Woh there Renegade

What a week of firsts! First time listening to my ipod while running (I am now impervious to screaming children), first time eating a carrot in the Sahel, and first time riding a camel!

As part of our job to integrate we finally decided to try the local modes of transportation and take the dromadaire express for a quick 15 min. stroll around Gorom. I say stroll because that is the only gear our camels knew, Marius tried to switch his into trot mode and he bellowed so we let them choose the pace. It was just like riding a horse only twice as tall, jerkier movement, and less control considering the reins consisted of a rope tied to their lower jaw leaving them full range to bite down on say, a certain foot resting on their neck. This of course didn't happen but remained a possibility in my mind throughout the experience.

There were two camels and four of us so we took turns. Amy and Marius went first and came back all smiles. Amy was advised not to take the reins for her camel and was instead led by the guide because the camel was unpredictable, opinionated and a bit wild and therefore given my nickname of renegade.

Rewind back to October: It was a hot day back in our host village of Rikou when Amy and I decided to walk to the local store to buy cold water and cookies during a class break. As we were leaving, me in front setting the pace and Amy in tow, Marius remarked that I looked like a renegade Australian coammander and Amy was a lost and confused tourist. The Australian Commander was because I was wearing a bandana around my neck with a popped coller and sunglasses - but the renegade part has been with me ever since. Apparently my affinity for power walking is incomprehensible to the local population as one group of men remarked as I walked by, "I have never seen anyone walk that fast in this village." In that case I was expecting a call from my mum and had left my cellphone at home. In my mind my haste is always well justified but I don't always take the time to explain that to others, hence the often heard, "There goes renegade." As I march off with a goal to achieve and a plan in mind on how to do it.

As they say, birds of a feather, so you can imagine which camel I was instructed to take. It hadn't been two minutes when the guide handed the reins to me and mumbled some instructions about pulling to the left to go left, etc. and then he was off to chat with his friends and have a smoke. There we were, driving our own camels, me with Renegade, and Andrea with Scrappy, you'll understand his nickname when I post pictures. Getting on and off was the greatest part resembling a convertable monstertruck on hydraulics.

Back in village with time to spare I reflected on our mini-adventure and couldn't help but make the comparison of our excursion to our everyday lives in Burkina. In the US there would have been safety precautions and forms to sign, protective gear and explicit instructions in case of an emergency. In Africa I swung my leg up and instinctively held on tight or I would have undoubtedly fallen. The only guidance from our guide was to keep your feet on his neck at all times - as the only instructions I took them very seriously. Other than that the world was my playground. We are given such freedom and trusted entirley with not only our own lives but even the well being of others. On the most recent vaccination campaign I ususally help out by marking dates in vaccination cards but this time was handed the polio serum and with a casual wave was instructed to give two drops to each baby. On more than one occasion children have been offered to me by their parents because they assume I would know what to do with them. Of course my position as a nasara and expected wealth has a lot to do with that, but the complete trust is still suprising. Everyday it's a new challenge, sink or swim, but with no water for miles I think we'll be just fine.

The simple life

On my way back from a run the other morning I admire the serenity of my village, which is also only possible to appreciate when you're out of earshot from my neighbors. At 6am the water pump next to my house is opened and then it's non-stop local women coming and going, sounding like they're about to slug each other and then laughing hysterically at some joke. I always stop and greet them on my way to work, and they in turn usually ask me for my scarf or water bottle or medication of some kind.

There is certainly a pressure, living in a heavily socialist culture to share and give according to your means. Since I'm white, and even worse, American, I'm assumed to have mountains of things at my disposal. This was made clear when one woman asked for my shoes, I asked her honestly, If I give them to you, what will I wear? She told me to go back to my house and get another pair. I didn't realize there was a Nike store in my house, interesting.

Everyone wants your contact information, just in case they put together enough money to come to the US. They see having a contact as one of the first steps towards achieving what many have told me to be their life long dream. Not knowing where to begin to describe the differences between our worlds I tell them I like Burkina, it's relaxed, it's beautiful, and they agree. It's true there isn't a lot to go around, but the other day I decided to go for a run until I saw camels, three minutes later, great, now what? I just kept running and for 30 minutes did not see a single person, just a straw hut on the horizon with a family taking care of each other because they're all they know in the world. Everyday is the same work, same children, same animals, same problems, but they still laugh and fight and resolve their differences to do it all again tomorrow. Life is simple and it's enough.

