Affectation Shopping

I was in the Ouagadougou, the capital, from Sunday, August 17 through Thursday, August 21 when I affected to Boussé.

Shopping

I'm very happy to be the third Peace Corps volunteer in Boussé. Many of my friends were freaking out and trying to figure out how they'd spend their move-in stipend. They receive twice as much as those of us who are replacing volunteers, as they should. I can't imagine moving into a brand new empty home!

EcoBank

On Monday evening, the first order of business was getting money to make purchases. I have an account here in Burkina Faso with EcoBank, which is one of the largest banks in West Africa. It takes an incredibly long time to make ATM cards, so at this point I only have my checkbook. We received our checkbooks, broke up in groups and rode our bikes to various EcoBanks. Ouagadougou is a big city and there are many EcoBank locations. Instead of all 30 of us cramming into one bank, we split up. Little did I know I signed up for the farthest bank. 

We biked and biked and biked. Then, to my joy I saw the giant EcoBank in front of us. Our current volunteer leader turned around to tell us, "Not this one, but we're almost there!" Okay, "almost" was a relative term to her because she bikes long distances all of the time. We do not and so we expected to arrive within 5 minutes. No, that giant EcoBank was only the halfway point. At this point, sweat was dripping off my face and I found myself getting claustrophobic with the large number of cars, motos and polluted air. Smog check? Never. I find myself constantly holding my breath when motos drive by and black smoke pours out the back. 

We finally arrived after 45 minutes of biking. 45! The 7 of us walk into the bank dripping wet and looking exhausted. The other fancily dressed clientele of the bank turn to see all of the hot mess nasaras in a group looking lost. We grabbed numbers and found seats, staring at a tv screen as if we were at the DMV. One of my friends stood standing to "let the butt sweat dry." Thank goodness I was wearing spandex pants that wouldn't show because I was sweating from head to toe. I have never been so thankful for air conditioning. 

I wrote myself a check and walked up to the counter on my turn. Peace Corps, as well as any other travel organization, has trained us to never show how much money or expensive items you have on your person. So when the bank lady gave me all 150,000 cfa uncovered in a stack, I panicked and threw it in my passport, hoping people wouldn't see how much I had. I guess all of us had the instant moment of panic. In the future I'll have a wallet ready. Here's Kathleen with lots of money, who wants some? Then I watched a man walk by with a wad 3 times the size walk by. I didn't feel concerned at that point. 

Solar Setup

Tuesday, after swear-in at the embassy, the second order of business was to find an inverter for my solar-powered battery. I have a couple small solar panels at my house that charge my battery so that I can have lights at night. If I didn't have this, I would have purchased it in the capital. I grew up in suburbia with the comfort of street lights. I'm a stranger to darkness, so I'm very thankful for these lights! The inverter, however, additionally allows me to plug in devices to charge. So far, I can fully charge my computer every morning with more than enough juice left in the battery for lights at night.

I taxied with three friends to Centre Ville, which is the major shopping area of Ouagadougou. It started down-pouring during our ride. At a stop light, our taxi driver handed his poncho out the window to a man next to us on his motorcycle. My jaw dropped. Can you imagine seeing this in the United States? Their greetings were short and didn't seem characteristic of good friends or family here. Maybe he knew him, maybe he didn't, maybe he knew the jacket would find its way back to him since he drives a marked taxi. I honestly have no clue. That was one of those Peace Corps moments that made my day. 

One of my friends is a current volunteer and had a friend in the marché, so when we hopped out of the taxi, her friend ran to us with his giant umbrella to get us out of the rain and take us into the marché. In the Grand Marché there's a combination of people on tarps and people selling from stalls. Everything from crafts to jewelry to fruits, veggies and spices can be found in the marché. Imagine a warehouse, like Costco, with tall overhangs as a ceiling and so many tables and stalls that the aisles are only fit for 2 people across. The marché is lit only by what little light filters in through the overhang and on this rainy afternoon, not a whole lot was coming through. Good thing we were being escorted!

We made our way down a semi-dark corridor of stalls, which terminated at our destination, a technology stall. There were solar panels, batteries, you name it! And if he didn't have it there, he knew someone who had it and he'd send a kid through the marché to find it for you. Three of us sat on a bench while our friend talked with the vendor about prices and what size solar panels and batteries my friends would need. Children would run up and down the dark corridor, women would shuffle by with their purchases, vendors would walk around and chat with each other and sometimes people would stop and sit near us and just stare. Music blared from a few stalls over and when a catchy song would come on, our friend would bob her head in recognition of the song. I've been here long enough that I'm starting to recognize the local popular hits, too. After about twenty minutes of talking and explaining, we calculated numbers of everything required for a solar setup and then the negotiation began. Well, my inverter only came out to 21,000 cfa, which is about $40, so I was totally okay with that!

