Gobblé, gobblé, gobblé (Thats what french turkey's say)

Happy belated Thanksgiving! We did celebrate, Burkina style, with a shmorgasbord of food, and never enough silverware. We had all the usuals, green beans, two kinds of mashed potatos, carrots, salad, to, and even turkey! Yes, someone brought 'to', pronounced 'Toe', which is the most common local dish you can find. It is basically millet that has been boiled and mashed until it is a gelatin ilke consistency. You break off a piece, dip it in a sauce and I think your required to make a loud sucking noise as you put half your hand in your mouth to eat. Its really cute to watch.
But yaay, I got turkey and we all stuffed ourselves silly and then enjoyed a local beer or two and hit the hay. It was a joyous holiday and even some of our teachers participated in the festivities. When the time came for a speech one of the volunteers shared what he was thankful for, and it really came down to the other volunteers that we have been training with. They have all proven to be really enthusiastic, down to earth, and funny people. When dealing with stress, three different languages and a whole lot of cultural customs it is great to be able to sit back and laugh about just how absurd it really is. So I concur, and am truly thankful for the my biggest support network in Burkina, and what I consider to be 40 instant new friends, whether they like it or not!
Unfortunately not everyone was able to join in the fun, as Andrea was restricted to her bed which was thankfully the closest to the bathroom. This week Amy, Andrea and I basically played tag team with a virus and she was the last and got stuck with it. On Monday and Teusday I felt like I too was on my deathbed with a fever and with little sympathy from the Peace Corps nurse was told to take 4 IB Profen and go to bed. The next day after sending out a test, it turns out that I had some bacteria known as E Coli. Yeah, that was fun. I spent the next day bed ridden with the worst stomach cramps of my life and counted how many lizards I could spot in my room at one time. They like to crawl along the walls and I really don't mind until they get onto my ceiling. The only problem is my ceiling was made out of large black tarps streched to cover it and I could see and hear their little feet scurry across. I made a game of predicting which way they would go, I lost a lot. So that was how I got to spend my last two days in our host villages. When I could walk again I set about packing up my life. As I was saying goodbye to everyone my grandmother called me over and I assumed she would give me some benediction and send me on my way. Instead she told me my skirt was dirty and I didn't wash my clothes right. Gosh, I sure am going to miss them. But honestly I will, and I do plan on going back to visit at some point.
We went back to have a small ceremony at our villages and to formally say goodbye. I made a speech in Moore representing the other trainees and how we felt. I'm pretty sure they understood me, but I could be wrong. We presented out host families with a certificate of appreciation from the Peace Corps which was appropriately written in english, and in return my host Dad gave me a bouquet of fake flowers and a shopping bag full of peanuts, they are delicious but if you eat to many you can get vertigo so watch out. We learned that one the hard way and I have the bruises to show for it.
Well that's all the time I have for now. This is a pretty busy week with buying everything we need for our future houses, meeting our counterparts (the head nurse of the health center where we will be working), and having our 'swear-in' ceremony on Thursday. Phew, I better get crackalackin'. You all have a good week, and take care, I'll write when I can.
Love and hugs, Caitlin

Attack of the 'Pondre'!