Of course there are still those who dream to travel and make the effort to keep that contact to the US of A. Hey, this is Moussa, Biba's cousin- what? But any connection is better than none at all. If you ever give your cell phone number you can expect 5 calls the next day just to say 'Hi! You're good, you remember me? Ok! Bye!' When a good morale is sometimes all you have to keep going I tell them yes, Moussa, how are you? I'm fine, thanks. Then they usually ask me to find tham an american wife, and I'm all for helping but that's where I draw the line.

My week at a glance

Sunday: There's no incentive to clean your room like having the US Ambassador to Burkina come visit. I tell my neighbors and the local dance group the news and they say, "Great, what's his name?" "Her name is Jeanine, and she's very smart and important," I say. Never one to miss an opportunity for a lesson in gender equality.

Monday: Enjoy my usual breakfast of instant coffee and babyfood. Yes, babyfood. Andrea told me about it and i've been hooked ever since on the delicious sweet porridge with enough vitamins for 2 year old and 23 year olds alike. The man at the store likes to joke we must have a lot of children, no, we're just fat kids. I visited the women sweeping the courtyard across from mine to ask what they're doing and discovered they're having a training on drying foods and making yogurt, mmm yogurt.

The ambassador comes bringing three huge packages from one very wonderful Auntie Nini. I need some fair warning before getting something deliciously decadent like that, I had a stomach ache for two days and loved every minute of it.

Tuesday: Vaccination campaign in the nearest satellite village, Doumam, at 2 km away. I puff along on my bike trying to avoid the sand pits. The village was well informed and we recieved about 30 kids and pregnant women. I learned from the last time we came to Doumam that the concept of personal space is non-existent so I drew a line in the sand in a wide circle around my chair and told the man with the big stick sitting under a tree that children were not allowed to cross it.

We get home around 12 and I drop my bags and immediately down about 1 litre of water and then treat myself to a koolaid packet before heading across the way to check in on the women's group. We chat using the little Sonhrai I know and end up inviting them over to my house for breakfast on Sunday. I promised to make spaghetti, they promised to dance. Hopefully I will be able to complete a questionnaire on health practices with some degree of informailty which is more conducive to attaining accurate answers. Because of many factors women often search for the right answer and if they can't think of it tell me 'I don't know', even if I asked their opinion. Because of language barriers, not to mention cultural barriers I often hit dead ends when trying to understand why they act the way they do. For instance, many mothers have told me they practice scarification because their child had a headache. Since the children in reference are about a year away from being able to speak I ask how they know it was a headache. The women invariably point to the soft spot that all newborns will have until their skulls have become full grown. This is apparently not common knowledge and now I recognize many infants with a mud mixture covering the spot as protection.

Wednesday: In the afternoon I head over to the school to sit in on a health class taught every Monday and Wednesday. Today the lesson plan is covering pre natal child care and the director informs the students a pregnant woman should eat well and avoid tobacco, alcohol and spicy foods. He then goes on to describe the child needs to get before the child is born such as; 2 cotton bonnets, 3 pairs of socks, at least 2 shirts but you could have as many as 20 the director exlains with a straight face. Regardless of the fact that the child would need an exorbitantly longer list than what he outlined, he is also talking to a class of 11 year olds. He then turns to me to ask if I have anything to add and I point out that the reason an expectant mother needs to eat well is because her baby ingests everything she does so it is important to be healthy. I could go on for another hour with what I learned from watching 'A Baby Story' on TLC but I opt to curtail my additions there for the sake of politeness, I would like to be invited back.

