And the green grass grows...

"Did it rain by you? Yes we got a lot of rain, did it rain by you? Yes it rained well!"

That would be a typical conversation you hear nowadays since the rainy season has officially begun. It feels like life has been breathed into everyone and they can move freely without the oppressive heat. For me I know I can sure sleep better as Andrea exclaimed one morning, "It was so cold last night!" I emphatically agreed before remembering we slept outside in shorts and tank tops and did not sweat, this for us is the new definition of "cold". After the rains the landscape has changed dramatically. It literally looks like I just ended up on the other side of the rainbow and I am not complaining. I forgot just how many shades of green existed.

In business related news the president of the COGES came over and we held a sensibilization together in one of my neighbor's courtyards. He told me he only had 45 minutes before he had to go to prayer but that was plenty of time. We sat down with our audience, a grandmother of about 65 years and had a great information session about malaria. The president asked her how she thought one got malaria and she replied that from the cold, a strong wind, not eating enough, drinking dirty water or eating dirty food that one could get malaria. This was all translated from sonhrai to french for my benefit so then I asked the president what he thought the real modes of transmission were (keep in mind I gave a presentation on this information about 3 weeks earlier) He told me that from drinking dirty water, from not eating enough or from sleeping outside without a bednet. Well 1 out of 3, I'll take it. So I did a quick recap of the appropriate modes of transmission for him to correct our audiences' response. And in that way we went through the modes of transmission, treatment, vulnerable groups and methods of prevention. After 40 minutes we were done and I genuinely thanked the president for his hard work, as he was the only member of the COGES to approach me about giving a sensibilizationn I thought positive reinforcement was the way to go. I reasoned that when we held our monthly COGES meetings then the rest of the group would hear what I thought of their performance. Well the monthly meeting came and went and because it was raining apparently people thought attendance was optional since no one showed up. There's always next month.

Today was my graduation from my four week course in Sonhrai, my local language. I am constantly berated or congratulated in village for my level of understanding depending on who I am talking to or what they ask me. If a woman I have never met greets me and I respond perfectly then she will laugh and exclaim, Ah you know Sonhrai very well! On the other hand when I go to the market and see the same men who sit and drink tea every day they will chastise me for not understanding more when they ask me where I'm coming from, what day I arrived, where I am going and other very introspective questions of the like. So as part of my in service training I recieve language training with a doctor from Gorom named Altine who just happens to be our 'go to' guy for anything we need whether it be advice, support, guidance or just to have tea and chat. All the volunteers around Gorom feel that he understands our work and our frusterations better than anyone sitting in their airconditioned office in Ouaga who are supposedly employed to have our best interest in mind. Altine tells us that he understands that change does not come easily or quickly here but he never fails to thank us for continuing to try and encouraging even the smallest efforts. So I was very gald to hear that he would be my sonhrai instructor and we spent the last few weeks accomplishing so much and I loved to be able to practice what I know in village. Although I do not aspire to be fluent in the local language it can certainly be helpful in clearing up a few misunderstandings. For example my neighbors have an adorable little girl that is one of my favorites and who for the past few months I have apparently been calling, "cow." As in, hey cow, hows my favorite cow, does cow want a cookie, and so forth. Her name being Hoowa and the word for cow being howa I really can't blame anyone for the mistake but it does make sense that her mom would always repeat her name after I said it, I thought for encouragment but really for correction. Similar things have come to light such as marriage proposals and my water boy asking for a hat when i just thought he liked mine. But it has felt good to be in a structured learning environment and making progress even if it is just for my benefit.

Well thats about all Ive got for now but keep in touch as always and hope you had a happy fourth o' july. Love y'all!
Take care,
Caitlin

Oh, eyore

God it feels good to laugh out loud. My water boy yelled "Koko!" and I came out of my house to collect my water jugs. Originally they were 20L oil bins but they have a convenient handle on top and are the primary tool for water transportation. As Burema is unloading my water off the back of the donkey cart I notice his donkey has a new accessory. They've put a string through the end of a flashlight and attached the string around the donkey's head so the flashlight hangs down his nose. It looks like Eyeore is about to go spelunking and I just stand there and laugh. Donkeys have such a complacent look bordering indifference. The donkey turns awayas if to say well I like my headlamp anyway, and shines his light elsewhere.

