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!

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!

Summer School

École de vacances - Summer School in Léo
You can see that the class size is relatively small during summer school. This classroom will be full with over 100 students during the regular school year.

We are now on Week 2 of 4 of practice teaching at Léo's summer school. Peace Corps calls this Model School since we observe, practice and review how to appropriately and effectively teach at our future sites. The 6 weeks of training before Model School prepared us with the French proficiency to get through an hour-long class, the structure of a lesson, the method of using the chalkboard and the interactions necessary for teaching a large class. I've been asked many times by family and friends at home how I'm qualified to teach science in another country without a teaching credential. It's a great question, especially considering I studied psychology/neuroscience and the past two weeks I've been teaching geology. The Peace Corps technical training sessions have been extensive in covering every aspect of teaching in Burkina Faso, including subject-specific material for teaching science. I felt extremely prepared going into Model School and felt like I was effective as a teacher after my first class. But my opinion of being effective is completely subjective. So, when the local Peace Corps staff who observed my class told me that I truly did a great job and my French was fantastic, I had a mental jump for joy as I thanked them for being so nice.

A classroom building at my future lycée (pronounced lee-say, meaning junior high) in Boussé

Lesson Planning in Burkina Faso

Inspectors travel throughout their respective provinces to observe teachers to make sure teachers are following the protocol for classes. Today an inspector observed my class. Burkina has very strict requirements for lesson plans, so our Peace Corps staff made sure our lesson plans were well prepared for today. Each lesson plan must contain the title of the lesson, the objectives, the materials required, the information, exercises to ensure retention and an activity.

Sample Burkina Faso Geology Lesson Plan (First Half) 

For math and science classes, the teacher divides the board into quarters. The left quarter of the board is strictly for information that will stay for the entirety of the class period. This includes the title and objective(s) of the lesson. The middle two quarters of the board are for the lesson's information and diagrams. The right quarter is reserved for vocabulary words.

Learning in Burkina Faso

American education is focused on critical thinking and creativity. Chinese education is focused on problem solving and results in higher scores on standardized testing. Burkinabe education is based on rote memorization. That's it. Many times after lessons in my K-12 education, teachers would ask us how we could apply the information to our personal lives. We'd brainstorm different ideas as a class. We'd critically think and maybe have a homework activity to create our own personal applications. If I ask my 4th grade (equivalent of American 8th grade) geology class how they can apply the properties of granite to their personal lives, they will stare blankly at me and/or regurgitate the definitions I'd given to them. Burkinabe children are very good at taking a definition and spitting it back to you verbatim. Ask the kids to put the definition in their own words on an exam? Volunteers say that's damn near impossible. Everyone rights down the definition the volunteer had given them. It's really hard to wrap my head around, especially since critical thinking has been so critical to my American education. The students that DO make it through the Burkinabe system to university are dumbfounded by the immediate need to critically think. It's literally dropped on them as an expectation of entering the university. It's very interesting.

All I have is chalk and a chalkboard in my classroom and a book to work from at home. Science, especially geology, has a lot of facts to memorize before it can be applied. So, each lesson I write vigorously on the board so the students can write the material down. Every so often, I'll check for comprehension by making sure that they understand the different words in the definition. French is their second language, too, so a lot of science terms have never been used in their daily lives up to the point of my lessons. I'll then ask the class to give examples of the word and usually a few can get in the ballpark. I then have to reach in my box of French vocabulary to try to find a way for them to understand a word I had only learned while writing the lesson. We then continue the lesson with a lot more writing. Why so much writing? We have to assume that they students have not purchased the textbooks. And when I say textbook, I mean pamphlet. If I could afford to buy books for my entire 110+ person classes, I would. But, our Peace Corps stipend only covers immediate needs like food and transportation, so that's out of the question. That's also not Peace Corps' purpose in developing countries. That's something I could talk to aid organizations about. Even then, it's great practice for them to write the material down. 

The Morning Commute

The steps of my 1.00-mile morning commute

1. Exit my courtyard

My host brother insists on walking my bike outside the courtyard every morning.

 2. Turn right outside my door. 3. Turn left onto the main dirt road.

The courtyard with the yellow gates is next door to my courtyard and where my host dad grew up.