I don't think it will be a problem considering the Director turned to me and said he had some errands to run in Gorom and would I mind finishing up, and he's out. Voila I am teaching sex ed to a bunch of 6th graders. Knowing there is a protocol but having no clue what it could be I ask one of the students what we do now, he politely informs me they would like to sing, apparenlty they end almost every class with a few rounds chosen by the students. They all stand and after some discussion serenade me with a song about Burkina pride, being strong, and leaving to find work but always coming back. At the end they all clapped and then the same boy turned to me and informed me it was my turn. 'My turn to do what?' Did it all of a sudden get hotter in here? 'You're turn to sing' Oh dear. Caught completely off gaurd and hoping like hell there were no anglophones within earshot I shared the first song that came to mind being 'Heads, shoulders knees and toes', they loved the random movements that made me look like a workout instructor. They all clapped and I did a mini curtsey. Then one by one they each came to the front of the room to recite a poem or sing a song they had memorized. I had instant admiration knowing you could not have paid me enough to stand up infront of my class at that age and even now avoid public speaking whenever possible. They had such courage to raise their hand and then wait for the class to settle before thouroughly enjoying their 2 minutes in the spotlight. So many of them have such potential I wish they could all get the attention they so obviously need.

Finally class ended with a 'C'est fini' from the nasara substitute teacher and we headed outside to greet the crowd that had formed outside. I picked up my usual school of minnows for the walk home greeting the other five teachers on my way out. With an average of 50 kids in a classroom my respect is exteneded to them for making such a difference in the lives of at least 30% of the children in village, showing how low the attendance rate is. Apparently just as many girls start out going to school as boys but not as many continue since it is more likely to be married around the age of 14 and education is almost more of a deterent to your eligability. It does not take a degree to pound millet but the benefits are numerous from even the most basic education. My job will be to demonstrate that those benefits outweigh the potential costs.

Reaching home later than usual I go for a quick run before it is completely dark at 6:30pm. I shower out of my bucket, enjoy another decadent meal of Betty Crocker's chicken and broccoli rice provided by my Auntie Nini. After being offended by the idiocracy of Bush's comments concerning Iran on the BBC I settle down to read a few short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald before my nightcap of Benadryl and water kicks in and drowns out the donkeys braying outside my window. I set my alarm earlier than usual, around 6am, to get to market by 7:30 in order to hopefully grab a seat on a mini bus instead of a cattle truck to head into Gorom for my weekly shoping trip and American rendez-vous.

Take care till next time, all the best,
Caitlin

Wishlist circa 2007

So I know going into the old archives to find this little treasure can be quite the hassle (mom), y'all having wireless instant wonderful internet connections and all, so here's the latest. My disclaimer remains the same that I am doing superb, worldy material goods or not. But I will say that every girl loves her chocolate, and People magazine, and beef... ok so maybe not every girl, but this girl does anyway so go nuts, ooh nuts!

Thank you in advance, a note of encouragement is always appreciated and patience is required. I know the post office will tell you a package should arrive in 4-10 days but those are American days which equal about 4 weeks African time. Our packages arrive from Ouagadougou every Monday and Thursday and our theory is that they wait until they can fill a cattle truck with them before sending them up the treachorous path north. In any case, you will get a 'thank you' note from me but I think they send those by donkey cart so again, patience. Thank you!

Food
Honey
Nuts
Drink packets; Emergen-C
Dried fruit: Craisins, mango, apricot, raisins
Beef/Chicken Jerky: Jacklink's Brand
Peanut butter
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

Supplies
Papermate pens: blue, black
AA/AAA batteries: non-rechargeable
Magazines: NewYorker magazine, TIME, The Economist, InStyle, Real Simple, Vogue, Us Weekly, People (Do we see the depreciation of my reading material here, I hope the same is not true for GRE tests scores :/)
Books
US stamps
Venus razor heads
Perfume samples (sometimes you just don't want to smell like Africa)
Skin cleansing Face masks: Neutrogena,
Ankle socks
Scented candles
Conditioner: Aveda, John Frieda, Dove
Pictures! I have plenty of wall space in my new 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 be verbal, electronic, material or just sending me cold, happy thoughts. I hope you are all well and take care!

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

Yours truly,
Caitlin

Well apparently Korizena is just blowin' up, we are too popular. If you'd like to see even more pictures o fmy humble little village on the verge of turning hollywood then please direct your attention to:
www.koirezena.com
I believe I mentioned that I've seen my village's name spelled 8 different ways on 7 different maps, but this truly proves it. I go by what the sign says on the road to my house so if you want to learn more about Korizena, then by all means. And be sure to shoot me an email with thoughts and comments, an outside perspective above the madness and away from the noise is always appreciated.

Take care!
Love, Caitlin