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.

-------

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.