International Life of Mystery--Revealed

I leave for site tomorrow! Holy crap! So I have been in Burkina for the past ten weeks but most of you do not know what I have been doing. And while it is fun to live an international life of mystery, it is more fun to share it. Hence, I guess I should explain. Where to start? Where to start? Well, I guess I will start with the training portion since that takes up about 80% of my day. My time for the last ten weeks has been spent attending multiple, multiple,language classes, health technical classes, cross cultural class, and medical classes. For language classes, I have been taking both French and Bissa. We have at least have 4 hours of language a day(sometimes more)—needless to say, these are long days. For my end of training language placement oral exam, I tested as intermediate high (this is from novice mid at the beginning). However, do not let this fool you. I think anyone who can form a compound sentence would place in this level as well. Either that or my interviewer was feeling very generous and decided to give my Christmas present early. As for my health technical sessions, during the beginning sessions I was bored out of my mind. Most of the classes focused on the theoretical/historical side of the Burkinabe healthcare system. Usually, during this time I would zone out and day dream. What would I day dream about? More times that not I would concoct the perfect five course meal in my head (usually starting out with dessert first). I am getting hungry just writing this. However, in the second part of training we did more practical sessions and/or field trips. One of the most memorable times was when we took a field trip to the local CREEN; A CREEN is a village type hospital where children who are severely malnourished go to receive treatment. The mothers of the children are also allowed to live at the CREEN. The average stay at the CREEN is twenty-six weeks. The children stay at the CREEN until they are healthy enough to go home. Depending on how malnourished the child is, he/she may have to stay in the hospital for three weeks where they are fed intravenously. After the hospital the mothers and children then live in a secluded community--that is still apart of the hospital--where they recieve sensibilizations on nutrition. During our tour of the hospital, I met a five- year old boy who was only 5 Kg (11 lbs). When we met the boy; he was laying on a metal table, motionless, with flies all around. It was so incredibly sad to see children in this state. I started to cry but then tried to hold back my tears because I did not think it was very appropriate. In Burkina Faso, children are generally malnourished. However, there are different degrees of malnourishment ranging from mild to severe. Most of the children in my training village are anywhere between mildly to moderately malnourished. Most of the children have bloated bellies and some what blondish-yellow tinted hair(a sign of malnourishment. This past week when I met my village counterpart, I asked him if malnutrition was prevalent in my future village. He responded that malnutrition was very prevalent and I responded, “That is great news! Errrrr…no, wait…that is not what I meant. I just really want to work on malnutrition.” Nevertheless, he laughed. He is young so I think he understands me or at least I would like to think he does. If he did, it would make for less awkward moments like this one. Another activity that I really enjoyed was learning to make enriched porridge, thereby, being able to bring these recipes to my village to sensibilize the women. Prior to porridge sensibilizations, I would also partake in baby weighings. About 90% of the time, the baby is between a really poor weight and an okay weight. Malnutrition is a big problem here mainly because of a lack of resources, education, and woman having multiple children(short weening process). Other activities included learning how to plant Moringa trees, make soap, mud stoves, and radio broadcasts for World AIDS day, to name a few. During our cross-cultural sessions we usually just learn what not to do to offend the locals. For example, in this conservative culture, it is highly offensive to show any knee. Prior to coming here, I did not wear any skirts/shorts that came remotely close to covering my knees. I had search high and low to find this mysterious thing called long skirts. Now, if I ride my bike and my skirt rides up past my knees, I feel like the village whore. Although, I find it rather odd that in a culture where you cannot show your knees, it does not have a problem with you showing your boobs. My host moms whip their twins out all the time. Morning, noon, and night. Inside, Outside. That is just geography. Most of the time I do not know what to do; I just try to not look below their shoulders. One time I thought my host mom asked if I wanted to breastfeed a child or breastfeed from her. I had her repeat herself like ten times. I thought to myself, “this woman cannot be saying what I think she is saying.” Like a second reflex, she proceeds to whip out her boob, and lifts it up to suckle from it. I must of looked incredibly confused because...well,.. because I was. Prior to this gesture, I would have thought something was lost in translation but afterwards I thought there was nothing to be lost. To this day I do not know whether or not she wanted to breast feed me or have me breast feed one of the many children in my quartier. For the cross cultural sessions, some of the classes included sessions on the socio-political history of Burkina or how to date in Burkina (as if there is a science to it). For medical sessions we usually learn how to avoid malaria, giardia (check), amoeba (check on that one too), or staph infections to name a few. I am probably not your model healthy Peace Corps volunteer. Usually, these sessions just make everyone a hypochondriac, namely myself.