As my amusement subsides I pick up my two water jugs (thats right I can carry two now) and wobble into my house. I have a bucket of sudsy washed laundry that's waiting to be rinsed and whole slew of uses for my new found wealth of H2o. Water has become harder and harder to come by considering the rainy season is now 3 weeks late and the pump next to my house is recently broken. I asked my water boy, Burema whether they were going to fix it because I know it is his family that is responsible for it. "Ah! But there is no money!" he cries throwing up his hands. "What about the 5cfa they charge for every water jug?" "Ah yes, there is that. Actually they are waiting for my uncle to come from a nearby village because he knows how to fix it." I swear, sometimes I think they had a village meeting before I arrived and told everyone that if I ever ask a question just say you have no money.

Why don't you go to the health center?
I have no money
Why don't you send your kids to school?
I have no money
Why don't you use soap?
I have no money
Why don't you give birth at the maternity instead of at home?
I have no money
Aha! Giving birth at the maternity is free - gotcha.

Now it becomes a question of priorities. Whether you acknowledge the health risk involved and accept that you have options to mitigate that risk. When they spend over 10,000cfa a year on medication for malaria that proves that they can afford the 3,000cfa to buy a mosquito net to prevent getting sick. But they tell me they do not have even 100cfa and there is nothing that they can do. In reality I have polled friends and neighbors and they tell me that you contract malaria from the wind or if you drink tea before eating. Therefore it is not clear the causes and effects of these diseases. When none of their friends of neighbors are sleeping under a mosquito net (except for that crazy white girl) then why should they.

We have the same problems in the US of people understanding that their habits are not healthy but not willing to change their ways. Obesity is pandemic and yet people still say they can not lose weight; eat less, exercise more, end of story. And yet they spend money on diet pills and acupuncture just as people here would rather boil leaves and drink the broth because they are convinced it will help, because they heard from a friend of a traditional healer that this is what to do. Why do we drink chicken soup when we have a cold? The same traditions guide our behavior but as a result the problems here are magnified thanks to poverty, strict religious piety and abslutely no government support. Addressing each of those factors is important but nothing will change without an adjustment of priorities. Here it is the money that motivates, not the goal of development. Of course this is a generalization so take it with a grain of salt and know there are exceptions. In order to learn a skill or become a specialist in any area you have to attend what they call a 'formation'. Basically this could last anywhere from a day to a week and consists of all day activities and information sessions that make you proficient in the subject matter. In order to hold a formation it is necessary to have enough money to pay all the participants for there time, food and lodging. Basically this would be like paying students to go to a week long seminar. These are the type of classes that in the US the participants would gladly pay for, but here they will not attend unless they will be compensated for there time. Of course I have argued countless times how they are being rewarded for the information gained, they do not need monetary compensation in addition. But that is the tradition here and they insist that if you do not compensate people for there time they will either not show or never come again.

Just some of the fun obstacles we get to deal with, my internet time is up although I could write about this for hours. Hope it made some sense, take care till next time!

p.s- A great motivator to wash your dirty clothes the same day is finding a scorpion asleep in your dirty laundry bin. I think the whole village heard me scream when I found out is was not dead. Ew!!! I promply doused it with insecticide and ran inside, problem solved.

Malaria training: Take 1

Sunday was our scheduled information session on Malaria. I had presented the idea a week before to the 6 helth committee members that were present. If I held information sessions once a month they could share what they learned with their respective villages and at the same time gather information on local prespectives concerning the health topic. Since there is one member representing each satellite village this could ideally reach a wide percentage of the population. The members seemed enthusiastic and so I went home to prepare.

I created a technical information sheet on the signs/symptoms, methods of prevention, treatment and groups that were at a higher risk than normal of contracting malaria. The health records have shown that the highest number of cases of malaria occur from August - September after the rainy season has subsided and the increase of mosquito breeding grounds has done its damage. Since we are on the verge of the rainy season I considered this to be a good time to be clear on ways to avoid getting sick and to whom this disease could potentially be fatal. As soon as the rain starts the majority of the local population will move out to live next to their fields which can be anywhere from 1 - 10 km from their house in village. Basically everyone will be dispersed and an audience for health information sessions will be hard to come by.