We wanted to get a leg up on some of our other shopping while we were in the area, so our marché friend helped us carry the heavy batteries and solar panels out of the marché to an overhang across the street where he'd wait and watch the items for us while we finish our shopping. For all we know, that was his first sale of the week, or maybe longer, so after selling a full setup for both of my friends, he was more than willing to help us out. The people here are seriously so so nice!

Household Goods

Burkina Pas Cher, "pas cher" meaning "not expensive," is Bed Bath & Beyond meets Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. Let me explain. The shops on Pier 39 and along Fisherman's Wharf are full of touristy items, so many touristy items that they're packed onto shelves with aisles only wide enough for one person to go up and down. It's not shopping mall quality of organization and cleanliness, but if you search well, you can find some awesome items considering the store is packed floor to ceiling. Now, imagine a touristy store in your major city and take out the tshirts, mugs and toys and insert flatware, towels, brooms, gadgets, you name it. Et voilà, you have Burkina Pas Cher. I never imagined I'd find a piece of my summer visits to San Francisco in Burkina Faso. 

Here are some of the items I purchased and their converted prices:

• Self-lighting stove top with 3 burners (not including gas canister) - $24
• Stainless steel teapot - $10
• Non-stick frying pan (28cm) - $12
• Vinyl (3m) to cover countertops - $6

The teapot is a classic tale of bargaining with a vendor. I bought the teapot from a vendor on the street because the teapots I saw in stores were closer to $40, which is not something I could afford. I walked up and asked the prices for a small pot and a medium, stainless steel pot. He said the small one was 5,000 cfa and the stainless steel was 13,000 cfa. I said I'd take the small one for 2,500 because it looked cheap. He agreed to that and after I handed him the money and he handed me the teapot, he said, "but look, it's not good quality, I can press my thumb through it." I looked over at the medium pot and saw the far "stainless steel" sticker and changed my mind that yes, I should probably go with the more durable one. He said he'd let me have it for 5,000 cfa. What the heck! You were going to charge me 13,000 cfa, but now you're only charging me 5,000 cfa. You can't fool this nasara.

Internet Key

I was informed during my site visit that there isn't an internet café in Boussé, so I decided to purchase an internet key. The internet key looks like a Flash Drive that plugs into my USB port. I insert a SIM card into the internet key and that allows my laptop to connect to 3G Data. Wi-fi is not required. 

Wednesday morning, I went into the TelMob store with a few friends. We pulled a number and waited to talk with customer service. I felt like I was in the DMV...again. This must be how most customer service places operate here. When it was my turn, I walked up to the lady with my friend and asked if I needed to by the internet key here in the store. Does the data plan withdraw from my bank account or is it pay as you go like most phone services here? Can I buy the top-up cards here? She looked like a deer in headlights and responded in French, "talk to the lady next to me, she speaks English." I was dumbstruck. I had just asked all of those questions in French! I politely go to the next lady and ask the same exact questions, in French. She replies with answers in English and I continue to reply in French. She answered my questions and passed us back to the first lady. Great. What seemed like ages later, we were finally all setup. I think she'd just had stage fright with the Americans? I mean, how often do Americans/Canadians/Europeans come into the store to buy a data plan because they live in Burkina Faso? Not often, and if they do need service, it's most certainly done through their business like my phone service was setup with the Airtel representatives coming to a Peace Corps session.

For $10/month, I get 1GB of data. I had unlimited in the United States, but then again the service was way faster and my plan wasn't super expensive through Virgin Mobile. Here, it takes so long to load pages that I always try the mobile page first. I'd love to upload photos, but that's a dream with this slow data coverage. I tried to download a 4 MB document and my computer gave up. Pretty hilarious. A restaurant here is bound to have wi-fi, like in Léo, so once I find one, I'll upload photos through wi-fi.

Groceries

I fell in love with Marina Market the minute I walked in. Marina Market is one of the largest supermarkets in Ouagadougou. It is Safeway/Vons meets Food 4 Less. They have a range in quality of most food products and more familiar brands that I would have ever expected: Snickers, Pringles, Twinings, Laughing Cow, etc. So, I loaded up my cart knowing that I wouldn't be able to find a lot of those items in the small boutiques at my site. 

Here are some of the items I purchased and their converted prices:

• Baking (flour, sugar, baking powder & soda, cocoa powder, vanilla)
• Cocoa rice cereal (750g) - $6
• Muesli cereal - $4.50
• Real dark chocolate bars (2) - $2.75
• Nutella (off-brand) - $6
• Raisins (500g) - $6
• Lentils (1kg) - $4.50
• Oatmeal - $3
• Olive Oil (1L) - $11.50...ouch, but worth it.
• Curry powder (45g) - $1.25
• Toilet paper (6 tiny rolls) - $3

I didn't bother with fruits and veggies because I knew there would be a fairly good selection since Boussé is close enough to Ouagadougou.

