A Picture Says 1,000 Words. So Let's Paint!

My loyal readers may remember I lived in a small village by the name of Fandjora and painted 3 wordless images depicting healthy practices for mothers and their children. Since April, I have been working on a project over twice its size, on the wall of the Maison des Jeunes of Takaledougou.

And it's done.

It wasn't so much the physical completion of the mural after hours and hours of labor under a hot African sun that felt so good. It was the way we inaugurated these images into the community.

In short, we partied.

Musicians tapped on their balaphones and banged on their drums, attracting over 200 people to this event. The young and old danced together. And then we talked. And by "we" I mean my dear friend Siaka and a health community agent by the name of Ibrahim. They did it all and they did it magnificently.

We talked about what these murals symbolize. More importantly, we asked the community what they saw in these images, what they mean, and why they're so important. Like:

Going to the CSPS (the health clinic) when you're injured, sick or pregnant.

Sleep under a mosquito net to avoid malaria!

Eat well-balanced, nutritious meals (using only local ingredients)--especially for mothers and their children!

Use a condom to avoid ISTs and HIV/AIDS.

By the end of the party, we painted as many hands--large and small--that we could find and the community made their mark on their new wall, as a promise to "vivons une vie saine à Takalédougou" (live a healthy lifestyle in Takaledougou).


Weird to think this will be my last major project before leaving. I've been particularly sentimental and reflective lately, but not enough to eloquently put it into words on this blog. Knowing me, this will be one of my last blog entries while I'm a PCV in Burkina Faso. I'll try to come up with something good before my time is up.

MangoFest: Where the Merriment is as Plentiful as the Mangoes

Mango season as been in full force and I have now convinced myself that I am a vrai connoisseur. Mangue ordinaire, Lupense, Kent, Gref, Mangue Papaye (as big as your head!), Mangue Retard, Mademoiselle--they're here and they're a plenty. This is the best time of year for the women who sell on the road--buses, cars and bush taxis stop specifically at Takaledougou to by the mangoes, and while they're at it maybe some cashews, pois sucre or dried mangoes. But it doesn't mean that life is any easier for the women--they still work long hours, they still have bad days where they only make 1.ooo CFA (2 US dollars) a day and they're still vulnerable to prostitution.

Some of my neighbors bringing mangoes from groves and the town next door. This trip is about 1k up and down a steep gorge. They do this 1 to 2 times a day.

Getting mangoes together to sell.

Getting Ready to sell!

So 9 PCVs and I participated in what I like to call MangoFest. Many of us dressed in Burkinabe
woman garb (including some of our male PCVs), grabbed some bowls full of mangoes and started selling for the women. The women were just as amused as they were grateful as we chased after cars yelling "Mangoro bey, Mangoro bey! Keme Keme!" (Mangoes here, 500 cfa!....its about 10 succulent mangoes for 1 US dollar. Great deal, huh?). We learned quickly of the trials and tribulations these women endure daily: discouragement, neglect, fatigue--and our livelihoods weren't dependent on mango sales like these women's livelihoods are everyday. The day started slowly--took nearly an hour to make our first sale! But by the end of the day, with a couple calabashes of liquid courage and a lot of encouragement from the women, we made nearly 10.000 CFA (20 US dollars) for the women that day.

Attempting to sell mangoes to a bush taxi passing by.

A lot of women selling the same thing can get a bit competitive. All in good fun!

We made a sale!

After we finished selling, we had build enough rapport with the women to have some informal discussions with them about HIV/AIDS. Since these are the women in village MOST vulnerable to the risk of unprotected sex, this was an important discussion. While a lot of them, the younger ones, were very shy and embarrassed, they were receptive to learning. And while many of them new very well out to transmit and how to prevent HIV/AIDS, many of them DID NOT know how to use a condom (which goes to show that knowledge does NOT necessarily transmit to action...an important lesson I have learned here).

Jenny here was a soldier when it came to chasing bush taxis.Flirtation has its advantages.

Women and girls practice how to put on a condom.

Since MangoFest I have been running around the country for various activities, namely a training in Ouahigoya covering training techniques/info for the incoming group of PCT (Peace Corps Trainees). I will be working 3 weeks of their stag, plus I'm attending my COS (Closing of Service conference) which means I'll be gone for a month straight from village starting in the 2nd week of July. Really bummed about that, but looking forward to working with the the future PCVs of Burkina.

