tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-244836642024-03-07T10:08:41.634-08:00GRITS Heads to Burkina Faso"When I stand before God at the end of my life I would hope that I would have not a single bit of talent left and could say 'I used everything you gave me'" - Erma BombeckGRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-81580826363830425522008-08-28T13:21:00.001-07:002008-09-19T13:58:16.396-07:00GRITS2BF No More...Hello all. Okay, so it has been a while, and I am guessing that if I even had any fans/loyal readers of this you have all abandoned ship and moved on to the next hot blog. I had a few requests to post at least one "getting re-acclimated" email...so now more than two months of being at home, and watching at least 5 major banks fold, I am bored enough to do that.<br /><br />I got back on Friday, July 18th thanks to some fancy flight intinerary from Peace Corps. The most ideal thing would have been just to sleep at the airport, because later that afternoon I returned again to fly out to the Morris Family Reunion in Pittsburgh, PA. Once a year my mom's side of the family has a reunion, and it allowed me to see my Mom, brother, sister-in-law, cutest-in-the-world nephew (seriously, no joke), and my extended family. So, culture shock had to be thrown aside as I jet-setted on Jet Blue (SATELLITE TV, yummy snacks, cutely dressed flight attendants....if this is America I LOVE it!). It was a day of family, food, food, more food, a rockin' DJ, and a very fun Chinese Auction. At every family reunion it is a Morris tradition to hold a Chinese Auction, and this year there were a lot of cool things to bid for. As I was browsing the merchandise I spotted a basket full of "smart" books, as they came to be known my me. It has "Collapse," a Mark Twain Biography, and more. All of them were in hard back. I immediately thought to myself..."WOW, we have to win those. We would look so smart having those on our shelf. So, after buying about 150 tickets and scaring anyone away from putting tickets into the bowl for the books, we won the books. Triumphantly I walked up and claimed my prize...oh yes...we are smart...just look at our bookshelves!!! (P.S. at least 2 people have commented on what "smart" books we have...so there!).<br /><div><br /></div><div>After our triumphant return from Pittsburgh it was time for me to settle into our apartment, decorate, enjoy being "home," and look for gainful employment. I put "gainful employment" last on my list because it is the most boring and painful part. Everyone knows the economy is basically in the crapper...so I wasn't overly optimistic about my chances. </div><div><br /></div><div>I spent my first few weeks at home giving our apartment that female touch. We bought some book shelves, a television stand, made an Ikea run for various accessories. BTW, seriously...LOVE Ikea!!! We took the Ikea Water Taxi, that's right...a boat to Ikea! It was beautiful...especially at 1:30 in the afternoon while I thought about all the schlubs chained to their desks in cubicles (oh...little did I know). Mike even took a week off and we had a "staycation." We lounged around, went on long walks, went to the Natural History Museum, took a car up to Randall's Island and played mini-golf and I learned how to hit golf balls at the range. After about 20 minutes of spinning in circle and continually missing the ball, cursing it out, and then throwing the club in frustration I finally made my first hit...oh how exhilarating!!</div><div><br /></div><div>After almost a month and a half of pounding the pavement, begging, pleading, name dropping, resume sending, internet searching, crying (alright...just a little), penny pinching, sleeping, Guitar Hero playing, and the like....I finally got the call. It was like being in the minor leagues and then all of a sudden getting a call from the Majors to step up. I hadn't planned on getting back into advertising (I swear!!), but I did take a few meetings in the off chance that I decided I wanted to give it another try. I had a few other opportunities kickin' around, but let's be honest here people...you gotta make those Benjamin's and non-profit work just wasn't in the cards for (not yet anyway). So, after a successful informational interview (I know how to charm them...), I got a job offer at BBDO, a very large but very creative advertising agency. So, here I sit, writing to you from my cubicle in a huge corporate office. Just over two months ago I was sitting in a mud brick hut sleeping 3 hours a day, planting corn in a field, and crapping in a hole...well, sadly, that is no more. No more staph infections (well, actually not true...I am fighting a staph infection for the 2nd time since being home), no more Toh, no more attieke, no more chickens running around in my yard, no more children hugging me while I run...it is all gone, only to be recalled from the recesses of my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have managed in the two months that I've been home to have 3 Peace Corps reunions with various volunteers that I served with in Burkina. Helen and Nanette came to visit, and I went to Boston and hung out with Minh, Helen, Nanette, and Rose. It has been a pretty amazing time. To say that I feel a bit "out of place" here is understating. People ask me all the time how my experience was, and how do I even sum it up in words...or at least in a sentence or two before they lose interest. I feel like an alien that landed on another planet...or like I know a secret that know one else in the room knows. I don't mean it in a superior way, not at all, just in a "I feel separate" kind of way...I don't even know how to describe it, but I would imagine that anyone reading this that has ever lived abroad would understand immediately.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am also fighting lingering feelings of loneliness. Although being in NYC puts me in one of the most crowded cities in the world, I have never felt more "alone." In Burkina I was never alone, whether that was with my villagers, or with my fellow volunteers partying in the capital. You were never short of a friend to confide in or get a drink with. Back here in the States I have to book my friends 2 weeks in advance just to make sure that they have the time. It seems so sad to me how isolated people are here. At least I have Mike with me, and that has been my saving grace.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will tell you one thing that hasn't happened that I thought would...and that is that I haven't gone crazy on Starbucks! I know, right?!?! I thought I would basically be hooking it up intravenously, but (and I swear this is true) I have only gone to Starbucks 4 times in the 2 months that I have been back. Before leaving for the Peace Corps I managed to turn Mike into a coffee addict, so I have been enjoying fresh home-brewed coffee. I guess the difference is that I know I am not going back to Burkina (any time soon anyway), so there is no "rush" to get it all in....honestly, I would trade all of the Starbuck's and flush toilets just to go back to Burkina and see my friends...and I mean that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyhoo, this is rambling and a bit boring, so I say to all of you who have followed this blog, thank you! I hope for anyone new you get a chance to read through my mishaps and triumphs, and that I provide entertainment and insight for you. Thanks for all of the support from anyone who has helped me while I was there, and as always...Stay safe!!!</div><div><br /></div>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-11506818169898864102008-07-16T05:34:00.000-07:002008-07-17T00:59:05.185-07:00Nasara Bye-Bye!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJSxzY9PuBEw5SEejdYDVDik5y_suWnckPC4jj59DwxdSg4AFEGKrOLV4-mfxQDknWgJGbIXHi_qviVTHtqIiC1QbSn7g1ha7KaqhBQOA69Vr0A0YXdHNrVD22Ypry1Zg0E2Oaw/s1600-h/April+2008+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRJSxzY9PuBEw5SEejdYDVDik5y_suWnckPC4jj59DwxdSg4AFEGKrOLV4-mfxQDknWgJGbIXHi_qviVTHtqIiC1QbSn7g1ha7KaqhBQOA69Vr0A0YXdHNrVD22Ypry1Zg0E2Oaw/s200/April+2008+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223885892946328914" border="0" /></a><br />Two years? Two years! Two years. Where does it go? I can remember perfectly the ride with Mike to Philadelphia on September 25th, 2006. I can remember the goodbye, and the crazy leap into the unknown. Burkina Faso? I didn't even know that country existed until I was invited to serve there! How do I put into words how I feel, looking back, almost two years later. I have seen, experienced, and learned in these last two years. It overwhelms me to even think about it.<br /><div> </div><br />After an intense 2 months of learning French (although by the time I left training I didn't feel like I knew anything) and culture...of we went! December 1st, 2006 I headed off to Banzon not knowing what it looked like, the language (for the most part), or the people. I was SO scared, but in the Peace Corps you aren't given a lot of time to be scared. You just keep moving forward because that is all you can do. The first few months were hard...people laughed at me and asked me for money. Then, as time went by, the transformation happened. People started calling me by name, and recognizing me as something other than the "toubabou" in village. Slowly friendships began to form, and it is only now, close to 2 years later that I realize the significance and importance of these people in my life. Normally, I am not one to dwell on the past (or sadly all that much on the present). I tend to focus my eyes forward in a planning mode, which for most of my life caused me to miss out on all the wonderful things that were happening to me at the present moment. When I moved from one stage of my life to another I never wasted time on sentimentalities...I just moved forward with excitement. However, I am realizing that Peace Corps has changed that. Leaving my village was the first example of this. As my last few days crept up on me I found myself looking around everywhere and trying to suck it all in. I would tell myself, "Remember this view. Remember this smell (even the bad ones). Remember this moment. Don't let it slip away through the cracks of your memory." Every where I went the thought of it being the "last time" I ever did this would overwhelm me. It got to the point that I could barely walk through my market and greet my friends for fear of breaking down into tears. Here I am with a free ticket back to the "promised land" and all I could think that I wanted was to stay here with them forever. It just didn't seem fair that they stayed while I got to leave. As the day of departure approached my house began to swell with gifts. My friends who have so little had bought me baskets, calabashes, pagnes--and not just for me, but for EVERYONE in my family. I have gifts for my grandma, my brother, my sister, my nephew, my mom, and Mike...and they have only met one of those people in that list. To say that the Burkinabe are a generous people is definitely understating it.