Our health session on malaria was scheduled for a week after the monthly health committee meeting. I arrived to find two out of seven members present and decided to wait to see if any more would show. An hour later I decided to get the show on the road. It's always a hard call to wait for more people or begin with those you have. If you wait too long then the ones who were there from the beginning will tell you they have to get back to work but the ones who have yet to arrive will always say they are on their way.

I asked if the new midwife, Ida, would like to join us and thankfully she obliged. As it turns out the president of the health committee is more comfertable speaking Jula then french and she is fluent. So for the next hour I presented in french, Ida would translate to Jula and the president would translate to Sonhrai for the treasurer. Honestly who knows what the final message was, hopefully something about sleeping under a bednet as I repeated myself maybe 30 times to emphasize the importance. Of course at some point it was going to be mentioned that there are people who are too poor to afford the $3 mosquito net that can sleep 3. No matter what the problem this argument will be used to contradict any solution that is proposed. My response was quick and simple, doucement doucement, little by little, they have to save. I could see their doubt but that could also have been disappointment that I did not offer like every other 'nasara' they have met, to help pay for it. They have grown accustomed to 'if you ask, you shall receive...' that their initial reaction is to serch for funding instead of paying it themselves. When the funding runs out they do not look towards internally available resources but instead towards who would be willing to support their efforts.

While clearly it is a constant struggle when there is never enough, I still think this illustrates a larger problem concerning their priorities. They are willing to pay for the medication when someone becomes too ill to stand and all traditional methods have failed; but to pay for a method of preventing said illness is just not considered. I tried to illustrate the cost and benefits of pursuing a means of prevention rather than treatment. Clearly it makes more sense considering the costs of treatment triple as compared to those of prevention. While my audience agreed and nodded enthusiastically I could tell they were not convinced and that it will take more time. We shall see what the future brings and of course I will keep you updated.

Hope all is well wherever you are and take care!

Local perspective

Constantly aware of my foreign status and outlook it was a great learning experience to walk through village with my counterpart's little sister and the equally educated nurse's aid. Adja is 17 and as quick to be bored as any 17 yr. old could be. Her family is from Ouahigouya, the big city compared to Gorom Gorom where she goes to school. When she visits her brother in Korizena she mainly studies as there is little of vlaue to do and see in such a small village. Adema is from Korizena but is likely one of the most educated, speaking fluent french and holding a relatively well paid position as nurse's aid and janitor to the health center.

They both stopped by my house one Sunday to borrow my cell phone and since it was out of batteries we left together to head back to the health center where the newly acquired electricity was proving useful. On the way I saw the educated interact with the local and learned what is not acceptable on Burkinabe terms.

After the 20th child greeted us with a shrill "Ca va! Ca va! Ca va!" Adja expressed her annoyance. "They are too young to all be doctors, why are they asking me how I'm doing? Who are they?" I clearly identified with this thought and my volunteer friends would agree. Our favorite kids are the ones who go to school and simply cross their arms and curtsey as you walk by, much more agreeable and I always return the the salutation of respect. To maintain my sanity the others I ignore.

Continuing on our walk one little girl stopped to stare as we walked by only to follow close behind once we had passed. This irritated Adja even more and after a few minutes she angrily motioned for the girl to go ahead of us. "But why did you do that Adja? Now we are downwind and can smell her." This was an obvious observation after a moment but it showed the clear difference in standards even from someone one who was raised in village. Even though neither parties have running water or flushing toilets they hold themselves to a higher standard for knowing the benefits of hygiene and practising what they have learned. Of course the local families are poor but that does not mean they can not afford soap for 100 CFA, roughly 20 cents. They do not consider it a priority and do not draw the parallel between dirt and disease the way we do. To them there are many causes for diesease learned from experience and from what they have been told by traditional healers. Malaria is cause by drinking tea before eating lunch, or if it is very windy while you sleep. I ask my neighbor what she washes her hands with and she tells me soap and water but she is only saying what she thinks I want to hear because I have yet to see a single villlager wash their hands with anything more than water. They have been told what to do, but clearly not why because they do not consider it to be important enough to change their habits. I consider that to be a issue of priorities which turns health education into a tricky business requiring cultural sensitivity and a strong argument for the necessity of change.