 4. Dodge the ditches and turn right toward the bank.

The main dirt road that connects to my street (can you imagine the river road in the ditch on the left?)

 5. Ride toward the bank and turn right onto the paved road.

I drive by the entrance to the bank atm every morning and say "bonjour" to the security doorman.

 6. Head toward Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso.

Turning left would take me to the market.

 7. Turn right at the roundabout. 

No traffic lanes, good luck getting around the roundabout!

 8. Ride uphill.

Typical paved road in Burkina Faso.

 8. Keep riding.

Vendors sell liters of gasoline to the motorists. It's cheaper than going to the gas station but of questionable quality.

 8. Slow for donkeys.

There's always that one "ass" backing up traffic. (Sorry, the pun was too tempting.)

 9. Turn left into the Peace Corps Training Center!

On the left you can see the boutiques next to the training center where we can top-up our phones with airtel time and//or buy items such as mangoes, soap, candy, etc.

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.

There's Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself.

All of us volunteers know that at some point we're going to have a hot mess, terrifying but sort of hilarious story to tell. Three of us didn't expect it would happen so soon to us. It happened Sunday June 15. I'm safe and sound, please don't worry. It's just a funny story to me at this point. I wrote it the night of the incident. Enjoy!

Morning

Today was my first day off since I arrived in Burkina Faso. I slept in until 8am, took a bucket bath, ate breakfast and hand washed my clothes. Bam, 11:30 hit and I'd only done those things. Hand washing clothes is quite the process. Anyway, it's a super hot day so my host dad showed me a chair I can sit in under a giant tree in their courtyard. It's probably 20+ degrees cooler under that tree than it was in the house. My room is an oven.  So, I spend most of the day under that tree reading, writing my blog, writing letters, [insert other unplugged activities here]. Before I realize what's happening, my host brother and his cousin are bringing over the kitchen chairs and table that we usually sit at. They brought lunch to me! It was spaghetti and a sort of tomato sauce. It's safe to say my lunch was half spaghetti, half mangoes and bananas. They really don't appreciate how little I eat here. I promise I'm eating until I'm full, I just don't have an appetite. I do more unplugged activities and then decide it's about time to head over the internet café in town since it's late enough in Burkina for people in California to be awake. Also, I really wanted to get another blog post posted.

My Host Family's Courtyard. Left to right: host brother (14), his cousin (13) and the family donkey!

At the Cyber Cafe

On my bike ride to the cybercafe, I see another trainee riding his bike. I haven't seen another trainee in 24 hours, so I'm stoked and catch up to him. We ride to the café, where I find other trainees and some of them head out to play soccer. I take my sweet time at the internet café. Well, there's really no other option because it can take anywhere from 5-30 mins to upload ONE picture to my blog. After 1.5 hours, I'm ready to head home when it starts sprinkling [insert Jaws theme here]. I pay a whopping 450 cfa ($1 USD) and am about to pack up and leave when a torrential downpour and thunderstorm begins. Great. I'd told my family that I would only be gone for about an hour and it had already been over that. I'm not the only one there. Two of my other friends are there. We think, "let's go beat the storm before it gets worse," but the men working the cybercafe tell us, "vous devez attendre!" (you must wait). I know I shouldn't be out there anyway, but it's getting dark. I take off my backpack and set it down and we settle in to wait for the storm to pass through.

It's a Peace Corps rule that during training, we must return to our families by 7pm every night, with the exception of two nights per week when we can stay out later with friends as long as our families know. Welp, I don't have my family's phone number (my own fault), but they have mine, so I figure they can call if they get worried. Wrong. Cell phone service rarely works during thunderstorms. Cool. After about 45 mins, the rain finally starts to calm down and the lightning no longer seems to be within 1-3 miles like it had been. Yes, 1-3 miles. Bright. Loud. Scary. We take this as our chance to get home.