Potpourri

A few weekends ago I biked 20 km to spend the weekend at my friend, Amanda’s site. I have come to the conclusion that biking in 100 degree weather is not the greatest idea, especially when your bike dies on you. Die, you ask? Yes, this may seem a bit dramatic but die it did (chain, flat tire, and tube). Luckily, after a few minutes of waiting (not really sure what for), a couple of bicyclists stopped to help. In my best French, I tried explaining that my bike had died and there was no possibility of reviving it—at least on my end. In my long explanation of what had happened there were lots of pointing, hand gestures, and me saying it would not work. They asked if I was headed into Ouahigouya and I told them I was headed to village about 10 km outside of the city. One of the men said if I hopped on the back of his moto he would take me to a mechanic in village. While I was appreciative of the offer, I had to decline because of Peace Corps policy. You would think that I had to decline because it is Peace Corps policy not to hitchhike, but nope, I had to decline because I cannot ride motos. Anyway, I seemed to have gotten my point across because they proceeded to stop a random bicyclist that was heading in the opposite direction. They informed him he would need to give me his bicycle so I could ride it into town. I got on his bicycle and headed into the next village with my entourage of three guys on their bicycles/motos. They led me to a mechanic in the next village where they stayed with me until I assured them I was okay.

Happy Kill the Native Americans and Steal Their Turkeys Day....One Month Late

Ahhhhh…the best meal I have since my arrival in Burkina! For dinner, most of the trainees split up in small groups and made one or two dishes. With a few of my friends, I made deviled eggs and sweet potatoes. From the looks of the pictures, they don’t look very good but they were actually quite delicious. It is possible to make American food in the bigger cities but it is quite expensive and you would have to go to multiple markets to find the different ingredients. However, since none of us had ovens/some ingredients, we had to be creative and make all of our dishes without them. At the start of dinner, I was already uncomfortably full because my stomach was weird that day (at this point I had had nothing to eat for the day; my giardia had also not been diagnosed yet). But I did not care about this small detail. I forced my self to eat, and eat, and eat. And eat, I did. There was so much food! Here, if good food in involved (food that you normally cannot find in country), we will stuff ourselves. When the SED group went to the Associate Peace Corps Director’s (APCD) house for Mexican food, they ate so much that the majority of them puked and then went back for seconds. Appetizing, right? This makes me even more excited for Christmas dinner when we are going to go to a Lebanese restaurant. At our Thanksgiving dinner, there was stuffing, pumpkin pie, rice pudding, brownies, deviled eggs, fruit, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, salad, green beans, goat, and turkey (the US Embassy sent us butterball turkey from the states). We also had a goat—a week or so after our arrival we visited the chief of the Ouahigouya region and as a gift he gave us a goat. We named the goat, “Turkey,” and decided that we would eat it for Thanksgiving. One of the health volunteers “adopted” the turkey and brought it to her village to fatten it up until it would meet its fate.

Site Announcement!