<br /><div> </div><br /><div>On the last day my friends came over and were shocked to see that I wasn't completely finished packing--yeah, I am still a procrastinator...something Peace Corps didn't manage to change. They all sat in my house while I finished the last of my packing, and I gave out various gifts of things that I couldn't fit in my bag (you would be surprised how popular bra's are...big sellers!). After a couple of hours I announce to everyone, "well, I'm ready. I am just going to shower now, and then I will meet you guys outside." Everyone just stared at me and then my salad lady said, "go ahead. we'll wait here." Okay, my shower is inside...so I had to grab my towel and walk into my bedroom and shower while everyone was waiting outside. AWKWARD! When I came out wrapped in a pagne and a towel on my head they thought I was attempting to dress "African" and all applauded. Where will my applauding audience be when I step out of my shower in New York? Where will my excited children be yelling "bonjour" when I walk into my courtyard? The days of being interesting and different are kind of over...a white girl in New York City doesn't exactly stand out. :-( As I boarded the bus to go to Bobo for the last time a crowd congregated out in front of my house to say goodbye. This time I was smart and wore my sunglasses so people wouldn't see me cry...even though they did...which then started a domino-effect of everyone else crying. It took all my strength not to jump out of the bus and say "I'm just kidding. I'm staying!" But, sadly, that isn't an option for me at this point...and as hard as it is to move forward, and as much as I am resisting it, it is something that must happen.<br /></div><br /><div> </div>So, here I sit in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso--where it all began. I look back on these two years of my life in awe. In awe of all the wonderful things I was blessed to have experienced and witnessed. It seems like a dream or some movie of someone else's life...not something that I actually lived through. People ask me how I feel about leaving, how will it be to go from the poorest country in the world to one of the richest...or from a small village to one of the largest cities in the world. Honestly, I am not sure how I will feel about it. Everyone says that I should be happy because I can't get anything and everything my heart desires...but I feel that it doesn't have the same meaning when it is so readily available and in such overwhelming quantities. A glass with ice...or a hot shower...none of that is novel. So I wonder how long it will take for me to fall back into my "American" attitude and begin viewing my life as mundane. I can only hope and pray that these feelings and these lessons stick with me. I want to value every little perk in life, from an ice-cold glass of water to a good coffee (not instant...blech!). Something I think we could all work on a little bit. I am by no means a sage, but the advice I would give to everyone is to (as cliche as it sounds) stop and smell the roses. Stop and be thankful for all that we have (even in our recession) because compared to the rest of the world it is a HELL of a lot.<br /><br />Alright...I am going to get off my little soapbox of the value of this experience in my life (which, by the way, if you weren't paying attention, is immeasurable!). I am going to try to turn my eyes forward (never forgetting the past), and focus on the next step in my life...New York City, a job, and re-starting the life that I left behind there. For now, I have to focus on doing all my last minute departure stuff and willing myself on that plane. As we leave we have to take language tests to see how far we come, and although language is no broad indicator of how we fared here...I feel like it sort of represents my growth. When I started I was Beginner-Low (you can't go any more down than that) and as I learned yesterday I am Advanced-Mid (one level from the top)...not tooting my own horn or anything, but that is quite an improvement if I say so myself! :-D<br /><br />I will leave you with one little story (although there are so many that it's difficult to know where to start) that I wrote back in June. Interestingly enough, this story will be published in an anthology "Peace Corps at 50" which will celebrate the 50th Anniversary of the Peace Corps...so I can add published author to my resume...WOO HOO! This by no means encompasses my entire service, but I feel it embodies the idea of getting back to the basics, and that it is these connections that are most important in life. Sadly, I don't know if my friend Brahim will even remember me when he grows up, but I did give him a picture of me and I can only hope that I am given the means to return. Thank you all for following along with me on this two year journey, and I hope that maybe you learned along the way with me. I may update this from the States, but really, what is so interesting about a white girl living in NYC? Thank you to everyone for their love and support, and as always (and for the last time while in Burkina Faso) Stay Safe!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4V8o8aCLvyYAsXm-f4QwhSA49rh866_Azd9tHMoPHlunULYctiJOwTLkzC59ryRHV6N9rlN2HmSlLaeE3NPHIRGoVWnTKuYhW-C_ehY8NgOOdbTZSLOv89jb8tP74GxOa30AJzQ/s1600-h/Mom's+Trip+to+Burkina+318.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4V8o8aCLvyYAsXm-f4QwhSA49rh866_Azd9tHMoPHlunULYctiJOwTLkzC59ryRHV6N9rlN2HmSlLaeE3NPHIRGoVWnTKuYhW-C_ehY8NgOOdbTZSLOv89jb8tP74GxOa30AJzQ/s200/Mom's+Trip+to+Burkina+318.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223885899995160018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >A picture of me and my running buddy, Brahim...he looks scared here, but every time I pulled a camera out he got scared...</span><br /></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The sun peaks throug</span>h my straw hangar, the thwack of the axe can be heard fro across my courtyard, and the naying of the donkeys signal another day has begun. In Burkina Faso the last thing that I need is an alarm clock. As if set to a timer--even though usually NOTHING runs on time--my village comes to life as the sun peaks over the horizon. The people--and animals--start their day, whether I am ready for them to or not...there is NO snooze button.</span><br /></div><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I jump out of bed, thankful for the morning coolness as it flows over me, knowing that in 3 hours the sun will beat down and I will have to take refuge for a while from its rays. The mornings have always been my favorite, not only for the gracious breeze and cool air, but for the sounds and sights of my village coming to life.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">For me, my mornings are the same. I lace up my shoes, take a gulp of water, and I set off. I pass several of my neigbors, all of whom have been up for hours already preparing breakfast and lunch, washing the children, cleaning the house, and preparing to set off to the fields--it is the rainy season and everyone has a field to tend to. As I run past I wave hello and pass my morning greetings to my neighbors--"Aw ni Sogoma," I shout as I jog by--Good morning in my village's local language of Joula. We rush through the greeting ritual as I pass by. At this point the odd looks have subsided, and most people just know me as the crazy american girl that "faire's le sport." Running is never done unless trying to get away from something, or in playing soccer...and most certainly not done that often by a girl.<br /><br />I continue on my path through the mango groves which are teeming with ripe mangos. Their scent fills the air and I have to resist ripping one off the tree and eating it right there. I don't know if I will ever be able to buy fruits from a supermarket again. I wave to the villagers and children who are already in the grove, picking the mangos for sale in the market. I pass as the children make their way to school in the morning, carrying their little rice sack backbacks as they bound along. I dodge the various cattle, goats, and pigs along my route, Passing the river, and continuing on into the rice fields. The view is spectacular, and a far cry from 9 months ago when I was staring at the New York skyline from my office window. Oh, how much my life has changed in such a short time.<br /><br />As amazing as all of this is, it is the end of my run that I look forward to the most. As I crest the hill out of the mango grove the familiar cry pierces the air. There is Brahim, my two-year old neighbor. "Madame! Madame!" he cries as he sees me come over the hill. He darts towards me from his courtyard, his little legs carrying him as fast as he can go. His eyes are lit up, and there is a smile on his face<br />that could light the world. Normally we shake hands, high five, and I pat him on<br />the head...but today is different. As he runs up I put my hands out and UP he jumps giving me the biggest little bear hug that he can muster. He has always been so shy to this point, and his affection surprises me. "Bonjour," he says...the only word of French I am sure he knows. He props on my hip and I jog him back to his mother. He pops down to the ground, gives me a hug and then runs back to his house.<br /><br />I wave goodbye and finish up my run, just a little more energized than the moment before. Happy...content...that his hug is one of the highlights of my day...and something to look forward to every time I crest that hill to make my way home.</span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></p><span style="font-weight: bold;">To Burkina I say Thank you, Merci, Aw ni ce, Baarka, and Fofo! Quoting the hundreds of children that have probably said this in my service...NASARA BYE-BYE!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-80764868790821630482008-07-11T23:45:00.000-07:002008-07-13T11:13:48.656-07:00Morockin' Around the Clock!I am coming to you live from Burkina Faso, having just arrived from our whirlwind Moroccan vacation! I am running on about 3 hours of sleep, so I apologize if this post is bad, random, boring, etc.<br /><br />I can first open by saying that Morocco is AMAZING! In 7 days we climbed the highest mountain (in North Africa anyway), sailed the shining seas (or at least stared at them), and crossed the scorching deserts (in an air-conditioned train car). Before my friend Rose suggested we go, I had no intention or interest really in visiting Morocco. I had heard different things about it...but I didn't put it at the top of my list. However, after our quick 7 day tour, I am already planning my return trip.<br /><br />It is impossible to even begin to compare Burkina Faso to Morocco. Everything is different from the landscape, the culture, the people, the food, and the level of development. It is like taking a step in to Europe or Israel. Morocco is crazy and vibrant and alive...and it was an interesting contrast. I think I am having culture shock just coming back to Burkina.