I really wish I could post pictures, (unfortunately it takes about 20 min. to upload one, so don't hold your breath) because this week my hut was invaded by toads! I come home evening to find no less than 5 hopping around my latrine, under my bed, behind my back pack... I let out a shriek and the 9 year old kid (Mussah) who does everything for me comes running in. I point, and he says, "What? They don't do anything." I was like, "Well yeah, I know that, but eeewwwww!" So he shows me how to pick them up with out getting peed on (cause thats what they do when they're scared, they pee, I thought of Daisy) and we set about like some weird, twisted easter egg hunt, going around my room picking up objects and seeing if we get lucky. When we find them, we take them out to my courtyard and fling them over the wall, much to the suprise of the kids who play on the other side. After we've found a good half dozen, I thank Mussah and go to put my shoes on to go running, when I got a suprise of my own. One little guy just did not want to leave, but he was flung the farthest of them all. They all make their way back though...
Lately it seems as though everyone has been interested in my room, or more importantly what I have in my room and then ideally what I'm giong to leave behind when I leave this Wednesday. Yes, it's true, our training is coming to a close and so are our homestays. The last week and a half of training will be spent in Ouaigouya as we will have plenty to do to get ready to move to our new homes. We swear in as volunteers November 30th, and promptly leave the next day with as much furniture and worldly goods as we can stuff into the peace corps van. It will be a glorious week in civilization (aka ouaigouya), of non stop electricity (until there's and outage), running water (until they turn it off at night), and cold drinks (until I spend all my money :) But back in village us small town volunteers are certainly feeling the pressure.
Apparently there is the misconception in Rikou that when we leave village we will be going back to the US and donating the majority of our things when we depart. This mentality has been illustrated throughout the week by various encounters with family members, neighbors, and random men working in the fields. One of my many host sisters came into my room one morning while I was eating breakfast to pick up one of my sandals, tell me how she likes them, and then in case I didn't get the hint, told me she wanted them. Not being the first time someone has pointblank asked for something of mine, I responded with a smile, "Thank you, I want them too." She sighed and left, and I attributed her huffiness to the fact that she was 13, going on impossible, and went on with my day. (Love you 'raidy, I know you'll be the exception to that rule!) That night my uncle came into my courtyard to compliment me on my headlamp, and then follow up with, "So, what are you going to give me when you go back to America?" Somewhat more shocked that a grown man just asked me that, I said, "Nothing!" Then followed with, "What are you going to give me?" He just laughed. These random requests were not even limited to family members as Andrea found out on her way home. A man across a field yelled out to her in passing something she couldn't understand in Moore. To be sure his message was heard he followed up in french with, "Hey Whitey! Give me money!" Now it was Andrea's turn to laugh and keep riding.
We have seen this cultural phenomenon throughout our stay here, and while I am sure it is justified from years of experiencing NGOs and various European organizations bring exorbitant sums for misguided doantions, it never stops striking me as completely bizarre. This mentality of expected generosity combined with 'white = rich' makes us instant targets for some absurd requests. From asking for my watch, to a sip of my coffee, to demanding that I bring them back to the US, we have heard a lot. But from their point of view there is nothing wrong, or impolite with asking someone for something they have. Not only is it a great way to get new things, it is also a way of complimenting what someone has. Among each other I see it as an expression of their already heavily socialist culture. There is a saying in Burkina, "Si il y a assez pour un, il y a assez pour deux." Translation: "If there's enough for one, there's enough for two." Our LCF explained that people actually set aside money to give out because it is just expected that if you gain something new you will share it equally among everyone you know. But in relation to food, if you ever sit down to eat and someone walks by your courtyard, it is customary, if not necessary, to say "Vous etes invites" "You are invited [to eat]" really no matter what or how much you have. Now, normally this is considered a formality and the typical response will be, "Merci, bon appetit." I say normally, because in village it is also perfectly acceptable as we have witnessed, for that person to pull up a chair and help himself to half of your meal. Then if someone new walks by, it starts all over again. Moral of this story, eat inside.
Add our 'nasara' status to the mix and everything gets shifted around. On the one hand I can chow down without inviting a single person to come eat with me, because they assume I don't know any better. But on the other hand, I get people screaming, 'Whitey, give me money!' because they don't know any better. Sometimes I yell back, "I'm a volunteer, I have no money!" But usually I just keep on keepin' on.
Well I have spent an exorbitantly long time at the internet today, hope you all enjoy, and if you do, let me know! But as I said I will be back again on Wednesday for one glorious week so run out and buy those calling cards, or turn on your computer and send me some love. I hope to be back before the big day but just in case, "Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!" And be sure to eat and extra helping of turkey for the recently turned carnivore who will be for the first time really missing that portion of the meal.
And I can't leave without a big shout out to the best big sissy in the world who gets the prize for sending me my first care package, yaaaaayyy! And in first place you win... my love and eternal devotion, tadaaaa! :) Thanks again darling, you are amazing, don't forget it.
Aaaaand I would like to send some extra long distance kisses to Tom, for keeping up his well earned nickname as "the man", and posting my pictures on the web that I sneakily sent him through snail mail. If you want to see Caitlin looking extra sweaty and gross just go to, http://s146.photobucket.com/albums/r267/caitlininburkina/
and enjoy! I hope that works, if not let me know but I just don't have time to upload them to my site just yet.
OK y'all, have a great week, I'll be back soon, take care until then, love and hugs to everyone, mwah!
Yours truly, Caitlin

Would you like your camel with one hump or two?