Site announcement was about five weeks ago and I have just been too lazy to write….So alas, here I am writing. I am very happy with my site placement; I am located about 7 km outside of Zabre in a large village of about 9,500 people. Sorry kiddos, I cannot disclose my actual site because the Peace Corps does not want any psychos flying three thousand miles to come stalk me. My village is located in the south central “green region” of Burkina. I am excited to be located in the greener part of the country. I am currently commuting to Ouahigouya which is located in the northern part of the country. Because I am in the north, it is very dry, dusty, and hot. However, as I will be living in the south, I will have to put up with the humidity. Nonetheless, I think that it is a fair compromise considering during the hot season in the hottest part of the Sahel region it can get up to 130 degrees (it is a bit cooler in the south). Apparently, during these times you just want to die because there is no relief from the heat. At site, I will be living within a family compound; however, I will have my own private courtyard. I am told that I will have two small houses (one room each)—a circle thatched mud hut and a square one. The volunteers near my site tell me that the square house is used for sleeping, the circle one is used for storage, and the kitchen is outside in the courtyard. Hmmmm…I do not know how that is all going to work but I am just excited to finally have a site and a place to call home for the next two years. I also will have three moms! Yayy for triple the love!! My village has a small market every three days; I am thinking I can find your basic fruits/veggies, bread, and maybe even eggs there. In Zabre there is a larger market. Because I am so close to Ghana, Ghanaian merchants come up to Zabre with “fine goods” and yummy sweet bread. It is a good thing I have to bike 8 km to the Zabre market because with all of that yummy bread, I will be turning into a chunky monkey. Yes..….I can foresee it now—either that nickname or Mrs. Butterworth II (second in line to Penny—of course). Even though I do not have any close volunteers from my training group near me (the closest one is 80 km away on an unpaved road), I do have two volunteers—one 7km away, and another 22 km—from the training group from the year before. If you head directly north, you run into a hippopotamus reserve and if you head North West, you will see lots and lots of elephants!! While I am excited to be heading to my site in ten days, I am sad to leave my friends. Especially, since they are located all the way at the other side of the country. Even though they are pretty far away from me, each month I will get 4 days away from site (in addition to 2 vacation days)—called Time Away From Community days (TAC). I plan on visiting or meeting up with them on the weekends in Ouaga (the capital); this will be crucial to maintaining my sanity—I have been known to talk to myself. Similarly, to preserve their sanity, lots of volunteers have adopted cats and/or dogs. I was really considering this until I heard horror stories of having pets at site. One current volunteer has been through three cats. One cat was eaten—yes, that’s right. It was eaten by the locals. Another cat was subject to animistic voodoo practices; it came back with its eyes removed. I assume it died. The last one mysteriously “disappeared.” Frankly, I would have stopped after cat number two. Nevertheless, I think I will just opt to talk to myself instead of having a cat/dog.
To prepare for site, I have started to learn another local language. Bissa is spoken by only 500,000 people and is one of the lesser known languages in Burkina. It is pretty exciting that I will be learning a language that is not spoken by a lot of people; however, it is kind of not that great because I can only use it in few places in Burkina. Additionally, because only the educated know French (located mostly in the capital), I will only be working with people that speak only the local language. I am guessing about 15% of the total Burkinabe population knows French—maybe less. I will then rely on my assigned counterpart to be my translator during village sensibilizations. Bissa is proving to be a difficult language to learn. Since Bissa is not a written language, every time my tutor spells a word, he will spell it differently. For example, he may spell the number four as “she” one day and another day spell it as “chi.” Bissa, as well as the rest of the local languages, are phonetic so you just spell them how you think they sound like. Bissa speakers also eat their words which is proving to be quite frustrating. For example, instead of saying, “Iris dogta ki,” which means “how are you,” they will condense it to, “I dogta ki.” Often times, my tutor will ask me how I am doing and because it is shortened I will not understand. I will then look confused and he will say we already went over it and then I will respond, “No, I am pretty sure we did not.” He will then point to the phrase and then I will be like, “Oh…so I am thinking you ate the word again?”
I leave for site in about ten days. We were originally supposed to leave on the 20th but the Peace Corps thought it would be cruel to send us off to site so close to Christmas. Hence, we get to stay until the 26th. I am pretty happy with this arrangement because this is the first time I will be spending Christmas without the crazy, dysfunctional Bermudez clan.

Giardia, anyone?

Yep, that is right. I ate poop. So far I have lost 15 pounds in the six weeks that I have been here. ick. Sometimes I make it to the bathroom and sometimes I do not....and that is all I am going to say about that.