<br /><br />On our first day we headed straight to Marrakesh to get a taste for the bazaars, markets, and lively Moroccan culture. The market streets and alleys wind for miles and we could get lost for hours just walking, staring, eating, drinking coffee, eating some more, and drinking coffee some more (I thought no one could bypass me for coffee intake...but I can't hold a candle to these caffeine-infused Moroccans...you might as well hook me up to a coffee IV to keep up). On our first day in Marrakesh I don't think that we were prepared for the forwardness and abrasiveness of the Moroccans. Within our first 10 minutes walking through the main square<br />we were accosted by pre-teen henna girls. Before I knew it they had grabbed my hand and were squirting the henna cream in a design and saying "No money, no money! Good luck husband! Henna good luck husband!" Well shoot, if it's no money, and I get good luck in the husband department...SIGN ME UP! Yeah, well, that is until the moment that they finished. "Money. Give Money. WE WANT MONEY!! GIVE ME MONEY!" I tried giving them 10 durhams (a little more than a dollar), but they threw it on the ground in a theatrical display...to which I took it back and said, "fine then. You get nothing." She then gets very close and agrees under her breath to take the money. Me and my friends agreed that the next time they girls tried to attack us we would bitch slap them...little twerps. For the rest of the night we walked around with this ugly smeared henna on our hands, and with the shame of knowing that two 10 year-olds basically held us up. Sadly, this wasn't the only time that we got cheated, hosed, rinsed, etc. for money. Thanks to a pretty horrible deal on a wooden camel...we nicknamed getting ripped off as "getting camelled." Oh well, I think it is the Marrakesh experience.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbrhESz-buXeUhq6FduI7EyNNKTzCvCViYHXKayLZ51Cqd2tnz95EQJVCDJalcnEqgS2DK-tHB0TJq-Hi6xl_jz6TWZCMKt5eASJMhFo645FsImOiuq0Gpo88lsI9skpn3c6LRw/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+072.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbrhESz-buXeUhq6FduI7EyNNKTzCvCViYHXKayLZ51Cqd2tnz95EQJVCDJalcnEqgS2DK-tHB0TJq-Hi6xl_jz6TWZCMKt5eASJMhFo645FsImOiuq0Gpo88lsI9skpn3c6LRw/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+072.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222561980532973730" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is a picture of the lively market at night. All the stalls are steaming with wonderful foods like snails, meats, couscous and more!</span><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fkl6usxF1a_5o4L0R7qPFmMIRPz52rttKjq4Mf681IXK6DbeaPM0IhjQ9Oje6YAROVpP7vFKDP6rNl9rgN91AH14RvEBmUU-2G-QaNC1Cz3t8tf5yyCdBt75BcZD4HZsFzebng/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9fkl6usxF1a_5o4L0R7qPFmMIRPz52rttKjq4Mf681IXK6DbeaPM0IhjQ9Oje6YAROVpP7vFKDP6rNl9rgN91AH14RvEBmUU-2G-QaNC1Cz3t8tf5yyCdBt75BcZD4HZsFzebng/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222561980742754514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >Orange juice stalls are everywhere, and you can get a fresh-squeezed glass of OJ for .40 cents!<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKSHLRZ13aHWUw8a7b8050ZIDLKVPgesoshYW8zcnDhsAukaY6YgmnL77MnkDkouCDhirNGWtJ7s_Aj66dI9NSttvl5LHNd3kmzV_cZ9pcWQqGNdV6JAUhM3czhEj5nKJ2SYFlQ/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKSHLRZ13aHWUw8a7b8050ZIDLKVPgesoshYW8zcnDhsAukaY6YgmnL77MnkDkouCDhirNGWtJ7s_Aj66dI9NSttvl5LHNd3kmzV_cZ9pcWQqGNdV6JAUhM3czhEj5nKJ2SYFlQ/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222561983029913090" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here are Leslie and Rose enjoying what Marrakesh has to offer...cappuccinos and grapes! YUMMY!<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldXf8ZD31LWBd_BVf3GiQhz6lF_VM4UfEUkxKW40_9wjicfQ6oe6BGkLed-zwPsoiXtG7Ty8LA8Wft_j6vMmmLYfeSqiNSbgY1U5buS5t0vN-0OVSc1tSUOi0W6jUhpUV45lJVA/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+075.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhldXf8ZD31LWBd_BVf3GiQhz6lF_VM4UfEUkxKW40_9wjicfQ6oe6BGkLed-zwPsoiXtG7Ty8LA8Wft_j6vMmmLYfeSqiNSbgY1U5buS5t0vN-0OVSc1tSUOi0W6jUhpUV45lJVA/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+075.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222561987250581570" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >Here is a pic of the square lit up with the Mosque tower in the background!</span><br /></div></div><br />After a wonderful time in Marrakesh shopping and eating and eating and eating some more, we decided to get our fat rear ends in to the mountains for a hike. We took a taxi to this quaint little village called Imlil, which sits at the base of Mount Toubkal, the highest peak in North Africa--around 12,000 feet. Our first mission was to find the hotel, which my friend Leslie had booked for us. She had no idea where it was and as we asked around we kept being pointed up the mountain. Here we are, hauling all of our luggage hiking up the side of a mountain...not even knowing if our hotel was that way or this way. 10 minutes into our hike sweat is pouring down my face, and I proceed to curse Leslie out for her poor choice of accomodations. After asking 5 different people, and walking through various courtyards we come upon a metal door with the hotel name scrawled in chalk across the top. VOILA! Our hotel...way to go Les. Upon entering though, we discovered that we had found quite a gem. All that hiking to get to the top of the cliff paid off as we had amazing views from the balcony. Like most Peace Corps volunteers we came mostly unprepared and me and my friend Rose only had flip-flops. We had no idea that an 8 1/2 hour hike on the highest peak in North Africa laid ahead of us. As we start the hike we pass people in full mountaineering gear...hmmm....and we in Chaco flip-flops. It was a 10k hike both ways...so about 12 miles on some seriously rough terrain in Chaco flip-flops, and aside from a pretty nasty stubbed toe we did pretty well. It is also worth noting...for those that like to get a kick out of bad things happening to people, that I got pooped on twice by the stupid pigeons that fly around on the mountains . TWICE! Someone told me that was good luck...but at the time I don't think I saw it that way.<br /><br />Here are some pics from the hotel, and one really bad one of my feet (beware!).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Epn9sgm3JtxV7EHddcW6DjZ-mZ1IJMpQcSZNqZuQrHiuKFTfaywNE435yqgfK9YXo-6I3gBek_7s3JCLdo-v-IKwWlHR4WoPwh_iZNVJjF-Ld8GY99kYlJTAoVJhiTj7UrE11w/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+107.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Epn9sgm3JtxV7EHddcW6DjZ-mZ1IJMpQcSZNqZuQrHiuKFTfaywNE435yqgfK9YXo-6I3gBek_7s3JCLdo-v-IKwWlHR4WoPwh_iZNVJjF-Ld8GY99kYlJTAoVJhiTj7UrE11w/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222062879517847026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Leslie and Rose posing on the porch of our hotel<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvYqWmWFwuROoNV11c8flaH9ehgESCKjuxHeZFeJMQ03epqVGaPhKvqkPqpa8zv9Thi9j9Zdsmls2ohnDRMl3dQTuQO7e3gfAhdkrxsmNgi4s6cpXD9mkiktBxDuh3VyH5_J3tA/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+088.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvYqWmWFwuROoNV11c8flaH9ehgESCKjuxHeZFeJMQ03epqVGaPhKvqkPqpa8zv9Thi9j9Zdsmls2ohnDRMl3dQTuQO7e3gfAhdkrxsmNgi4s6cpXD9mkiktBxDuh3VyH5_J3tA/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+088.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222062908070046850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">A picture of the view from our hotel...just beautiful<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGFDIF8oaeiucHrG_9yyaeSyxjTbb5ySwdEsMQePiQzZZ7BtPlLOB4Ea_OtZegc1RUeBYqVZcYJ3HhPV-ytAjBrfLenAKCZZ1QL3bMqcAkdttmYrphZbEtE2pkQ6XQHsuDkmraw/s1600-h/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+129.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnGFDIF8oaeiucHrG_9yyaeSyxjTbb5ySwdEsMQePiQzZZ7BtPlLOB4Ea_OtZegc1RUeBYqVZcYJ3HhPV-ytAjBrfLenAKCZZ1QL3bMqcAkdttmYrphZbEtE2pkQ6XQHsuDkmraw/s200/Rockin'+Morocco+Trip+129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222062903225252578" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">A picture of my battered feet....and this was just halfway through...pedicure please!</span><br /></div></div><br />While we were there we met a Peace Corps volunteer that gets the lucky fortune of living in a nearby village in these mountains. I have to say that I was VERY jealous!<br /><br />After our mountain climbing adventure...which even to now is leaving my calves screaming for mercy, we decided to fit in the last of what Morocco has to offer...the beach. Off we went to what most volunteers in Morocco refer to as the best place in the country, Essaouira (sp?). It is a little fishing village south of Casablanca. It has a huge market (Medina), and fresh fish everywhere. The city itself was beautiful, and the food was amazing (as it always seems to be here)...so we couldn't complain. It gave us all a chance to relax, eat some more, drink even more coffee, and again...eat. Honestly, if one verb had to be used to describe our trip it would be "eat."<br /><br />After lazing at the beach we hopped an overnight bus to get back to Casablanca so that Rose could get her flight back to the good ol' US of A. Leslie and I hung out for the afternoon exploring the city...which really just consisted of oohing and aahing over all the wonderful things to eat (including McDonald's and KFC!!)...and then eating all of those things...haha! We took a trip to see the 3rd largest Mosque in the world, which was quite a site. It is built right along the water, and it was beautiful to see. After that I convinced Leslie to come with me to "Rick's Cafe" which was built in memory of the movie "Casablanca." We walked in and were greeted by the most luxurious looking restaurant we had ever seen (or maybe we've been in Burkina too long). Here we were in jeans and tops...and we just waltz into this 5 star restaurant. We sit down at the bar and realize that we can't afford anything that is on their menu and we start discussing whether it would be appropriate to split a daquiri. The bartender sees our discussion and offers up wine by the glass, which is much more in our range. As we browse the wine list we glance at the menu and immediately our mouths start to drool. Leslie gives me a look, and I look back at her, and before I know it I am asking the bartender if they take credit cards and we are ordering ourselves a goat cheese and fresh fig salad....and then the roast duck entree...and then another salad. Hahaha! We couldn't help ourselves. It isn't like food like that comes along everyday in Burkina...give me a break! As we ate our fabulous meal the music of Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole streamed over the restaurat and we really felt like we were transported back to a time of class and sophisitication...that is except when I caught of whiff of how we smelled. It was a great way to end our Moroccan vacation!