I started writing this blog sitting on the bus back from Ouagadougou (hereafter known as Ouaga because I just don't have time). There is some jamaican\ french music blaring in the background per usual and we picked the wrong side of the bus to sit on so the sun has been glaring down on me since we left. Happily we bought cold sacks of water and sesame cakes at the bus stop in Gourcy so I am content to try to write in my journal as we bump along. I should clarify though, when I say bus stop I mean we pulled over on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere to let a few people off. During this stop about 10 kids run up to the side of the bus holding trays of food on their heads or pushing coolers and you point, say how many you want of either loaves of bread, sesame cakes, little balls of dough (so dangerously good), juice packets or cold sacks of water. Then by leaning out the window you grab what you need then toss money (always coins since the smallest bill is 1,000 CFA and each of these items costs 50 - 100 CFA) out the window and they figure out to whom it belongs as the bus pulls away. The whole process takes about 1 min., illustrating the real definition of fast food. As we start to leave the door is always open since the guy who 'collects tickets/ helps people off/ tells people we're leaving' never gets on until the bus is going at least 5 mile/hour and then resumes his place standing at the door for the entire 3 hour trip.
The purpose of our trip to Ouaga was threefold; visit the yearly international African arts and crafts show called Siao, recieve our site announcements for where we will be living for the next two years and in general take a break.
The arts and Crafts show was a large event with three warehouses the size of a highschool race track filled with stands. Signs were posted indicating where one cluster of stands originated from; Mali, Niger, Ghana, Chad, I'm sure there were more but these were the only signs I noticed. While the set up was similar to any arts and crafts show in the states- the act of actually buying anything was closer to a live auction at a car show. The best comparison I could make would be to trying to pick a restaurant in Little India in New York at 9pm with my best friend Lulu. If you've ever met my good-natured, unoffensive friend or the pushy loud people that own those restaurants then you'll know what I mean. Every vendor is apparently obliged to walk up to you; or just yell as you pass by, "Miss, Miss!" or my less favorite, "Madame! Madame!" and then they ask you to "Venez voir!" meaning, "Come see!" After 5 people have grabbed my arm with this speech I want to yell back, "I can see from here, that your stuff is crap." But of course I don't and press through the masses of people with one hand on my purse and the other holding a sack of water.
The goods being sold were all variations within a few categories such as; jewelery (silver or beaded), leather (handbags, sandals), wooden statues (one three foot tall giraffe caught my attention but transportation was less than favorable), tapestries of typical african settings (women working with babies strapped to their backs, elephants running across the horizon, men sitting around drinking beer), clothing, and all products possible using shea butter.
So lots of fun stuff to look at and try on, but the process of buying is a whole nother story. Instead of turning an item over to find the price tag underneath, you have to ask the vendor, 'How much?' Then he responds with double what the item is worth and so begins the amazingly frusterating process of bargaining. As my mother knows well my bargaining skills are less than impressive and I usually ens up paing triple the price - but I am making a concentrated effort and I've figured out that if you just wait somewhere long enough they will usually lower the price without my saying a word. One picture frame I was looking at went from 4,000 CFA to 1,500 CFA in a 10 minute timeframe. Then again I bought a silver bracelet for 2,500 when it was apparently worth about 500 and turned my wrist green so instead I decided to give it to my host sister, trust me, she will be thrilled. After walking around for about 2 hours we decide to call it a day and head back to the hotel.
And what a hotel it is! By american standards I would give it 3 stars but compared to life in village it was the Taj Mahal. The rooms had a living room with leather couches and a T.V., bathrooms had a tub, shower and working toilets, bedrooms had sheets and pillows and saving the best for last... air conditioning!!! We loved that so much that it was kind of hard to leave the rooms, only through the promise of food or swimming in the pool did it seem worth it. It was all just so beautiful - don't worry I took pictures. The second best part was definitely the food. Breakfast buffet included croissants, chocolate croissants, pastries, bananas, papayas, pineapple and coffee, tea or nesquick. For lunch there was a cucumber and tomatoe salad, homefries, fried fish, plantains, then more fruit for desert. Throughout all this there were unlimited cokes, fanta, sprite and gross tonic water. I was a little overwhelmed and gave myself a tummy ache after eating three chocolate croissants and four sodas. It all just tasted so good - don't worry, I took pictures.

