Two Teeth

All I want for Christmas is my friend's two back teeth removed. It is not exactly a Christmas song but it's as close to one that you will find coming from the village of Rambo. My good friend and former neighbor, Ousseini, finally came to visit. I had been insisting for a while that he come, especially because he has been unable to sleep due to the pain in his back teeth. A week of no sleep and constant aching finally forced him to trek the 40k on a village bike out to see me.

The timing of his visit ended up being to my advantage as I was able to get out of the long-winded teachers' meeting that happens at the end of each semester. I am sure Ousseini saw less luck in his throbbing pains. However, he was lucky enough to be able to get into the dentist rather quickly. I would like to note here that I have Peace Corps medical services which means Peace Corps doctors and clinic but Ousseini has the catholic hospital run by village nuns.

While the hospital is a looming compound, it is really more vast space than facilities. The first building we entered was the dentist's nook. There we got a consultation and a slip of paper with a strict command not to return until we had proof of payment and rubber gloves. Then it was a small trek over to the cashier nun to pay for the upcoming operation. The total on that was only about $10 (US). The final trip was to the pharmacy to get aspirin and antibiotics (for the aftershocks) and rubber gloves at about $2. I gladly paid the amount but am now a bit ashamed to think that my Christmas present to my dear friend was a pair of pliers to the mouth.

The next moments are haunting if only because it was eerily silent and quick. Ousseini walked in and five minutes later walked out of the dentist's chamber without two of his back teeth. No screams. No strains. Just pain. Poor guy even ran into the door, he was so dazed. Amazingly he still had a typical Ousseini grin on his face.

Now, in my family, we have a tradition of going to Wendy's after a little tug and pull at the tooth doctor's place. A cold frosty does wonders for wounded pride and mouth. However, the closest we have here in Kong is cold yogurt. Ousseini loves cold yogurt, come to find out so, in the tradition of the Ellisons, it was a lunch of cold, sweet yogurt.

Afterward, the grin still did not disappear from Ousseini's face even as he gargled a bit of warm salt water at my place. The only signs of pain that really cracked out he masked by taking a nap. After a couple of hours, he popped up ready to eat and head out on the road like a champ, all to my shock.

Rough.

The only person I can think of that might know how the poor guy feels is my Mom. She's the only one I know who has faced the village tooth-knife and come out all smiles.

Merry Christmas.

Active Member of the Blogging Club

Personal:

Just a quick note to say that a stranger is in the mix (at least a stranger by French language standards). My little brother has been running around with me for a number of days now. It's been really nice to be able to share a bit of Burkina with him, including long hours in buses and weird animal smells.

Justin (my brother) comes with an automatic issue in hand, vegetarianism. It's nothing to me but it is a horribly difficult idea to explain to people that see meat as a wonderful luxury. Why would you reject meat? It's almost to the point of 'why would you burn money, you rich jerk'? Luckily, one can connect via religion. The idea being that I explain to them that Adam and Eve did not eat meat in the Garden of Eden which was paradise (in both the Quran and Bible). Thus, Justin is trying to build his diet in the manner of paradise. Burkinabe seem to be relatively content with such an explanation but others still seem to understand that the condescending tone in which they say 'he's a VEGETARIAN' translates despite the language barrier.

Even now in Kong (my home), when we have control of food and its preparation, the issue can rise in a different way. Most burkinabe do not have the capacity to eat out often so the restaurants cater to their desire for something grander and more luxurious which translates into meat. Thus, it becomes hard to find anything on any menu that does not have meat, meat sauce or a general wafting odor of meatiness. Even when the menu item is not injected with 'dead animal flesh' (his words, not mine though it is true), they are typically raw vegetables which pose the problem of digestion. To put it simply, vegetables are not often thoroughly washed and can contain traces of animal feces and pesticides, as they do. Not the worst thing if you are use to parasites and have had giardia three or so times (me) but can be rough if you want to spend the month visiting your brother and not wafting your tell-end over a latrine hole for 18 hours a day (Justin). (I am keeping Justin from posting any possible visual aids to the former) Thus, it is a lot of cooking at home and seeing my African diet from yet another point-of-view. Luckily enough, we've kept him well enough feed. Partially, we can thank the M&M's he brought.

In other news, we have turned the house into as much of a Christmas vacation spot as is possible. With stockings, a small tree, candy canes, a few lights and some homemade holly/paper chains, the house has turned into a reminder of family and home. It is our first Christmas away from the family and that has come with a sort of heaviness. In modern western society, it happens. Really, being together every Christmas for as long as we have (28 years) is rare for a family, especially a family that lives in multiple places abroad. It was bound to happen sometime which is apparently translated to this year. For me, no family really would equate to no real Christmas. The little brother helps make Christmas real this year. The decorations help breakdown the distance.

Today was the 21st market day, which is a larger market. We ran around town with David (visiting) and Molly. Molls and Justin ran through the market looking at fabrics and laughing. Dduck (David) sneakily bought little things for Christmas gifts (mine was an awesome calculator watch). I walked around getting poked by kids, only to look down and realize it was my students stopping me to say hi. It was not exactly Christmas shopping but it had the right feel and that's what really counts. It even came with minions for Justin to summon and do his bidding (two little market urchins that kept trying to hold my hand and get us to buy them things).

Soon the trip will turn to Rambo and a visit amongst the village. Then, Molls, Justin and myself will probably turn southward and try for a Togo vacation. We will see if success is in the adventure cards for the closing of the year.

Student Protest

Work/Community:

In 1998, a journalist by the name of Norbert Zongo was killed. Shortly there after, students protested across the nation in order to force the government to investigate further what they called an assassination of the highest member of the free press. Every year, the protests continue. It is student led and student decided. This year, the protest started today.

English class at 7 this morning was interesting and fun. My students were in a fit of laughter due to my exaggerated stick figures meant to describe certain adjectives like short, tall, fat, thin, pretty, ugly and your mama, when there came loud chants across the courtyard. Before long, there were students yelling and banging on the door and windows of the class. They then came pouring into the room, snagging students, forcing them into their chants and protests. It was a zoo.

I have to acknowledge a bit of pride in my class. While they were being man-handled by student much older than them, they frantically wrote the remaining notes that I was furiously scribbling on the board. Some even protested the start of the protest in order to draw out a particularly large stick figure, plump and full of cake.

Once the class finally emptied, the drone of the road lay beneath my bike, I began to wonder; does anyone remember the reasons for the protest? Most of my students were not alive when Zongo was killed. They were not even twinkles in their father's eye. Is the protest just a rhythm, a part of the cycle and pulse of class here? Or does it show new generations the value of remembrance and justice, no matter the length in time?

I often wish I could open up the head of one of my students and view their the thoughts that go whirling by, to watch the zoo and riot before it breaks out in my class. Perhaps, it would make me a more effective teacher. There would be no more days of struggling to jump the cultural/generational gaps. Perhaps, I could contain the riot and tame the zoo? Or perhaps, I would join. I like zoos (though not as much as my brother) and I'm down with a little riotous action now and then.

Personal:

Since I mentioned my brother, I have wonderful news. HE IS COMING HERE! Yep, that old guy that reports to be my younger brother will be stepping off a plane to be met by his first hot taste of African air. Thrilled hardly captures it. What a Christmas gift to be able to share my work here with my family (at least a part of it)!