Making Friends

My group of friends needed some items from Burkina Pas Cher, so I went with them. Since these shopping stores are all in the same general area near the Grand Marché, there are vendors that line every street as you go to and from the stores. We saw a man selling soccer bags, imagine your cloth grocery bags you take to the store, so we stopped to buy some to later carry all of the items we'd purchased. My friend asks him the price and his answer is 800 cfa. She asks if he can lower the price a bit and he said no, that's the price. I butted in a explained that I'd bought the same exact bags for 600 cfa back in Léo. The vendor smiled and said, "You're a true Burkinabé. You know your prices!" He said he couldn't make her that good of a deal, but 700 cfa would suffice. He then said, "wait here, I think you might like this," and he ran to the back of some stall and brought out fleece blankets. I told him that was very kind, but where we come from, we're used to the cold and have absolutely no need for fleece blankets. It averages in the high nineties here and after a rain it's no lower than 75. We don't need blankets, but thanks! 

We continued to walk and we saw metal tool boxes that are lockable, so good for electronics or storing food. My friend wanted to purchase one, so we asked for the prices. He wanted to charge upwards of 22,000 cfa. We knew that had to be too much and asked him to lower, to which he replied 21,000 cfa. Ha, wrong answer bud. The soccer bag vendor walked over and pointed to me and told his friends that I know what I'm doing. Honestly, I didn't. I only know the prices of a few items in the marché. Confidence can fool people. After we called another volunteer, we told the vendor that the metal box should only cost 13,000 cfa. He said, "ça marche," which literally translates to "it walks," but is a phrase commonly used for "that works." Thank goodness we called someone. 

The soccer ball vendor then asked if I wanted to check out the textiles store behind the vendors, and I definitely did, but I explained that we're headed to villages and the only money we have right now is strictly for food and immediate home needs. I said I'd be back in December and I could check out more of his goods then. I asked for his name in case I couldn't remember the face when I come back in 3 months. His name is Sambo, just like my Mooré teacher during training! Easy enough to remember.

It's good to have contacts in the marché because if they have your loyalty as a customer, then they give you good prices and will help you with other vendors. That's how we got such a good deal on the solar supplies and maybe he can help me with shopping during future visits to the capital. Now I just need to make friends in the marché in Boussé!

End of Host Family Stay

End of Summer School

The Thursday before we had closing ceremonies for summer school during which the best performing students were rewarded with school supplies and the students performed skits. My host brother performed the best in his class and received his reward. I was so proud. My friends who taught him would always tell me how well he did on his tests. Considering a 50% is passing in Burkina and he gets 19s and 20s out of 20 on exams, everyone was really impressed. 

Mass of the Assumption of Mary

On my way out the door to the summer school closing ceremonies, my host mom had given me pagne (pronounced pawn-ya), or fabric, for the Assumption of Mary celebration the next day. She doesn't give me gifts very often, so it was super sweet! She told me I could take it to the tailor and then wear it the next day to the Catholic mass. Take it to the tailor? Today? For tomorrow? Challenge accepted. Sure enough, the tailor's daughter was more than happy to make something simple for me with a Catholic pagne because her family is Catholic, too. I had them make what we call here "mini bou bou," which is a smaller version of the long traditional dress shirts that the men wear here. I picked it up Thursday evening and was all set for the next day!

The mass started at 8:30am on top of a hill, nowhere near the church. My friends Meghan and Wes met me at my house and then we biked the 20+ minute journey uphill with my host brother to the ceremony. My host dad, who isn't Catholic, took my host mom by moto. She yelled at my host brother to slow down and let us take breaks as she and my host dad whipped by on moto. It was hilarious. Well, I certainly appreciate that she went by moto and got there early because by the time we'd made it up the hill to the site of the ceremony, my host mom already had our seats all setup. When I say seats, I mean 6-inch tall cinder blocks with a pagne draped over to keep our outfits clean from dirt/moss. But, it was better than sitting on the ground like majority of the congregation! Also, she got there early enough to reserve our seats in the shade. Thank goodness for that because we'd be sitting on those cinder blocks for 3+ hours!
 

The mass started like most of the masses I've been to. The main difference is that there was a statue of Mary near the altar and women carried her in at the beginning of the mass. Well, each reading was given in three languages: French (official language of Burkina), Mooré (widely spoken local language of Burkina) and Nuni (local language of Léo). There are three readings, plus a homily given by the priest. Can you imagine why the mass was 3 hours now? Once in a while, my friend Meghan and I would look at each other during the Mooré sections as we put together words and phrases we knew.