The Necessities: Food and Sleep

The food. Oh, the food. Well there’s carbs, carbs, and more carbs. Since coming to Burkina Faso, I think about food. A LOT! Past volunteers say that you will never talk more about bowel movements or food in your life than during your service. I can attest to this. There is not a lot of variety, here. The restaurants in Ouahigouya (the third largest city) only serve one of four dishes: spaghetti, rice with peanut/tomato sauce, couscous with peanut/tomato sauce, or rice with beans. I have learned to scout out the restaurants that have salad, brochettes, and fries. On the nights that we stay in Ouahigouya, I will go to a restaurant and spend anywhere between 300 cfa to 800 cfa, which is about $0.60 to $1.50. If I really splurge on supper, I will spend about 1400 cfa ($2.80). They usually use a lot of oil here. Yep, a lot. Yep. Lol. I like to think that I will appreciate food even more when I go back home or into the capital (Ouaga). I can usually find some American, Italian, or Thai(there is a rumor this one exists—I will seek it out) restaurants there. However, in relative terms, they are quite expensive. Ouahigouya has a pretty good outside market where you can find apples, bananas, watermelon, guava, peanut butter/peanuts, eggs, bread, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, eggplant, yams, meat and fish (these two scare me), amongst spices and other things that I am sure I am forgetting. I only head to the market on the days that I come into Ouahigouya for class (two days a week). I usually will head to market and pick up some fruit or veggies and laughing cow cheese to make a sandwich. Other days, I will make peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch. I will pick up some fruit to bring home when I head back to village but as I do not have a fridge, they usually go bad within a day or two. The lack of food choices in village had made me creative in concocting new food combinations. My friend introduced me to frozen yogurt and peanut butter. I buy regular yogurt at one of the marts and will bring it back to ECLA (the center where we have class) and ask them to freeze it for me. After a few hours I will retrieve it and put peanut butter on top. It’s actually quite good. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it’s a peanut butter frosty.
In village, my host mom will usually give me one of the following: rice with peanut sauce, couscous with peanut sauce, spaghetti, or salad. I am actually pretty lucky because my mom will give me salad a few times a week. In Burkina Faso (for the locals) vegetables and fruits are expensive and I feel quite blessed that I get salad. Especially when one of my village mates only gets macaroni—every night. Every time my mom brings me my salad or any other dish I just have to laugh. She brings me enough food to feed a small army and probably all of their mothers. I usually will get one huge cauldron of just salad, another pot dedicated to onion and tomatoes, and another cooking pot dedicated to cucumbers. I usually mix all of the veggies together and put a little bit of oil, vinegar, and salt on top. So, so, yummy. She also insists on bringing silverware to me for every meal. The nerve of the women! Lol. When I arrived, I asked her if she eats with silverware, she responded no. I then told her that since her family did not eat with silverware, I would not either. Although, to this day, one month later, I still get served my supped with a fork and spoon. I have stayed strong and have not used them. I only eat about 1/4-1/3 of my food and usually ask my brother my join me. However, I feel bad because I usually have about 15-20 hungry kids around me. In the beginning, I did not know if it was appropriate to offer my family’s food to the children since I assumed most of them were neighborhood children(still could not tell you who is in my family and who is not). But now I try to offer the food to the children (when my brother is not around). Most of the time my brother will just take the food and just eat it for himself or share it with all of his brothers/friends? Even if I tell him to share it with the children. When I am done with my supper plate there may be a couple pieces of tomato or salad that I did not eat and one of the little boys will eat it like there is no tomorrow. It is kind of frustrating to watch my brother eat the rest of my food, even after I tell him to share. The Burkinabe people, especially those in village, like to eat to (pronounced toe). They have it for every meal. I believe it is ground up millet that it cooked with water. It then cools and has a consistency of malt-o-meal/cream of wheat. I tasted it once and it wasn’t very good. Well, no. It didn’t taste like anything. Here, the sauce makes or breaks the “to.” “To” is just like a filler. It has no nutritional value but it is cheap and abundant. During the first week I asked my brother what he was eating for dinner and he said to. I then asked what he ate the night before and he said to. I asked him what his favorite dish was and he said to. I then responded…. no, seriously. What is your favorite dish and he was like to. Even though the foods found in the market are less common than those in the city, people still do not eat them. They eat to for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Here is a list of some of the foods that I day dream about: CHIPOTLE! Potato salad, chili, cabbage salad, dad’s guacamole/hamburgers/lemon chicken, banana bread, cookie dough, ice cream, dried fruit, brown cinnamon oatmeal, and monkey bread. Seriously, the list could go on and on…. No, really. It could. However, in about a month when I get to site, I will be able to cook for myself as I will have my own kitchen. Today we had a cross-cultural class on maintaining good nutrition in Burkina Faso. We also received a cook book made up of recipes from past Burkina Faso volunteers who have had to cook without a stove, microwave, or fridge. Everything looks so good in it. If you haven’t figured it out already, I like food.