It will break my heart to not be with my the rest of my family this Christmas but Skype will help to heal some of that tear. I can honestly say such will be a new experience for me. In all my 28 years, I have NEVER missed a Christmas with my family. A part of me does fear that without my family, Christmas will not come. The 25th will disappear into the oblivion. Maybe, just maybe, having my little bro here will retain that day. Maybe that is why he is really coming, to deliver, with postage, the 25th.

Holidays, Help, Fango and Elections

Lab:

The semester is coming to a close and the holidays are coming, yet the lab stands as it has. I keep telling myself that to find funding and equipment is difficult. It takes time. Of course more than time is needed to build a computer lab in Burkina Faso.

As the holiday season approaches, I am reminded of shops full, presents around trees, feasts, laughter, family and Santas ringing bells for charity. Thinking of such made me realize that more than time, the lab needs HELP. I can write letters and implore businesses to donate something but what is one small voice from distant Africa? What I need is YOUR help.

As you sit with your kids to write letters to Santa, could you write one to a computer (or any) company you know seeing if they would be willing to help in the construction of our lab? As you decide which parties to attend, would you be willing to set up activities that could help benefit Kongoussi children for many Christmases to come? As you hand out holiday cheer and hot cocoa, could you hand out the address of this blog to those that have the means to help?

If you are interested in helping to work with me to build the computer lab, please let me know. Contact me through this blog, through facebook or via email.

On this note, I would like to thank those in SLC for taking the time to see what they can do to aid my community here.

For more information about our goals for the lab, please see my blog from Nov. 2nd.

Community:

The end of the year for Mossi has little to do with December and January. The mark of years follows along the dancing paths of Fangos. Fango is nine day festival following the finish of the harvest. They call it a feat but, by American standards, it is hardly so. People do eat a few special treats like fried bread or a slice of coconut but the real celebration is in the dancing.

Each year, the different quarters put together a drum group. This drum group then gathers and beats out the rhythms for the entire quarter as they slowly swinging their hips inline around the market. It is a wave of nodding and hip thrusting that lasts for hours. Small boys lead the procession with a small flag attached to an overly large limb. Next comes a line of small children, setup by height. Each progressive line is older and taller. Women then follow the children before the final waves of men and drummers.

Anyone can join the dance and many do. They giggle, smile and belly laugh when I join. They dance to give thanks for a bountiful harvest. It is the dancing version of our Thanksgiving and it continues for nine nights, often lasting into the wee hours of the morning.

As I danced and mingled, students, friends and former neighbors came and greeted me. We shared fried bread and guava. We teased my favorite boys for being too shy around girls and too bold when the girls left. It is Rambo as I remember it and how I will always remember it, whether I am forty kilometers away or three thousand.

Unfortunately, it was my last Fango (at least for my Peace Corps service) so it held so many touches of bitter-sweet. It was a wonderful harvest and I am beyond thankful.

As our Thanksgiving approaches, I cannot help but be filled with more thankfulness than I can express to my family, friends, community and co-works. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and here’s to a bountiful harvest next year.

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When African elections come to mind, it brings up thoughts of Peter Pan. Follow me here. Pan’s shadow is off rushing before Pan can get a hold of it. Wild action runs rampant as Pan tries to hold it down and sow a stitch of control. Anything can happen in an election. The president can fly off with all the countries money before the people can get a handle on the situation. Riots can overwhelm the government and break apart formerly strong stitches that have worn in economically unstable moments.

The elections have thus far gone off without a notice. Yesterday was the presidential election and who noticed? Had I not been informed by Peace Corps, I would really not have known, as occasional presidential shirt could merely have come from the previous election. The streets were as any Sunday. The buses ran as if it were n’importe quel jour. It was as if the people walked quietly with their tame shadows.

It was not what was expected when elections were discussed. It is hard to say if it was nicely quiet or eerily silent. Perhaps it was simply the soft sound of progress or, at the very least, peace.

Personal:

Today is the 18th birthday of my little brother, Jay. I cannot tell you how proud I am of him. If you read this Jay, get your application ready to join the man club. Oh and happy birthday!

Frustration

I have so much frustration coursing through my veins that it would kill a moose. My sweat comes out as blocks of salt. And my back has enough knots to sail the Mayflower.

This is teaching.

You have days like mine today. I taught more than two hours over my time (something I can do in Burkina without worry), trying to get my students to be quiet and do their exercises. It is tough being that teacher that borders between strict and fun. Yes, we can sing song and make jokes with what we learn in English. No, we cannot turn in sloppy work and just blabber (especially if it’s not English).

Then there is the frustration of speaking in a second language. Add the racial issue. Add the poverty issue. Add the cultural differences. Add the educational differences. Add the structural differences. Add the weather differences. Add the differences in living conditions.

The amount of frustration in my blood could kill a moose but I have a smile on my face.

play to learn

Lab:

Learning via play, it’s a simple idea that we have come to respect (for the most part) in the US. Kids can build on their skills by practicing them through entertaining and interesting activities. I learned most of what I know about computers not from lectures but from playing on them. Sometimes it was overtly educational materials such as Typing Pal. Sometimes it was simply figuring out how to make Oregon Trail work properly so I could try to save my little brother from dysentery then hunt a bear in Colorado. Either way, I was constantly finding new ways to use computers and manipulate them to do even more. As the computer lab progresses, the program’s focus will be educational but the means will be something not normally seen in Burkinabé schools. It will simply be fun.

Most of my kids have never touched a computer in their entire lives. Thus, it is necessary to start simply with ‘how to communicate with a computer’ via both keyboard and mouse. Without these basic concepts, further development is merely a chance for the professor to show how much he knows (which, one hopes, is a fair amount).

Already, I have started a few students on Tap Touche, the French version of Typing Pal. The tutoring section is perhaps a little dry but, overall, it has enough animation, competitive goals and even a full out games section that keeps the attention of my short apprentices. Tap Touche ultimately bridges the gap between having never touched a keyboard and knowing where the keys are relatively located. With any luck, we will also acquire the French versions of more challenging typing games such as Typing Shark that require a basis in typing but can be used to develop accuracy and quickness. Our goal at the moment is simple 10 words per minute at 95% accuracy.

Second comes games that work with the mouse. Initially, the games revolve around the idea of simply moving the mouse from one point to another then build to incorporate clicking, double clicking and dragging of the mouse. These games are a dime a dozen, including typical cards games, internet flash games or even old school arcade games. I am personally a fan of Plants vs Zombies which requires faster mouse reaction than is ultimate available currently in the lab. (Light-based, non-ball driven, mice will soon seep their way in to my dreams, I’m sure)

Hand-eye coordination and the use of it to communicate are the real goals. From that point, it is possible to move to other programs and begin a larger curriculum. I will discuss that in a later blog. For the moment, interaction with those funny pictures on the screen is the key. Funny, it’s something we almost assume to be instinctual in the US. Burkina is a definitive argument that says otherwise.

Work:

The website (pcburkina.org) is expanding all the time. At the moment, it seems there is always a new page en cours de construction. I have been trying to relinquish as much of the control (and therefore the responsibility for content) as is possible to different interested individuals and committees. So far I have gotten enthusiastic responses. We will see how that builds into actual content. The key is really to build and reach that tipping point where it becomes an indispensable resource for volunteers and family members and their first contact for needed information. Feedback is ultimately crucial beyond just content building, as well. If you check out the site and have any comments, leave them with me, contact the IT Committee at peace.corps.bit@gmail.com or use the Conact Us link on the site.