The fun begins...

I completely forgot to share a story about our trip...

Originally Tom informed me that his flight would get in to Barcelona about 2 hours before mine. Trying to be the practical girlfriend I told him he should go to the hotel, unpack, shower and wait for me there seeing as how we would have no means of communication upon arrival. As a not-so-subtle romantic (my favorite movie being 50 First Dates) I was hoping he would be waiting for me at the gate. His next few texts quickly killed that plan as his plane went from 4 to 6 hours delayed. At that point I had to turn my phone off as we were leaving Burkina and I didn't know what would happen. I decided then that no matter how long it took I would wait in the Barcelona Airport and do a role reversal of suprisor and suprisee. I brought a change of clothes, I could shower in the bathroom so I wouldn't smell like Africa and hunker down with a book until he arrived; I had it all planned out...

I woke up to the pilot announcing we had safely landed in Paris CDG airport with a local time of 5:45am. That leaves plenty of time for me to make my 7am connecting flight to Barcelona, or so one would think. The next hour and a half were spent in a nerve clenching state of frusteration. First there was a line to get on the shuttle, then to go through customs, then to get through security to get back into the airport I had just landed in. At one point I turned on my ipod and laughed along to Mitch Hedberg on SNL, I figured if I was still standing in line when I had 5 minutes left to board I would just declare emergency and run. As it turned out I did have to run but with a grin of excitment and a sigh of relief boarded my plane at 7:35, it was scheduled to take off at 7:45. Of course I am in row 22 of a 30 row plane so I start making my way back trying to figure out if I'll have a window or an aisle seat when Tom stands up and starts walking toward me... I almost fell down but luckily he gave me a big bear hug before I could go anywhere. It was almost surreal but anything that good just had to be true, it was the beginning to our 7 day long dream. He later told me he saw the stewardess behind us clasp her hands and sigh, "Awwww." I was too busy being stunned into silence to notice. When I found my voice all I could muster was, "What are you doing here?!" Brilliant, I know. Since there were people waiting behind me to sit down Tom ushered me into the seat next to him which was thankfully unoccupied. We sat there hugging for the next 5 minutes after which Tom informed me, "You smell terrible!" Of course my plan had been foiled but I couldn't be happier. He then relayed his travel adventures where American Airlines cancelled his flight but he refused to leave until they transferred his ticket to AirFrance but he still ended up having to sprint between terminals to make the connection; the security gaurds all reached for their firearms when they saw him fly by. I listened intently but could not wipe the smile from my face, I was just so happy to see the one person I had missed the most.

And so began the best vacation ever...

(I told this story to my girlfriends in Burkina and they were such fans they made me promise to tell it again, so here it is ;)

Una mas, por favor

If you have a list of things to do in your life before you die get ready to add one more: Go to Barecelona. Tom and I spent a week and we did just about everything we enjoy most; relaxed on the beach looking out over blue waters, rented motos and zipped around the city (including the highway; oops!), rode on a gondola ride to the top of Mt. Juic, went to the movies, took a tram car to Tebidabo (the amusement park on the top of a mountain) and spent many, many hours sleeping in, enjoying the sights and multiple pitchers of sangria inbetween. We also completed the Spanish triatholon in our spare time, there was just no stopping us. But when asked by a newcomer what he should do in the few days he had to see the city, Tom's reply was flawless, "Come with someone you love." We could have met under a bridge in Brooklyn and I would have had an amazing time, it is not where you go, but who you choose to go with that matters the most.