The Journey Home

I live the closest of the three of us girls to the cybercafe. However, half of my route is dirt road. And when I say dirt road, I mean currently river. Torrential downpour for 45 mins creates 6-inch deep rivers in certain sections of the road. I turn my bike light on and we wade out into the road river to start the trek home. We hit a point where the water isn't super deep, so we jump on our bikes to try and get home faster. All is well until BAM rider one hits a dip in the road and her bikes stops, BAM rider two hits the dip in the road and almost falls off her bike, and BAM I try to swerve to the right to not hit them, but the angle of my turn makes me hit the dip and fall sideways until SPLASH I'm in the river. I start cracking up laughing because I'm not even the slightest bit surprised that the first time I fall off my bike is in a muddy road river. Let's talk some more about me falling in the water. I'm coming from the cybercafe, so my laptop is in my backpack, the same backpack that gets submerged when I do. My laptop is in my North Face hiking waterproof backpack. Doesn't get wet. So, now I feel like I'm one of those hardcore people in North Face cliff climbing commercials. But, then I remember I'm not. I'm in a road river, in the dark, in Africa. I seriously couldn't stop laughing.

Anyway, back to the story. We get back on our bikes and my wimpy light shows me that I wiped out literally 10 yards from the paved road. You have got to be kidding me. So close. So, I we ride our bikes on the road, I wave bye to my friends and I'm super close to home. I ride around the roundabout, take my exit and then turn left onto another awesome road river. My cue is a set of golden yellow doors to turn onto my street. When I say street, I mean another unmarked dirt road. I get off my bike and start walking. I remember from the previous thunderstorm that the roads are hard to bike on because they're soft. I walk my bike close to the right side of the road so I can have a better glimpse of the golden yellow gates with my wimpy bike light. It's still sprinkling and the thunder and lightening are coming back. Great. Searching. Searching. Searching. I'm used to riding this section, so I have no grasp on how soon it will be while walking. It's seriously probably only a quarter mile from the main road, but it's pitch black and I'm walking, so I have minimal spatial awareness. People walk by saying "bonsoir" like we aren't in the middle of a thunderstorm and I politely respond with "bonsoir" even though it is NOT a "good evening." Closer lightening. I really don't like lightening. I'm not used to it in California, so being outside during a thunderstorm terrifies me, the girl on a road river, pushing her metal bike. Real smart, Kathleen.

I am starting to freak out because I cannot seem to find my golden yellow landmark. More lightening. I pass an overhang area and consider stopping and staying there and wait for another storm to pass, but change my mind and decide to push forward. I hit a large intersection of road rivers. I must have gone too far. I turn around and head back. I see the overhang again and consider stopping, but another person wishes me "good evening" and I begrudgingly keep moving. I see doors to my left and I literally walk right up to them with my light. Yep, yellow. It had looked red before with my dumb wimpy bike light. I also see a bunch of unfamiliar trees, but I turn anyway. Sure enough, there's the small opening in the wall to my host family's house. Made it!

I open the house doors and my host brother stops watching the World Cup match and says my name, as he's the first one to see me. I immediately say bonsoir like I'm supposed to, even though it is NOT a good evening, and my host parents come out from the kitchen area. My immediate reaction is to apologize profusely because that's my automatic instinct as an American. I should apologize for being late and for the worry I've caused my family. Before I can begin my French apology, my host mom walks out with a look I will never forget. Burkinabe people are always happy and smiling. So, when she walked out with a worried and sad face, I didn't know what to do with myself. I just said I was fine, "ca va aller?" and I need to take a bath. Everyone laughed. Ca va aller is a big joke to us trainees because anytime we say that we get food poisoning, or our bike break or whatever other hardship is happening, our trainers and host families almost always say, "ca va aller," which essentially means "c'est la vie" or that's life, everything is fine. And, I'm definitely shaken up, but everything is fine!

This is another one of those emotionally scarring moments where there's potential to change your perspective indefinitely. I didn't break down during or after the terrifying episode of being in a thunderstorm in the dark. I'm proud of myself, not because I didn't break down, but because I know that I can do this. I can be a Peace Corps Volunteer. We all have moments that make us question whether or not we can finish out our service, but I figure if I can live through an ordeal like that on my 10th day in country, then I can be ready for anything else that comes at me.

Needless to say, I no longer plan to be out after dark for the rest of staging, even though we're allowed to. I'll of course make exceptions for celebrations like July 4th, but in those cases I'll have friends to help me home. 

My bruised hip, knee and ego wish you bonjour in California and bonsoir here in Burkina!

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!