Redefining Success

Four people attended my 2-day agriculture formation.

It took a lot of time and reflection before I could say this with a sense of accomplishment. Time, energy and emotion were invested into this project--searching for and collaborating with a counterpart and trainer, developing a theme for the formation and going door to door to inform the 2,500 inhabitants of my village. And after waiting 2.5 hours on the first day of my formation inside an empty classroom, four people walked in.

The following week, I planted Moringa trees with the students at the school garden (see some of it on youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvXPjZlbCpU). Hundreds of children were there to watch and to plant. They asked for seeds as if it were candy, pushing and shoving each other at times just to get more seeds to plant. Over 100 seeds were planted that day, all by the students themselves.





Several days later, I had my first soap formation with the womens group in my village. All 6 of them were eager and attentive--I barely even lifted a finger to make the soap. And before the soap even hardened, people crowded around to watch and ask for prices. And the women really did it all; they were so excited they even told me they wanted to finance a building just for making soap.



So whether its four people or a whole classroom full of people, I've learned that something, anything they can take away from a formation or a lesson is meaningful. Its not about numbers or times here--its about quality. And when two women walked away from the formation, with money in their pockets from avid customers, referring to me as Amanda Traore (the family name of the chief's family), I must be doing something right.

Who's Driving This Flying Umbrella?

So, last month was not my best, though it was certainly a character building experience. I hope I didn't worry anyone with my last post. Granted, I was discouraged--as anyone would be if their puppy was whacked with the blade of a knife--but, dogs are not as valued here as they are in the states. When there is food on the ground (meat, in the middle of being cut for dinner, no less. A very valued commodity) and if we were as poverty stricken as the villagers are here, perhaps we would treat animals the same way if they came near us mid-meat preparation...Right?

But, just like Buddha's scar, things are getting better. Much better than expected actually. I'll try to go in order.

Funerals: I know I was saying things were getting better, and now I decide to talk about funerals. But funerals are a much more positive event here than in many Western cultures. When its hot as hell, the wells are drying up and no one has any money, people spend what little they have on massive, 2 to 3 day funeral fetes celebrating the past death of a family member. Enough liters of dolo (locally brewed beer out of millet, tastes kind of like cider if you've lived in Burkina Faso long enough) and kilos rice and sause for everyone to enjoy. There's music and dancing. Several animals are slaughtered and eaten (as gruesome as it looks, I don't mind it nearly as much when I know literally EVERY part of the animal will be used). In a time of the year where people are burning in the relentless heat, anticipating the rains that will signal the begging of intensive work in the fields, it is a perfect time to enjoy oneself.

Agricultural Formation: I had organized a three-day agricultural formation on the maximization of small farm land plots and on the production of cereal grains. I found someone in village who I thought would be a great help to me in organizing the project. He was absolutely fantastic--motivated, hardworking and very knowledgeable. He really good charge of the planning of the formation, which I was refreshing from the typical inept mentality that transcends village life. And the community has been incredibly receptive. The formation was postponed to the 16th to the 17th of this month so I'm really keeping my fingers crossed. Will make sure to take plenty of pictures too.

RAIN: rainy season is upon us lucky Southern folk of Burkina. I have never been in such awe at the sight of a rain storm. Its beautiful here. All day is spent sweating out everything you could possibly have in your body. Then, the sun begins to set and the winds pick up, kicking up waves of sand and trash that line the ground as a wall of thick dark clouds inch nearer. Then, the sky will just open up, unleashing massive amounts of water. Rain drops will pound against the tin roofs, too loud to hear anything else. And the temperature will just drop radically (by radically I guess I mean from 110 to 80...).

Satellite Villages: I visited a satellite village (a village in the same health district, and thus "members" of the CSPS in my village) and was in complete shock at their state of livelihood. No money. No market for food. Completely isolated with nearly passable roads (if you even want to call them roads, they were more like paths). Ridden with malaria and malnutrition. And, on top of all that, they had no water wells or pumps. A woman showed me a cooking bowl full of the water she and all the villagers use: it looked like she scooped it out of a muddy river or puddle of water. And that's exactly what she did. This is a village that needs serious help, and while I was there just to shadow the nurse to give vaccinations (only four that day...), there was nothing I could do at the moment but slip on my overpriced gortex rain jacket and be on my way. Even since being here, I've never felt such a painful guilt such as that moment.