Now, if you have that part figured out, take them to Barcelona. I promise to post pictures the minute I can along with a few very choppy home videos because you just have to see this place to believe it. We walked throughout the entire city in about an hour and our hotel was about a 20 min. walk to the beach. A walk through narrow spanish streets, passed ancient ornate churches, under archways with saints carved into their sides and alongside rows and rows of palm trees. Of course it was very rarely a straight shot as we were constantly distracted by the endless line of tapas bars along the waters edge that advertised generally the same menu everywhere of calamari, spanish sausage, tapas bravas (fried potatoes with a spicy creamy sauce)and of course the staple of sangria. It was really quite amazing how the sangria worked well with every meal, from the lunch time tapas, to the evening tapas to the dinner of paella or seafood. Notice I skipped over breakfast, which we literally did without fail every day as we went to bed around 3am and rolled out of our hotel close to noon. We didn't even try to rebel against the established schedule which would start serving dinner around 10pm and end close to 1am. The euro's value certainly tried to rain on our parade at 1.44 to the dollar. But we prevailed by buying groceries for lunch and a bottle of rum for the hotel.

The language proved slightly difficult as well with the local dialect resembling my archnemesis of 'Quebecoise.' When I went to Montreal I thought it would be the perfect time to practice my french. Only upon arrival did I realize that they could be speaking japanese for all I knew because it was not french, it was 'Quebecoise'. To the local population their dialect of french was the original language since France had become trainted by American and english influence. But to anyone who has studied the language that is recognized by the National Language Asssociation, they were speaking jibberish. So this was the kink that made things interesting for Tom whose spanish was immpecable, but Catalan, was apparently not up to par. We asked our waitress on day one for a new glass as mine had mysteriously become full of orange and lemon peels, her response, 'No, I don't know where that is' and she was off. When we wanted to know what time the amusement park on top of Tibidabo closed we were informed it will open at 5pm. At 4:55 we were suspicious when the bar we were waiting at started to close and people started to board the last tram car down. 5 minutes later the loudspeakers confirmed our doubts as they announced the park was closed... maybe the park attendants should understand spanish, just a thought. But we worked around it by avoiding people from Barcelona and finding any english speakers we could, we're crafty like that. And of course we understood the only phrase really necessary; one more please. As in, one more pitcher of sangria, or one more beer, however you phrased it, it worked just fine.

Whether it was having dance parties in our room, walking along the boardwalk, sipping sangria and looking out onto the ocean, or having picnics on the beach; all in all it was easily one of the greatest vacations I have ever had. With the weather at a consistent 80 and sunny we had the luck of the irish with us the whole way. I am looking forward though to many more adeventures with the man who chose to bring me, my best friend, my everything, who reminded me that this is not monopoly money. Thank you.

Spring Wishlist has arrived!

Spring Wishlist!

I want to thank everyone for their amazing support and encouragement, honestly words can't describe how much I appreciate your efforts. Sadly I sent out a thank-you card for all my packages and have so far heard that 3 arrived as empty envelopes and 2 were sent back to me without their contents. :( Apparently the local envelopes can not withstand the journey, or some disgruntled postal workers really liked the postcards I had picked out. O well, ca va aller, as they say, life goes on. So, I will be sending out cards from the states as often as possible and using bigger and better envelopes when not. Hopefully you all know how much I appreciate your support, empty envelope or not. Thanks again and take care.

Food
Nuts
Drink packets; Emergen-C, kool-aid, iced tea
Dried fruit: Craisins, mango, apricot, raisins
Beef/Chicken Jerky: Jacklink's Brand
Luna bars
Alfredo and pesto sauce packets
Bumblebee Tuna and Chicken Steaks
Yogurt covered raisins
Candy: chocolate in a sealed bags, bars could leak; skittles, gummyworms
Gum, starbursts

Supplies
Papermate pens: blue, black
AA/AAA batteries: rechargeable and non-rechargable
Magazines: NewYorker magazine, TIME, The Economist, InStyle, Real Simple, Vogue, US Weekly, People
Books: fiction
US stamps
Venus razor heads
Perfume samples (sometimes you just don't want to smell like Africa)
Neutrogena Skin cleansing Face masks
Ankle socks
Scented candles
Conditioner: Aveda, John Frieda, Dove
Pictures! I have plenty of wall space in my house and and need to cover the brown water stains with something so pictures and plastic picture frames would be just superb


Thanks again, I really do appreciate your support whether it's a letter with melted chocolate or a laminated world map I love and welcome it all. I hope you are all well and take care!

