World AIDS Day

Since December 1^st was World AIDS day, I decided that my counterpart and I should have a discussion with the community about what AIDS is and how to prevent it. There are so many myths here about HIV and AIDS (that it only comes from Cote d’Ivoire, that only prostitutes can have AIDS, that white people have a cure, etc.) so I thought that dispelling those myths would be a good start.

We picked a Friday market day, which are always super busy since it’s also the day when people don’t go out to work in the fields. We were set up by 9am but since we’re dealing with West African International Time (WAIT), I only had a few women from the women’s association there with me on time. We hung tight and since there were balafons playing, we just had a great time dancing and started to draw a crowd. Of course, the nosortia (white person) always draws a crowd, but especially when she’s dancing. On this day I also had jabi, the patterned black dye on my feet, which my neighbor Alimatou has been working on every night for the past 3 nights. I kept getting compliments from the village women “kofa, deh!” which translates roughly as “pretty, ay!”

We drew a pretty big crowd, about 50 people at one point- young and old, women and men. My counterpart read off the phrases in Gouin and then the chief of the village repeated them in Jula. Then I would pick someone in the crowd who would say whether it was true or false and why. If they were correct, I’d give them either hard soap and or Chinese green tea (both very popular here) and condoms which the young men in the crowd were especially happy about.

After the true or false portion, we discussed what HIV/AIDS is, how you can prevent getting HIV, how you can find out whether or not you’re HIV positive, etc. My counterpart, who works at the health center, explained the difference between a treatment and a cure and really stressed fidelity and regular HIV testing as a means of prevention. I also think we helped to remove some of the stigma of HIV being a disease for only promiscuous women, since it only takes one time with one person, even if it’s with your husband, to become HIV positive.

Afterwards, we all danced to the balafons, even the women carrying babies on their backs! I think they were a little surprised that I could hold my own with the other women dancing to the beat of the balafons. Later when I was buying my vegetables at the market the women kept coming up to me and saying “toubabmuso be se ka donkay, deh!” which is basically the Jula equivalent of “white girl can dance, ay!”

The chief keeps saying that I am his new wife despite my repeated refusals and my reminders that he already has several wives. Nevertheless, I haven’t quite learned to say no to the chief yet since I feel like he is my adopted Bill Cosby-esque grandpa in village so when he asked I ended up dancing with him at the front of the circle. 

All in all, I think it was a pretty good day!

Peace,

Marlow

What is "chalkboard"?

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am an employee of the U.S. government living abroad. A representative, if you will, of all that America stands for. As taxpayers, I want you to know that I take this role very seriously and I only present the best of what the U.S. has to offer.

Case in point: Jeopardy! I’ve taught over 100 African children how to play this game already. You’re welcome. But seriously, whether it’s learning about HIV/AIDS in my girls club or reviewing for an English test with my collège students, they love it. I tape the double-sided candy-colored papers up on the chalkboard (one side with the category and amount of points and the other side with the answer… like I said, I take this seriously). The grand prize: American candy. Twizzlers, jelly beans, you name it. And the crazy thing is they actually started studying. I don’t think it’s to do well on the test but rather so that their team can win the “Jeopardy! English Review Edition” the day before.

And for a village and ethnic group that I’m told started out as entirely communal, when there is candy (and glory) at stake, these kids get pretty competitive, demanding that I review the points I gave to a team or quietly humming the Jeopardy! theme song when a kid is taking a long time to answer. Okay, okay, so I taught them that. But you can’t really have Jeopardy without the theme song, right?

So maybe I introduced Jeopardy a little for my own benefit, too: to bring a tiny piece of my former American culture to my now very African village life so that I feel at home. It may not be exactly the same thing (I’m the host instead of Alex Trebeck and we skip the boring life story segment in the middle) but I actually think it’s an improved version.

And nothing puts a smile on my face like Adama shooting his hand into the air and then rising, stoic and scholarly-like in true Jeopardy fashion, to say “Wat eeez thee chokebowd?” (Clue in French “L’enseignant écrit sur cet objet pendant la leçon.”) Their team erupts in cheers as he quietly takes his seat, motioning with his hands and saying “la silence” so that everyone quiets down (I’ve explained that Jeopardy is not like a football match, it’s a serious academic quiz show which requires etiquette).I correct his pronunciation before giving them their 1000 points. They’re so close they can almost taste the jelly beans…

Tabaski

Hello world,

I hope all is going well! So much is going on that I thought I’d update you all on life at site. As always, thank you for the packages and mail, they make my day!

