Pre-Service Training Video!

Here's a video I put together of all 31 of us during the first 3 months in country with our host families. Enjoy and please share!

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. 

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!

My Host Family's Home

My Room

Le balai

I'm usually only in my bedroom for sleeping because it gets pretty hot in there during the day. Electricity is very expensive here and my host dad was nice enough to give me a fan, so I try to only use it when I'm sleeping. It makes a HUGE difference in my quality of sleep. It also works as fantastic white noise during loud thunderstorms. The floor is concrete throughout the house, so I always wear flip flops. My door is about 2 inches off of the ground, so it is not rare for me to see bugs in my room once in a while. I sleep under a mosquito net, so I don't worry about them then. It's the surprise 6-inch black beetle on my curtains that makes me jump and go grab my host brother for assistance. He's a 14-year-old boy. Bugs don't bother him. Anyway, I had my first sweeping experience after about 10 days in the house and now I understand why it's good to sweep every couple days here. A lot of dirt gets tracked in, in addition to bugs that die from eating my bug spray (I sprayed my room and then left for the day, as recommended by Peace Corps). The sweeping device here is the "balai" (buh-lay) which is only about one foot long. Talk about a good exercise for your back!

Shower

My host family does not have running water, so I take bucket baths twice daily: immediately upon awaking and again before dining. Whenever it's around the time for me to shower, I'll hear a thud of a bucket outside my door saying, "hint hint, take your shower." I grab my shower items from in my room, grab the bucket full of water outside my door and take a few steps to the other side of the hallway to the shower area. To take a bucket bath, I use my 12 oz. plastic cup to scoop up water and pretend it's a transient showerhead. It seriously saves so much water. Want to lower your water bills? Consider switching to bucket baths. Or turn off the shower when you're washing your hair, shaving, etc.

Latrine

Sorry if you wanted me to leave a little mystery, but I warned you that I would keep it real on this blog. Here's my toilet for the next 8 weeks. Some restaurants have toilets, but most places don't have running water and thus provide a hole in the ground. Usually the surrounding walls are only about 4 ft high and the area is home to flies having a party. I'm EXTREMELY fortunate that my host parents keep their latrine clean. I don't know what they do, but there are less flies in this outside latrine area than most gas station restrooms. I'll be sure to learn their ways so I can keep mine this nice at my future site.

Burkina Faso shower area

Burkina Faso Latrine

Courtyard

Chez Moi - My host mom came out the door just as I took the picture!

Voila my host family's stunning courtyard. Doesn't scream Africa? I know. Flowers mean bugs, especially mosquitos, so  seeing flowers is rare. Want a pretty yard? You're going to have to find another way in malaria-infested West Africa. So, am I safe here? Yes, of course. Peace Corps wouldn't allow a trainee to stay someone that isn't safe. I take malarial prophylaxis everyday and though mosquitos are definitely present, they don't seem to be too much of an issue here in Leo. As for my host family, I have no idea if they also take malarial pills. They're definitely wealthy by Burkina standards, but I don't know what their healthcare is like. 

My host parents' nursery

My host dad is a retired electrician, but I think he still makes a living by growing/selling/planting baby trees. Within my first few days living there I asked him if he sells the plants and he said no. Maybe he misunderstood my question, thanks a lot language barrier, but I don't really know.

On particularly hot days, it's probably about a 15-20 degree Fahrenheit difference under the large tree (below) than outside and probably a larger difference compared to the house. It gets so hot in my room that sometimes my liquid makeup sounds like water when I shake the container (P.S. at this point, most of us girls have stopped wearing make-up, it's wonderful). This is also the tree under which I do my laundry ever Sunday morning. If it's too hot inside during a soccer match, sometimes I'll go sit under the tree and right letters, journal and/or do homework. I call moments like these "Peace Corps moments." There are certain expectations that a lot of us have coming into Peace Corps, and sitting under a mango tree writing a letter is definitely a #peacecorpsmoment.

My brother (right) and his friend staying cool under the tree.

Donkey (left), latrine (center), cactus (right)

My host family has a donkey, but I have never seen him in use. They don't have a farm, so I don't know why they have a donkey. Maybe he was a gift. I need to figure this out. He stands there tied to a tree all day, every day. My room is right next to the back door of the house, which has a direct route to the latrine. So, I pass him every day on my way from my room to the latrine. If he's feeling especially sassy, he'll follow me toward the latrine (square walled area in middle of picture) so that my exit is blocked when I am finished. If he's in a particularly bad mood, he'll back himself up so that his rear end is facing my escape. This immediately becomes a game of dodge the donkey kick. So far, I'm winning, but I'm well aware that one of these days he'll throw some kicks when I least expect them. If I feel like pushing my luck outside of the dodging games, I pet him on the nose. After about the third stroke he decides it's time to snap at my hand, so I stop. We have a love-hate relationship. At least it's mutual. ;)

Family Space with TV

The chair on the far left is where I eat all of my meals.