The address one more time;
Caitlin Keenan
B.P. 41
Gorom Gorom
Burkina Faso

Love and hugs,
Caitlin

Bring on the 'bon-bons'

So I got back to village on Monday and opened the doors to my house for the first time in almost 2 months. Inside it was like a tomb covered in 3” of dust. Termites had almost completely eaten through the door frame giving the impression to my counterpart that someone had tried to break in, when in reality the door was just hanging off its frame. Rather than annoyed by the intrusion I was actually impressed with the termite’s work, at least they had accomplished something in this village, a destruction to others meant success to them, nonetheless I hosed them down with bug repellent. All this was only possible after I stood on a stool and put all my body weight into lifting a branch that supported my porch, which had sunk below the door frame making it impossible to open. After all that I could still open only one of my two outward swinging front doors. Finally inside I was relieved to find only one cockroach but not so happy to see snake skin and no snake…

Luckily the first people to greet me were two of my best friends in village, Mariam and Harigetou, 12 year olds in the sixth grade, the highest class in village. I have to interject on their behalf that the grading system is not the same here as it is in the US. They start school between the ages of 5 and 7 and the primary school has six grades before continuing at the highschool level. Well they ran to see me shouting enthusiastically while scolding me at the same time for being 28 days late. ‘Roukie! You said you would come back on the 1st, today is what?’ ‘The 28th,’ I said, ‘You are late!’ they said. But they still took any bag they could and helped me bring them inside. Then they both declared, ‘OK- we are going to clean, clean, clean! Until your house is, clean!’ They can be very helpful girls but I suspected this was also a ploy to get a tour of my elusive home. I never let anyone into my house and always entertain on my porch. Even though I live more frugally than I ever have, in comparison to my neighbors I am a millionaire living in the lap of luxury. I try to downplay that as much as possible, but today was an exception.

Mariam and Harigetou both grabbed rags and began beating the dust out of everything in their reach. We brought everything we could carry out onto the porch to be either shaken out or washed later. Then they both soaped up their rags and started skating around the house, leaving trails of bleach water in their wake. They turned my clean time from a full day into a couple of hours, I was elated. While we were cleaning everything and putting it back in its place it was time to play 20 questions with all my things. ‘What’s this?’ Mariam asked holding up a peeler. ‘That’s something you use to take the skin off of vegetables. (God I hope I don’t come across like Buffalo Bill here) ‘ Oh, like a knife!, she says, Yes, a knife. I realized their range of utensils is a fraction of what we are used to so I decided to try and explain things so they would understand. Harigetou holds up suntan lotion with a quizzical expression, ‘Um, that’s oil to protect my skin from the sun.’ ‘Ooooh,’ she says. This goes on for another 30 minutes, a loofa, candles, Koolaid packets, salt ginder, pepper grinder, spatula, and then they found my stuffed animals. I have one little valentine’s day bear from my wonderful cousins Sara and David, and then a stuffed lion that belongs to Tom and I because he paid for the game but technically I won when we went to Six flags, we’ve since decided on dual custody. One of my older neighbors had stopped by and she was walking around assessing my house when she came across Mariam playing with Lion. Mariam informed me with a delighted smile that the older woman was afraid of the stuffed doll, so of course she thought it would be a good idea to pretend to throw it at her until she ran out of my house. Great, so now I’m a voodoo witch too I thought. If this village had a tabloid I would be on the front page every day.

Finally my house was livable again and I took the trash that I had forgotten to burn before I left out to my burn hole, previously known as my compost pile. I went back in to get gas and matches and by the time I had returned Mariam, Harigetou and several local children and turned the bag upside down emptying its contents onto my front lawn. Then they made a mad dash for things that looked of value and subsequently fought over items they both wanted. So two of the most educated girls in village were now rummaging through my trash, wonderful. I wanted to tell them to stop but didn’t really know where to begin until Harigetou looked up at me and said, ‘You sure eat a lot of ‘bon bon’s don’t you?’ My justification was weakened seeing all the plastic wrappers strewn about our feet. ‘OK, that’s enough,’ I had found my voice and while my first reaction was to defend my eating habits because that bag had been the collection of three month’s worth of plastic garbage, I just told them to put it all back and put it in the hole to burn. They obliged and we properly destroyed the evidence that indeed, I eat a lot of bon bon’s.