At the moment, I am building mostly volunteer resources. One example is administration forms. Every volunteer dreads them but cannot ignore their role in our service. Thus, building pages that allow quick and easy access to forms and form information is imperative. Not exciting for me but hopefully quite useful for everyone else.

Community:

I actually spent the last weekend more or less around volunteers which can be considered its own type of community here in Burkina. It was a weird sort of feeling being in that community. For the past two months, I have simply been here in Kongoussi or chilling in Rambo without much interaction with large groups of ex-pats, volunteers or non-Burkinabé. It was, for the most part, wonderful to talk in English and be amongst those that shared most of my cultural leanings. However, I perhaps am becoming a bore. I found those conversations that I enjoyed most evolved around work, future work or potential for work. Not to say that I did not have fun. I just really enjoy what I do (and hopefully do it with humor) and relate to those that feel the same. I want to talk about Kongoussi, Rambo, the lab, the website, agri-projects, development plans, etc. I don’t mind throwing in some Glee references or catching an episode of Modern Family but what I want most from the volunteer community is encouragement, engagement and expansion of ideas (yep, to be nerdy, I made those all ‘e’ words).

Personal:

Tired. Should sleep more.

"God helps those that help themselves" (I hope)

When I arrived in Kongoussi, I was surprised not with the computer lab at the high school but the lack of one. Enthusiasm for information technology was abundant but expertise was lacking. In the last two months we have duct-taped our way to build a lab of eleven rather ancient computers. Then hope appeared on the horizon. Former students that have graduated from the high school in Kongoussi have banded together to raise money and find equipment to add to our well-intentioned lab. However, even with their efforts, we will fall short of having a suitable computer lab to teach the almost two-thousand students that attend the high school.

This is where my abilities fall short. I can rebuild computers from bug infested and water-damaged parts but I alone cannot fund the remainder of supplies needed to build the lab. Thus, in order to truly serve the Kongoussi community, I am reaching out to groups and individuals will to help. This blog will not only serve as my personal reflections on my service but will work to raise and fund a working computer lab so that my kids can finally join the rest of the world in the Information Age.

Starting today, I will include, first and foremost, a Computer Lab section to this blog to keep updates on what is going on with the lab, its funding, student involvement, current trainings and needs of the lab, itself.

Lab:

To start this section, I am simple going to outline the goals and needs thus far of our computer lab:

Goal: To build a working computer lab for the almost two-thousand students attending high school in Kongoussi.

What does that mean?

A single IT teacher (me) can use 40 computers to teach 650 students a trimester at two hours per week. This equals out to about 33 hours a week of lecture time. Therefore, all students in the high school would receive a full trimester of training. Then would be allowed to use the lab during open lab hours (non-lecture and work hours).

Further, because of dust, insect, frog, rain and heat issues, the lab will need repairs to its roof, ceilings, walls and seals for the windows and doors. Further, the lab room itself will need to be re-wired in order to not suffer from reoccurring power outages suffered due to circuit breaks with the current class line. Finally, an air-conditioning unit will need to be installed in order to keep the computers from over heating during the school year when temperatures reach over 110 F. (These projects are currently being handled in negotiations with the former students)

Due to the lack of electronic (let alone computer) stores and easily accessible equipment, a spare keyboard an d mouse for each computer will be necessary. Further, in order to maintain the computers over time, batter backups and surge protectors will need to accompany each machine.

Possible other equipment needs include a projector (for class demonstrations), printers (1-2) and internet/router and cables plus an internet subscription. Again, these are only possibilities or extensions of the original goal.

Finally, the funds necessary to pay for shipping, taxes and/or customs for machines bought here or shipped from foreign locations.

Those our the current needs and goals of our lab. Follow this blog for future updates.

Work:

Beyond the lab, English classes are going well. Though my schedule has gotten busier and busier, I was approached by students in Terminal (final stage of high school here) and agreed to work with them on evenings as a sort of English club. So, teaching English is really becoming a big part of this year which is really satisfying for the simple reason that it is something everyone here wants and I can easily provide.

My English classes (you could call them 7th graders) also had their first exams this past Friday which is always a time of excitement, anticipation and a bit of struggle. We include in the test, oral (for all 105 students per the class, two classes), listening, writing dialogue and translation. With only two hours, it can be a bit difficult to test students on every aspect thoroughly but I think we did a good job of getting at the fundamentals. In any case, one of my favorite things is to put up interesting 'mistakes' made my students on their exams. So here goes:

Spelling is a big part of the listening exercises. Here are some unique spellings:

window - windoor, windood, wendeow, waynddoor, wend'wo, windween and windown (that one was really popular seeing we also were tested on 'sit down')

those - doos, vose, thoses and dhose

happy - hanppy and yapy

door - dword, doow, dorw and doll

chairs - tables (?!) and theherse

student - stubent and stoodient

hungry - ingruit, angri and hundri

books - boobs (kid you not!) and boor

you - yoo and yiue

goodbye - goodbye, goodboy and goodbag

good day - good dog

good afternoon - good fneyaretabies (I think this student took spellings from my little brother, Justin)

Some great phrases that came out of the exam:

God evening, how are you?

Our teacher is in the _____. (Fill in the blank, answers below)
- teacher
- wendo
- Safi
- and you
- pupil
- hit
- evening

Sometimes, I like to think my students make the mistakes just to amuse me. Really, I know it's just because some of them have not yet gotten into the habit of looking over their answers before handing in their tests. We will work it.


For those of you that have kept in close contact with me, you will know too that I have been working hard on building a website to act as a resource for current volunteers, family members and even local community members. We had a first year of lightning strikes and bumps and bruises that took us to the limits of what we could do and beyond. Recently, I sat back down and started over with the external site, building it to be as user friendly as I could. What came out of that sweat has been thus far well received and has already gotten to be an every-other-day updating site. It is building and building by the day. You should check it out if you have not already at:

pcburkina.org

Let me know of any suggestions you might have, as we are always working to make the site a better resource in any way possible. Ultimately, this site may be the type of resource that volunteers can use to further projects in the communities started by other volunteers, start projects of their own and keep them from re-inventing the wheel, as they say. Really, go check it out. I'm kinda proud of it.

Community:

This last weekend, I went back to Rambo. It's a typical trip that I take about every three weeks or so. In any case, last time they surprised me with peanuts and all. I was overwhelmed by their kindness. This time, as I pulled my bike up to my old neighbors house, he had water, peanuts and twenty guinea fowl eggs waiting for me. For people that do not often get eggs, that was A LOT! Then, people proceed to stop by and give me more and more peanuts plus a bowl of sesame seeds. There is no use in trying to explain to them that I am here to help them and not to eat up all their crops. After all, it was a good cultivating season and everyone is thrilled to share and enjoy the fruits of their labors with those they care about. I am unbelievably lucky to be considered a part of that group. Thus, I have been regifting peanuts to those I see through my days (though the pile never really seems to diminish). Need-less-to-say, it was a good visit.

Personal:

What can I say beyond, I am busy. What a pleasant feeling. After two years of not always having the resources to do a lot of the IT work, I have been able to work on the volunteer site when I am not in class, amongst students or putting together the lab. The great reception from volunteers (and especially committee members) has been such an uplifting bit of encouragement for me.