Depending on if I go to the cinema or not, I usually head to bed anywhere between 7:30 and 10:30. The first night I slept in village I thought I was having pre-menopausal hot flashes. It was over 90 degrees in my room. I kid you not. Since then, it has gotten considerably easier to sleep at night. Heat wise, anyway. Now, it is winter so it may get down to 60 degrees at night. I usually sleep with a pagne (a fabric that triples as my towel, blanket, and skirt). I usually have a chorus to hum along with during the night. And by chorus, I mean the animals. There are goats/sheep which sound like crying babies, roosters—oh, the roosters, chickens, orgasmic donkeys, and the praying/singing men. The goats usually wake me up around midnight, then come the sheep, and around three the roosters start. Some mornings the roosters start around 1:30. Oh, Lordy. Normally, the donkeys have no set time---they usually make their orgasmic noises all throughout the night. The first couple weeks I thought there was a sick baby living in my compound because all it would do was wail. I really wanted to go ask the neighbors which family had the sick baby so I could ask to see if it was okay. I never really did that though because at that time I could only say, “My name is Brittany and I am hungry/I like to eat.” Turns out, no baby--just the sheep and goats. Because I live in a Muslim region, there are four calls to prayer throughout the day. One of which is at 4:30 in the morning. I usually wake up to them singing but I’ve grown accustomed to them. In the beginning I was deathly afraid of sleeping in the dark. I suppose it was mostly because after 6:00 it gets dark, and since, there is no electricity, there are no lights anywhere in the village. I used to leave my lantern all the way on during the night but now I dim it so as to not to waste petrol. However, I swear there is a large animal that roams around in the room adjacent to my bedroom. The first night I woke up to rustling in the adjacent room. I thought someone had gotten into my room and was going through my suitcase. I almost peed my pants. I was so scared to say anything for fear that they would come into my room. I like to think of my mosquito net at my safety blanket. It surprisingly makes me feel safe. My house’s ceilings are lined with black garbage bags and I think the animal walks around up on them. That’s at least what I told myself…the farther away from me the better. However, on the nights that I wake up and have to go to the bathroom, I usually hold it until dawn breaks. Last night I had to go to bathroom around 1:30 but the noises in my houses were so loud that I held it until 5:45. I do have a funny story, though. During one of the first nights when I got to village, I had to go to the bathroom (this was during my three week long diarrhea fest). My screen door to my house can be locked on either side of the door. For some reason, my mom locked the outside so I couldn’t go to the bathroom in my latrine, which was located outside. So I had to go to the bathroom several times during the night in my shower bucket. I thought it was funny at the time--still do. Even with the chorus line and creepy animal, for some odd reason, I still wake up and feel refreshed. I guess it is because I go to bed so early. I never really feel the need to nap here.

I Run In Circles

So a few days a week, after it cools down in the afternoon (around 5), I play soccer at the school with some boys. One day I decided I wanted to play soccer so I showed up to the field and said I was playing. No questions asked. I am the only girl that plays with the boys and I think I am probably the only girl in the history of the village who has played soccer with the boys. On the field I am quite the sight. Even after playing soccer for nine years, I am still being schooled by boys about 1/3 my age. Their ages range from about 7 to 20. I mostly end up running around in circles—mostly chasing after the boys. I’m pretty positive I am the most watched person on the field. Not only because I am the only girl/ white person on the field, but also because compared to them, I am really awful. However, I do attack the boys and try to steal it away from them. Sometimes they will even pass the ball to me. Every other kick is a head bunt and these kids chase after the ball like no ones business. It still impresses me that about 90% of the kids play without shoes. And it’s not like they play on grass…they play on some sort of gravel/dust field. It’s hard to explain. I wear my Chacos sandals and when I get a rock in between my foot and shoes, I have to stop everything to take the rock out. But when I say stop everything, I just mean stop running in circles because I usually don’t have the ball. This happens a lot. Sometimes, a donkey cart will cross right in the middle of the field or a woman herding some goats. It is really funny because you think they would stop playing until the donkey cart or the goats have gotten off the field, but they don’t. They just play around them.