Later that day I took a tour of village, walking through the market and on to the health center greeting as I went. Bon arrivee Roukie! Bienvenue Roukie! I heard everywhere I went. It was truly a “Cheers” experience. I ran into the director of the school, one of my favorite people in village for having a great sense of logic and understanding the importance of health education. He gives me a big hand shake and the cultural four kisses on the cheek, apparently we’re one kiss better than the french now. Then he looks me up and down and still smiling says, “You got bigger!” I just laughed. “Yes” I said, subconsciously trying to stand a little taller, “I got bigger.” “The food over there is really good huh?” “Oh my, yes, it is.” Was all I could muster while trying not to crack up, who says that! Well, aparently every third person I saw that day. From the butcher, to the COGES president (Ah, you are fat now, this is very good), to the neighborhood kids, to my counterpart. He even went so far as to comment on how happy Tom must have been now that I’m fatter and “pretty”. Oh the joys of a healthy self-esteem, I just laughed along and agreed that the food over there is indeed very good. I honestly would not have had one less piece of sushi, or one less candy bar, or one less margarita for all the world. In Burkina there is no media to create an ideal image of beauty, there is only the difference between healthy and sick. Those who do not have enough to eat or have fallen ill will look eerily similar to those walking down the runway in New York and Paris. Those who have higher educations and can afford three meals a day wear their weight proudly and are respected for it. They have the luxury of free time and do not perform hard labor to survive, they can afford to have more than 5% body fat. While I feel perfectly healthy I also like to be in shape and be able to pull my own weight both figuratively and literally such as when I have to carry all my luggage weighing over 125 lbs. from the road to my house. It’s a 15min. walk and not an easy task in 100 degree weather but I feel good knowing I can take care of myself no matter the what the situation calls for... ice cream eating contest? Not a problem!

thanks for your extra long attention spans to all of you who made it this far without falling asleep. Take care until next time and thanks again for the packages they are amazingly delicious!

Yours truly,
Roukie

Bon Arrivee!

Well hello there,

It certainly has been awhile but I just wanted to get something out there to let y'all know that I am doing just fine, sweating buckets in my district capital at the moment; but otherwise just fine.

I got back in country on Monday after going home to take care of family and to take a break. Very impromptu and all, hence no forewarning. I am also planning a trip to Barcelona at the end of May with Tom the man and you will be hearing all about that. So home was wonderful and although I was asked within minutes of arriving whether it was hard coming back I could honestly answer no. My decision was made before I even left to come back which was supported by the need to actually accomplish something other than how to make a good pot of rice, or wash jeans by hand until their squeaky clean. OK, I'm still working on the latter, but at least they smell good.

So my arrvial was celebrated with hugs and shrieks from all volunteer friends, and endless conversations with Burkinabe consisting of; "Welcome, how is your family, do you have your health, is everything good? OK, thank god." Phew, talk about drama. I spent two relaxing days in the capital, watched my friends ship out to Ghana for a little vacation of their own and I headed off to village to start the process of cleaning, ugh. I know my house will be gross, like 3" of dust everywhere, cockroaches and dead lizards gross. Well, I'm not there yet because I first stopped off in Dori and slept over in a hotel, with airconditioning! I guesstimate its about 110 during the day and then about 85-90 at night. At the volunteer house in the capital it looks more like a frat than ever with mattresses strewn about the screened in patio because you might drown in your own sweat if you try to sleep indoors. We'll see how well that works in village where my bamboo porch does not currently have a door. Hmmmm.