After Ouahigoya I went to Niger with 3 other PCVs for a couple days. Niger is currently THE poorest country in the world (Burkina moved up to 6th poorest, wahoo!). Placed nearly entirely in the Sahel, Niger is barren from what we saw of it--trees couldn't even grow in much of the terrain we passed. Despite the heat (Niger is JUST inching into rainy season) and the dryness, we had a great time! Saw one of the only remaining herds of giraffes in West Africa, took a tour of the Niger river via pirogue, toured some artisan centers, and got caught in a couple sand storms! Here are a couple pictures:






So, the next several weeks will be spent in village finishing up my mural project before heading back to Ouahigoya to work stag. I recently found out that I will officially be extending with the West African Trade Hub! But unfortunately I'll have to leave village at the end of October (as opposed to the end of November/December when my COS date was originally). After I leave village, I'll be in Ouaga for 2 weeks working with the Trade Hub at SIAO, West Africa's largest artisan festival! By mid-November I head to Dakar, get settled in for two weeks and then spend the month of December back home in Americaland before starting my 3rd year in Senegal. I'm very excited to see what the future will bring, but already growing sentimental of my soon departure from Burkina. Looking forward to getting some serious time in village to spend time with friends.

When in Doubt, Sacrifice a Chicken!

Who knew. But when you're in the 'royal' family--the chief's family---its natural to turn to animal sacrifice, as this is the family responsible for carrying the culture and traditions of their village, which is rooted in animism. The Toussian people in particular are known for their sacrifices, to bless the fields for a good harvest, to bless those who have already passed, and to bless the sick.

As rainy season teases us with its brief winds and rains during a sweltering heat, I have seen many a sacrifice (oftentimes, it is because the sacrifice will HAVE to take place on a specific rock that sits right outside my house). In case you want to do this at home, here's how it goes:

The chicken is always a white chicken, and always alive, and the men who do it always seem to be shirtless. Some water and ash is thrown on the rock. Then, the chicken's neck is cut several times to draw a lot of blood. The head is NOT severed, this is important. Once the neck is cut, the man conducting the sacrifice lets go of the chicken and the chicken proceeds to sporadically jump off the ground multiple times, its wings flapping in its last attempt to escape death. Once it lands for good, its last breaths upon him, man determines whether the chicken's distance from the rock where it was originally cut is large enough, as that is what determines whether the sacrifice will work. The chicken, still barely alive, is then taken and stripped of its feathers which are placed (with the blood) on the rock where the sacrifice was done. The chicken is then eaten and the family gets some much needed protein in their diets. As an overactive animal lover, you can imagine the facial expressions I am unable to hide during these sacrifices...

In other news, I'm working on a similar mural project in Takaledougou that is going very well, though it is very tiring work when there's no shade 6 out of the 8 hours I'm outside painting. The community has been incredible encouraging and supportive, and I've even had some help this time! Expect pictures during my next (hopefully timely) entry.

I never really got a chance to talk about my trip to Senegal. Since it looks like I will be transferring there next year, I'll hold back on what I have to say about Senegal, other than it was glorious. Here are some photos that hopefully exude some of its splendor.




Also, here are some pictures from a mask festival I attended shortly after my trip to Senegal. It is THE mask festival of Burkina, held only 2 years, and features masks and dances from all over West Africa. Props to Leslie for taking some wonderful pictures!

Fandjora

The last two weeks in January was spent in Fandjora, a satellite village 30km away, through sugar cane fields on rough roads and sandy paths. Fandjora does not have a CSPS--if they require medical attention they need to go to the CSPS in my village. This is not easy, especially when most don't own a moto (and even if they did, it takes nearly an hour to get there--kinda hard to do when you're bleeding profusely or your wife is about to give birth).


So, that's why I decided to live in Fandjora for 2 weeks. Its neglected relationship with the CSPS (and vice versa) is evident in a lot of respects. I was there in particular for the health of the mothers and children. Many of the children in Fandjora are malnourished, some severely malnourished (imagine a 20 month old child with a forearm circumference of 9cm). The Hearth Model is a program in which mothers of malnourished children make enriched porridge using only local ingredients every morning for 12 days. By the end of the 12 day period, children have gained significant amounts of weight as a result of the Hearth.


A typical Hearth group is composed of 8-10 women with children of similar ages. Because I was only staying in Fandjora for one 2-week period, guilt provoked me to take on a group of 28 women with children ages 6 months to 3 years. This led to some very chaotic mornings and difficult situations for children. With 28 women, it was very difficult to keep track of women and their children; they individually felt less obligated to attend to each session; younger children required lighter porridge and older children required heavier porridge; as a stranger in the community the women did not put the trust in me that women in Takaledougou would. On top of it all, my counterpart for this project (the nurse at my CSPS) insisted on watering down the porridge far too much to do anything for these children. Women are not used to cooking porridge for nearly 30 children, so when I pleaded that the women add more ingredients (for example, more than 8 tomatoes for a vegetable porridge to feed 30 children) they freaked out. "Its too much" they would say. It wasn't until the last half of the Hearth, after battling with them every morning, that they finally started to believe and trust in me.