In memory of Seb Kiendrébéogo

Seb Kiendrébéogo was my APCD (director of my sector, secondary education). He was the one responsible for having given me Rambo which was one of the luckier things to ever happen to me. Admittedly, I did not always think highly of Seb, at least not in the beginning. But, over time, he won me over as I saw his strong motivation to aid local communities and his ability to balance that with volunteers' wants. He believed in what we were doing and was always encouraging. He always held a smile. Even at times when I have felt disconnected from the administration, I have considered him a valuable ally. He came to Rambo a few times, even sitting in my class and laughing along with myself and my kids. He was a good man. So, this blog is meant simply to mark my memory of Seb Kiendrébéogo and to say something that I did not get to say to him often enough, thank you. May he rest in peace.

Visit

(This is from Oct 21st)
Work:

Last Friday, I looked out across my class and I saw faces lit up, honored and excited. The Peace Corps regional director for all of Africa had just left, along with Burkina Faso’s country director and an entourage of Peace Corps officials. The chatter in the room radiated, melted into the walls and poured out the door. They accepted that I needed to leave them with something before the weekend so they took a few notes, then they were gone, out the door and into the open air. The chatter magnified.

On the walk home, I was surrounded by kids tripping and scurrying along in their English. They wanted to know more, play more in the words of those foreigners who came to say hi. It had only been thirty minutes of greetings. Single file the kids had gone up to each American, greeted them then presented themselves. But it was more than just practicing their English, it was representing their country. While they surely know little of the inner workings of the Peace Corps, they recognized that an official from that big strange place, America, wanted to come and see their country, their province, their town, their school, their class. They were ambassadors, representatives of their home. What a powerful sentiment. Pride.

I was proud of them. Not only because they were well behaved but they seemed to all understand that it was really about them. Even if they did not consciously process it all, they were proud of themselves and the future they hold. That pride, that sense of importance, builds into motivation and passion. I know it will not last forever and there will be other challenges but it gives you hope. Hope is what makes an education achievable. So we’ll keep chatting along, even if in broken English.

Our curriculum for the course is fairly open, as I was handed a student’s English workbook as a teaching guide. It has no lessons, only a few dialogues and a couple of activities. Thus, the course is as we make it. In that, I can be thankful as my classes only loosely conform to the workbook. Instead, we work on learning intuitive English. Start with basics, everyday uses, and build basic rules as we go along. It’s gone something like this:

Greetings
Saying your name
Pronouns (I, You, We…)
Verbs (Imperative form, ex: Go, Listen, Be Quiet..)
Classroom Nouns (Book, Student, Teacher, Pen…) and “What is this?”
Conjugating “To Be” in the present
Plurals
Possessive (my, your, his…)
Basic Sentences
Negative Form of Sentences
Asking Yes or No Questions (Are you a door? Is he a teacher?...)

My kids have taken to much of the material and rather quickly. In the past three weeks, they have picked up the major points in all the above. My goal is to keep them motivated to learn and to make learning English as instinctual as I can. The visit from the Peace Corps high-ups plays into that. We are using the language, making it a part of our lives. Not learning the translation of things but communicating in English, catching the flow of it in our few short hours a week. Our focus is not spelling or grammar but comprehension. So far, it has had encouraging results. Hope.

Community:

I have started working with a young student from Kongoussi to teach him info-tech. I’ll call him Kid Constant for the time being. In a way, he is my test subject for my course on info-tech. In another way, he poses an interesting problem. All across Burkina there are bright young minds that are excelling in classes. More often then not though, there are bright young minds working in fields when classes are going on. It seems sad to say but it comes down to what often seems luck. Kid Constant goes to school at night (a program that meets only once a week at night) and balances time between odd jobs and his divorced parents. In so many ways, his intelligence shows. Yet, his education is lacking like so many, simply because the parents do not have either the money, will or time to invest (if not all three). It is the luck of the draw as to whether or not any given smart kid will be in a situation in which he can take advantage of that. As an educator, it’s hard to take. After all, aren’t we here to open doors, to build opportunity? Kid Constant is at least lucky in that he stumbled into my path and hopefully he’ll get something out of working together. It does make me wonder though, how many other Kid Constants are there in Kongoussi, Burkina, Africa…?

Personal:

I’ve been finding more and more motivation to do more and more as I get busier. It is as if having more to do gives me the energy to do more. It’s nice being busy. I spent the last weekend rebuilding the PC Burkina website and am much happier with its progress. That project is settling on firmer ground which led me to a meeting with a man who runs an orphanage and wants to build a website. Good work leading to motivation for more good work.

kindness

Community:

I road my bike on Friday evening passed the primary school, along the curve of the only paved road in Kong. Turning in front of me was a large supply truck followed by line after line of mopeds. It was a parade of commerce with everyone clamoring behind to get their piece of the truck. As the truck pulled up next to the gas supplier, I cursed myself for having not pulled out money when I got down to my last few dollars.

In order to buy a new 12kg tank of gas you need about $40. I had $10 and change. Thus, I watched as others scampered to get their hands on these now rare blue bottles. It has been well over a month since any cooking gas has been lifted from a supply truck and placed gently to the ground. I have been waiting since day one of the shortage. Now, so close to putting my hands to the tank of my cooking independence, I find myself without the funds.

The next morning, I wake early, hoping to get a jump on the Sonapost to take out money and, perhaps, a tank of gas. Before taking the trek to the ‘post I go to check the availability at the gas supplier. With a nod and a grin, amongst a crowd, the supplier tells everyone there is plenty to go around. I blurt out the question on everyone’s mind, “how much?” It is $8 for a recharge which helps me none as I have no empty bottle to recharge. I ask the price of a new one.

“They don’t exist.”
“What do you mean? I can see that you have many bottles of gas here. Can you not sell me one?”
“Nope.”
”Really?!”
“Really.”
“Why not?”
“It is not mine to sell. I can only exchange an empty one for a full one in order to recharge them. If you want to buy a bottle, it will be several months more.”

My fist clenched at that moment. Rage tapped me on the shoulder, asking for his turn. I suppressed and left. As I dejectedly opened the door to my shared courtyard, my neighbor was riding his moped out.

“Good morning. How are things?”
“Very well. I slept nicely last night. And you?”
“I slept well enough. What are you up to this morning?”
”I was out talking to the gas supplier but no luck. I don’t have an empty bottle to fill so it will be many months more.”
“What? That can’t be. You know what; I have an empty bottle that I don’t use ever, would you like it?”

At this point, let me remind you that this is the second most under-developed nation in the world. Forty dollars, the price of a new bottle, is a lot of money. And here was my new neighbor, offering to give me his to use. Thus, I let my jaw drop in shock at this generosity and told him I would pay him for it. He would hear no such thing. It was empty and needed to be used. I could have it until I left in a year.

Thus, with kindness, an empty bottle and $10 cash I now have cooking gas and a smile.

On a different note:

Not exactly my primary project but still important, I went to Rambo over the weekend. There, I gave my kids workbooks filled with exercises and answers to help them pass the looming final exam to determine if they can move on to a full high school.