This past weekend I celebrated the Muslim holiday of Tabaski in my village. A few days before the party, out of nowhere, there was suddenly a sheep tied to the mango tree in my courtyard. I thought it was just another random thing that happens in this country but then my little neighbor Nadja explained to me what was going on. She came over and pointed to the sheep and said in French, "We're gonna kill him and eat him tomorrow. And he is going to say 'ahhhh ahhh ahhh.'" She then started feeding the sheep some mango leaves, and I couldn't help but think it would be his last meal before he would be sacrificed.

This is the sheep that lived in my courtyard for a few days... and then we ate him.

The morning of Tabaski, I went to the mosque with my neighbors and then afterwards watched as they killed the sheep. It was really sad and I almost started crying, something which they found hysterical. However, I did eat the sheep and it was quite delicious, so I can't say that I really felt bad. We drank tea all day and visited different families in the village. My neighbor and I even got matching Tabaski dresses made!

This is me with my neighbor, Moussa, and his daughter after going to the mosque on Tabaski.

I spent the day after Tabaski with the imam (Muslim priest) from my village and a Muslim missionary who lives in Banfora. He is Pakistani and his wife made us some delicious food!   

As far as work goes, I went from having a relaxed schedule to a relatively hectic schedule in a matter of weeks. Mostly because I am now an English teacher at the new collège, the equivalent of junior high, in my village! There isn’t actually a school building yet, just a few abandoned rooms throughout the village. However, it’s better than the previous alternative in which the kids had to bike or walk 10k to another village to continue their schooling.

I teach 3 days a week to the sixième students, which is kind of like 7^th grade. It’s their first encounter with English which is kind of exciting and it gives me an opportunity to get to know the older students and some of their challenges. It’s surprisingly not as easy as one might think to teach your native language. Since I learned English in a natural way, I don’t know a lot of the rules, I just know when something sounds wrong. Luckily, the director has given me a lot of materials and I’ve devised a pretty interesting syllabus, incorporating debate into the class as well to hone the critical thinking skills which are so often ignored in the Burkinabé education system. I’ve also included a unit on children’s and women’s rights and we might do some Model UN! The kids are really motivated and it’s awesome to hear them correctly pronounce funny-sounding English phrases. Any English teaching materials (songs, books, flash cards, etc.) would be greatly appreciated!

Other than that, I’m still continuing my girls club for the primary school girls once a week and I’m thinking about replicating the same club for the sixième girls in my English class. We’ve recently covered HIV/AIDS and yesterday the midwife came in from the health center to talk about the dangers of early pregnancy and about the different contraceptives that are available in Jula. It took about half an hour just for the girls to say on their own what sex was. In this culture, people don’t talk about sex out of shame. However, this leads to some serious problems later on when girls get pregnant and don’t know what happened. Many girls in my village get married young and therefore have children young and in all cases it cuts their education short. The girls were able to submit questions anonymously which helped them to open up a lot and I gave American goodies (chocolate chip cookies) to the girls who answered the really tough questions. I think the girls learned a lot from the session and I’m hoping it might make a difference.

In this picture, the midwife is showing the girls the different kinds of contraceptives available and explaining in Jula.

In non-work-related news, I have a puppy! His name is Benji and he was given to me by one of the men who works at the CSPS. He’s great company but he is also a handful right now. He would appreciate anything in future packages as well!

It’s harvesting season which means most of the village is out in the fields harvesting corn, rice, and cotton. I was able to go to the fields and harvest rice with my neighbors which was a pretty fun time. I'd love to put more pictures up of all of this stuff in the blog but the Internet is just too slow so check out my Facebook! 

Thank you for all of your support!

Peace,

Marlow

A Day in the Life

It’s hard to believe that I’ve already been at site for a month. I still don’t understand the passing of time here, where it seems to fly by yet at the same time I feel like I’ve lived in this culture for years. I’m slowly picking up little West African habits, like sucking my teeth when I think something is bad or saying “deh?” at the end of my sentences.

When I’m away from site I start to miss my village friends; drinking tea with Moussa and Alima, laughing with Kaba, and just asking Kaitiessi about her day. Every once in a while I feel overwhelmed with gratitude for these people who have made me feel so at home in such a short period of time.

Although my days vary, I thought I’d give you a little insight into what I actually do each day as a Peace Corps volunteer.

MORNING:

I wake up around 6am to the sounds of babies (or goats, I never know for sure) crying or corn being pounded by the women. After making myself breakfast (oatmeal with peanut butter and honey with tea), I sit on my hangar and listen to the sounds of the village waking up. The sun starts to peek out from behind the thatched roofs and the palm trees. I water my garden and sweep my hangar. George normally comes to sit on my lap and keep me company, too. If it’s not a school day, the children will hang out on my hangar and draw pictures for me in chalk.