So, after the Hearth every morning, I would spend the rest of the day until sundown painting 3 murals on a house along a path that was heavily trafficked. These were wordless murals (since many people, especially women, are illiterate) with messages encouraging healthy practices for mothers and their children. The process was not easy. First the walls were smoothed, then a layer of base paint. After that, I drew grid lines that would me draw and enlarge images that I had drawn on paper. The murals were drawn, then, using black, white, red, blue and yellow paint I mixed and matched colors to paint. While this required a lot of attention to detail, it was actually a huge stress reliever after my Hearth every morning.


The mural project turned out to be a huge success. Villagers stopped along the way to look at the images and explain their meaning to one another--the importance of going to vaccination days to get your child vaccinated, the kinds of foods to put in a nutritious meal, to go to the CSPS when you're about to give birth. Since CSPS staff only come out once a month, these images will be here every day, sensibilizing and reminding villagers of healthy practices.

Water Water Ev--Uh....Where?

Can you imagine having to leave your house to collect water? During my first few months at site, my water was supplied to me by lines women carefully walking into my house carrying over 20 liters of water on their heads and dumping it into my 260 liter trashcan of a water reserve. This lasted about a month or two. In an effort to be independent, I attempted to pull water myself. Unfortunately, this effort was thwarted--not only by my feeble upper arms, but also by my counterpart who thinks I can't be trusted with my own life and fall helplessly to my dark, wet death. Independent or not, the closest well (within 100 m of my house) dried up. All that was left was brown and opaque. So, my next water source was the water pump 1.5K (about a mile). I'd attach a big yellow 20 liter jug to the back of my bike (as if I didn't already look cool enough with my rad helmet), bike to the one of two pumps in my village, wait around and chat with the group of women in line to get water, pump my water and head back. Depending on how many women are in line and how lazy I'm feeling, this can take anywhere from 15-30 minutes. Sometimes I would make several trips a day, most days however I try to go as little as possible, adapting to a lifestyle of less than 20 liters a day. You can imagine what that lifestyle looks and smells like.

I'm still biking to get water (though I've been known to coax friends into doing it for me), though, now the twist cap to close the opening of my jug has sadly disappeared, so my bike ride back home can sometimes result in an unfortunately large loss of water. I was just informed this week though that we will be getting faucet water within months! This is not faucet-from-your-home water. This is 4 faucets that are being strategically placed in village to accommodate as many villagers as possible. Thankfully, one is being placed within 300m of my house, making this water endeavor far easier.

Speaking of water. Other than in the pumps and soon to be faucets, there's none. Its dry season once again. It hasn't rained since August and it probably won't until May or June. But gardens are blooming with all kinds of vegetables, its not too hot and its cool at night so all is good. Now that is in full force, harvest begins, wedding and funeral parties are in abundance, women are busy pounding corn and millet into flour, and villagers are looking for work to make some money for their families. Association Gonyonmon, the women's savings and credit group aimed to help entrepreneur and vulnerable women alike, is dwindling in membership. Many of the women sell mangoes and other seasonal fruit on the side of the road. That is their priority because that puts money in their hands immediately. So, setting aside 100 CFA every other week is a difficult commitment, even if it is used to take out loans of 50,000 CFA later down the road. Membership has certainly declined, though many have just lately showed up again to pay their late dues. Word is getting out that women are learning important skills to help themselves and their families and their earnings is slowing but steadily increasing, so I think membership will bounce back up.

The next two weeks will prove themselves to be rather interesting. Fandjora is a satellite village in my CSPS's "aire sanitaire" (health region). It is 30 k away on very rough dirt roads. No one speaks French. So, their relationship with the CSPS is rather, uh, neglected. A CSPS worker will go there once a month to give vaccinations to children (if they're informed about it) and thats it. If someone in Fandjora needed medical attention, they would be expected to transport themselves to the CSPS to get that attention. So when my counterpart and I travelled there to measure babies for malnutrition, the results were expected. Nearly half of the children measured were malnourished--many of them were even considered severely malnourished. So, I decided I would live there for the next two weeks to conduct two separate HEARTH models, a program designed to help mothers prepare nutritous meals for their children as well as sensibilize them on other health and sanitation topics. I also plan to paint several murals of health maternal and child practices to sensibilize villagers on a day to day basis. This is the most ambitious project I have started, and if half of it works out I'll be thrilled. I still don't know where exactly I'm staying, who I'm staying with and how I will cook or bathe (or get water...) but I'm really hoping all those things will sort themselves out.