<br /><br />All in all we did a lot, saw a lot, drank A LOT of coffee, and ate a HELL of a lot of food. Aside from another onslaught of Staph infection in my foot, it was the best vacation I have been on in a long time! We thankfully made it back to Burkina in one piece..happy and healthy, and that is all you can really ask for.<br /><br />Alright...well, I will update you guys later as I prepare for my final departure from Burkina Faso...Stay safe!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-13586232796847116262008-06-22T06:37:00.000-07:002008-06-23T02:29:15.171-07:00Just Call Me Farmer Steph...<span style="font-family:georgia;">Yep, that's right...I am an official "cultivateur" now! I have to be honest, I don't know why I didn't do it sooner, but as the waning days of my service arrive, I am trying to take advantage of "quality time" with my village friends. This past week I took my friend up on his offer to help him cultivate in his fields. During the rainy season the village empties out as people rush to their fields to arrange the dirt and plant the seeds. It surprises them to learn that not every family has a field that they cultivate in every year for their food. I had to break the news to them that most Americans never step foot on a farm, but buy their food from a grocery store. I don't think I have ever even seen a working farm. Anyway, for the sake of demonstration I want you to stand up...that's right, stand up out of that chair. Now, spread your legs a little more than shoulder width apart and bend over at the waste...like you are stretching. Now, find yourself about a 3-5 pound weight (here we call these hand-held hoes, "dabas"). Just swing that weight into the ground...now do that for about, eh, 7-9 hours. Any takers?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I had seen people working in the fields, and said, "Wow, that looks hard. Too bad for them." I now, however, have a new found appreciation for the work that these people do, and in 100+ degree weather no less! Shade? Forget about it. This past week I decided to try my hand at this African farming by helping my friend Joseph arrange his fields in preparation for planting rice. Basically his field is just dried over dirt, so you have to go in with a "daba" by hand and whack at it to loosen it up, and break up the hard chunks. So, off we went Monday morning to his fields. Unfortunately I don't have pictures of me cultivating...I'm sure you would love to get a laugh...but I hope to have some soon as a volunteer is coming to my village and I can put her on camera duty. I was able to take a few on the way to the fields though:</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GPyukH7cAia55lgMBWf9QrNUsmwygEPgGvc22OZAg2SHRqIUqXGJjEuege8eEp-0xmhD_TsYCPyYUtPzKuHpdEgHkh7IqasrV0Lr-tF2UihBF4uCsyQupwsBYEXGBkKEzdPGhg/s1600-h/IMG_2891.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GPyukH7cAia55lgMBWf9QrNUsmwygEPgGvc22OZAg2SHRqIUqXGJjEuege8eEp-0xmhD_TsYCPyYUtPzKuHpdEgHkh7IqasrV0Lr-tF2UihBF4uCsyQupwsBYEXGBkKEzdPGhg/s200/IMG_2891.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214703360729185026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joseph is up front leading the way on bike, while his kids pull our supplies to the field</span><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpKwIjKlTSFdlHODgopnQU5YCahfg57uDqRtrzexwzcGCm2Msly54i4RyEjzxX0XXtchrzWPhOIhOH3Sw4OHvqmq1OuY_wMCp3Fh7SdjS70avI9U9wmncsFyYfldLjitSlt5IOg/s1600-h/IMG_2892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpKwIjKlTSFdlHODgopnQU5YCahfg57uDqRtrzexwzcGCm2Msly54i4RyEjzxX0XXtchrzWPhOIhOH3Sw4OHvqmq1OuY_wMCp3Fh7SdjS70avI9U9wmncsFyYfldLjitSlt5IOg/s200/IMG_2892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214703363589154866" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here are Joseph's kids posing with their trusty steed</span></span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We arrived at 8:30 and I was gifted my "daba" and off I went to get my first lesson in farming. Within the first 1/2 hour I had blisters on both hands. My back hurt for the first hour, and then it subsided into a dull aching pain. I was determined to hang in there with them, and "pull my weight." At about 11:30 or so Joseph noticed the blisters on my hands, and got a little I don't know what he was thinking, or how bad he thought it was, but he came to my house every day for the rest of the week to check on me. I tried to explain to him that it was nothing, just a blister...but I think he was worried that my hands were broken. After three hours of work he decided that I had worked enough, and we went for a soda. I always feel this need to prove to my villagers that I am equally as capable of physical labor as they are. I think they have it in their head that "white people" (i.e. foreigners), because of their wealth, do not have to do any physical activities, and therefore we are weak. Throughout my time here I have tried to prove otherwise by pulling my own water from the well, washing my own house, running , biking, and now farming. It is nice to see that surprised look on their face when you get down and dirty with them, and participate in these physically difficult parts of their lives. I feel like it garners me a bit of respect. After my first day everyone in village kept asking me about going to the fields, and could they see my hands. Here, the sign of a farmer lays in the feel of his hands. Much like the English Aristocrats...if you had soft hands then you were a wealthy nobleman, and if you had rough and calloused hands then you were a commoner. I am proud to have the hands that show hard work, and that I have gained a bit more acceptance and respect from my friends.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">A day later I went to help another friend, Lucienne, plant corn seeds in his field for the upcoming harvest. At this point my back, legs, and shoulders were still aching from my work the day before, but I didn't want to show signs of weakness so I continued on. Lucienne was so excited to have me in his field that he even bought me my very own "daba" to use. Again, it is the same kind of work except you go by row and every few feet you dig a little hole, drop a couple of corn grains in it, and then cover it up. On our first row I was moving at a snails pace, and I think by the time I had a half a row done Lucienne had done 3...but I was learning. We worked from 8 am to 1:30, and then his wife came and brought us lunch. For the farmers in the fields it is the wife's job to prepare lunch and bring it out to them. We had To and Baobob sauce, with some fish. Not the most appetizing thing...especially since his son who was with us stuck his dirty foot in the sauce.. Of course I kept on eating it...come on, I was hungry! The hard part I find with this cultivation thing is that after eating a HUGE lunch (and they expect me to eat a ridiculous amount) you have to go back out there with a full stomach and bend over for another few hours whacking away at the ground. I felt like I was going to lose my lunch on more than one occasion. We even spiced up the work after lunch by having a "Semence Race"...obviously I opted out considering that I am slower than hell, but Lucienne, his wife, and their friend all raced to see who could seed a row fastest...hey, whatever helps the work go by quicker right? Surprisingly, Lucienne's wife won the competition. I told Lucienne that now he has to cook her dinner...hah! We'll see if that happens.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">All in all I ventured out into the fields three times this week, and I hope to get a few more days in before I leave. There is something about the accomplishment you feel when you look out on this piece of land and know that you are helping things grow...things that will help them feed their families and make their livings. In all actuality the parts of the the field that I touched will probably go fallow because I'm so clueless, but it made them happy that I came out their and shared in this experience...and I will never look at an ear of corn or a bag of rice the same again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">In between my stint out in the fields I have been chugging along on my girl's camp. We are in the last week, and the closing ceremony is this Saturday. The health group is preparing to teach women how to make enriched porridge flour, and teach them the proper way to breastfeed their babies. Fingers crossed that it goes well. The Commerce group will be selling their chosen products in the market here. We have decided on Popcorn, Peanut Brittle (surprisingly easy to make...if I am not making it that is), and Omelet/Meat Sandwiched. It is a pretty ambitious list, and I will try to fill you in on how it goes. On Tuesday the girl's came over to do a trial run of all the products just to make sure the taste and packaging would work. I put my gas stove outside and we started with the Peanut Brittle. To make the brittle you just melt sugar in to a "caramel" like substance then pour it on a plastic sheet with peanuts. I was certain that I knew how to do it, so I start pouring the sugar in the pot, and starting to heat it up. In the background I can hear one of the girls weakly saying that she has made it before and she does it a different way, but of course in my "American" manner of being the adult and always being right, I ignore her. By the end my pot is covered with little chunks of hardened sugar, and it looks nothing like the caramel I was supposed to get. I turn to her and admit my blatantly obvious failure and ask her if she would help me. Within minutes we have gorgeous bubbling caramel in a pan, and I felt like a complete idiot. I had learned a valuable lesson...one that I have learned many a time here, but never really took notice of. I think in our "American" culture we always think we know the "right" or "correct" way to do things, and any deviation from that course sets of alerts in our heads. In the Burkinabe culture it is the same thing...always stirring counterclockwise, making sauces in the exact same order, writing the same, etc. I was just so unwilling to admit that maybe her way was better, so I continued down my path until I had sugar water. I don't know why something as insignificant like making caramel really set off an alarm in my head, but I realized just how closed I am to different ways of doing things. I imagine a lot of us are like that. If someone prepares food different from the way we were taught we grimace a little bit...but who's to say that their way isn't better than ours. I think there is a lot to be gained culturally and in many more ways by trying to remind ourselves to be a bit more open to new and different manners of accomplishing a task. Okay...enough lecturing...class dismissed.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I have talked a lot about the perks of being the foreigner in my village. One of them is having small children come by my house and hang out and offer to do any number of cleaning or housekeeping activities:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">"Est-ce-qu'on peut balayer?" - Can we sweep?