Busy month ahead: While I have learned by now that nothing seems to go as planned, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the rest of this month because I have a lot going on. I will be holding an interest meeting for a girls camp I would like to run over the school break, I will be presenting on Moringa to the school and we will be planting Moringa seeds in time for rainy season. And I will be making soap to sell with a woman's group I am a part of. So, while it's not always easy, I'm hoping for the best.

A Lot of Blood, Sweat and Tears This Past Week.

Every Peace Corps Volunteer undergoes some serious challenges in their two-year service. Sometimes its the unbearable, unavoidable heat. Sometimes its coming back to village with so much motivation and enthusiasm to take on all sorts of projects for the community, only to be stifled by the slow, inert culture of the villageois. Sometimes, its feeling more alone than you ever have before. And sometimes, its your neighbor hitting your dog with a knife.

This is how I spent the eve of my 6 month anniversary in Burkina Faso:


Trying to stop the bleeding after my neighbor hit Buddah right on the bridge of the nose with a knife. Then, while securing Buddah with one hand, cleaning the gaping hole in his face and attempting to forge a makeshift lampshade out of a file folder to prevent him from scratching at it. Then, the next morning, I carried now 15-20 lbs. Buddah (still sporting his lampshade) 1.5K away to the CSPS where I was hoping he could get some stitches. No one was there but the maternity nurse, who made no effort to help Buddah or comfort my sad, tired, tear-stained self. After trying to deal with the fact that I was incredibly upsest and no one seemed to care, I couldn't help but wonder how much worse this would be if I were a pregnant woman ready to give birth, or someone with a terrible illness or serious injury. No one would be there to help me, and I would have to wait over an hour before the doctor finally arrived. How do the circumstances at the CSPS motivate anyone who needs help to go to the CSPS when no one is readily available to help them? And how can the affectation of more staff be justified when not enough people go to the CSPS? But I digress.

After struggling to put iodine on Buddah, the doctor told me there was no way Buddah could get stitches so he'll have to heal on his own. Which is happening very slowly, but hopefully surely. My neighbor feels terrible, and I trust him when he tells me he didn't mean to (a Burkinabe would never kneel down to a dog to apologize unless it was genuine). And if you didn't see the cut on his face, you never would guess that Buddah was in any pain. So really I'm the only one who needs to get over it, which is happening quicker than I expected. But I really don't have a choice.

But a PCVs service wouldn't be so memorable and filled with valuable lessons if it weren't filled with an abundance of challenging, uncomfortable situations. If I don't get anything done in village (which I will make sure is not the case) I will still walk away with many more times the experience, understanding and patience than I could get from any other 2 year period.

So, in honor of my first 6 months here, I would like to make a list of all the challenges I have so far endured:

• I have (consistently) gone without running water and electricity.
• I have managed to sweat 24+ hours without stopping.
• I have (presumably) had more creatures crawl near or on me while I sleep than I care to think about.
• I literally thought I was going to die via scorpion. On the bright side, this has only happened once.
• I have conquered every bacteria and parasite that has attempted to wreck havoc on my intestines (though not without the loss of some dignity).
• I have biked several miles on gravel, dust filled roads (uphill, both ways…).
• I am dealing with the struggles of overcoming language barriers in a bilingual community (or perhaps I’ve just become really good at pretending I understand).
• The wells are drying up in this heat, so I am currently living with very little water each day for washing, bathing, cooking and drinking.
  
• I have experienced moments where I have felt more alone that I ever have in my entire life.
• I’ve taken the role of man, woman and child since I’ve been here, none of which seem to fit.
• I have been asked time and time again for money and gifts, which is never a comfortable conversation to have.
• Similar to the previous point, I have been immediately labeled based on the color of my skin.
• I have been proposed to on too many occasions, in which I either say I’m already married or I’m single and don’t want a husband, or something in between. My inconsistency will probably cause me some trouble down the line…
• I have been stolen from.
• I have been made very, very uncomfortable.
• I’ve experienced my first panic attack (I’d like to think my anti-malarial medication has something to do with it).
• I have been the butt of many, many jokes.
• I have been without the luxury of a nice western toilet.
• I have witnessed children getting beaten, children and adults alike defecating in the fields, and girls far too young to be pregnant.
• And now, I have mended the knife wound of my poor puppy.