Twice a week, Odil comes over to tutor me in Goin and Jula. Normally, we walk around the village and greet people as I point at things and then write down their corresponding words in my new languages.

NOON:

I’ll normally do one tour of some part of the village each day just to greet people, since that’s so important in this culture. Sometimes I’ll sit with a family in their courtyard and be offered dolo (millet beer) or beans as I ask them about their children and their work before going on my way. It’s great to hear everyone say “Wihaba” after me because they want to say hello.

I’ll visit my neighbor Yakouba at his kiosk to get some nescafe with sweetened condensed milk and bread before saying hello to Kaitiessi, the president of the women’s association. We can sit for hours not really saying much at all but just enjoying each other’s company.

AFTERNOON:

Once a week, I have my girls club so I’m teaching in front of a class about HIV/AIDS, self-esteem, and the importance of staying in school. During the afternoons, I drink tea with the health workers or I hang out with the women on the paved road selling beignets. I’ll fetch water on my bike with the neighborhood kids if I’m running low or go to the fields with Moussa if I’m feeling really ambitious. The cotton is almost ready for harvesting so I’m excited for that!

EVENING:

My nights are nice and cool right now. I’ll make myself dinner by candlelight and read. Afterwards, little Nadja comes over and asks me if I’m coming to drink tea with her family tonight. I walk the firefly-lit path over to Moussa’s courtyard and we drink tea under the sky full of stars. Moussa calls the moon “village electricity”. We talk about everything, what life is like in America, how the earth orbits the sun, and the status of women. Around 10pm, I can’t keep my eyes open anymore and so I tell Moussa “mi mulan… mi kan gala”, “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”  

As you can see from a normal day, my life here is slowly developing a routine and I’m really starting to appreciate each moment. It’s such a rare experience not only to befriend people halfway around the world but also to learn to live like them. I feel like all of the little successes of integration have so much more meaning just because they’re so challenging. Small things like learning to pump my own water or understanding what someone says in Jula feel like huge accomplishments.

That’s not to say that life here isn’t difficult at all. I’m basically the representative for an entire country and an entire culture which is often misunderstood or glamourized here and I find that one of my greatest challenges is trying to accurately explain or dispel myths about what it means to be American to villagers. I’m also never sure if someone is genuinely interested in being my friend or if they just want to get something from the “toubabmuso” (white woman). Overall, the wonderful moments far outweigh the difficult moments.  

My girls club has been really successful already and I find that being with the girls almost always makes me feel like I’m doing productive and meaningful work here. The girls learn a lot and it’s really fun, normally culminating in a game of red rover. I gave all of the girls matching fabric headbands and it’s cute to see them all wearing them in unity on the day of our girls’ club meetings. Last week, they talked about their futures and what they wanted to be when they grow up. It was a great activity to have the girls draw what their lives will look like when they are thirty years old since it’s something many of the girls had never thought about until now. They drew their husbands, their children going to school, and themselves as teachers, mayors, and doctors. The provincial director for girls’ education even came from Banfora to talk with the girls about the importance of continuing their educations. To hear the girls’ dreams was really powerful. They talked about wanting to only have a few children so that they could all go to school and of becoming government employees so that they could take care of the families. I can’t stress how much educating a girl can influence generations to come and it makes me feel like I really can make a difference with young people while I am here.

With that in mind, I’ve come to Ouaga for a few days for a Camp GLOW (girls/guys leading our world) meeting to help organize a countrywide camp that will be held next summer. I am the financial secretary so I’ll be in charge of fundraising and applying for grants (totaling around $10,000 USD) at one of the four locations for the camps. It really is an amazing opportunity for these girls and boys from all over Burkina to develop leadership skills and to effect positive change in their own communities. There will be an opportunity to donate online so I’ll keep you posted!

Well, this post has turned out to be quite long, even though I feel like I can never truly express all of my emotions accurately with words when I try to talk about my experiences here! As always, thank you for all of your love and support.

Peace,

Marlow

Settling in...

Hey everyone!

It's officially been two weeks since I got to site and already things are going really well...

I've met with the women's association who was already making soap and anti-mosquito cream and we talked about selling the soap to pay for things that the women want, like to repair the old women's center and to fix the broken water pumps in the village. I think that allowing the women to have their own central place would be a step in the right direction in my village, where already I've witnessed the women be kicked out of the central meeting room by the market because the men needed to have a meeting. The water situation is also a problem, since many of the pumps are broken and the women have to walk very long distances for water. The women are really motivated and I think we can secure a grant for the initial start-up costs so that they can start selling!