During a normal mass, chosen bring the bread and wine to the altar to be blessed. Since this was the Feast Day of the Assumption of Mary, additional gifts were brought to the front as an offering: fruits, vegetables and grains were among the gifts. My host mom, since she's one of the godmothers of the church, got to bring up one of the baskets! That was one of those moments of the mass where I didn't care how much everyone around me would judge me; I took out my camera and took pictures and video! I could tell she was nervous. Also, these baskets were large and very full. The first woman had difficulty smoothly removing the basket from atop her head and handing it to the priest. My host mom executed her handoff quite gracefully. I was so proud. I had no idea that she was going to be involved in the ceremony!

After receiving the bread and wine, official people of the church usually come up to give announcements and closing remarks. Well, yes of course these were also given in at least two languages.  One lady gave her speech in 4 languages! On the beginning of the fourth language, my host brother grunted and buried his head in his knees. I thought that was hilarious. I was lucky if I understood the French speech, but the other three were all local languages! When the priest came up, he thanked the European visitors for coming and then pointed to us. We all laughed as everyone turned and stared. "You're European, yes?" We smiled and Wes blurted "Américains!" The priest smiled and responded, "Américains? (In English) How are you?" It was hilarious everyone was cracking up. Whenever English gets thrown into conversation after French or local language, it's surprising and funny.

Once the remarks were finished, the women picked up the statue of Mary and paraded her around the congregation again. This time there was more music and singing and the women carrying her lifted her up and down and up and down and side to side. It looked as though Mary was dancing through a sea of people. It was pretty awesome. I got some amazing video and look forward to being able to share it.

Feast

Once the ceremony was over, there was a 3 hour feast before Mary would be paraded down the hill with the congregation following to take her back to the church. I couldn't stay for that because I needed to get back to the Peace Corps training center for my afternoon language sessions, but I definitely stayed for the feast. My host mom put a pagne on the ground as a make-shift picnic blanket and then she told me to sit while she looks for things. I walked over to my friend Bridget to see that her host family had already given her dolo, which is a locally made beer. The best way to describe it is the fruity taste of a cider mixed with Natural Light. Not the greatest!

Anyway, I walked back over to where my host mom and brother were sitting and we ate the pasta she'd brought, locally made tofu, hard boiled eggs and raw peanuts. A man walks up the hill was an animal skull in his hand and meat on his fingers and mouth. "Invité," he joked. It's custom to invite anyone and everyone to your meal if they walk by while you are eating. People will rarely accept your invitation if it's a personal-sized meal, but you invite them regardless of how much food you have on your plate. So, knowing that I'm not Burkina and would refuse, the man asked and I smiled back and said, "merci," which thank you, but in the context of an invitation, means no unless followed by a "oui." He continued the joke by asking a few other times, as well and I just laughed and said no. My host mom pointed down the hill to a group of men purchasing cooked meat from a man. "They're buying dog meat," she said. So, I of course curiously asked what that man had been eating and she said, "oh that was dog, too." No. No. No. That was a dog skull. I didn't realize people ate that in Léo.

Well, that wasn't the only odd food that I encountered during the feast. A man walked up with caterpillars that had been fried and covered in a dark sauce. My host mom explained that she'd had that the other night. This was news to me. I had no idea that she ate caterpillars. Both she and the man tried to get me to try them, insisting that they were really good. I never doubted the sauce was good, but I would never be able to get over the texture. No way.

It became time to leave, so Bridget and I hopped on our bikes and my host brother took us back to the town so we could grab our backpacks and head to the training center. We were about 5 minutes away when it started raining, then down pouring, the torrential down pouring! We were only a couple minutes from the house, but the rain was coming down so hard that it was difficult to see, so we ran into the nearest shop overhang to wait out the rain. I could ring out my pagne and pants. We were all cracking up. Luckily no harm came to my camera and phone. Once the rain wasn't so bad, we hopped back on our bikes because I didn't want to be late to sessions. My host dad was laughing when we arrived soaking wet to the house. I grabbed my backpack and was headed out the door and they looked at me like I was crazy. I hadn't yet changed, but I explained that I had dry clothes in my backpack and then made my way to the center.

Host Family Thank You Ceremony

The following day, Saturday, we had our closing ceremony to thank our host families for taking care of us and supporting us the past 10 weeks. A parent representative would come up to speak and a trainee representative would come up, too. My host dad turned out to be speaker! I guess I wasn't so surprised once he was up there because he's probably one of the older, and thus respected, host parents. He explained that our departure is bittersweet. They are sad to see us go, but they are happy to see our accomplishments and ability to move on to the next stage of Peace Corps, living on our own in their country.