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">"Est-ce-qu'on peut laver vos plats?" - Can we wash your plates?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">"Est-ce-qu'on peut laver votre maison?" - Can we wash your house?</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">"Est-ce-qu'on peut cherche de l'eau?" - Can we get water?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Because I live in a closed off courtyard it isn't as often as some volunteers, but lately I seem to be pretty popular in this regard, and I don't really mind. I wonder if when I go back to New York City if little children will stop by our apartment and ask to do our dishes or clean our house? Can I hope to have children cheer for me every time I walk in to our building yelling "BONJOUR MADAME!" and scrambling to shake my hand? I have been a way for quite a while...but somehow I doubt that. Anyway, so these three little girls in the picture below have started making a habit of coming to my house every morning and every afternoon (which to be honest is a bit annoying at this point considering that when I have nothing for them to do they just stare into my house and ask for drinking water every 5 minutes. Anyway, so I started to feel bad about them sitting out there all alone so I dug through my Mom's bag of goodies (a huge bag of gifts that I have refused up to this point to hand out), and found these arithmetic flash cards. I pulled out the addition and subtraction and held an informal math lesson in my courtyard. It turned out to be a lot of fun, and at the end I gave them these little balls that when you put them in warm water they make rags...have you seen those little expanding things? They LOVE them here! It is funny to watch their faces as the balls expand in the water to create these wash clothes. Here are the girls with their newly won prizes:</span><br /><br /><br /><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FAvDKV5__GNdUC0ZEJJFUGRcGNjvCrGxBScmWPbMn1e77adnrC88Htlubv7MUvVO4NwJwMFCm-EjjH-zKgpzdD6tA7IDSDnVvfvrwEkoHIiWT_qJXN5sPJnGGQZrw01usZvi5Q/s1600-h/IMG_2889.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FAvDKV5__GNdUC0ZEJJFUGRcGNjvCrGxBScmWPbMn1e77adnrC88Htlubv7MUvVO4NwJwMFCm-EjjH-zKgpzdD6tA7IDSDnVvfvrwEkoHIiWT_qJXN5sPJnGGQZrw01usZvi5Q/s200/IMG_2889.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214970780299403218" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">They earned it considering that right afterwards the swept my courtyard and my house, washed my floors, and did my dishes--and no, that's not child labor...that is "Afrique."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Well, it's time for me to run my last few errands and head back one last time to village. The next time you see a post it will be when I am passing through Bobo with all of the junk I have collected these last two years, and trying to stuff my life here into 2 bags. Shoot, y'all all now how I pack...this is going to be quite a challenge. On July 5th I will be off to Morocco for a week, and then back to Ouaga on the 14th to do my closing paperwork. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Also, just for good measure, is anyone interested in taking in a gorgeous African cat? Unfortunately Mike has put his foot down on me bringing back my wonderful cat, Shea, to live with us. So, if anyone is interested and could pick him up in NYC, let me know, and I will see what I can do about getting him back. Here is a pic of my little beauty:</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzcys_nvag-GL_k2ZPv7QvStb_gGdBj98kWQB0qGXRjYW9mzi1O4AZLe-4eMsAqMl2wnII9QlcpSeIZZpi5P8CnEsR6BjFk0gDh4EcIWhlr9SaT5BZJstdQ6HK7N3U_PmbdhpCw/s1600-h/IMG_2887.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguzcys_nvag-GL_k2ZPv7QvStb_gGdBj98kWQB0qGXRjYW9mzi1O4AZLe-4eMsAqMl2wnII9QlcpSeIZZpi5P8CnEsR6BjFk0gDh4EcIWhlr9SaT5BZJstdQ6HK7N3U_PmbdhpCw/s200/IMG_2887.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5214974492500271394" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">See you all soon, and stay safe!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-7163366529613306602008-06-08T08:19:00.000-07:002008-06-08T10:40:47.178-07:00Move over Carrie Bradshaw...there's a new fashion icon in town!Hey there loyal readers and friends. I just realized that it has been quite a long time since I last updated my blog, and so I thought I would finally let you know that YES, I am still alive!<br /><br />Through the marvels of my Worldspace Satellite radio I feel like I haven't missed a beat on what has been going on back home. Hillary conceded her presidential campaign, China is recovering from earthquakes, and American idol ended. Of course it seems the biggest news of late has been the release of the "Sex and the City" film. I have to be honest, when I learned of the prospect of this movie I kinda thought to myself..."OH NO, BAD IDEA!" Yet, from what I hear the movie is pretty good. Unlike Carrie Bradshaw, or really anyone on Sex and the City, I have NEVER been considered a fashionable or fashion-concious person. I am like Andy, the main character from "Devil Wears Prada." I care enough about my appearance not to want to look like crap...just not enough to spend the money and time to not look like crap. Honestly, just like in the movie...my idea of couture is shopping at Club Monaco and Banana Republic. Yeah...I'll admit it...I am still wearing clothes that I had in high school (yep Mom, those khaki shorts you hate and tried to throw away...I found 'em and I still got 'em!). Maybe what my style would be considered is classic chic, or not even chic...just classic. Anyway, as I have recently learned however, I am on the breaking cusp of fashion in Banzon, Burkina Faso. Oh yes, ladies and gentleman, I am a fashion icon to the over 4,000 women that live in my African village. I broke the taboo of women wearing pants, and watch out because the baby doll T-shirt trend is catching like wildfire. Most recently, I have started a run on a brand of flip-flop. I was recently browsing at my friend's boutique for a new pair of shower sandals. I saw a cute bright pink pair. In the United States I wouldn't be caught dead in these, but after 2 years living in the African bush, they kind of appealed to me. In going to purchase them he told me, "you don't want those, they won't last." Of course, I ignore him thinking, "well, I only have a month left so as long as they can last that long." I put on my new purchase and go strolling through the market to give my greetings to the various ladies that I hang out with. Along the way I get a variety of comments on my flip-fops. The next day I go back to Lucienne and I show him the shoes--after one day of wearing them they were already breaking apart. "I told you that would happen," he says. Once again I am humbled by his knowledge and my stubbornness to never listen. He then tells me that just that morning 4 women had approached him and asked for the same shoes as the "toubabou" (white lady) was wearing. He told them that they wouldn't last, and not to waste their money, but they insisted on getting the shoes. WOW...in one day I incited a run on hot pink rubber flip flops! I feel like a real trendsetter already! Once again, my celebrity status stuns me...I feel like Paris Hilton, except without millions of dollars and a sex tape on the internet. Hmmm...will my trendsetting ways continue back in the US....maybe my return to the US will cause a huge run on african pagne complets. We'll see now won't we...maybe I will turn up on the catwalks at NYC Fashion week next year. Just to give you a sampling of some trends...here is a pic of my rockin' new flips, and a picture of me in a pagne complet. If we get the word out now we might start the trend before I even get back.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ll_E4d0hLLXf_Mx6k5pFDsxf9U1bq3a0ch3A6jIfsBjLhXIZFY7Q9piIbzEJu5WAIccK8jlC1jcHJySS4X67nRTl3sBaE3lZGZZzqpkJVuw8sDfYb9h821W7ZnHejWRzz-uGlg/s1600-h/Banzon+-+June+%2708+020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ll_E4d0hLLXf_Mx6k5pFDsxf9U1bq3a0ch3A6jIfsBjLhXIZFY7Q9piIbzEJu5WAIccK8jlC1jcHJySS4X67nRTl3sBaE3lZGZZzqpkJVuw8sDfYb9h821W7ZnHejWRzz-uGlg/s200/Banzon+-+June+%2708+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209547046540910690" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pretty sweet huh? Bet you wish you could get you a pair of these...and only $1 at any local Banzon boutique!<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGW1ZBf0S9OXZS8VxdlOVjjL9QmdgeBE_6BHiSeeuAVwdR725C9pUHq_1B1793zmwuLQsSPHaL9V08o1Rkqhyphenhyphenl9AZ9xs8LeEbzmNk1F7BvmIgJGDFbS-Bme51XfqPLLLSTalEjA/s1600-h/Stephcomplet.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGW1ZBf0S9OXZS8VxdlOVjjL9QmdgeBE_6BHiSeeuAVwdR725C9pUHq_1B1793zmwuLQsSPHaL9V08o1Rkqhyphenhyphenl9AZ9xs8LeEbzmNk1F7BvmIgJGDFbS-Bme51XfqPLLLSTalEjA/s200/Stephcomplet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5209560704474495634" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Aren't you just green with jealousy?! You can only dream of having one of these outfits.</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Outside of my busy schedule or club-hopping, trendsetting, and being a village socialite, things here have been just as busy as always. I am trying to eek every bit of experience that I can out of being here before I ship off back to the United States in July. I am currently conducting a 4-week long Girl's Empowerment Camp with 12 local middle school girls--a project that I did last year as well. We are working on projects in the fields of health and commerce, and although we got off to a rocky start, things seem to be going really well. It's difficult here because the girls are always so shy and afraid to speak, and it can take what seems like an eternity to get them to voice themselves. I was really impressed in the last few days as we broached some pretty "taboo" topics such as female excision (the cutting of the clitoris...sorry for such a raw usage of genital vocabulary, but that is what they do to 90% of women here), birth control, sex, and HIV/AIDS. I was so proud to see them getting really involved and engaged in the topics, and asking tons of questions to the nurse (a male nurse no less...of whom I pleasantly declined a male condom demonstration...hah!). For the business group we are currently working on marketing, accounting, and feasability studies for businesses. My hope is that they open a pizza parlor (oohh...maybe a Domino's chain)...but more than likely it will be some fruit-filled dough thing...oh well, a girl can dream can't she.