I've also started a girls club with the CM2 girls (ages 10-14) from the two primary schools which will be meeting once a week to talk about HIV/AIDS, early pregnancy, the importance of continuing your education, and women's rights. Many of the girls in my village get married at a very young age and therefore never get the chance to go to high school. This age group is really important because it's the year they take the exam to continue on to high school. I think that awareness of gender roles is an area where I can really make a contribution in my community, since the difference between the workload of men and the workload of women is so drastic.

Since I observed a lot of malnutrition in my village, I've been talking with the midwife at the health center to do sensibilisations on nutrition for the mothers once a week while they're waiting to have their babies weighed. We already planted four moringa trees at the health center to be used during these presentations, since adding the leaves to porridge and sauces adds many vitamins and minerals lacking in their diets.

Other than that, I've been speaking a lot of Jula and Gouin and even got a tutor. Every night, I have tea with my neighbors who are kind of like my adopted family. I'm quickly becoming good friends with the president of the women's association as well. The chief gave me a village name, Wihaba, which means "what God has given". It's nice to have some independence and create my own schedule. I even had time to start my garden of tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers with a sunflower border. I got to go to the fields with my neighbor and see how they grow corn, sesame, and cotton.

I've been eating really well since my market is filled with delicious vegetables. I've been able to perfect my pesto thanks to my basil bush and even made foccacia bread. This morning I biked 20k into Banfora to check my email and plan the session for my girls group on Thursday. I'm still adjusting to life as a volunteer since training was so different, but it's slowly starting to feel like home.

I hope everyone is doing well, thank you for the letters and the support! They make my day. I have a lot of free time to respond now so keep them coming! My signal is not very good at site, but if you send me a text saying when you'd like to skype I can get into Banfora and make it happen. Miss and love all of you!

Peace,
Marlow

Swear In and Affectation!

A ni sogoma! (Good morning, for you non-Julaphones). I thought I’d give you all a quick update on what I’ve been up to since swearing in and becoming a “real” Peace Corps volunteer…

Our swear-in ceremony coincided with the 50^th anniversary of the Peace Corps so it was a huge celebration complete with a fair and lots of publicity. I even got to give an interview in French on national TV and radio! To see the video that was sent to Washington covering the event, go here. The biggest rap star in Burkina, Floby, even wrote a song about the Peace Corps for us. During our swearing in ceremony, the U.S. ambassador to Burkina Faso had us raise our right hands and take the oath of office. There’s only one oath for all federal employees so it’s the same one Obama fudged at his swearing in.

So after swearing to uphold the constitution of the United States and defend against all enemies foreign and domestic (I’m not kidding, that’s in there), we were greeted by the first lady of Burkina Faso and spent a few more days in Ouaga to buy things for our new homes.

Yesterday, we were “affectated” (I’m not sure if there is an English word for that), which basically means we are on our own. Some of us are already at our sites and some of us, myself included, are staying at hotels in our provincial capitals picking up a few last minute items (aka lounging at the pool) before Peace Corps takes us to our sites tomorrow.

I’m excited and anxious to begin my service and have no idea what to expect. Having no expectations up until this point has been the best way to go and I hope I continue to be pleasantly surprised. It’s hard to leave the very close friends I have made here who are now scattered all over the country, but I know that they are only a phone call away and that I will see them in three months at in-service training.

My beautiful site makes the whole moving process a lot easier. My neighbor and I rode in on our bus yesterday through the sugarcane hills and palm trees and remembered that we won the lottery when it comes to regions. Even more important, my village is very motivated and happy to have me, and when I need to escape Banfora is only a short bike ride away and has everything I need. Everyone is friendly and helpful and actually talks to me in Jula. I’ve got a lot of great Peace Corps neighbors nearby, too.

So what’s next? Well, for the first three months, my main task is to get integrated into my community. I will be conducting an “etude de milieu”, or a needs assessment. Basically, I’m talking to people to learn about my community and what its development priorities are and building relationships at the same time. Before we can engage in any substantial projects, we have to be integrated (so that people have a reason to listen to us) and we have to build relationships (so that our projects continue even after we’re gone). All of this socializing doesn’t amount to what Americans would consider “work,” but I think it’s crucial to my effectiveness as a volunteer and my personal happiness. I have two whole years in my village, so there’s no rush to jump into projects right away.