I realize that this post is entirely depressing, but in a way I can't help but feel a little proud that I've managed to endure these hard times. So if this is what my first 6 months has been filled with, I'm ready for the next 20. I just hope my dog is left out of it.

The Only Thing Sustainable Here is Cynicism. And Overactive Sweat Glands.

In all development work, one of the major issues is of sustainability. If you find a problem and develop a solution, that solution must maintain even after all the NGOs, IGOs and westerners have packed up and moved out. That's why (a lot of) development work has failed so miserably in the past: an NGO comes in, gives money or builds water pumps or mosquito nets or food or medicine or whatever, and leaves--without teaching the villagers what or how or when. So the villagers use it (if they even know how to) and when its finished or broken its over and they wait for the next rich westerner to give them something else. And the more this happens, the more the behavior of the villageois is reinforced.

Here's a Burkina specific example: the Burkina goverment, along with an international organization (perhaps several, none of which I care to name right now) developed the idea to conduct vaccination campaigns at the village level for things like Polio, Elephantitis, Meningitis, etc. because very few people take their children to the CSPS to get these vaccinations administered (even though they're FREE if the child is under a certain age). So, these several day-long campaigns are composed of going from house to house, finding the target population (in many cases, its children), administering the medicine, marking the target population with a marker, marking the house and leaving.

So what are we teaching the villageois? What has been reinforced? Essentially, we're encouraging mothers, fathers and children to stay in their homes and do nothing but wait for doctors or westerners to give them something for a disease they have no understanding of. They are not learning any lessons about the importance of these vaccinations, the diseases they're preventing or the necessity to go to the CSPS themselves--unprovoked--to take preventative measures.

Here's another example: mosquito nets. I have heard way too many stories of NGOs giving mosquito nets to every family in a village--and even though everyone now has a net to sleep under and prevent the deadly disease of malaria--they don't use it. We westerners fail to realize that its not necessarily the lack of a product or administration of a service that is the problem, but its the comprehension of what the problem is, where it comes from and how to go about preventing the problem that is truly in need.

PCVs aren't exactly like NGOs because we stay for two years--but the same kind of problem arises--unfortunatly fairly often. As a volunteer (and I can second these sentiments) its so easy to get discouraged when you don't see any visual successes (like a school or running water or what have you), so we end up investing our time in these kinds of "monuments" only to discover a year or two or ten later that our monumental project has been completely neglected.

I read a letter yesterday from the Country Director of Cameroon, who goes into great detail about this "Edifice Complex." He reinforces the idea that the best monuments are typically the living, breathing ones--the people who have been influenced and invested in the intangible messages you have helped produce and spread in your service. You may never see the fruits of your labor during your service, but the impacts has the potential to last far beyond a box of mosquito nets.

That being said, it is incredibly difficult to restrain from being cynical in a world that demands cadeaux because they are so habituated to recieving gifts from white people with no idea what to do with it. This cynicism in no way will deter me from trying many (MANY) overly ambitious projects during my next two years....

...But the heat might. Its now in the 100s--even at night. Even with fans blowing in my face I cannot stop from sweating. Not just sweating, but sweating A LOT. And CONSTANTLY. I'll let your imaginations run wild as to how lovely I might look completely dripping in sweat in a conservative top and shirts or pants that fall below the knee...

Sad News in Benin

Some of you may have already heard, but sometime last week a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin (a country bordering Burkina) was murdered in her village late one night. She was described as being very well-respected and well-liked within her community, and was nearly finished with her two years of service. She was 24 and a college graduate of William and Mary. I am overwhelmed with sadness, concern and even fear, but I have been reassured by the PC Burkina Faso staff that this was an isolated incident and (I agree) this in no way reflects the people of Benin or any other country or village in West Africa. Despite the anxiety I'm having over the news, I still feel very safe in my village and will take all the advised percautions to maintain that safety. I'm also currently in the middle of three full weeks of in-service training out of my site, which is probably best given the timing of this sad news. I had had a great last few weeks in village that I would love to share with you at a later time. I just ask that you keep Kate in your thoughts as I know it is a difficult time for her family, friends and fellow PCVs in Benin.

The Times They're Not A-Changing.