A Typical Day In Training (In Village)

A Typical Day in Training (In village)
5:30-5:45: Crawl out of bed. I am usually up before then as explained in my sleep blog. I will usually hear my host mom sweep my courtyard around this time.
6:00-8:00: Take a bucket bath and get ready for class. Bucket baths are not so bad--I actually really like them. Here, its currently winter so in the morning time it’s usually around 65 degrees and I am usually shivering as I take my bucket bath. However, in the afternoon it usually gets up to 85-90 degrees. Usually when I get up I will see my host family and neighbors all in their winter jackets. After I take my bath I am usually in a tank or a tee and my family is baffled as to why I am not cold as they are all bundled up. My host mom will usually bring me tea and I will sit outside and read a book. During this time, my other host mom, dad, and siblings will come and greet me. The neighborhood kids will usually come and peek into my courtyard to see if I am up. If I am up, they will usually sit with me as I read my book.
8:00-10:00: Language class. Usually pretty boring but my Language Placement Facilitator (LCF), Konfe, usually tries to make it fun by playing games.
10:00-12:30: Training Development Activity (TDA) or maybe another language class .
12:30-2:00: LUNCH! Usually, one of our host moms will make us lunch. Lunch usually will be rice with beans, rice with peanut sauce, or if we are really lucky, we may get salad or plantains. We usually have to ask for the later two in advance because our families will have to head into Ouahigouya to get these. Normally, after lunch we may just chill and chat in my courtyard as it offers the most shade during mid-day. Yesterday, during the lunch hour we took a little excursion to the river near our village and looked for crocodiles. We never saw any but one of the locals told us if we wanted to see them we should come back at dawn or dusk.
2:30-3:30: Health technical class. In the beginning these were tres boring as we talked about the theory and structure of the Burkinabe healthcare system. Lately, these have improved as some classes are about malaria, AIDS, malnutrition, or first aide.
3:45-5:15: Personal study time. I usually chill in my courtyard and read an English book and think that I should be studying French.
5:15-6:00: When I am in village at this time, I usually will head to the school and play soccer.
6:00-6:15: Bucket bath time! I am usually greeted by my mom at my courtyard. After she greets me in the local language, she then tells me to go shower.
6:15-8:00: My brothers and sisters/neighbor kids (I still don’t know which ones are mine) help me take out my desk and my mom will bring me tea and supper. I have about a 30% chance of guessing what I will have. I will read or study French while about 15-25 kids watch me. I’ll often try to speak French with my brothers or the little kids (about 80% of the kids don’t speak French). I am usually tired around 7:15 and want to go to bed but I make myself stay up until at least 7:45-8:00 so my family doesn’t think I am incredibly dull.
8:00-10:30: A few nights a week I will head to the cinema. The cinema is a small shack with a TV (run by a generator) and about four rows of benches. They play some really strange movies—sometimes, it will be a Thai boxing movie where the main character just kills people, bollywood movies, or European movies with three headed dogs. Aside from the Bollywood movies, the common thread is that someone is always getting killed. Since my French is still pretty bad, I usually just make up a storyline in my head. It is especially fun to do this with the Bollywood movies.
10:30-5:30: “Sleep”….I use this term loosely.

A Little Burkinabe Adventure---To The Infirmary..