Like the opening ceremonies, our Language and Culture manager called our host family's name and then we met them in the center to shake hands and hand them a certificate. My host brother didn't come up, so I shouted out to him and everyone laughed. He needed to be in that picture! We then feasted on some rice, kebabs, peanuts and soda.

Later that night, I gave my host family a thank you note and a snow globe I'd gotten for them in San Francisco. The power was out when I gave it to them, so my host dad turned the light of his cell phone on and was inspecting it super close to his face. My host brother thought it was super cool. They'd never seen anything like it before.

Leaving Léo

Sunday morning I awoke early to wrap up my packing, eat breakfast and then head to the training center to load the bus and head to the capital. My host mom came into the hallway to say goodbye as she left for church. It was kind of awkward because I don't think she knew what to say, so I gave her hug. Well, that started the waterworks. She started tearing up and wishing me the best of luck in Boussé and some other things. I was exhausted and trying not to cry myself, so I can't quite remember everything she said. I gave her a last hug and then she did the sign of the cross over me asking that God be with me. She's always such a happy person, so seeing her cry was very hard. Thank goodness my family is strong and kept it together when I left California, otherwise that would've started my waterworks.

My host dad took my giant suitcase to the center, strapped to the back of his motorcycle and I followed with my duffel strapped to my bike and my backpack on my back. I thought he'd head back to the house after we dropped my things off, but he stayed for a while, watching them load the giant truck with our large items. When he saw my friend Meghan arrive, he said, "now that your friend is here, I'm going to go to church." He'd been waiting until he saw a close friend arrive. So sweet.

It was definitely sad to leave my host family, especially considering all of the cultural moments I'd experienced with them leading up to my departure. But, there was also a lot of excitement surrounding swear-in, so it wasn't too bad. I have their phone numbers and plan to visit at Christmas with some other friends. 

This would never happen in California...

Weather in Burkina Faso

We arrived in Burkina Faso at the beginning of rainy season.  For the first two months here, the temperature on non-rainy days was almost always in the 90-100 degree Fahrenheit range with ranging humidity. I grew up in Northern California, so I know hot summers. But, it's a dry hot. And I could escape after 2 hours of soccer practice to the comfort of an air conditioned car and house. Nothing could prepare me for the amount of sweat I would produce on my first week in West Africa, alone. It's not that it's hot and I'm not used to humidity. There is absolutely no hiding from the heat. After about a week of being here I just stopped noticing my constant sweating. In the US, after sweating, we have this immediate desire to clean ourselves before we can meet people or be professional. I had to get over that real fast because if I practiced that here, I'd just never leave the shower room. I'm in a constant state of sweat. Electricity is incredibly expensive, so I'm very fortunate that my host dad brought a fan into my room my first night. Sometimes, it makes a world of a difference to help me sleep through the heat in my 90-degree room. Sometimes, it just blows warm air.

I have never appreciated rain as much as I appreciate it here. It cools the temperature at least 10 degrees and sometimes the new cool temperature lasts for the rest of the day. I'll never forget the first day it rained here in Léo. After a session, it was time for language class and I saw the group of language instructors walk over. Half of them were wearing layered coats with fur-trimmed hoods. It was probably 75 degrees, at the lowest. I was happy to stop sweating. They put on their jackets because they were cold.

There was a storm Friday morning morning. After it ended and I biked through the mud to teach my final lesson of model school, I passed a group of moms, with babies strapped to their backs, on their bikes heading to the market. I like to pretend these are the running stroller moms of Burkina Faso. Voilà groups of moms chatting while going somewhere; some things are just universal. Anyway, Friday morning, all of the babies had beanies on their heads and extra blankets around them. It was probably 75 degrees. This will never get old, it's too funny to me!

This is how women strap their babies to their back! I'm convinced this is why I rarely hear babies cry in Burkina...they have constant contact with their mothers and/or sisters!

Last week we had a series of days where it rained at least every single day or night. We had a few days in a row of 75-80 degree weather. It was beautiful. On one of the days, it was a little bit cooler than usual when the rain started again. I had just come home from a long day of sessions and a sweaty bike ride. My host dad told my mom to make sure she heated the water for my bucket bath and closed the back door because it was letting too much cold air in. I jumped up immediately and insisted that the back door was completely fine the way it was. The house could finally cool off! Every time it rains, I explain to my host family that this is the temperature in San Diego year-round. Well, that's cold to them. We always laugh it off. I'm happy when it's room temperature here and they're cold.

However, yesterday I actually got A CHILL during a rainstorm and put on a SWEATSHIRT after my nightly bucket bath. It was only 73 degrees. 10 weeks must be the mark for me to adjust to constant heat. Still can't believe I put a sweatshirt on. No, I'm not sick. ;)

Free Range Animals

A bunch of piglets live near the middle school and freely roam all over the grass between the buildings

Sheep cross the road. No herder in sight!