Once there, I was greeted with smiling faces, cold water (from the market), a bowl of peanuts and stories upon stories. Everyone was excited about the great cultivating season they have had and this years prospects. I sat with Husseini (who was my closest neighbor and friend) and played with his newest born, a boy named Mahmadou. We exchanged jokes and stories, laughing and carrying on while my leafed through the books I had brought.

One story struck me. It seems that the local president of the teachers and parents organization had been trying to find a way to take Husseini’s solar panel. (Just to note, when I left Rambo, I gave him my solar panel to use to charge cellphones in order to pay for schooling for his kids and also to use for the kids’ study light at night.) He related how he had showed him the receipt that we put together and the man still insisted that Husseini took it illegitimately. Not being able to do anything about it that night, I sat in my tent turning the situation over and over.

The next morning, Hussein and I took the tour around the quarter and the market. We greeted everyone I knew and were greeted back with bowls of peanuts and many wishes that I would stay in Rambo and not go back to Kong. Along the tour, we met up with the PTA president in a group of friends and family. I congratulated him on a new school year starting. Then proceeded to tell him how grateful I was and how proud he must be that the kids would be able to continue their studies at night without me since Husseini had so nicely used the solar panel that I gave him to help the kids. I made mention of how it pleased me considerately that he was now its owner and the kids would be free to study. It was uncharacteristically passive-aggressive of me and it felt good. It publicly boxed in the PTA president and legitimized Husseini’s position. Just to put the nail in the coffin, I went to greet the chief and gave him a similar praise of Husseini’s use of the panel. He was more than thrilled at the idea and gave Husseini his full endorsement. Oh, village politics.

Politics aside, the fields were full of ripe and ready corn, millet, black-eyed peas and peanuts aplenty. The rains have been plentiful and well timed to give a pretty decent harvest and a positive outlook for this coming year. I did my part to and took my tour of each field, saying hi to all those out working hard, stopping to help pick beans here and there.

Needless-to-say, I left Rambo satisfied and with too many peanuts and a belly full of black-eyed peas and corn. As luck had it, I had the occasion to relinquish two sacks of them as my bike tire and tube blew out forcing me to flag down a ride into town. And just as I awaited gas for so long, I now await a new tire. Looks like I can cook but I’ll be walking the 4k to school everyday and back. It wasn’t so bad today. Besides, I hear it is good for your health. (Of course, so was riding my bike.)













Work:

School has been going quite well. Today, we worked hard on greetings and presenting ourselves. My kids were enthusiastic about being let into the classroom only if they could correctly answer the questions “what is your name?” in understandable English. It was a sort of password into this weird white guy’s class. When they all perfectly expressed their given names, I rewarded them with a little hip hop from back home. Smiles all around.

My principal and I also did the security rounds, meaning we went to all the high commissioner and police types to present the new volunteer, me. In the time between shaking the hands of welcoming officials, I had a chance to just chat with “my prov” (short for proviseur, aka principal, in French). In short, it is good to be working with someone that appreciates hard work and who puts in more than his share of time and energy.

A shock and relief

Personal:

I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have real work starting. Setting up the computer lab and all has been nice but I needed somewhere to be, a real schedule. I enjoy having to make deadlines and work within a certain timeframe (to a certain extent). Thus, school starting is a relief valve for summer stress. I now have a place I need to be each day along with a large amount of time afterwards where I am free to work on lesson plans and the comp lab. It suits me far better than free floating in time and space, perhaps working when someone throws a broken computer my way. I like an outline of structure or, at the very least, a project with a completion date.

On the note of language, my discussions with people are a bit different here in Kong than they were in Rambo. Thus, I find myself reaching farther and farther into Frenchy French. No longer do little metaphors or village French seem to capture the attention of the audience. It is a welcomed natural challenge, as I was finding it difficult to continue advancing in French on my own in Rambo. (Since I read Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography recently I will add a little witticism) It is easier to learn to swim when you are in the ocean than when you sit in a puddle.

Work:

A week before school started, the administration and all the teachers get together to have their little pow-wow. To tell you the truth, it can be one of the most boring parts of the entire year. Stateside, one goes to a meeting expecting efficiency, outlines, schedules and an appreciation for getting to the point. In Burkina, one comes to meeting with a schedule and the desire to be heard, even if his point is already made. Thus, efficiency and an appreciation for the other teacher’s time is often neglected in order to allow every opinion from every mouth. Too often, this does mean that each person gives their spill about a subject even if the exact same thing was just expounded upon profusely. So, it can get a bit long winded in a teacher meeting. After all was said and done, it was a five hour meeting meant to say “welcome to the new year”.

However, this meeting did not go without its drama. My community counterpart, Ben (a math teacher), did speak up in front of the group of thirty-two in order to say his peace about my teaching English on top of IT. While his intentions were well, he had failed to inform the prefecteur (principal) and censeur (one could say vice principal) before going to the meeting. Stateside, it’s not so much a problem. In Burkina, everything is hashed out and spoken about beforehand. There are papers and chains of command to worry about. You miss one step and you offend everyone. Unfortunately for Ben, he missed a number of steps. It was the wrong move for him as a young teacher and it was discussed thoroughly afterwards. Back home, we would not have blinked at his comments but here, for the sake of protocol, it became a situation. Luckily, I am a bit of a grey area so things can be smoothed over a bit easier.

As for school itself, it started today. Well, it was suppose to start today. Today was the first day kids sat in a class. By sitting, I really mean they pulled out all the desks and swept the floor with a bundle of long twigs tied together. This is nothing new. This is a typical first day. Now, just to shock my kids into getting ready for the coming onslaught, I went in and introduced myself. We went over a few points:

First, I am different than the other teachers. (It’s true!) How so?

1. I’m American.
2. I’m an English speaker.
3. I am white.

Then I went over what each of those means:

1. I teach differently so pay attention.
2. I speak differently and it may be difficult sometimes to understand so listen carefully and write things down.
3. While being white is the most obvious difference, it is also the one that does not matter in the scope of our class.

Second, bring your notebooks to class (starting with the next class).

Finally, our third point, make a name card for yourself so I can learn your names and call you by them.

One would not think that those three points were too much for a class of 7th graders but you could see the shock setting in. It was a new year and, for all these kids know, it was going to be a crazy, weird and unexpected ride.

Our next class together will consist of learning how to study. Too often, children are left to teach themselves how to study on their own. Thus, all too frequently, I see kids sitting in front of a notebook and just repeating every sentence until they are done. Those that “truly study” often do this a number of times and complete the homework which puts them ahead of the curve. Thus, a large number of kids can retain information from the class but few can process and use that information in any practical way. So, our class will detail how to make/use flash cards, make/use a translation dictionary, take/use notes (from the board and from the teacher), as well as tips to study at home (in ways that can even be fun). For those that can read French (or know how to use Google Translator) here is a bit of that lesson plan:

Les Notes
- Écrirez tous les notes dans le cahier qui sont sur le tableau noir
- Écrirez tous les exemples dans le cahier
- Notez et écrirez tous les choses importantes que le professeur a dit
- Écrirez la prononciation de mot d’anglais
- Écrirez des questions que vous voulez poser au professeur (en classe ou après)
- Écrirez les réponses des questions

Dictionnaire
- Créez un dictionnaire á la fin de votre cahier
- Partagez les mots en groupe des verbes, des noms, des adjectives, des nombres et des divers
- Écrirez chaque mot dans votre dictionnaire

Créer des Cartes d’Études
- Anglais sur une face de carte et français sur l’autre
- Lissez le mot de français et traduisez le mot en anglais
- Lissez le mot d’anglais et traduisez le mot en français
- Utiliser chaque mot d’anglais dans une phrase
- Etudiez avec les cartes en route á la maison
- Etudiez avec les cartes en route au lycée

Traduisez
- Traduisez quelques phrases d’anglais de vos notes en française
- Retraduisez les phrases en anglais
- Comparez les phrases que vous avez traduit avec les phrases originales d’anglais

Questions
- Posez des questions en classe
- Pensez des questions que vous pouvez posez en classe prochaine
- Écrirez une liste des mots que vous voulez traduire en classe prochaine


IT classes have yet to start for the simple fact that there are no IT students yet. The idea is to have people sign up for the IT classes (as an extra class) over the course of this week. After that, we will assess the situation and see how many classes/hours to build out of that. Lord knows, it may be five students or one thousand. We will see…


Community:

Gas update: none.