I am currently in the Peace Corps infirmary in Ouagadougou(Ouaga). I came to Ouaga for the weekend to attend Siao--a West African week long artisan festival. After attending the festival, my friend, Amanda, and I were trying to buy mangos at a street stand. As I was talking with one of the vendors, I stepped back and my whole leg fell through a cement grate sewer-ditch thingy. As I was falling through the grate, I tried to turn my body and put out my hands to catch myself. This was not the best idea as it just twisted my body even more. I fell through the cement grate with my left leg going through one hole and my entire right arm going through the other hole. My falling happened out of no where and surprised both Amanda and the women selling the fruit. They tried pulling my body out of the grate but my leg was crushed between two cement blocks. Because my body was at an angle, every time they pulled I screamed out in pain. My first instinct was to start screaming in English telling them to stop because they were hurting me. Amanda immediately stopped but because the women did not understand me they kept trying to pull me out. By then about thirty people had surrounded me with three more men trying to help lift me out. By then I had remembered the word for stop in French was "arretez"; I was both screaming and bawling this to the people to stop pulling me out. I don't think they understood me or thought they were trying to help me by trying to lift me out even after I told them to stop. Amanda was then screaming "no" at them so they would stop. After a few minutes of trying to pull me out, the men then tried lifting the cement blocks out from around me but the blocks were too heavy. A man then ran to his house and grabbed a crowbar and then used it to pry me out. Still cyring, I grabbed the vendor women and started hugging them and saying thank you. I think they were kind of confused by my actions because no one hugs in Burkina---especially not strangers. Amanda then texted the Peace Corps Medical Officer(PCMO) that I was hurt and to call. About 15 seconds later Jean Luc calls and we explained what had happened. Luckily, we were only two blocks from the transit house(the house where volunteers stay during their travels). It was also lucky that the Peace Corps bureau was about a three minute car ride from the transit house. We hobbled to the transit house where a few minutes later Jean Luc and Doug, the PC Country Director met up with me. They informed me that I would have to go to the PC infirmary until a decision could be made. Jean Luc and a PC staff member carried me to the car and then once at The Bureau carried me from the car up two flights of stairs to the infirmary. Here, I have recieved amazing care. Jean Luc treated my wounds(my arm and leg) and looked at my leg(I have an inflamed bruise-cyst about the size of a large grapefruit on my leg as well as some other bruises). He brought me some yummy bagels and orange juice...never thought I would see those in country. Jean Luc also brought me ibuprofin and a list of restaurants/menus of places that would deliver food to the PC Bureau. Even on his days off, he visits me a few times a day to check up on me. Yesterday, Amanda stayed with me the entire day here in the infirmary. She was a God-send. We ordered grilled cheese sandwiches, fries, brownies, and cookies from the International School of Ouahadougou. It was so good! Today, before all of the health volunteers went back to Ouahigouya, Amanda and Colin stopped by to say goodbye and to drop off my bag. Tomorrow I will get x-rays of my leg and Doug says I should be able to leave on Tuesday. For at least a few days I will use crutches and for at least a week the PC will drive me between Ouahigouya and village. I am unsure as to why this happened to me but I believe everything happens for a reason. If anything, I got to know the PCMO and CD a bit better. I will be excited to get back to village and join the rest of the volunteers. Even though, I am currently by myself for the weekend in the infirmary, the PC infirmary is not your typical infirmary. In Burkina it's like living in a life of luxury; it kind of reminds me of an air-conditioned apartment. It has a tv, couches, about a two hundred movies, internet, comfy beds, magazines, a kitchen with a refrigerator, and a bathroom with a toilet! and bath tub. In Burkina, these would all be considered rare commodities. I will update this when I find out the results of the xrays.

Burkina Is Faso-nating!

I have been in Burkina Faso for about a month now. Despite being considered one of the top three hardship countries in the world, Burkina is an amazing place. In my training group there are thirty one volunteers: eleven small enterprise development volunteers and nineteen health volunteers. I live in small village of two thousand, with four other health volunteers, about 10K outside of Ouahigouya. All of the other health volunteers live in surrounding villages around Ouahigouya.
In my village, I live in a family compound but I do have my own place. It is a small cement house with a tin roof. My house has two small, dark rooms and and outside courtyard and adjacent latrine(hole in the ground for pooping---I seem to do a lot of this). I could not tell you who all is in my host family. From what I gather, in my badly spoken French and understanding of the language, I have a host dad and his two wives(the entire region is Muslim). They have lots of kids but I could not tell you exactly who is who. Everyday, my host brothers tell me everyone is either their sister and/or brother. If my calculations are correct, I have about 30 brothers and sisters but I highly doubt that is the case.
Every weekday I bike to Ouahigouya for classes. My days are quite busy and tiring. I usually get up around 5:30 and go to bed around 8:00--yes, I have turned into an old woman. Between biking 20K a day and classes, I am usually pretty pooped by the time I get back to village. No pun intended. Classes usually end around 5:15 and we usually race home to make it home before it gets dark around six.
We usually try to make it home before the bugs come out but that usually never happens. One time while a volunteer-mate of mine was biking in front of me, he swallowed a bug and tried to spit it out. Well, as luck would have it, the wind carried the spit and it hit me in the face. I opened my mouth to scream and I swallowed a big bug. I think I am comfortable in saying that I have gotten over my fear/irritation of bugs. At any point in time, there could be between ten and thirty flies/gnats/crickets/cockroaches around me. While I have gotten used to the idea of sharing my house and latrine with cockroaches, I still haven't gotten used to the idea of scorpions. A friend of mine was stung by one a few weeks ago. I now inspect my house with my latern every night before I go to bed. A villager told me she had been stung by a scorpion a while back and she said the pain had been worse than giving birth.
Speaking of lanterns, after six o' clock at night, the only way I can see at night is by using my lantern. I feel very Oregon Trail-ish out here. Sometimes, I even slept outside under the stars a few nights. The view is quite spectacular and really makes me feel small in the universe. The stars are both countless and beautiful.

