Name: Caitlin
Welcome to the Sahel
My first week as a resident of Korizena and I have never spent so much time sitting quietly, thinking deep thoughts in my life. I arrived at my three room, cement house and set to doing what I like best, cleaning. I opened the metal shutters with a screech (a sound I thought would diminish with use- it hasn't) and cautiously peered into each room before taking a broom to the windows to clear away the layer of dust and cobwebs that constituted the former residents. I set up my gas stove and looked out my kitchen window to see my neighbors in my backyard, affectionately I named them, donkey 1 and donkey 2. The drive into the Sahel was a little rough and sadly my dining room table didn't make it. It is still sitting, legless propped up against the wall. Between inverted bridges, potholes and sand dunes I am suprised that I made it in one piece considering the driver never slowed to lower than 60 mi/hour the entire five hour trip from Ouaga.
My house is facing two other similar houses; one vacant except for the chickens, there are always chickens, and the other home to two relatively young locals who have my seal of approval for blasting Bob Marely's greatest hits whenever they are there. All three houses are enclosed by a chain link fence, the first I have seen in Burkina, it gives the property a great 'white trash' feel. It is also in stark contrast to every neighboring residence which are created entirely from materials that were most likely found within 50 feet of the actual building. Mud bricks, straw roofs and occasionally a piece of tin for a door constitute the vast majority of homes. The landscape is speckled with small bushes and the occasional palm tree, but sadly they are coconut-less, being the fat kid I am I asked. The only other vegetation is a thorn bush tree. I don't know what the official name of this tree is but I have unoffically named it, 'yousonofabitch' after looking down to avoid the thorns on the ground and was clothes lined by one of its drooping branches made entirely of thorns. Welcome to the sahel.
I have recieved a much warmer welcome from the villagers who have slowly started to learn my name which was apparently too long as Roukietou, so it is now Roukie. It works. Every morning I walk to the local health center to sit and greet the locals and they in turn laugh at the fact that a white woman is sitting at their health center, drinking out of a tube connected to her bag (camel back, love it!) and asking them if they woke up in peace in their language.
The rest of the day I read through the infinite handouts for which I never had a free moment before, and start to formulate my action plan. I make plans to meet with the local health committee, and engage anyone willing with a basic knowledge of french to ask them about the community and the respective health problems they are facing. Since they still believe me to be the new midwife they usually ask for medication, so I run through the basics of how I am a volunteer from America (ah, New York Ceetie!) living in Korizena for 2 years to plan and implement health promotion activities with community based organizations. They smile, and then ask for medication.
I work with the head nurse at the health center who is my counterpart, technically our positions are equal but while his role is curative mine is preventative. For the next three months my job is to integrate myself into the community and collect as much information from as many people as I can. This is easier said than done when the vast majority of the population speaks Sonrai, a small percentage fulfulde and a handful french. My work for the next two years is entirely dependent on the needs of the community and where they think my efforts will be most effective. The interests of the community are represented by a Comité de Gestion (Coges), basically a health committee elected by the population every two years. They control the budget of the pharmacy and act as a liason between the health workers and the local population. This group was created by the Ministry of Health to effectively bring primary health care to the village level.
My job as a health volunteer therefore is threefold: support the Coges and build their capacity to respond to the health needs of the community, help the Coges and head nurse effectively manage the health center, and work with community based organizations to develop, plan and implement health promotion activities.
This is all a very subtle and timely process considering 'l'heure Afrique', the language barriers and the cultural obstacles that reoccur daily. Such as; my neighbor telling me that they do not use family planning because God will provide and if God provides them with 12 children then that is the way it should be. Jeebus, save me.
About once a week I take a trip into Gorom Gorom which is my district capital, (please see the 'wishlist' blog for any snail mail or packages and my new address) where I meet up with the three other volunteers who lived with me in Rikou and the newest addition to our little family being Yvette, who works in Small Enterprise Development. We catch up, speaking a mile a minute and then sit back and enjoy the effortless company of anglophones. This weekend we have all gotten together for a mini-Christmas, although the weather resembles mid-August the date does not lie. I will certainly miss everyone back home but I hope you can enjoy the festivities in good health knowing I will be doing the same.
Take care everyone! Love always, Caitlin
My house is facing two other similar houses; one vacant except for the chickens, there are always chickens, and the other home to two relatively young locals who have my seal of approval for blasting Bob Marely's greatest hits whenever they are there. All three houses are enclosed by a chain link fence, the first I have seen in Burkina, it gives the property a great 'white trash' feel. It is also in stark contrast to every neighboring residence which are created entirely from materials that were most likely found within 50 feet of the actual building. Mud bricks, straw roofs and occasionally a piece of tin for a door constitute the vast majority of homes. The landscape is speckled with small bushes and the occasional palm tree, but sadly they are coconut-less, being the fat kid I am I asked. The only other vegetation is a thorn bush tree. I don't know what the official name of this tree is but I have unoffically named it, 'yousonofabitch' after looking down to avoid the thorns on the ground and was clothes lined by one of its drooping branches made entirely of thorns. Welcome to the sahel.
I have recieved a much warmer welcome from the villagers who have slowly started to learn my name which was apparently too long as Roukietou, so it is now Roukie. It works. Every morning I walk to the local health center to sit and greet the locals and they in turn laugh at the fact that a white woman is sitting at their health center, drinking out of a tube connected to her bag (camel back, love it!) and asking them if they woke up in peace in their language.
The rest of the day I read through the infinite handouts for which I never had a free moment before, and start to formulate my action plan. I make plans to meet with the local health committee, and engage anyone willing with a basic knowledge of french to ask them about the community and the respective health problems they are facing. Since they still believe me to be the new midwife they usually ask for medication, so I run through the basics of how I am a volunteer from America (ah, New York Ceetie!) living in Korizena for 2 years to plan and implement health promotion activities with community based organizations. They smile, and then ask for medication.
I work with the head nurse at the health center who is my counterpart, technically our positions are equal but while his role is curative mine is preventative. For the next three months my job is to integrate myself into the community and collect as much information from as many people as I can. This is easier said than done when the vast majority of the population speaks Sonrai, a small percentage fulfulde and a handful french. My work for the next two years is entirely dependent on the needs of the community and where they think my efforts will be most effective. The interests of the community are represented by a Comité de Gestion (Coges), basically a health committee elected by the population every two years. They control the budget of the pharmacy and act as a liason between the health workers and the local population. This group was created by the Ministry of Health to effectively bring primary health care to the village level.
My job as a health volunteer therefore is threefold: support the Coges and build their capacity to respond to the health needs of the community, help the Coges and head nurse effectively manage the health center, and work with community based organizations to develop, plan and implement health promotion activities.
This is all a very subtle and timely process considering 'l'heure Afrique', the language barriers and the cultural obstacles that reoccur daily. Such as; my neighbor telling me that they do not use family planning because God will provide and if God provides them with 12 children then that is the way it should be. Jeebus, save me.
About once a week I take a trip into Gorom Gorom which is my district capital, (please see the 'wishlist' blog for any snail mail or packages and my new address) where I meet up with the three other volunteers who lived with me in Rikou and the newest addition to our little family being Yvette, who works in Small Enterprise Development. We catch up, speaking a mile a minute and then sit back and enjoy the effortless company of anglophones. This weekend we have all gotten together for a mini-Christmas, although the weather resembles mid-August the date does not lie. I will certainly miss everyone back home but I hope you can enjoy the festivities in good health knowing I will be doing the same.
Take care everyone! Love always, Caitlin
posted by Caitlin | 2:39 AM
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