Name: Caitlin
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
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
posted by Caitlin | 4:06 AM
1 Comments:
I love Wednesday! Caitlin you write so well it's actually a good time reading and laughing along with you. I'm so glad that someone else's experience with birth and babies has come exclusively from The Baby Story! Fabulous! Story of my life. Thanks for all the consistently good stories. Your admirerers are appreciative!
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