The heat and intensity of October has already started to set in. Thank goodness for my fan! One has to love living in luxury. I had two years of baking Octobers and am glad to get a little relief from this one. Typically, October is a mini hot season. It swelters and bubbles just before the coolness of November starts to set in. Luckily, it lasts only about a month. Thus, about the time the next big market comes the days should be less smeared with sweat.

Every twenty first market is an especially big market (well, it is at least a little bigger). Really, not too many more things appear in the market (especially during the harvest time) but people are out and about more. It is as much a community get together as anything. Thus, the day is really spent walking around saying hello to people you know. It is an interesting idea to think that we go to the market to shop, while people here go to the market to gossip and hang-out. It’s like the mall in middle school. You go, walk around, say hi to the girls that giggle when you pass and make sure everyone sees your new jeans. I have to constantly remind myself that (even if I need nothing) I should walk through the market, say hi and just be around for a bit. In Rambo, I could stay in my quarter and just talk to everyone around. Now, with a larger community and friends that are spread far and wide, it becomes necessary to make appearances at places to get that same sort of familiarity and sense of community.

the end of the rainy season

Personal:

In Rambo, everyone knew me. I don’t know that such is possible in Kong. For the most part in Rambo, I had all the calls of “nasara” (whitey in Moore) changed to “Thomas” or “monsieur” but there are far too many random calls in a town to stop for each and effectively putting an end to such by introducing myself.

What happens in Kong one perhaps could call a sort of anonymity. I can hide in my house for an hour or two and no one comes knocking down my door to see what happened to Mr. Ellison. Further, there are far less people keeping track of my comings and goings. Yet, in that new anonymity, I have not lost the ability to quit standing out like a sore thumb when I do step foot outside. One might say that has a touch of irony. I am no longer the famous white person. I am just a nameless white person.

In a way, it is regression. I do want to hear “Thomas” or “monsieur” everywhere I go. I want people to care about me. However, I do not want it to be on the basis of my skin color. Thus, in a way, the situation in Rambo came to the point where my skin color weighed less on people’s minds. Now, it seems to be the only recognizable thing about me to the vast majority of people here for no other reason then there are more people.

It will improve in time. More and more, I hear the call “Thomas” from random alley ways. Heck, just today, I was biking through the outer edge of town for scenic reasons and stumbled across one of my neighbors. He was busy playing Scrabble with buddies. (Yes, they play French Scrabble here with boards they have made.) To be in a random area of town, far from my neighborhood, and stumble across a familiar and welcoming call of my name, it was nice.

On a dietary note, I have been eating yogurt like it is going out of style. While it was traditionally an unrequired taste of mine, I have found that I now crave it. It is perhaps the closest thing that one can get to ice cream in Kong and that perhaps can best explain the change in my taste buds. Beyond that, it seems to have some health benefits associated with it. My gut is full of that supposed good bacteria now and I'm getting my daily dose of protein. Now, if only the lady would let me keep the plastic container it comes in. It's annoying to have to always return them (though nice as it does give me an excuse to grab another one).

Work:

I am posting some of the pics of my computer lab. So far we have eleven computers that look to be decent enough to type on. As you can see from the pictures, the lab is hardly a top-notch facility. Really it consists of aluminum tables, a circuit break and a number of thrown-together computers, all precariously put together in a room that has a leaking roof and an invasion of frogs. Yet, who is looking for perfection? It may be the first the time ever that these kids are getting the ability to sit down and work with a functioning piece of the Information Age. Having said that, the conditions could use improvement and can sometimes be frustrating, even disheartening.

My first objective is to use the lab in two different manners: to learn to manipulate a computer and learn the basics about hardware. There are a million things one can focus on (internet, typing, games, MS Office, OS, programming, etc.) so why those two? Simply stated, if they are comfortable sitting down and knowing how to interact with any computer, then they will be prepared to learn any set of programs (and who knows what those will be). Second, so often the reason why labs fail in this country is hardware maintenance and it often something as simple as being able to change out the hard-drive. All the other pieces of computer knowledge will hopefully then follow. This is only the beginning.

The larger goal for the lab is to have a Burkinabe teacher or community member take over its maintenance and operation. In the past, there was a lab that existed at my school but it was quickly shutdown when computers ran into simple errors. Further, a local administrator can be responsible for coordinating the acquisition of new resources for the lab. This will hopefully go beyond an adequate number of new computers to include a projector, scanner, battery backup, air-conditioning system and whatever else we can put into the budget that will improve the chances of bringing my students into the current century.

On the note of bringing my kids into the current century, I believe my job as a teacher is far more about expanding opportunity than teaching technical details. My students are as intelligent, resourceful and eager to learn as any students out there. The difference is that they often come across far too many barriers. Think of the difference it would make if that genius in my math class had the resources and free time to experiment and research instead of trying to scratch enough food from the earth to live. These minds our the resources of the future. And that all sounds lame and cheesy but it's true. What do we lose out on when lives are absorbed in surviving instead of expanding? Further, what good does it do if I teach them about computer programming yet they never get to sit down and type on a computer? Thus, it is my job to encourage them to push forward with all the will they can muster and to find ways to open the road before them. I guess you could say my teaching style is like a guy with a bullhorn and a bulldozer who is bullheaded.

Community:

The rumors of long lines for cooking gas in Ouaga are plentiful. With any luck, that means gas is on its way to Kong in less than a month. (Though I bought rice and beans from a lady last night that was cheap and tasty which makes cooking a lot less necessary.)

The rains have slowed down but not fully stopped. It now rains about once a week instead of a few times a week. Thus, it looks like we will avoid some of the major flooding that happened at the end of the season last year without losing on the crop yield side. At the moment, the millet plants are standing far above my head, reaching up to eight or more feet along the main road in Kong. What a blessing, too, as it seemed for a while in June that the rains would never come. Of course, it is Africa and anything can happen.

On a book note: I just finished with a number of books that I would recommend. First and foremost is the Zeitoun by David Eggers (big old author crush on Dave!). The man knows how to write narrative journalism and, even more so, knows how to pick stories that connect to the deeper better parts of our humanity.

On the great writers’ side, I just finished Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck. A classic American writer’s of America. You have to love how it gets Texas just right. If you know any Texans, get the book, open to the last section and read it. You’ll smile. It’s true. Texas pride and is beautiful thing.