So I finally made it to Gorom and headed over to the post office to see if I had anything waiting for me. To my astonishment I had 5 packages of all shapes and sizes and while I had the biggest grin on my face the post office attendant did not look so pleased with all the paperwork to be filled out.... An hour later I was free to leave with my packages. But how to get them from the post office to the hospital about 1km away?.... Duh du duuuh! Donkey to the rescue! I hailed a donkey cart and after some heated negotiating we were off, at a blazing 1 mile per hour. I could have walked faster than the poor guy but where's the fun in that. And apparently the donkey's welfare is the last consideration as we picked up a small family headed in the same direction, pas de problem.

Then I spent the afternoon going through my prized possessions; listening to lulu's audio letter while mowing some jerky and pouring all chocolate into a bag to go into the fridge in hopes of recreating its original form and consistancy. Don't get me wrong i like chocolate soup and all; but there's something satisfying about chewing, I don't know. And I made plans to start my world puzzle and thank god I have luna bars for life (or at least a few weeks) cause I did not bring a single one with me and without them I'd be going breakfast-less. Re-adjusting will take a little time and I'm just not ready for the usual bread and instant coffe combo of which everyone here is just so fond. I'll get there one day, or maybe not.

That's one of the hardest things about this trip, knowing your limits of adaptation and what should be altered or compromised, and what shouldn't. This could refer to something as practical as whether to drink the local water that is offered to me 10 times a day as a sign of welcome, or sticking to my workout regime. But then the lines get blurry when you consider the western work ethic and definition of success; how much should be integrated into the local way of life? If I dove in head first I would be drinking the water and have permanent diarrhea, not working out because people think it is bizarre, working 2 hours a day and drinking tea the rest, and being satisfied with exchanging my culture instead of promoting a concrete and sustainable mode of development. I know that expectations have to be downsized because of the mountain of obstacles and limited resources, but I have my limits and to feel like a productive and capable volunteer I have goals that to make my time effective need to be achieved.

So this is my ongoing debate which is compounded by the Peace Corps administration who is absentee at best and demoralizing at worst. Volunteers have found that if you can not achieve something on your own then it is likely not possible because the Peace Corps management is for the most part so unorganized and inefficient that it is futile to even ask for help. This makes a sometimes difficult job feel impossible and a sense of disconnect turn into hopelessness. When I had a meeting with the country director I expressed my interest in my training that I have yet to recieve, I explained how it was my #1 priority right now because I had many questions after completing my community evaluation and in order to be an effective volunteer I was looking for answers; how to fund raise, start an english club, start a credit and savings club, montior and evaluate presentations, etc. Her response, "You do not get to come in here and tell us when your training will be," with an icy if not hostile tone. Not even 48 hours in country and before I even arrived in village I realized the biggest obstacle was sitting in front of me. A director who served in the 60's and thinks that we are spoiled for having cell phones and should never leave our village or fraternise with other volunteers because she didn't have to so why should we. Every request goes in one ear and right out the other, and it feels as though you are talking to yourself, as if we did not feel alone enough already. She has searched through the computers at the PC office looking for incriminating pictures that people downloaded; partying, being out of village without permission, riding a bike without a helmet. She was successful once and a great small business volunteer was sent home. I understand rules are important but who's side are you on? she then wrote an article titled, "I'm disapointed" in our monthly newsletter. As if our moral was not low enough from losing a great friend and volunteer, it was insulting. I do not want to question my decision to come back on these people (our supervisors) who obviously could care less about their greatest resource (volunteers). I came here for me and Burkina; not the US goverment. But unfortunately without their support, material, mental and verbal it can make this time seem futile and if I can find happiness and fulfillment elsewhere then so be it. I'm no where near leaving but I can recognize when the odds are stacked too high and if I am not a happy volunteer then I know I can not be an effective one.

Wow- so I did not plan on including that rant but it has been at the forefront of almost every waking hour so it feels good to get it out. Feel free to scroll through it. Now that I have used almost 2 hours at the internet cafe and my stomach is doing its hunger dance; I should cut out. Now you may understand a little better that when I say thank you for your support, without which I would not be here, I really mean it. Every day is a challenge and hearing your own trials, tribulations, great memories and laugh out loud moments make it all the easier to keep on keeping on. So thank you.

Take care until next time, cheers!
Caitlin