Burkina Faso hosts what is the definition of free range: sheep, goats, pigs, donkeys, chickens, you name it. They roam freely about the town in search of greens to graze or grub to devour in trash piles. And when I say free range, I mean free range. At the Peace Corps center, we'll be having a session under the hangar and then a chicken will casually walk through the legs of chairs in search of food goods. Sheep, goats, chickens and chicks and roosters will freely walk into my host family's courtyard in search of my family's donkey's lunch or the beautiful flowering bushes. My host mom gets pissed and shoos them away with a loud "ssss." I tried the "sss" once and it didn't work so well. I tried it again with an arm thrust pointing to the exit and they immediately left. So much pride. Another cultural gesture down.

A herding path outside of a hotel in my regional capital, Yako

Probably the funniest free range encounter was an evening last week. I don't know why these things always happen when I'm leaving the latrine to walk back to the house. But, I walk out in the pitch black darkness to find two, yes TWO, donkeys staring at me. WHAT the heck is going on! Where did you come from!?! I only had the mini light from my phone to see my path, so seeing those giant figures was definitely startling. My brother was outside and saw them at the same time and immediately started chasing the unwelcome donkey with rocks from his slingshot. What had been a typically calm evening became a spectacle within seconds. I've been here for 2 months, but I don't know when I'll get used to the stark contrasts of moments like that!

My host family's donkey after Saturday's rainstorm. Soaked!

Another animal encounter was a lot more casual between me and my host brother. We were sitting on the couches last night watching the news when we heard a thud near the bikes. It sounded like something fell or got bumped. My brother looked over the arm of his chair and dismissively said, "eh, mice." He said it in English before French, which I appreciated, but then he went straight back to watching the news. I went straight to my room. People freak out when there are snakes in or out of the house. But mice? Forget about it. "Harmless." Psh, no thank you! I plan to get a cat as soon as I get to my site.

Snakes in Burkina Faso

Mom and Auntie, you might not want to read this, but I promise it's a funny story! 

If there's one animal that Burkinabé are unanimously terrified of, it's the snake. Truthfully, I've never been very scared of snakes. However, I'm scared of snakes here just because I don't know how to identify them, though the majority are poisonous. For the most part, though, snakes universally behave the same. Leave them alone and they'll leave you alone. It is not common to see snakes, but when they're seen, they're dead. People here are so terrified that they will never let snakes live to go reproduce more of the terrors.

Well, I experienced this firsthand, at my house, in my room. I had just awoken from a nap. Before I got up, I saw the floor move. Now, this isn't the first time I've seen the floor move in my room. There's been a mouse, countless lizards, the furriest caterpillar ever, a terrifying spider and a giant dung beetle. Why was the dung beetle not outside with the donkey? Great question. Anyway, I look to the floor, and to my horror, I see a snake slither from one wall to under the four legs of my stand-up fan. He pokes his head out. Thank goodness he's small. I've never been particularly scared of snakes.  In my experience in California, it's either a harmless striped garder snake in the yard or a terrifying rattlesnake on the trail. However, being small doesn't make the snake less harmful. The baby rattlesnakes of California are potentially more harmful because they don't yet know how to release their fangs, so they inject all of their venom on the first bite. I have no idea if that's the case with the vipers, black mambas, cobras or boomslangs here in Burkina Faso.

The snake is only about a yard from my bed, so, I slowly slip one foot into my flip flop, then the same with the other and tiptoe out of my cement floored room to find a family member. The snake doesn't move at all, even with the loud suction noise characteristic to the opening of my door. I tell my host mom, "There's a snake in my room." She looks at me like I'm using the wrong French word for snake, "Un serpent?" I calmly reply, "Oui, un serpent." She still doesn't believe me and asks, "you saw it?" "Yes, I saw it," I play along. "Un serpent?" she asks again. "Yes, it's in my room, I'll show you!" This time, she decides to play along and follows me to my room.

I don't know the French vocabulary for the parts of a stand-up fan. I don't even know the technical names for the parts in English! So, I use the universal language of gestures to show that the snake is underneath the fan's legs. Well, of course the snake is completely hidden, so she doesn't believe me and asks again, "are you sure you truly saw a snake?" To which I reply, "Yes, I saw a snake!" I throw my hand broom on top of the fan's legs and the snake pokes his head out. I immediately I point to his head, but it's too late, he hides back under the fan once he realizes there's no threat. My host mom decides to go get something longer for us to use to prod the fan. She still doesn't believe me.