Finally, I would recommend a combo. The first of the combo would be The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind about a teenager in Malawi (true story) that through his own studying builds his own windmill (without any outside help) using local materials. Simply inspirational. Then, read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers for no other reason then it speaks directly to such a story as William’s, who harnessed the wind. After all, he is not the only boy genius or mechanical wonder in Africa, just one that had the will, community and circumstances to make something extraordinary. Just think how many others here in Africa could do the same. I know a few myself that have visited my courtyard a half-a-million times.

A Third Year

It has been a while, so I will start with a bit of an intro:

The Peace Corps is originally a two year commitment. However, I applied and was approved to do a third year of service. My first two years were in a small village by the name of Rambo. This coming year will be in Kong (I am shortening the name for security, privacy reasons). In Rambo, I taught both english and math while tutoring throughout the night. In Kong, I am charged with being an IT teacher at the local high school.

Now, a note:

I am expanding/separating this blog out a bit by distinguishing between three areas of interest; personal (that's me!), work-related (that's school) and community (call it the cultural/local news section).

On to the blog...

Personal:
Moving to a new town starts with excitement then wallows in a bit of frustration before settling into some kind of normal. To start, suddenly having electricity and a water facet (albeit it the courtyard and not the house) drastically improve one's ability to do daily activities such as bathing, washing, cooking, reading, ect. However, once you get over the fact that you have this sudden convenience, you find that you now have to fill all the empty hours left over from the daily chores. In other words, my excuses are gone and I have to actually find a way to be more productive. Now, you would think that no longer having to do the menial tasks means that you can move on to bigger and better things but somewhere a piece of me is saying relax. After all, isn't the convenience there so that one doesn't have to do as much work? Shouldn't I now use that time to relax?

Here's the catch: The relaxed Thomas becomes bored. Bored Thomas leads to downer Thomas. Downer Thomas doesn't get his normal work down. Really isn't all it cracked up to be, these extra hours.

Ultimately, those extra hours mean finding more work to do. Of course, instead of it being small chores that fill my time, I can fill my time with farther reaching goals. It means to that my focus has to broaden and expand to fit weeks and not just days, projects can last longer and attention spans must grow. It's a new challenge in the mundane.

Work:

One of the largest of this year's challenges is school work. Perhaps this can best be put anecdotally...

The morning sun is pouring into my house as I dry off the last remnants of my shower and put on my shirt. Soon after, a “koo-koo” sounds at my door and my new counterpart, Benjamin, taps lightly on the metal frame. We exchange morning greetings about how well we slept then hop on our vehicles (I'm using that term loosely so it encompasses my bike and his moped) for the 3k ride to school. Once there, I realize that the mix of bike ride, heat and nerves has caused my shirt to dampen. Luckily, I find I am not the only one suffering from the heat as we enter the office of the Censure.

The Censure is a chubby and pleasant man that often looks bewildered. He seems constantly lost in confusion over how the world did not seem to suddenly mold itself into his own way of seeing it but the smile remains on his face. As I sit and Benjamin starts the introductions, the Censure begins to click and type furiously on his keyboard. I am the volunteer he has heard about, now to bend that world again.

“So what can you teach? Do you teach physics?”

“Umm, as Benjamin said, I am here as an IT teacher.”

“Ok, but what did you teach before.”

“I taught math and english. I have a degree in engineering with a math minor.”

“Ah, so you can teach physics and chemistry then?”

“I can but I was told you need an IT teacher here. We are going to look at the lab later.”

“Oh yes. Well, if not P/C then how about math. Since you already taught math we will sign you up for a few classes. What classes did you teach?”

“I taught 6eme and 5eme but I really would like to see the computer lab and work on build a program for that. Have you talked to the Principle?”

“Yes. Yes. Ok, so we can put you down for five hours of math. And you said you taught English, yes? Good, then we will give you a number of English classes. After all, our English teacher died over the summer.”

“My condolences. I am sorry to hear that. Really though, I am going to be focused mostly on the IT lab. I don't mind helping out with a class or two but my organization really sent me here to work on the lab and there is a lot to do.”

“Ok, then we will only put you down for 10 hours of English in 6eme.” (That is two classes with the youngest kids)

The Censure goes back to typing furiously and Benjamin just looks at me with a shrug in his shoulders. After a few more clicks, he looks up and tells us that the schedule will be ready on the 15th of the month. When I later returned on the 15th, he told me about how he did not yet have my math and English classes ready but would have them on the 27th. It took some haggling but I eventually convinced him that teaching IT and English was enough. Hopefully, I convinced him...

After being introduced to the Censure, we walked around the small administration building to greet people sitting behind aging desks will imposing stacks of files smoldering from the latest smattering of red-tape. Our final intro was to the Principle of the school, a larger, broad shouldered man whose tribal facial scars impose a sense of humility on the on-looker. Out of the tense face the glow of file started and he spoke.

“Man, I am so glad you are here. I know a bit about IT myself but only because I taught myself. We use to have a few others that helped when the computers first arrived but they have all moved on. You will have your work cut out for you but I think you will do alright. By the way, got any idea why my monitor quit working on me this morning?”

By this time, Benjamin had taken his leave to see to an errand he had to run. Thus, it was this gentle giant and myself craning our necks over the side of the computer to look into its tangle of parts. Soon, we found that it was not he monitor but the hard-drive that had gotten loose. A loose hard-drive meant that it was no longer sending a signal to the monitor. Reconnect and done. At the moment, the sweat pouring down my forehead stopped and a sigh of relief found its way out. I had passed the first test and impressed the big guy.

Suddenly, Benjamin was back with a set of keys and the three of us were headed across the campus. At a rusting door, we watched as Benjamin shook and pushed the ancient door until it reluctantly accepted the key and opened. Wasps flew beyond us and the stale sent of dirt and cobwebs followed. The future of the IT program lay before me covered completely in an inch of dust beneath a sagging, wet ceiling. It took my breath away.

After a few coughs, I made arrangements to have some kids come in and clean the room. It was priority number one and only took a few days. Shortly after, I was given the key and free reign to sort through the pile of parts to see what possibilities remained. The Principle had told me to expect only two possible working computers. After a full Sunday of tweaking, I had seven, running Windows 95 or 98 with, at best, 200 MHz processors and 1.5 gigs of memory. They were all mismatched and ragged but they were enough of a start. So much so, that the Principle started collecting parts that had been scattered to other teachers. The number of working computers has now hit twelve. It is not much for a school with almost two-thousand students but it is more than nothing. Some can began to learn to type. We can even use old parts to showcase computer maintenance. Who knows, maybe it'll be worthwhile.

Communtiy:

The biggest issue in the community at the moment is gas. Not gasoline but butane used to cook. Typically, in a town like Kong, households use gas to cook and even to run fridges. In town there is only one supplier, Sodigaz. When I first moved here, Sodigaz said they were running low so they only had small tanks of gas (at too high a price) and none of the larger ones typically used for cooking. The larger tanks would come in after the weekend. This was the thinking at the time.

