittedly poor French). It was very encouraging and inspiring, and I feel more ready than ever to get thrown into it and get down to work. Bring it on.

Sleeping on the Porch

This is the third night in Saponé and Kellynn and I, along with the rest of our family, have resorted to sleeping outside in our bug hut because it’s too fucking hot inside the house. I’m sitting here with my little brother Ephram and his aunt who are doing some population graphing homework for school tomorrow. This evening we taught Ephram and his friends poker (sort of) and crazy eights and they in turn taught us a few games, one of which was called “Marriage” and was very fun. Communication is still not easy, but the initial ice has broken to the point at which I no longer feel too afraid of making a fool of myself to talk. I also don’t laugh and get laughed at every time I try to form a sentence. Which is good.

Classes are okay, though I wish we were getting started with the French and Mooré lessons already. I’m really not worried about anything else. Not really. All these administrative sessions and group-retreat type things are strange, unexpected and frankly bullshit. At this point I need practical. Anyway, I’m sure it will come quickly.

So, notre famille; Les Ilboudo. The mother, though she speaks quickly and is more comfortable with Mooré than French, is an amazing hostess and has a beautiful, booming laugh. Tonight she taught us how to wash our clothes (we’re such American children). Our father I believe works for the state as the president of some association. ..or something like that…and thus keeps strange hours. We’ve only dined with him twice. However, last night the power went out all night and we sat on the porch and he taught us some Mooré with Ephram, both speaking slowly and clearly with the utmost patience. And Ephram, dear Ephram. A few moments ago, a huge, decorous dragonfly alighted upon the mosquito net in front of us and he caught me staring. He asked me a question to which I supplied my stock reply of “oui” and in the moment between me answering and him squashing the thing I remembered what “Tu as peur?” meant. The gesture, however, remains the same. He wants to and insists on helping with everything and is already and instinctively protective. He’s a true brother, but I hope this doesn’t mean he’ll be killing any insect that gets near me.

A Sapone

What a crazy four days it has been. We’re finally here. In freakin’ Africa. Maintenant, we are lying in our new big bed under our huge new bug net in the house of our surprisingly small new family. Every few hours there is an amplified call to prayer from the nearby mosque. It sounds like a bull through a megaphone at first and then transforms into a solitary, plaintive song in some garbley brook of a language. Everything sounds beautiful here; the French, the Mooré, even the English through African mouths. I can’t wait until I can actually understand, and perhaps make some beautiful sounds myself. The earth is red and gives life to strange new life. The Beobobs are the fat ones whose seeds contain a nutrient-rich powder and whose leaves can be boiled and eaten- so I’m told.

Every day is a surreal dream, hilarious and free. Like yesterday, speaking Mooré for the first time using broken French as a go-between. The power kept going out but it didn’t matter. Then the wind burst through the windows and the rain came, thick and steaming and we ran outside to revel in the beauty, the craziness, the sheer nowness of the moment and then returned to the classroom to explore something new.

Nothing has been as awkward or as sweet as today though. We rode in a bus from the mission in Ouagadougou to Saponé, a small town due south. We gathered in an open-aired structure to meet our host families, heralded by the sounds of wood flutes and talking drums. “Ils ont le couple!” Siaka, an LCF cried to Manuel and Pascaline, our new Burkinabé mother and father. We gathered our things, loaded them into the family voiture (the only one present) and ventured forth into the real world. So many stagères, laden down with bags and helmets, some relearning how to ride a bike, patiently accompanied by their new families we passed on our way through this strange new world. Goats, pigs, chicken, geese, sheep, asses, cows with camel-like humps and thin frames all stared at us as if the likes of us had never been seen. Small children gaped and pointed, a few waving, a few yelling “Nasara!” (foreigner) as we passed through fields of drooping red-berried candelabras with crackling stalks, across red beaten lots with the vestiges of makeshift football poles casting long shadows in the glowing evening. We followed our family into a courtyard and the first thing I saw was a spider monkey tied to a tree. It hopped back and forth, trying to find the exact point furthest away from the humans. Each next step was a mystery. Where was our room? Where should we put our stuff? What time is dinner? What time is it? What the hell are these people saying to me (worse, what am I saying to them?)? But everything came. Slowly. It is still coming. There’s nothing a few hand gestures, awkward silences and laughs won’t fix.

That’s what I’m banking on, anyway.

Wow.

This sure isn't getting any easier. Tonight we said goodbye to Mrs. San's three pairs of grandparents, a few uncles and aunts, a cousin, the Mrs' sister and her boyfriend, and probably hardest so far, her two kids. There's just so much change that's going to happen without us. Cailynn will be five when we get back. She's just a little girl now, a "pretty little princess," as she's justifiably fond of calling herself. All of that's over for us. Will I be able to pick her up? Will she be a different person, turn into a tomboy (unlikely)? Soren will be ten. Almost a young man. I still haven't been to see him play baseball or football. Bad uncle. What influence can I have on the other side of the world during these formative years? My sister's child, Jayden, will be three. Will I be a stranger to him? I can't bear the thought of having to reintroduce myself to him. Jesus.

Not quite as bad, but still ridiculously hard are the now daily goodbyes to friends and, I guess, older family. Friday I hugged my dad and stepmom for the last time. By the time we get back, I hope they've made the move out to the country that they've been talking about for a long time. They definitely deserve it and I'm excited to tour their new home on horseback. We had a kegger at my mom's last night. It was great to see everyone, but there was way too much whiskey. Thank you everyone for coming. I will miss you all and for those of you who got an unfairly slurred goodbye, here's a real one: Farewell.

Tonight as Soren and Cailynn were walking out the door, I caught a last bit of innocence and had to laugh. Mrs. San had hidden in the kitchen to hide her bawling, I was trying very hard to prevent myself from doing the same and I heard Soren ask his mom, "What was with all the hugging tonight?" Ah, the perspective of a child. And then suddenly I glimpsed the deeper meaning in Soren's question. Most of my fears and concerns about leaving are selfish, that is, from my own scared-shitless perspective. It's going to be terrible being separated from everyone for so long, but in the end, we live our own lives and while the next few months are going to be hard, we will all get used to this. Anyway, Skype's the shit. And before we know it, these two years will be behind us. And after all, how can I expect to be the uncle, father, husband, son, brother, friend, person that I want to be unless I do this?

Breathe.