She comes back with a tree branch as tall as me. I'm laughing in my head because I have no idea where it came from, though I really need to stop asking that question. Things just appear here in West Africa. My host mom refuses to come in the room, just in case, and prods the base of the fan with the branch. Off slithers the snake with a simultaneous yelp and jump from my host mom. She jumps back as I point to the table he slithers under. "What are you doing? Get out of your room!" She pulls me to the hallway and shuts the door and makes me wait with some random small girl that is at the house for unknown reasons. There was no point to close the door because there's a 3-inch gap between the bottom of the door and the floor, so the snake could come find us if he wanted to. In fact, that's probably the way he'd gotten inside my room in the first place. As we stand in silence, I hear my host mom across the street yelling for reinforcements. I laugh out loud and the girl looks up at me with a straight face and evil eye with the look of, "this is not a laughing matter."

My host mom comes back with her 5+ foot branch of safety and the first strapping young man she could find. Thank goodness my room wasn't in a messy disorderly chaos for this little rendez-vous. I stay in the hallway with the girl while my host mom speaks a mix of rapid French and local language to explain that the snake should be under the table, but possibly elsewhere. He can't find it. He asks her, "are you sure you saw a snake?" I laugh out loud again. He proceeds to move around anything that's touching the floor. After about thirty seconds I hear a yelp from him and my host mom as the snake makes his appearance. I'm ready to hear the sound of the tree branch chopping his head off on my cement floor. But to my amazement, he picks up the snake, takes it outside and kills it there. How kind of you to not kill the snake in my room!

The killing of the snake is its own spectacle. The man has the branch holding the snake in one hand and a branch in another hand to kill it. Well, he whacks the heck out of it, while my mom yells rapid local lang at him. It stops moving, but he continues to hit it. Once he stops, my host mom asks, "are you sure he's dead? Hit him again! Make sure he's dead!" The man just hands her the branch and she starts whacking the heck out of the lifeless snake in the dirt. In the chaos of it all, the donkey keeps staring at me because I'm holding leaves that had fallen off of my host mom's giant branch of safety. I give him the leaves while my host mom finishes her time with the snake. Then it's about a 3-minute spectacle of where to discard the snakes body. There's probably some animist (traditional beliefs) superstition about leaving a dead snake in your courtyard because she makes him finally toss the snake over the fence.

After the ordeal is over, my host mom is still in distress. She takes me to the side of the house to show me that I'm well protected: my window is sealed with metal mosquito netting and there are no cracks. We walk to the back door and look at some of the entry places. The truth is, I'm not really concerned about how he got in the house. They leave their front door open every hour of the day, except for when they're sleeping. He could've been in the house for days. My host mom explains that she's never seen a snake since living here in Léo, which I think has been at least 5 years, if not more. She comes to check on me about ten minutes later and asks if I'll be forever worried because she's very scared of snakes. "No, I'm not worried. Snakes don't scare me." She gives me a quizzical look, but is comforted that I'm not terrified to be in the house. I'm just comforted by how much she worries about me. What a great host family to be with! I'm definitely going to miss them when I leave for my site! But, I now know that if I ever come across a snake, the whole town will come running to help!

The Catholic Mass in Burkina Faso

Most people in Burkina will say that the religious make-up is 50% Muslim, 50% Christian and 100% Animist (local traditional beliefs). Majority of the Christians here practice Catholicism, though there are also Protestant and Evangelical churches here, too.

Born, raised and confirmed Catholic, I was pleased to be placed in a Catholic host family, though I would've been happy to learn different cultural values in any host family. But, I have never felt like such a bad Catholic. My host brother and mom cross themselves every time before they eat. They know I'm Catholic, so I'm honestly surprised that they haven't stopped me each time I hungrily dive into my breakfast or dinner. Pray or not, they're going to make me serve myself first anyway. I've been with them for 8 weeks now, and it amazes me how I start to eat and then see my host dad pray to himself and I'm like DANGIT I forgot again. I'm an American volunteer in West Africa…I think God will forgive me. Hmmm…I haven't yet written about the Catholic Mass in Burkina, but I've totally been meaning to! It is absolutely beautiful, and hot and sweaty and claustrophobic and super long, but beautiful nevertheless!!

Me and my host mom at church!

French Mass

The first time I went to mass was my second weekend with my host family; the first weekend I was oblivious to the fact that the French mass was Saturday evening and I was hanging out with friends at the pool at the local hotel…such an oasis…but such a bad Catholic. Anyway, I went the next Saturday evening with my host brother, his cousin and my friend Meghan. We got there early and sat on the bench. I would not even call it a pew, it's just a hard wooden bench with minimal leg room and no back. The altar is setup like any other Catholic church's alter, with a cross, altar, tabernacle, priest's chair, etc. There's a beautiful mural on the wall with angels looking down over the congregation. I was absolutely shocked when I saw the sound system setup: they have large speakers, multiple microphones; they also have a keyboard and drum set for music. There are definitely some wealthier people who live in Léo, but it's also possible that they sound system was a donation from Europe. Who knows!