It has now been three weeks and gas has yet to come. Originally, I searched around town but everyone pointed back to Sodigaz and said they were the supplier. You had to talk to them. One night, while out and about, I stopped by one of the Sodigaz venues and saw a young woman working. This is how the conversation went:

“Good evening. How is business?”
“It goes.”
“I wanted to inquire if you had any gas tanks for sale?”
“He he. No. We are out. He he.”
“Do you know when you will get more?”
“He he.”
“I'm sorry but do you know if any more gas is coming?”
“He he.”
“Do you understand what I am asking?”
“He he.”
“Do you speak French? (switch to Moore at this point) Are you getting any gas tomorrow or after?”
“He he.”

Finally, I left in frustration. I learned nothing useful until I texted a friend in the capital who said that the shortage was happening all over. Supposedly, a refinery or factory (something) shutdown in Togo which ended supplies to Burkina. With any luck the gas would start trickling in but no one knew for sure.

The waiting then started. Every so often, I would head down to the Sodigaz shop and ask if there was any news. If a gentleman was there, I would learn that nothing new had happened. One night, I decided that I had had enough so Molls volunteered to go ask. Ends up she talked to the same younger woman that I had talked to. The conversation went like this:

“Good evening. How is business?”
“It goes. How are you?”
“I am good. Do you have any gas?”
“No, we are all out. Actually, everyone is out of gas, including in the capital. We are not really sure of when we will next receive gas. It could be at anytime. You should check back soon.”

Just for kicks, I went back a few days later to talk to the girl. Again, I got “he he” for a response. Talk about frustration. Is it that impassable of a divide between men and women in Burkinabe culture?

So, there is no gas and I am an outsider when it comes to woman. Welcome to Kong.

Actually, the woman-man issue is nothing new. It is something I have struggle with here from the beginning. As a man, I am a foreigner, kept at a distance. Some of it is out of respect, some out of modesty and chastity. Even as a foreigner, my status as a man keeps me from the inner circle shared by woman across the country. What happens in the homes and with kids is not a man's concern. What conversations lurk just beyond the surface are not for me. Even in my own courtyard, with the four other families that live here, I find that woman often only speak to me when their husbands are already engaged in the conversation. Otherwise, I dare not approach and force conversation and they keep their distance.

The opposite is true for women volunteers. As a woman, they have access to not only the inner sanctum of womanhood but also are enough of a novelty or point of interest that they are often accepted by the men. It does too often come with a price though. They are subject to openly offensive sexual harassment and requests ranging from marriage to proposals to the simple “I want you” with crude suggestions of sex. While they can work and talk to men openly, it is often a far bigger emotional challenge to deal with those moments of harassment. While the vast majority of conversations are pleasant and respectful, it can become discouraging when men, especially young men, loosen their reigns of respect and try to see what they can get away with around a stranger.

All that being said, most interactions are exceedingly pleasant in Burkina. People are always willing to help and share. In the end, Burkinabe tend to be some of the kindest people found anywhere in the world. Their generosity is astounding. Even the harassment or somewhat racist attitudes take more of a joking manner than one of conflict or danger. It is all too often an annoyance more than a matter to alarm your personal security.

The gender issue is one that Burkinabe are confronting as more and more they move to cities where the typical roles of cook and cultivator no longer make sense. In this changing space, where men and women now interact, it is interesting to watch the awkwardness in that transition. Even if we often feel the friction.

a community of thoughts

it's late. i'm up and wandering about in my little corridors of thought. why is it we are here? what makes the difference in people's lives? the questions swim and swim, swirling around.

i just got back from Ghana. there, you find such a different African dynamic. houses range from shacks of sheetmetal to mansions. you have people burning trash to cook on and people getting new paint jobs on their H2's. it's not Burkina. it has more roads. more cars. more resources. yet, the problems are there. education and opportunity. what share of the population can afford the larger lifestyle? is there anymore happiness?

i had my own pluses and critiques about Ghana that ultimately left me missing Burkina. i missed the laughter and the greetings. people care to say hi here. it's such a small thing to greet someone or to be greeted. it can even be annoying when you are surrounded by it day after day. yet, it leaves the largest hole when it is gone. it's community. it's that social responsibility to put your face out there and at least tell everyone "good morning".

Burkina doesn't have it right. neither does the States. but there is something to this saying hi business. there is something to community. it isn't something we have to think hard about. we know it. yet, it takes that annoying effort to build. i have the incentive to do it. it's my "job", my service. it's what i was sent here to do. to be integrated.

what about in the States? who cares if you know your neighbors, right? who cares if you say hi to everyone in the park? we're busy, after all. they could be anybody, including impolite, obnoxious or dangerous. and honestly, those type of thoughts are legitimate. so where do we find community? how do we define it? do we even express it out-loud or maybe just to ourselves?

part of community is this blasted thing they call the internet. that's connection. partly, it's the gym class or yoga stint. it's the plays at the theater, the church group and the parties we throw. it's what makes social networking sites important. we need our community. we need our family and friends.

it makes a difference to be supported and supportive. like i said, it's my job but, dammit, it ain't so hard (even when it is a bit, it's worth it).

so we have the connections at our fingertips. i guess it only comes down to what we do with them. it comes down to making that decision to not just be a part of your community but to better it. it's selfish and selfless. you want a better life and you want to better the lives of those around you. it's a good cycle to start.

i just sent off my key to my house today. i left the wrong light on for my kids, so my neighbor is going to take care of it. it's trust. something powerful and good. it's community. wow. a thousand miles from home.

it's no small wonder that you want to help those that you care about. that part is just natural, instinctual. but it's the caring, the building of community, that requires the will, the effort.

i see so much negative press. it's down with congress. it's down with oil companies. it's down with Obama. it's down with 'say no' republicans. but that's not our country. our country is built on the front porch and the sidewalk. it demands us to be a part of it, to be involved in doing the little things to make it work.

yes, we have to put up with the annoying neighbors down the street (mine call me "whitey" everyday, fun stuff). yes, we have to compromise. yes, it's worth it. yes, our communities need to be rebuilt, strengthened. yes, it requires us to make the decision and the effort to do a positive thing to build our community today.

yes, we can.

vacation

i had the fortunate pleasure to follow my neighbor and her fam down to Po to see wildlife (see pics). all the small of which we saw and the largest of which eluded us. in other words, baboons and antelope but no elephants. there was a fair number of elephant tracks though. of course, the wildlife ended up being only a piece of the adventure. as the night headed to a close, we found ourselves watered and broken down. after a late night bike ride for roadside assistance, we watched a mechanic fix the corroborator mostly with his mouth. africa never disappoints. something new to see at every point. all in all, it was a nice trip and the best part was the company.

now comes another little vacation. in a few days, life will find me in Ghana. i know so many of you are hissing at the moment but i will go with the idea of demonstrating what good sports we Americans are (don't understand this, see World Cup Ghana v USA). really, i'm looking forward to the beach and seeing a different african tint (and being able to speak a bit of african english, as well).

a little bit on the World Cup: i have been watching as many games as i can in as random places as i can. it is amazing how sport passions and team solidarity sneak their way into lives of people in the most remote places. villages without electricity and people of different languages gather and watch; screaming, laughing and cursing at each kick and call. it's a truly world event. it's why sports are important. it's worth being a part of. you walk down the streets of the capital and a hundred shops will have tv's setup with a small crowd huddling to cheer on a country they could never point out on a map.

so in Ghana, i'll watch the Ghana v Uruguay game. my cheers will be for Uruguay but good sport shall i be. and it'll be an experience worth the trial of a forever long bus ride.

wish me luck.