Monday and Tuesday morning of this week I went to the CSPS, as I normally do, except both mornings there was a different young girl there with Palu (malaria). The first day, I found her passed out on a path near the CSPS--the infirmary nurse and I carried her into the clinic. Palu. The next day, I walked into the infirmary the next morning to find another young girl, looking weak and tired with an IV drip. Palu.

Wednesday, I cross the gorge with Tene (my neighbor and closest friend in village) to Beregedougou to buy produce in their grand marche. While we're there, Tene and some other women from my village stop by a quartier to pick up mangoes. Not just 4 or 5. They each fill 30-40 liter metallic basins FULL of mangoes--I would say that's about 40 or 50 mangoes. But what was even more incredible is that these women carry these mango-filled basins on their heads (two additional women were needed to just lift the basin up on to each woman's head). And what is even MORE incredible is that these women walked down and up a gorge (which I would say is more like a hike since its steep and very uneven) back to village to sell these mangoes on the side of the road. They sell these mangoes for 25 CFA each--that means four mangoes cost about 25 US cents. So if each woman sells all the mangoes in her basin that day, she makes about 1000 CFA, or $2 US dollars. That's less than what she spent on produce for her and her family in Beregadougou.

Thursday, Tene falls ill. Instead of working all day, cooking, cleaning, and selling mangoes until 8, 9, 10 o'clock at night, she sleeps, too weak to move. I ask her, "Will you go with me to the CSPS?" and after agreeing with me each time she would make an excuse "Tomorrow, we'll go together." Friday, and today (before I left to come to Bobo) she went back to work ask if everything was fine, but I can tell she's not herself. It could be a lot of things--I'd imagine it's Palu based on what's been happening in village, but I'm no doctor. But she works too hard, she doesn't get enough nutrition in her diet, she carries ginormous mango-filled basins on her head up and down gorges. It could be a lot of things and it could only get worse if untended to.

So here's the issue: When you've lived all your life one way (and that way is to struggle just to make ends-meet), when you work all day, getting water to cook, clean, drink, wash yourself, wash your kids, wash your close, selling fruit on the side of the road to have money for the next day, cooking meals for your family--how can you have the time or the effort to even the intuition to make a change in your life? If Tene skips half a day of work to go to the CSPS, she loses money--for the cost of medication and for the loss of income for that day selling. So, people like Tene make excuses and wait, until its too late. So as a volunteer, I see that something needs to change. But the way of life here is so ingrained in people here, that I wonder sometimes how something so new and different (like taking preventative measures when it comes to health) could be receptive to my village. When your life is one big struggle to make ends-meet (though you could never tell by the smiling faces and optimistic attitudes of the wonderful Burkinabe) do you have room to try something different? Can you afford it? I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you can.

Friday I traveled around my village with my Coges Treasurer and the maternity nurse, giving Polio vaccinations to every child under 5. This is because many babies are NOT taken to the CSPS when they're born (many aren't even born in the maternity, they're born at home) and are NOT brought in to receive vaccinations (the CSPS is far, its hot as hell, there's so much work to be done at home, one doesn't think to go in for something preventitive) . Later that day, I gave a presentation to 3 classes in the school, the desks were table-style, meant for 2 people per desk. There were 4-5 children at each desk. And when there's no money and home is a kilometer or two away, they don't eat lunch. And they're water pump is broken, so they have no water unless they want to travel far to get it.

Money is needed, but the hard part is getting it, because there is nothing. And once there is money, the harder part is creating something new that is sustainable in a village that has lived the same lifestyle for decades without time to think of how to make the future better because the present is just too immediate. So lets see if I can change that.

Chez Moi

Now that my bat problem has been resolved, thought I'd take you on a little walking tour of my house. It lacks a lot--paint, more furniture (I got the furniture made when I got there), some personal touches, but, little by little, it will feel like home. Definitely want to share some insights on my village, but I'll wait till next week for that.

Part of the main room to my house

The "dinning area," if you will.



The hallway that leads to 4 rooms and an indoor bathing room (straight down the hall).


The first room to the right, my bedroom! (Ignore the personal items...)


Study/Dressing room, the second door on the right.

Kitchen (the two giant basins are my "dishwasher").

Annnnnd we can't forget the giant bats that live in the tree outside my house!