After cooling off in the pool, and then taking a much needed nap since we had been up since 5 to take a 3 hour bus ride to Ouaga, it was time to get our site announcements! Well they had a big map of Burkina posted on the wall and had each of us come up, take our Peace Corps I.D. picture and in 'pin the tail on the donkey' fashion, put our face on our site. So one by one we went up and finally it was my turn to find out I'll be living in Korezena in the Sahel region of Burkina. The three other volunteers that I live with now will be in the same region and we will all be around the district capital of Gorom Gorom. In accordance with Peace Corps' policy of keeping us on a need-to-know basis I recieved a single sheet of information on my new home. It is a village of 3,000 with a market every Saturday and transportation is available to the district capital four days a week. I will be living in a three room cement house with a private court yard and a small family living near by. I don't know if I have stated the importance of relativity here, but everyone else's house is two rooms so I guess I have a little more wiggle room. Everyone is apprently very nice and really thrilled to have me. I don't think they would tell me if everyone is grumpy and don't like foreigners so we'll see how it is.

Clearly everyone was very intent on being sent to the South of the country since there is a considerable difference between the two extremes. Down south is green and while not on the water the rainy season leaves some roads impassable and provides for a much larger diversity of fauna. the north on the other hand is, the desert. It is called the Sahel and according to the president its inhabitants all go directly to heaven because they've already been to the hottest place on earth. The road to my village is mainly sand and Amy's hut is apparently built on a sand dune. It will be very hot, and dry and nearly impossible to bike... but on the plus side, I get to ride a camel! The minute I arrive I will start looking into leasing a camel from a family, where they will keep it and look after it but I can ride it whenever I want. I do not know any details into this process because there was no chapter in my peace corps manual on how to purchase a camel. Maybe I will have to write the book on that one, for future Sahel volunteers. Well I am very excited, from current PCV testimonials the north is beautiful and pristine and the people are amazingly welcome because they very rarely see 'nasaras' and know that we are there soley to help them. While the variety of vegetables is slim there is certainly an abundance of meat and dairy since they are mainly nomadic/ herding people. The language we have been studying will certainly come in handy in that region and elsewhere throughout Africa if we have the chance to travel. I am also thrilled to be staying with the same group of people since we all work wonderfully well together and provide a great support system and a sense of humor that has already been my saving grace. We are all looking forward to having camel races, and Amy is resolute in naming hers 'Joe'. I have not been so hasty in picking out a name so if you have any suggestions I would love to hear them. :) We have also been all a buzz in discussing how we're going to decorate our houses, Andrea is adament in calling her's a "hut". She argued that this is the only time in her life when she can refer to her house as a hut, she makes a good point, but I'll be living in a house. A wise lady once told me, the best ornaments to a home are the friends that frequent it. So in addition to creating a welcoming place to call home, I am looking forward to entertaining any potential visitors (hint hint, come visit me!)
On a side note, my friend Cory told us a story that made all of us present stop and think. He had walked up to a group of french kids since they were staying at the same hotel as us, to say hi and ask where they were from. They replied and then in turn asked where he lived. He paused for a brief moment before saying, "here." It was as if a lightbulb went on over my head. I don't know why it hadn't occured to me before, but I had always referred to Burkina as where I will be for two years, but not making the connection that I live here. It was a good realization though, a little scary, but I clearly felt a sense of pride in saying that I live here. Later that day we took a taxi in Ouaga and again you have to negotiate every price. I talked the driver into taking us for 200 CFA, in french, which is what everyone else pays while nasaras typically pay 300 - 500. After we had gotten in the driver asked us why we weren't paying the white price (meaning more), and I told him in Moore that we weren't Nasaras, "Tond yita Burkina", "We're from Burkina". He, and the other random lady in the cab because they will continue to pick people up until the cab is full, all laughed, and so did we.
Well this novel of a blog is costing me buckets so i will have to leave this here. Thanks again to everyone who has emailed me, please keep them comming. Also any snail mail would just make my week as my mother did this past Saturday. Thanks momma, niagra falls!
Love to everyone who got this far, take care,
Caitlin