<br /><br />I will be finishing up with that in the next few weeks, and then it is just a few days before I pack my bags and head off to Morocco and then the United States. I can not tell you how hard it is for me to imagine my life back in America. For so long my reality has been pooping in a hole, bathing with a bucket and a cup, shopping in open air farmers markets, riding my bike everywhere, wearing stinky nasty clothes (and being okay with it), reading by candlelight, sleeping under a mosquito net, running through mango groves, and so much more. And, all that is about to change in such a dramatic way...and aside from a possible visit, I can not go back to this life that I have made here. That is something, that as my time here dwindles, I am feeling more and more nostalgic about. I look at landscapes or people and I have to close my eyes and try to record that image for later. I want to drink it all in, and be able to draw upon it when I am at my most frustrated in America. What did it look like...What did it smell like (yeah...even the bad smells)...how can you hold that all inside of you forever.<br /><br />Anyways, enough of that sad talk. I am hanging out here with some of my rockin' neighbors Leslie and Audrey, and we are getting some much needed rest from being in village. I am just going to enjoy my last few weeks here. Hope you are all well...see you soon...and as always, stay safe!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-74771692949686414032008-05-02T23:59:00.000-07:002008-05-03T01:12:23.786-07:00Attieke? No thank you!<span style="font-family:georgia;">I am reporting to you after a site visit to another volunteer, Rose. Rose used to be a volunteer in Guinea...remember Guinea? The place that I was supposed to go in January 2006, but I turned it down because it didn't feel right. Anyway, after political upheavals there they moved a few of the volunteers to Burkina to finish out their service. So...after she so graciously visited me to do a world map in my school, I hitched it up to Satiri to help her with her world map...a rather large 2 m x 4 m endeavor on the side of the school. It was an eventful trip, including my SECOND only vomiting experience in this country...which is quite a feat I think.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Upon arrival in Satiri it is obvious that it isn't the "bustling Metropolis" that is Banzon. Our food options are limited to beignets, REALLY salty rice and peanut sauce, and attieke (MY FAVE!). So, of course I chow down on a bowl of attieke (pronounced: uh-check-ay, made from fermented manioc) and some fried fish heads...YUMMY! Things were going great...I was feeling pretty good about the food. It was a little crunchy, and the oil had more of a black color as opposed to the lovely golden brown we are used to. But, hey, it's Burkina...I have seen worse. We eat our meal and head back to her house for a little afternoon nap. As we are walking over to finish drawing the grid lines on the world map I start to feel a bit woozy. Being that I rarely throw up, I almost never recognize the signs when it's about to happen. I attempt to help with the work, but finally give up and we commission a small child to show me back to Rose's house while she continues on the map. We start walking and already I know something isn't right. My mouth starts to water like crazy and I know what's about to happen. We walk past this large group of men sitting around drinking tea and doing pretty much nothing. They enthusiastically greet me and start yelling, "hey, toubabou, hey...how are you? Where are you going? What are you doing?" Well...in t-minus 2 seconds I was heading for the ground...and as for what I was doing...well, puking my guts out while they just stood there and watched. I heard them talking in Jula to one another, "hey...look, the white girl is throwing up." The whole time I am thinking, "hey, where is that Burkina hospitality...get over her and help me!" At this point I have created a Jackson Pollock painting on the ground, but I catch my breath enough to tell someone to fetch Rose. Truly, after that I felt perfectly fine, and the rest of the week went wonderfully. I just had to avoid the one thing I actually enjoyed eating for the rest of the week. That night as I was talking to Rose about the whole thing we both agreed that while in Africa you can always say, "well, it could have been worse." I could have had it coming out of both ends in front of all those people, I could have still be throwing up, I could have had wrenching pain...but I didn't. Eh, it's not so bad, and it could always be worse. NEXT!</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />After 2 days of drawing and painting with the kids, and then a whole other day to fix everything the kids did, we finished. VICTORIOUS! These projects are really hard, but the buzz that it creates in the village, and the discussion it starts on geography is pretty wonderful. Most people don't know what the rest of the world looks like, what a continent is, where they are in relation to other places...and this map is a perfect tool to remedy that.<br /><br />Alright, well, here are some pics of our world map, and also of some footage I shot of her teaching at the local middle school. After my experience seeing her teach I now know why I am a business volunteer...no way in HELL could I deal with these crazy kiddies who are packed 125 to a class!<br /><br /></span> <div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wkWVQ9tX0sBhDMM6X5vBPBJBIGFYviFR3o4uKFoUzOM2Ip7XURe8fBfZgePLOxI_gGBq9Vz20Z8LgbxGodeXA7YItD3MUvcItMTigpat9CPq_CmYPrbqdrZ1PCjFUkoyBa92DA/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1wkWVQ9tX0sBhDMM6X5vBPBJBIGFYviFR3o4uKFoUzOM2Ip7XURe8fBfZgePLOxI_gGBq9Vz20Z8LgbxGodeXA7YItD3MUvcItMTigpat9CPq_CmYPrbqdrZ1PCjFUkoyBa92DA/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196058229669349490" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is where we started...a large blank canvas<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRUTmIm39IXYMTiZlMwt-nIwl9awx4vTLQO9_kErhqLdtcpnI2FuzekftLP9zOObk0Lk3A_ff1sk5CDc6ks37ZoSZbCDMJoUJTLCNNr5MJYkF3__ro4InDUOd1FmohQzvp29e7A/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjRUTmIm39IXYMTiZlMwt-nIwl9awx4vTLQO9_kErhqLdtcpnI2FuzekftLP9zOObk0Lk3A_ff1sk5CDc6ks37ZoSZbCDMJoUJTLCNNr5MJYkF3__ro4InDUOd1FmohQzvp29e7A/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196058212489480290" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Then the kids started drawing the countries using our grid system</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxAS0Y9PFYIjDCo72GYzf1c1XrZJxG2kYfVAWkEQTAZChBUl14tQjec5fFFXpcDxNz3NxHu8SbmY_DzEg_8abTTackvTnYUQX5rBROkP5hFJXvwkOhgQGW4yP88rOZt23hELMgg/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxAS0Y9PFYIjDCo72GYzf1c1XrZJxG2kYfVAWkEQTAZChBUl14tQjec5fFFXpcDxNz3NxHu8SbmY_DzEg_8abTTackvTnYUQX5rBROkP5hFJXvwkOhgQGW4yP88rOZt23hELMgg/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196058246849218706" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">After that, the painting begins...and so does the stress! These kids are crazy when you put a paintbrush in their hands<span style="text-decoration: underline;">.<br /><br /></span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJck9xzZA4YJKubCAJFGFsJqAzQc325xGqZWiew_t2uN_wRtmFH4ZwhkT0zcLWD8klEmTc0Voxk6ERbkb429yWCCU9hKDepCIsGpDQZ63jU1qd_A0xp8OcLOBd49RP6ULSdHiug/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+022.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEJck9xzZA4YJKubCAJFGFsJqAzQc325xGqZWiew_t2uN_wRtmFH4ZwhkT0zcLWD8klEmTc0Voxk6ERbkb429yWCCU9hKDepCIsGpDQZ63jU1qd_A0xp8OcLOBd49RP6ULSdHiug/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+022.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196058251144186018" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The painting continues, and people (and cows) look on<br /></span></span><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAIx_RhP0PCSDQO3gNNZzKp3nzGbl3tagX-i6CIq97yusm-880T6tfkMexWhKIdoajVj1L7zddIFPlXj-5LrtWdULAG_zfh69RzsprcGOStFYEfwwKPLBsMV4teoO74Yk94PF6A/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGAIx_RhP0PCSDQO3gNNZzKp3nzGbl3tagX-i6CIq97yusm-880T6tfkMexWhKIdoajVj1L7zddIFPlXj-5LrtWdULAG_zfh69RzsprcGOStFYEfwwKPLBsMV4teoO74Yk94PF6A/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196058233964316802" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >Okay...I just thought this picture was cute. Here are some of the many little kids that sat and watched us draw/paint for 3 days<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBOuTilkxzRbbyPHq02bXKAwTmWOeBZQTkll90cyqRXws_gWn0_10qAuJPDhKyFtUfYuEIIsAspRocqjwwS8VAaaW1kmaui7mursmHAnH9wV-hWLFEkd8_FkLOLhJuIh6HU0MMw/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBOuTilkxzRbbyPHq02bXKAwTmWOeBZQTkll90cyqRXws_gWn0_10qAuJPDhKyFtUfYuEIIsAspRocqjwwS8VAaaW1kmaui7mursmHAnH9wV-hWLFEkd8_FkLOLhJuIh6HU0MMw/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196060536066787506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is Rose...this is the day we had to go back and re-draw, re-paint, and re-fix...<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1x5K6iRn5CW-tprcglW7kLzd632MK_vW1kcYy_S9eu2frLCLAWyvIXY9aRpGZvmqJbSub7dS1d5ndDSZYa21xDN6zLwuET1S6ZowE01OPcWkrrRwMmN9P4pC6BvXIWl99HO1U6w/s1600-h/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+060.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1x5K6iRn5CW-tprcglW7kLzd632MK_vW1kcYy_S9eu2frLCLAWyvIXY9aRpGZvmqJbSub7dS1d5ndDSZYa21xDN6zLwuET1S6ZowE01OPcWkrrRwMmN9P4pC6BvXIWl99HO1U6w/s200/Rose's+Village+-+Satiri+April+08+060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196060544656722114" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rose and I with the finished product...FINALLY DONE! Voila!<br /><br /><br /></span></span></div> <div style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMuYmcOz_DbTHECTmKypmWAmFI16gFxUfkFXeO8vC7_lXe3eKFEXxMogVtB0vnpu8zh-Nq6hR5LH8' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is Rose teaching geometry to 125 students...do you ever remember calling the teacher like this? A little eager are we?</span></span><br /></div> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Also, thanks to the convincing words of both Rose and Mike I have booked a trip to Morocco in July...not that I can really afford it. But, in the words of Mike, "Life is for living right? You gotta seize the moment!" Well said good sir! We are heading out July 5th to spend a week boppin' around Morocco.<br /><br />Soon after I will be hoppin' on a plane to head back the US of freakin' A...for good (or at least for the foreseeable future). That's right ladies and gentlemen...it looks like I will be heading back home in July. I have two more months left of time here, and it is a bitter sweet last few months. To love a place so much, but to want to leave it...it's a hard thing to rationalize in your head.