Because Saying It In Moore is More Fun

While in training, I am learning both French and the local language, Moore. In Burkina it is customary to greet everyone. And I don't just mean greet them, but also, ask how their day is going, how their family is, and how their work is. Even if your neighbor asks you these questions in front of the other neighbors and they hear your answers, they are still obliged to ask you the same questions. I mostly get laughed at by the locals when I try to speak Moore. But it is all good. I think they find it endearing that the Nasarra(Westerner) from the States is trying to speak the local dialect. Nonetheless, learning Moore is proving to be quite difficult. Most of the time I only speak the few phrases that I know. When the locals ask me a question that I do not know, I just say 'laafi' which literally means health. In Burkina, laafi is everyone's answer to everything. After saying laafi enough times, the locals understand that I have no idea what they are talking about. Well no....I am pretty sure they understand that I have no idea what the are talking about from beginning because I usually have this pained look on my face that looks like I am trying to do a long division math problem in my head.

The following is a list of common Moore phrases:

Ne y yibeeoogo= Good morning.
Y yibeoog yaa laafi= How's it going?
Laafi bala. Y zak ramba= It is going well. And how is the family?
Laafi. Mam your la a Brittany= It is well. My name is Brittany.
Fo yamb wumda moor bii= Do you understand Moore?
Ko-yuund n tar mam= I am thirsty.
Fo rebda yeene=Where are you going?
Yaa tuulgo= It is hot.

Burkina Faso--Here I Come!!

So the moment has arrived...in less then 5 hours I leave for Philly. To my surprise, as well as my family's, I am all packed with time to spare. If you would ask any one of my family members or friends they would tell you I am the biggest procrastinator. Of course, my dad keeps trying to unpack my suitcases to make sure I have everything and/or to make sure I haven't gone over the weight limit. It's not like the suitcase has gained ten pounds since the last time we weighed it (but that's Pompilio for you). But let me tell you....trying to pack for two years is quite hard when you're trying to fit random things like a diva cup and a mosquito tent into your suitcase. I am even wearing my bike helmet to the airport tomorrow because there is no room in my luggage. I'm pretty sure I'll just tell people I suffer from seizures and then maybe they will feel bad enough for me and help me with my luggage. Tomorrow I will start the first phase of my Peace Corps service aka Staging. Actually, it's not really a phase, it's more like one day of meeting other Peace Corps members and getting poked with a million different syringes. Then off to Burkina Faso where I will be an honorary African for the next two years. I haven't quite yet fathomed the loneliness that I will come to feel while I am in Burkina Faso. So to receive emails, letters, FB wall posts, etc. will make it seem like it's Christmas. Once I get to Burkina Faso I will post my address so that you may send me letters if you'd like. Now I am off to take my last hot shower for what will be the next 27 months...eek.

Reflections

Wow. With only 10 days left before my departure, the realization of what lies in my future is quite daunting. The hardest thing about leaving is knowing what I am leaving behind and knowing that life will go on....without me, that is. Upon my return, friends will be finished with graduate school, a few years into their careers, or perhaps even married. Then there will be me...dun dun da duh...just starting out. Oy. While I realize the next two years of my life will be incredible, I still fear the isolation and lonliness that will come to embody my Peace Corps service. Additionally, I often wonder how effective my presence in BF will be. In 10 days I leave to teach the Burkinabe culture on malaria/AIDS/nutrition, and yet, I know their culture will have more of an effect on me than I will on them. But nonetheless, I look forward to having no running/hot water, no electricity, no eating utensils, no showers, no bathrooms/toilet paper(okay, maybe not this one), and best of all living in a mud hut in 110* weather. Okay maybe not the latter one either. I get cranky and let's be honest here, I turn into a biiotch when you mix bugs, heat and a lack of food! For the first time in my life, I will be living on my own, without a roommate, and with no one around to speak English with. Exciting, isn't it?