It's 'wait' time

While I would prefer to give you only optimistic and uplifting stories, I do want this to be an accurate account of my time here, and therefore there are obstacles that will require some serious patience.
For example, we (three volunteers and myself living in Rikou) are currently working with a women's group to promote healthy practices. After using some techniques that we learned here, we discovered that one of the priority problems of the area is malnutrition. We chose the women's group because they were already well established and organized. We met once to carry out a KAP study, assessing their knowledge, attitudes and practices concerning this problem. We discovered that they believed someone to be malnourished if they are very skinny and weak, but if there stomach is large and round (even bloated maybe) then they were happy and full. They also shared that the main cause of malnourishment was the fact that it doesn't rain often enough, so there isn't enough food to go around. The best meal that they could prepare for someone if there was enough food, would be fish, oil and salt. According to them adults and children need the exact same kinds of food, and that the most important meal of the day is lunch because it gives people energy to work in the fields.
Clearly we could share some information with these people that could potentially be helpful, if nothing else than to set the record straight. We had more training on how to go about giving a sensibilization which basically means a training session to give people accurate and useful information which they can then share with others. We learned that these presentations should be interactive, visual (but not necessarily with words since most of the audience is illiterate), interesting, and concise to keep their attention. With these tools we prepared a short 20 minute presentation where each of the four of us spoke for 5 minutes on the different topics related to malnutrition; definition, signs\symptoms, methods of treatment, and possible ways to prevent. We asked the women's group when the best time to meet would be and they said 8pm by the grain storage which is in the center of the village. We said great! see you then.
Well, we were there at 8pm, outside the grain storage, the women however, did not start showing up until 8:45pm. Even then, only four women came when we needed at least six to begin and the whole group constituted about 20. We didn't know what to do, begin the training even though more women might show up and miss the beginning or wait until the women who did show up got too tired and went to bed. We were exhausted ourselves and didn't feel like hanging around until 10pm. We were in the middle of discussing our options when we noticed that we were now down to two women, apparently the other 2 left to find more women. This was turning into a disaster. Finally at 9:30 we had about 8 women, and decided to begin. Unfortunately since we were meeting in the middle of the village, right next to the "cinema" and the village store we also had an audience of about 30 kids and a few curious adults, no pressure right? So we began, introduced our presentation and got started into the definition of malnutrition, lack of food, lack of the right kinds of food or toxic excess of a certain kind of vitamin from eating the same foods everyday. Then we moved into the different signs and symptoms of malnutrition, swollen belly, thin arms and legs and - ok we have to take a break because some guy just walked up to say hello! how's your evening, how's your family, how's your night going? And to our horror the women started responding, good and yours? Not only had this guy just barged in the middle of our presentation but the women were perfectly willing to start talking to this random about his goats. Argh! So, ok, have a good night, yes, may god hold you in the palm of his hand until we meet again, goodbye! Now we can get back on track. So we go into the importance of a well-balanced meal and eating at least three a day, and quantity vs. quality, yadda yadda yadda, then sit there feeling pretty proud until we see the group's faces and they are looking at us like, "...and? Cello, how do we make it rain?"
So all that for not a whole lot of a response. They said they basically had all of this information at the CSPS (health center) but they just didn't have the means to put it into practice, such as; making enriched porridge, buying fruits and veggies instead of rice, ect. They wanted more quantity, only then could they afford quality. We did not really have a response to this, but instead made a meeting time for next week and suprise suprise the only time they were free was at 8pm. Now of course a level of understanding has to be taken into account because they were most likely late after preparing dinner for the entire family and taking care of their kids and after a long day in the fields it is clear they were tired. But there was no point in our showing up at 8 to wait around for an hour and they should not tell us they will be somewhere when they won't. We should be understanding but that doesn't mean they can walk over us and we should accept that as our fate. In the end our LCF told us that they will never say that they won't show up, but that you have to take 'wait' time into consideration, what's that? we asked, 'western african international time, ' he said. Oooooh, we said. Basically it is better to attempt to be punctual and firm with a meeting time but not to get discouraged when no one shows up for 2 hours, because that will happen and you have no control over it. Some volunteers have devised ways to deal with the frusterations; ie, bring a book, or the constant interuptions; one PCV made it a rule that during his meetings with the CoGes if any member shook hands and started talking to someone outside the group they would have to leave. I guess each volunteer has to find their own balance between cultural sensitivity and efficiency of achieving their goals.
Well thank you for listening to my rant, as always keep the emails coming because just as I might remind you of your own trips abroad I sincerely appreciate being reminded of where I consider home, if for no other reason than the fact that you all live there.
As always take care, love,
Caitlin