<br /><br />Anyway, I am in Bobo for a day or two, and then headed back to village on Sunday. Back to the grind...it's that time of year AGAIN for my girl's camp, and I have got a LOT of organizing to do to have it ready to roll in June. Hope all is well there...I'm just here trying to stay cool, which is quite a task. See you all soon! Stay safe! </span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-17461243152399952822008-04-16T10:27:00.000-07:002008-04-26T15:02:03.238-07:00My 15-Minutes (or actually 24-months) of Fame...Celebrity, Fame, Recognition...all the most sought after and revered things in American culture...and all I had to do was join the Peace Corps to get a taste of what that's like. In an African country it goes without saying that being the only white person in my village makes me stand out a little. There is no hiding from the prying eyes and curiosity of villagers. From going to dump my trash (which they then sort through and take their faves...tuna cans seem to be the big prize), to buying rice and sauce in the local language, walking, cleaning my house, eating with my left hand (I'm left-handed and that is a major NO NO in this culture)...it's all fair game to them and they have no qualms about staring, yelling, taunting, touching (yes...they sometimes just poke me to see what happens...Pillsbury Dough Boy ain't got nothing on me), shaking my hand, and more. When I first arrived in Africa close to 2 years ago it was a novel and rather interesting occurence. Who thought little old me could garner such crazy attention. I am like the Angelina Jolie (looks aside...except for that one time when I ate a mango and got an allergic reaction that caused my lips to swell up just like our lovely Angie...not my shining moment) of Africa. What I have found most interesting is how intoxicating, yet at the same time daunting, "celebrity" can be...even in Africa. My status as the "toubabou" or foreigner in the community provides me some pretty interesting privileges. I am always invited to local events and I get a chair in the shade! I get to cut the line for food, I get the choicest bits of fish head and cow liver, little kids always offer to carry my bags home from the market, they sweep my house, and even come by my house to say hello and ask to do my dishes--now that is something I could get use to!! No matter where I am if I want a coke, beer, food, bread, whatever...I just stop a passing child and give them money to go fetch what I want (don't think poorly of me...it's just the custom here). Off they run, no matter what their previous plans were, and they bring back exactly what I asked for. Can you imagine doing that in the States? "Excuse me little child, could you get me a Coke from the corner store?" Aside from screaming for the police, or just taking your money and leaving for good I highly doubt you would ever get that Coke. It is scary how easily you fall in to this trap of "entitlement." When I went home for my visit in the States I was appalled if I didn't get what I wanted..."What?!?! No caramel macchiatto...how dare you do that to me. Do you know who I am?!?!" Well, in the States one 25 year old white girl is no novelty...darn! It definitely has it's perks, that is for certain, but every upside has a downside...and mine is absolute lack of anonymity. I can't go anywhere or do anything without a posse of people following me, talking about me in a language I don't fully understand, laughing, staring, and poking. It grates on you after a while. All I want to do is go sit somewhere, but even that becomes a chore. 20 kids follow me and then sit 3 feet away and just stare...it's hard to feel like a museum exhibit, and it's hard to be constantly laughed at--even if it's not meant maliciously. Occasionally I get phone calls from home while I am sitting in my market...by the end of my 5 minute phone call I can have an audience of 30 people just staring and listening to me talk the "toubaboukan" language. If I try to text message I can turn around and see 5 people watching my every move. Any amount of privacy that I ever had went out the window once I moved to my village...I can't burn my garbage, wash my clothes, or even go to the bathroom without half my village knowing about it. My experience makes me feel bad for even Britney Spears (well sort of...I don't make millions of dollars...) I have found myself looking for new bike routes that allow me to bypass certain houses. What's funny though, about this whole "celebrity" thing, is that on the one hand you get tired of the annoyances of constantly being recognized and harrassed. But, there is an upside to my "celebrity" lifestyle here...I get pretty much whatever I want whenever I want it. If I want trees planted in my courtyard, or someone to come and fix my leaky roof, all I need do is ask and I shall receive. The other day I was in someone's courtyard and I saw that he had this really cute sign, in Burkina fashion I said, "hey, that's really nice. I want that." Normally Burkinabe say that knowing that the other person isn't going to give it to them. It is meant as more of a compliment. But, for me the "toubabou" within 2 minutes it was strapped to my bike and I couldn't make him take it back. Here is a picture of that fabulous sign now hanging in my house:<br /><div style="font-family: georgia;"><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszbqZ2Ga_0kaSXJZg6OIVOUD7j20yl_Bf30JpGiALJRu90OzLo0ZXispQLzB1SQaw8MSb5P0zHUPfXV67xDC5t74_gfOGWk3RrNmtCf8lBACpwRL58O9vOhad9BtJltETggEjHA/s1600-h/April+2008+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgszbqZ2Ga_0kaSXJZg6OIVOUD7j20yl_Bf30JpGiALJRu90OzLo0ZXispQLzB1SQaw8MSb5P0zHUPfXV67xDC5t74_gfOGWk3RrNmtCf8lBACpwRL58O9vOhad9BtJltETggEjHA/s200/April+2008+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193664236373395410" border="0" /></a><br />Last week I ran into the Principal of the middle school and he asked that I come to the school tomorrow for a meeting with a women's group that wants to work with young girls on empowerment and sexual education. Great! I love the theme...that is until I walked in to the school the next day to realize that it wasn't just a meeting. There were 200 girls piled into the classroom waiting for my class on Sexual Education and Behavior...WHAT?!?! If my experience here has taught me anything it was to do things on the fly...so off we went. By the end of the class, and by talking with the women I learned something really interesting. Elementally, at our most basic level, we are all the same. The director and the women start going off about how students don't respect their elders anymore, it isn't like it was years ago, and that there should be more pressure put on the parents at home to instill good values in their children. "What can school teachers do if the parents don't enforce rules and teach morals?" Does that sound like a familiar discussion? Girls are running around after boys, and vice versa, and they are ending up pregnant. This year out of 100 girls there are 5 pregnancies. A rather astounding proportion. My Burkinabe counterparts were surprised when I told them how interesting I thought this discussion was, and that it mirrored EXACTLY the debates that we were having in the States (role of school and family, etc.). No matter where you are, no matter what your status in the world, we all suffer the same trials and tribulations in the same way...even if the setting is different.<br /><br />As a sidenote, I thought I would include some recent photos I took in my village...Enjoy!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkD0offru6lGH3-kfrdMq3VjOQE1-ZHBJoV9dtDITpUOilvvm09HWJrJVAHY2b4VNt57fDlvnXsbueDEQ2undETCi-qSxkDY36ea9F6mkNw7iadBA5-5tCb5NqeCK87xdJT7_IdA/s1600-h/April+2008+050.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkD0offru6lGH3-kfrdMq3VjOQE1-ZHBJoV9dtDITpUOilvvm09HWJrJVAHY2b4VNt57fDlvnXsbueDEQ2undETCi-qSxkDY36ea9F6mkNw7iadBA5-5tCb5NqeCK87xdJT7_IdA/s200/April+2008+050.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193676455555352626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Some hippos who came a little close to the shore</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissotrUORR67pQi6cc_BYZLaZJbA2afyWorAoWOGI_-TuVmMgWjVwDdf0zsk_u4klRiLjEMcik2VoymQOtmJCi5aooommF2Q3IdN70U36hU1hFm9wFqiAopCQlxLcjUtt-RLsPtQ/s1600-h/April+2008+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEissotrUORR67pQi6cc_BYZLaZJbA2afyWorAoWOGI_-TuVmMgWjVwDdf0zsk_u4klRiLjEMcik2VoymQOtmJCi5aooommF2Q3IdN70U36hU1hFm9wFqiAopCQlxLcjUtt-RLsPtQ/s200/April+2008+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673066826156002" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here are some little kids that came to watch us make Enriched Porridge Flour. The little one in the front HATES me...moments later she ran away screaming!<br /><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBEj9lV89Fqapq_Bou5kGmdqb7w7SiGLs3LX2C3VyqHolywiYVMaVtiETPzcLbfCLG1yepm1ipiE1Y8_JjPKwGeEdM5m0sVZQhT6I4Qqu1KLmiL-g8wq2YxQVmKKZ31SIgDRS9Q/s1600-h/April+2008+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqBEj9lV89Fqapq_Bou5kGmdqb7w7SiGLs3LX2C3VyqHolywiYVMaVtiETPzcLbfCLG1yepm1ipiE1Y8_JjPKwGeEdM5m0sVZQhT6I4Qqu1KLmiL-g8wq2YxQVmKKZ31SIgDRS9Q/s200/April+2008+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673071121123314" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >Zalissa and another group member holding up the finished product! Baga Mugu (Enriched Flour).</span><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfyVS1o0r8KMoTQ3nM03SZqxoKrKR9t2kGEGPJR1jlhtukxsdKPl4xFyMQ78iVqNIhCmQs35J9G3SNbuLXY-5Hgg1tAeFvc4XhfLCaTTeaJdyKltzCpRUZGjlTBBdm8yp6Go2rA/s1600-h/April+2008+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXfyVS1o0r8KMoTQ3nM03SZqxoKrKR9t2kGEGPJR1jlhtukxsdKPl4xFyMQ78iVqNIhCmQs35J9G3SNbuLXY-5Hgg1tAeFvc4XhfLCaTTeaJdyKltzCpRUZGjlTBBdm8yp6Go2rA/s200/April+2008+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673079711057922" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" >A picture of one of the literacy classes that my organization sponsored this year. With these classes over 20o men and women learned to read and write in their local language.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIHQ70w_XBR57gSM0urK0q-34vbXQdoPAtUgKoEM18I-RpuxnrkEL72xoZIvHsQRZcPdSiMujOECNcr8OOKHsCkqZpmP7jsKfI1pWp7X05WJzZ6pbz8HpRYbtV9RJGvcm8EQv7Q/s1600-h/April+2008+066.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbIHQ70w_XBR57gSM0urK0q-34vbXQdoPAtUgKoEM18I-RpuxnrkEL72xoZIvHsQRZcPdSiMujOECNcr8OOKHsCkqZpmP7jsKfI1pWp7X05WJzZ6pbz8HpRYbtV9RJGvcm8EQv7Q/s200/April+2008+066.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193673092595959842" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">The women performing the theater sketch for World Malaria Day/Global Youth Service Day<br /><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrP1RcspOkllXa9Lep1frRCKdSjEl2s7UwXmuSYQujWUXNxFvuwTXPfWZP4MtCVjt24C-t3wg2oyumtQtDZq893DXEJMLTC67Oc9zvRXLqH7E607fnwb9PaE4W9BxtCP6efHGhaA/s1600-h/April+2008+064.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrP1RcspOkllXa9Lep1frRCKdSjEl2s7UwXmuSYQujWUXNxFvuwTXPfWZP4MtCVjt24C-t3wg2oyumtQtDZq893DXEJMLTC67Oc9zvRXLqH7E607fnwb9PaE4W9BxtCP6efHGhaA/s200/April+2008+064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193676459850319938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The two little girls who were in the sketch...don't ask me about the powder...I have no idea<br /><br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfHgmsTOqe56hjdj8xIPHrSUed8txoYHvkZR9ezG5dfYP_d9RnHFJP8qKKi7N-ckEXJdi8_KVbW_iVZ7aGH4WSy-MqnOwQa43UfpYM_VT6ujHziBgNCBwfCs6MyVS3fdi6MuaUw/s1600-h/April+2008+065.