Everyone's doing 'laafi'

It has been an amazingly long week in village, making our trip to downtown Ouaigouya look like a bustling metropolis. Which it is, relative to the surrounding countryside that sits in darkness. With three gas stations, half a dozen paved roads and even a stoplight, it's the happening place to be.
I have to admit, being in village was a nice change of pace. This was the first full week I've spent there without coming into town and it certainly made a difference. I feel more comfertable and had a better sense of my surroundings after seeing them in the daytime. I also hung out with the family and certainly integrated myself by trying to help, but mostly just got in the way. I tried carrying water on my head, got pretty far and then a little girl half my size came up and glided off with it.
Last night I learned how to cook my favorite meal here, which is basically a couscous with tomato sauce. My host dad pointed to a beautiful blue bird that I've seen flying about and said, 'That's for dinner.' I said, 'Great!' I have made a full conversion to being a carnivore. I tried to help prepare the meal, but someone always brings me a stool and says 'sit!' So instead I sat in the middle of my "sister's" courtyard while people stayed busy all around me. My sister was frying up some yam frenchfries which she cut up with a dull machete and then dropped in hot oil using her bare hands. My little brother sat next to me, roasting peanuts in the embers of the fire and then shelled them and gave them to me in handfuls. My little cousins were taking a nap, completely naked on a mat in the corner, while my niece played with the cat. By playing, I mean dragging it through the courtyard by its tail or picking it up and trying it to force it to climb a tree. My Dad was sitting on his mat outside, greeting people, drinking his tea and praying. Then there was my older brother watching some french soap opera on T.V. in his courtyard. As for me, I was content to be witness to this family's daily routine and to be considered a part of it with open arms. They even gave me a local muslim name, Roukietou (Roo-kee-eh-too) since there was just no chance of pronouncing 'Caitlin.' The obstacles these people are faced with everday are obvious and overwhelming, and yet with an astounding level of resourcefulness and resilience I am greeted every morning and evening with a big smile and a genuine, "How's it going?" I invariably reply with the only option there is, being "laafi!" Which means 'Good! Ca va!' and 'health' all at the same time. The greetings never stop there though. In a society where your family's health, the community and being social are the most important things, that is just the tip of the iceberg. After the initial greeting which changes depending on the time of day, "Good morning, Good afternoon, evening and good night", the person addressed will respond, "How's your morning/afternoon/evening/night?" Then it's their turn to say "laafi!" But it doesn't end there. Then they will ask, "Y zak ramba?" How's your family? And as always, you respond with, 'laafi!' Then, "tuuma kibaare?" How's work? "Y sonsga?" How's your day? "Yiik laafi?" "Did you wake up well? Did you sleep well? How are your animals? How are the kids? To Marius (one of the other volunteers in my village) one man asked, "How's your wife?" Marius said, "Oh, I don't have a wife" but the man continued, "Well, how's your future wife?" "Laafi", Marius said, "She's good." The questions can range from your health to your work to your kids and back again, but the response never varies. You could be having the worst day, or sick as a dog in bed but if someone asks how you are, you are always 'laafi!' 'good!'
In my opinion it is a great testament to the positive attitude pervasive throughout this culture, and a sure-fire way to keep the morale high. If I didn't sleep well, in my sauna of a room, and stepped in something on the way to the latrine and hit my head going back into my house and got a flat tire (for the third time) on my way to class - when a group of women stop harvesting their crops with their babies strapped to their backs, to smile, wave and shout, "Ney Yibeogo Roukietou!" "Good morning Roukeitou!" I can't help but grin and shout back "Yibeogo kibaare?" "How's your morning?" And as always, they're doing laafi, just great, and you have to believe they are. So with a wave I say, "Have a great day" "Wend na kond laafi", literally translated, "May God give you health" and they say "Amina, amina!" "Amen!" And I ride on.
It is getting dark and almost time to head back to my village, I hope everyone is doing well, and your kids are well, and your work is well, and - you get the idea. I miss you all more than I can type and will hopefully be getting pictures to illustrate my random stories. Stayed tuned and write me whenever you get a chance.
Till then, take care,
Caitlin