I will also be spending a lot of time with my Jula tutor in village so that I will be able to give sensibilizations on various topics in the local language of my community. This is extremely important since a significant portion of my village, especially women, doesn’t speak French. Really, only the government employees who work at the health center and the primary school speak French fluently. I have a great counterpart who works at the health center who is related to the village chief and who I can bounce ideas off of and have introduce me to important people.

I hope all is going well in the good old U.S. of A! Keep the letters coming and let me know if you want to skype at any point since I’ll be riding into Banfora at least once a week to visit the market and check my email. Love and miss you all!

I'd Like to Give the World a Coke...

Picture this… Four Christian village leaders and a nun coming to eat at the home of the president of the Muslim’s on the Muslim holy day celebrating the end of Ramadan. After serving them food and conversing, the president of the Muslims brings out a Coke for everyone.

No, it’s not a Coke commercial. This is the reality of religious tolerance in Burkina Faso and I think the whole world could learn a little something from it.

Surprisingly, a country with 160 different local languages, several different ethnic groups, and a 50/50 split of Muslims and Christians manages to live up to its hype as “the land of upright and honorable people”. I’ve concluded that they really just love a good party and more religions means more parties, with the Christians celebrating the Muslim holidays and the Muslims celebrating the Christian holidays. And you can’t forget traditional animist beliefs which pervade both of these major religions in Burkina.

Since my host family is Muslim and my host father is president of the Muslims in our training village, I’ve been especially privy to Muslim beliefs here. I was fortunate enough to experience Ramadan with them, the annual month of fasting that Muslims undertake each year as one of the five pillars of Islam. During Ramadan, my family did not eat while the sun was up. As soon as the sun set, they would eat their first meal of the day and then we’d get ready to leave for mosque. I would wear a long dress and a scarf to cover my face, shoulders, and neck. (Unfortunately, this doesn’t hide the fact that I’m white so I just end up looking like an extra weird Muslim nasara.)

At the mosque, everyone is positioned outside facing the front of the building. It is a white building with one archway entrance and two large columns on either side with a crescent moon and star at the top of each column. The prayer starts just after sunset so the backdrop is a picturesque dark blue sky lit up by the moon and the stars.

Before the praying, they bring out a giant loudspeaker with a microphone and chant the call to prayer into it. They repeat a phrase in Arabic over and over again which means “may peace be with you.” In fact, this is what you are supposed to say to all Muslims upon greeting them. (Next time you think that Islam isn’t a peaceful religion think about that). The men have mats on the concrete floor right in front of the mosque while the women sit in a row behind the men on the ground. Verses of the Koran were read in Arabic by a man in the front as we sequentially put our hands on our knees while standing up, dropped to the floor and put our heads on the ground in front of us, and then stood back up. I was simultaneously frustrated that because I’m a girl I automatically get second-rate seats and thankful that I could mimic what the men were doing from behind, since I’m an Islam novice and had no idea what I was supposed to be doing at any given moment.

At the end of Ramadan, my courtyard held a big party and most of the village attended. My family killed many of its chickens to make soup, shredded coconut to make little cakes, and made fresh ginger and hibiscus juice. I got to help make the hibiscus juice, which involves boiling dried hibiscus leaves and then adding sugar and mint leaves before letting it cool.

It was a fun game watching the kids corner the chickens in the courtyard and then tie them up. I would have loved to avenge the french fries I lost to those pesky animals one morning but, unfortunately, women aren’t allowed to kill chickens in this culture. I did, however, get to look on with gratitude as my host dad killed a chicken. He explained that we had to face East while killing a chicken just like we have to face East towards Mecca while praying. Personally, I don’t think these awful creatures deserve such consideration. I much prefer to see them saran wrapped or in the frozen aisle.

It felt a lot like Christmas, with all of the kids getting new clothes and running around annoying their mothers who were trying to cook. Some things are universal, like little kids making their brothers or sisters cry and men sitting off in a corner talking about man stuff.

The first guests to show up were the Christian leaders in the village. They brought Fanta as a gift and ate what my family had prepared. And yes, my host father really did bring out Cokes for everyone. I started humming the jingle “I’d like to give the world a Coke…” to the amusement of some nearby nasaras who also thought this was a perfect commercial opportunity. But the funny thing was this wasn’t a commercial, it was real life. Somehow, religion had brought people together instead of dividing them. I wondered how the Burkinabe, many of whom suffer from extreme poverty and little to no education, had learned how to regard religion as such an integral part of their lives while simultaneously respecting the beliefs of others.