Catholic Church, Léo, Burkina Faso

People started to file in to sit down and to my horror I realized that I sat on the wrong side of the church…my friend Meghan and I were surrounded by men as we watched all of the women file into the right side of the church. My host brother just smiled back so I just told myself I'm going to stand out as the bright white nasara no matter where I sit, so I might as well stay. Well, good thing we stayed because the priest's homily was about the need for a change in family dynamics. Rough French translation: "How can you talk about empowerment of women and gender equity, and then sit on opposite sides of the church? It's stupid!" His statement caused a lot of nervous laughter, but his point was absolutely valid. People won't listen to the foreigner say that, but someone respected like a priest? Absolutely.    

The beautiful thing about the Catholic mass is that the order is EXACTLY the same throughout the world. It's my little piece of home in Burkina Faso. Well, I don't understand the mumbled French half of the time, but I catch names and phrases during the readings, which jar my memory enough that I can follow along. "May the grace of God be with you always…et avec votre esprit." The greetings and congregational responses are exactly the same. "Et avec votre esprit" directly translates to "And with your spirit." They say the penitential prayer, they sing the Nicene creed, the sing the Our Father, etc. The worst part is that I'm absolutely 100% lost during every single song because I can't catch a word they're singing. Okay, not every song. I sing as loud as I possibly can during the Hallelujah because that is the only universal word I can catch! It's beautiful though because the songs have African influence in the beat and execution and it's SO COOL. Women sway their hips and wave their arms, men and women clap their hands, sometimes a couple women will do their yodel scream thingy of which I don't know the name, and every single verse is sung…always. In the US, it's usually only a couple of verses so that the mass' duration doesn't exceed one hour.

During the offering, anyone who can make a donation walks to the front to drop in a coin. Well, that's one way to do it. Up until here, every mass I've been to utilizes ushers to go up and down the aisles to collect the money in baskets. Nope, if you don't make a donation here, it's obvious. Well, it's obvious if you're "le blanc" (the white). Thank goodness I had small coins. Meaghan and I followed my host brother up to the front and I had to let go the number of eyes watching me. Yes, it's a spectacle that there's a white person here, but haven't you ever heard that staring is rude? Probably not because people stare all the time. I'm just so glad that I had coins.

When it was time to receive the Eucharist, my host brother leaned over to ask if I was going to go up and I said, "yes, I'm Catholic." In the Catholic church, you're only supposed to receive the Eucharist (body of Christ) if you're not in a state of sin, to put it simply. So, really a majority of people, including myself if we're being honest, should not be taking the Eucharist because they haven't been to confession since breaking one of the Ten Commandments, or since performing other unholy things. One of these things includes not receiving the formation to take the Eucharist. Most baptized children take their first Eucharist in second grade in the US, and adults usually receive the sacraments of baptism and communion at the same time when they convert. Anyway, we saw a Peace Corps friend walk up with his host family and take the Eucharist. He's Jewish. It's fine. Meaghan and I thought it was funny. It's not like lightning is going to strike down on him. There's a language, cultural and religious barrier here for a lot of us, so it's completely understandable that he had no idea he wasn't supposed to receive the communion.

The mass ended up taking about 90 minutes, which isn't bad at all. But, it started raining at the end of the service, so I walked back home in the dark with my host brother and to my host mom's horror, Meaghan rode her bike home in the mini storm. She asked about 3 times if Meaghan had made it home safe, yet. Our host parents are so concerned with our safety here. It's frustrating at times to be treated like a child, but comforting to know they're just as concerned with out safety as Peace Corps requires.

Stone benches act as overflow seating, or seating for mothers and fussy infants, outside the church.

La Grotte de Vierge Marie - The Cave of Virgin Mary
Before people go in the church, they often bow and/or cross themselves in front of the Virgin Mary

Summer Mass

During the summer, the French and Mooré masses are combined since a lot of the priests travel to Europe for formation. So, lately I've been going to the 7:30am mass with my host mom and brother. Well, not only do I still not understand the songs, I don't understand the half of the mass that's in Mooré. Probably the most unbearable part is once the end of the second hour hits and I'm sweaty and thirsty and antsy from sitting in the same spot and they read 10-15 minutes of weekly announcements in French. Then they read them in Mooré. Oh, then they also read them in Léo's local language, Nuni. Holy moly. But, ever since I've started local language classes, I've been able to pick up some of the words, though I can't comprehend the context.

After mass, everyone walks around to greet and socialize with each other.

Who knows what the Catholic Church at my site will be like!