I played recreational and competitive soccer from ages 5-15, but I never got into watching professional soccer on tv. I've watched so many soccer matches in the past 3 weeks that I now accidentally call it football during conversation. It seems as my French fluency increases, my conversational English decreases. I've just come to terms with speaking Franglais at this point. All of our classes are instructed by locals following Peace Corps procedures from Washington DC. So, even though I'll be in a cultural, technical or safety course, half of the material is delivered in French. I wake up thinking in French. Just wait until I learn third and fourth languages here. My head might explode.

Well, that was quite the tangent. The whole point about me talking about football was that I watch it every night with my host father and brother. It doesn't matter which continent is playing, I have seen majority of the matches. I come home from the training center, take a bucket bath, then bring my homework out to watch the game and socialize. Okay, let's be real, the socializing consists of me and my host brother making "ooo" noises at the tv whenever there's a collision or goal or whatever. My host family always has "my chair" ready for me and facing the tv. Since it's the best seat in the house for watching the tv, the cushion of the chair has completely lost its integrity. The wooden bar is pushing through my tailbone as we speak. But, if I move anywhere else, they will insist that I move back. The only time they don't say anything is when I make a note of how many insects are bothering me. As you can see in the photo, the tv is pretty close to the front doors of the house, which are always open. At this point, I'm used to casually flicking off small flying African beetles that land on me.

GO AFRICA. But seriously, the entire continent is united in supporting any African team to win. It's pretty amazing. My host brother woke up at 1:30am with his dad to watch the Cote d'Ivoire (Ivory Coast) game one night. Cote d'Ivoire is next to Burkina Faso and so is Ghana, so those games are more exciting for my host brother since he knows a fair amount about the countries from school. Unfortunately I haven't seen either of the USA matches because they always start at 10pm here and I'm passed out asleep by then. The morning after the USA v Ghana match I was expecting the usual morning update from my host dad about who won the match because he always gives me the update each morning. He said nothing. I assumed USA won, and sure enough we had! I'm currently watching the Brasil v Cameroon match. I really want Cameroon to win because one of our Peace Corps physicians was born in Cameroon and he is hands down the funniest professional I have ever met. Also, he hands out chocolate during all of his lectures. I'll talk more about him another time.

Peace Corps Host Family Adoption

On Wednesday, June 11, we all jumped on Peace Corps buses and made the two hour drive south to Leo, the city we will be living in for the next 3 months. Since I was having difficulty with nausea from Doxycycline (my daily malarial prophylaxis), I was assigned to sit in the passenger seat next to the bus driver. As much as I would've loved to be in the back singing to 90s classics with the rest of the crew, I was grateful for the opportunity to take some awesome video of the drive and the villages we passed through. I am unable to upload them now, but I'll do my best to show them to you when I can!

Peace Corps bus!

Arrival

We arrived at the training center and received a warm welcome from the Peace Corps staff (Americans and locals) and host families. I was immediately overwhelmed by the banging of African drums, dancing, cheering and smiles. Thus far I hadn't really felt overwhelmed, but there were so many people there and they were all there to welcome us. I wasn't the only one who teared up because of this. The staff made two single-file lines to receive us. It's a Burkinabe tradition that anytime you visit someone's home, they offer you welcome water. So, I took a sip of the safe-for-Americans water and was refreshed by cold it was. Then, I followed the other trainees into the reception area and took a seat.

Introductions

Once we were all seated, the musicians played for us and the dancers moved in a line, circling through the imaginary stage. Some of the trainees jumped up and joined the line and before I knew it, I was in the line, too. It was awesome.

We sat back down and Siaka, our head language and culture trainer, made introductions and welcomed everyone to the adoption ceremony. It felt like the Olympics hearing everything three times in French, English and local language. One of the host father's also gave a speech to welcome us to their families. I was super glad that I could understand his French because everything he said made me feel very at ease about the prospect of staying with a host family for the next 3 months. Then, the MAYOR gave a speech. He welcomed us and gave us "the key to the city." It was pretty incredible hearing welcome speeches from so many people. Everyone truly is happy to have us here.

Adoption

Siaka called out the host family name and his counterpart called out the trainee name. I'm sitting in my seat, praying that I won't be one of the first few called so that I could gauge how this meeting was going to go down. I was stressing for nothing because it wasn't bad at all! The host family and trainee both go to the front of the room, shake hands, and then gently bump foreheads four times. This tradition is fairly similar to that in Europe where people greet each other with kisses on the cheek. The women here usually greet me with kisses, not the forehead bumps. Anyway, my name was called and I saw my host dad and host brother walk up. The forehead bumping felt like it took forever. And then I had to do it again when I shook hands with my brother! It was super hot, as always, so there was a lot of sweat exchanged. C'est la vie.

The musicians then played again and we had the option to jump back in line with our host families. My host brother stood up, so I definitely had no choice! It was awesome though, we were all having a great time. Once the dancing finished, we had to grab our bags, bikes and head home with the strangers we called family. Well, my host dad had his motorcycle and my brother had a bicycle. How the heck was I supposed to get all of my bags home? My host dad grabbed my giant suitcase and strapped it onto the back of his moto, which left him about 6 inches of seat to sit on for the ride home. I put on my hiking backpack and shoulder bag and hoped my bike wouldn't give out. Thank goodness I only live about a 5 minute bike ride from the training center, because that bike ride was rough with all of that weight.

Home

When I arrived home with my brother, my host dad had already driven back to the training center and home with my other bags. As soon as I arrived, I realized that my family is definitely one of the wealthier families because I was greeted by a beautiful garden. We're in the sahel of Africa, so there's really not a lot of flowers and plants around. However, my host parents grow trees and plants here, so it's always beautiful in their courtyard. I was immediately snapped out of the shock of their nice yard when I realized I should stop my bike before I crash into a wall. I heard someone laughing and I looked over to see my host mom was waiting outside to greet me. I thought she was laughing because I almost crashed, but it turns out she laughs at everything I do, so I'm used to it by now. It actually helps break the ice whenever I'm in an awkward situation with them…which is fairly often with a language barrier. If I note that any of my host family and I talked about something, assume it was in French if not noted otherwise. They have very thick West African French accents, so I have difficulty being fluent with them.

My room is a decent size with a high ceiling, which helps with heat management. I'm actually writing this post from under a mango tree since it gets so hot in the house during the day. I have a twin size bed with a large mosquito net, as provided by Peace Corps. I have two small tables and a chair. One table holds my giant filter system that I use for my water (I'll go into details about this in a future post). I put my school books and journals on the other table. Peace Corps also gave us a "canteen," which is not a canteen at all. It's a long metal box that is large enough for us to fit our electronics and other valuables inside and lock. I also get my own bucket, bleach and insect poison.

In Burkina Faso, it is customary to bathe before breakfast and dinner, no exceptions. My host mom asked how I like my water. I should've said cold, but of course I wasn't thinking, so she brought me super hot water and has been doing so ever since. It's crazy African hot out here and to cool off, I get to take a bucket bath with hotter water than what I used during showers in California. Long term, yes it's probably helping me get a better wash. Short term, though, I kick myself every time I have to bathe, which is twice a day before breakfast and dinner. I actually don't mind not having running water at all. I thought it was going to be a major issue, but bucket bathing isn't bad at all! I'll probably continue a similar form in the US. I shower with probably 2-4 gallons each time. That's nothing compared to what a 10-15 minute adult shower contains in the current California drought.

Dinner was yep, rice with sauce and mangoes for dessert. The first 5 days in the capital, we had been trained on Burkinabe customs, so I was totally ready for my first meal. Nope, I was not. Everything they'd told us went down the drain. Usually the men of the family sit at a table and the women sit on the ground in a different area. Nope, we all sat at the same table. The father always serves himself first, then the oldest sons, then the trainee, then the mother, then the children. Nope, they had me serve myself first. You are never supposed to eat or shake hands with your left hand because that hand is reserved for the latrine. Nope, my host dad and brother are educated, so they understand that if they wash their hands then they can eat with whichever hand pleases them.

I immediately fell asleep under the protection of my giant mosquito net. I startled awake about 3 hours later to a HEEHAW!! I literally sat up in bed until I realized what woke me up. Almost every one of us volunteers has a donkey in our courtyard or nearby and this happens randomly all night long. They're beautiful animals, but if you ever see a donkey in a HEEHAW spat, he'll look asthmatic.  

I've been with my family for almost a week now! All goes well and I have some interesting stories that I will share quite soon!