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfHgmsTOqe56hjdj8xIPHrSUed8txoYHvkZR9ezG5dfYP_d9RnHFJP8qKKi7N-ckEXJdi8_KVbW_iVZ7aGH4WSy-MqnOwQa43UfpYM_VT6ujHziBgNCBwfCs6MyVS3fdi6MuaUw/s200/April+2008+065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193676464145287250" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is our villain...the Mosquito (Moustique in French, and Soso in Joula)</span></span><br /></div></div><br />Anyway, I guess that's all for now. I am headed to my friends village to draw and paint a World Map. Hope all are well...miss you all, and stay safe!<br /><br /></div>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-36234490235831891452008-03-29T23:15:00.000-07:002008-03-29T23:55:42.852-07:00Miracles happen...Hello all! In my last post I mentioned briefly about my bag getting stolen...so I thought for the sake of your curiosity that I would elaborate on that, and let you know is going on.<br /><br />On Saturday, March 15th my mom and I were in OHG visiting my host family. It was an amazing visit all around, and really great for my mom to have an opportunity to meet with the family that she has been talking with for some time. We got up bright eyed and busy tailed to make it to the bus station to take the 9:00 bus. All was calm, all was bright. When we got to the gare there was a mad dash to reserve seats, and getting caught up in the frenzy (picture Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving) I joined in the sprint to claim a good seat. I had my backpack and a water bottle, and I reserved two seats at the back of the bus (let the record show, that it did cross my mind that it wasn't a good idea). I exited and stood right in front chatting with my mom and my host mom. Another volunteer showed up to take the same bus to go to Ouaga, and I told him to reserve his seat next to mine. At 8:55 the driver told everyone to load up, and as I got on the bus I noticed something missing...most notably my bright yellow bag. At first, unable to believe that this happened I assume someone moved it. I start frantically searching the bus, as I yell in a high-pitched voice, "ma sac, ma sac!!!!! C'est pas ici!!!"(my bag, my bag! It isn't here"). The bus is packed to the gills and is ready to pull out. I run outside to tell my host mom and the people working at the station. My poor Mom is just standing there, not understanding anything, and all she sees is her daughter running around like a banshee. I think at some point she may have started to cry. After a good 2 minutes of running around (like a chicken with it's head cut off), I just stopped. No amount of running around or yelling was going to get the bag back. Although, I will admit I did a good amount of threatening.<br /><br />After a thorough look around the station, which included having everyone get off the bus and searching the bus again, we loaded up and the bus went to the police station. I didn't really want to report it, because in my mind there was nothing that could be done...and I (wrongly, I might add) assumed that the police weren't going to do anything (I am thinking back to my identity theft incident in NYC...geeze those cops were useless). I fill out a report and tell them what was in the bag, and I watch as their faces light up either with joy at the possibility of raiding my sack when they find it and giving it back to me empty ("sorry ma'am...they took it all"), or because they thought I was collossally stupid for having all that stuff in one bag. All the while my poor host mom, Ami, is outside crying her eyes out. She is so upset that the trip with my Mom went so well, but now my Mom would hate Burkina because of this. I tried to comfort her, and I told her really it was my fault for putting all my valuables in one place. As we board the bus to go back to Ouaga they vow to continue the tireless search for my valuables...and honestly in my head, I was like, "good luck" and didn't leave with much hope. The only shining ray of hope was that upon arrival in Ouaga, I discovered that I had the power cord to the laptop, and that the laptop was close to dead on power (thanks to a "Friday Night Light's marathon the night before...love that show!!).<br /><br />Now, many ask me, "Stephanie, why keep your 2 passports, birth certificate, social security card, driver's license, credit cards, 2 iPod's, laptop computer, and your lucky hat in the same bag? That doesn't seem smart does it?" Well folks.....no it isn't smart...pretty stupid actually. So I don't really have a good response to that. Anyhoo, on with the story.<br /><br />I stay in touch with my host family, and learn that they are going around to all the cyber cafe's to let people know about it, and they even put out a radio announcement about my bag. A week and a half later I am still in Ouaga working on training stuff with the new volunteers when I get a call. The most magical words I have ever heard come out of my host dad's mouth..."Stephanie, we found your bag!" WHAT?!?! In a city of over 300,000 people you found my bag?!?! With everything in it?!?! Oh yes! Truly, joy can not describe what I felt at that moment. Relief, gratefulness....it was amazing. As it turns out, 2 kids heard my radio announcement, and when they saw the kid with my iPod they called the station. Additionally, a teacher at the local high school had been informed about the laptop with missing cord, and saw two kids with my computer walking around looking for a power cord. When the teacher saw them, he stopped them and questioned them about it. They didn't have any good answers, so the teacher took their name, and called the police. Truly, it was a joint effort...a community effort...that I don't think would happen in the States. I had lost all hope of finding that bag, but it is amazing what can be done if a community pulls together, and I can't thank my host family enough for their help! If it wasn't for them there is no way I would have found that backpack, and I still can't believe that they really did. Wow! Oddly enough, all my valuables were in the bag, but all the small cheap stuff was missing. All the cases to my electronics were gone; my wallet contents were in there, but not my wallet; my favorite Pink Auburn hat; my mom's Burkina Survival Kit (you will be happy to know that the kids used all of the hand sanitizer and left the empty bottle in the bag...so at least they were clean); and a few other little trinkets. The bulk of the stuff I got back though. The kid who stole it was 17 years old, and evidently had followed me on the bus, and gotten off shortly after me. Since I wasn't in Ouahigouya when they found the bag I can't tell you what his consequences were, or what happened with him (a lot of people are asking me if he got his hands cut off...and honestly I don't know...although I did ask them not to physically abuse him--for what that's worth anyway).<br /><br />After that, my week really couldn't get much better, but for the sake of fueling a "laugh at Stephanie" post...I have another fun story to tell you. After returning from Ouahigouya we spent the next week and a half in Ouaga. Myself and another volunteer, Ryan, decided to have a "Make Your Own Pizza" party, and it just so happens that our new country director has a pretty sweet wood burning pizza oven. In an effort to recapture my Romano's Macaroni Grill days I offer to be the pizza chef. Firs things first though...I need my equipment...mainly one of those gigantic pizza spatulas to get the pizza in and out of the oven. In Burkina you can pretty much have anything made...so by the next day I had commissioned a metal worker to build it for me. He called me that evening to come and pick it up, so I hop on my bike and head out. As I am riding the power cuts out on the road, and unfortunately for me I don't have a bike light. I turn off the road at the metal worker's little shack as I bike up to his door. I start to hear some man yell, "Attention! Attention!" and all I I have time to say is "Attention to what?" There are water drainage ditches all along the road for runoff rain water, and most of the time they are covered....except this one. There was only one little bridge to get across, and well, I missed that bridge. My bike launches into the ditch and the whole thing flips over (and me along with it). I slam into the concrete edge of the ditch (and I have massive leg bruises to prove it). All I remember hearing is a collective "OOOAAAHHH!" from the surrounding Burkinabe, and other than the person that came to help me up, everyone else just laughed. I try to pop up quickly, because aside from the pain I am just embarrassed. The guy keeps asking me, "I told you attention, why didn't you stop? There is a hole there." REALLY?!?! A hole? NO!!! At least he could have said, "STOP" or "HOLE!" But no, he just said "attention" like he was trying to cat call me...so of course I ignored him. I tried to brush myself off as quickly as I could, and act as brave as I could. Honestly, I was pretty lucky that it wasn't worse...no head injuries...so that's good. Aside from a bit of embarrassment, and a lovely purple and blue line across my thighs, the only thing that got hurt was my ego.<br /><br />Well, those are all the good stories that I have for you today. I am heading back to village for a few days to get things rolling on my school garden, and then back to Ouaga for the weekend to attend the COS party. After that, I am village bound until this school garden is constructed! I hope all is well out there, and I will talk to you all soon. Stay cool, and stay safe!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-52126876524925223672008-03-20T06:21:00.000-07:002008-03-23T02:48:53.408-07:00Back to Normal...and the HEAT!<div>It seems that just as soon as my mom touched down on Burkina soil that I was escorting her to the airport to say goodbye. Two weeks passed by in quite a blur, and it was sad to see her go. Although, even she would admit that she was pretty ready to get back to civilization. Heat, dirt, dirt, and more dirt were just some of the elements that she had to deal with. God bless her and her patience with all the various difficulties that come with living here...including all days being at least 103 degrees or more.<br /><br />In an effort to collapse our trip into one readable blog, I will a few of Mom's Burkina Moments:<br /><br /><br /><ul><br /><li>Arriving at 3 a.m. and sleeping until noon the next day. We got a lot done that day!</li><br /><li>Asking me EVERY TIME we ate, whether I thought what we were eating was "safe to eat." Then, refusing to use any glasses for fear of water contamination. Maybe I should have bought her a hazmat suit?</li><br /><li>Watching 20 men push start our bus to get to Banfora, mom taking a picture, and then being accosted by those 20 men to pay for the picture we had just taken.</li><br /><li>The look on Mom's face as our taxi pulled up to take us off-roading. Okay, granted the doors were about to fall off, and he had a rubber mat on the floor to cover the holes with which a foot could fall through. But, still, it was a trusty machine that got us from A to B...even if Mom didn't think it would.</li><br /><li>The look on Mom's face when I showed her the bathroom/shower, and she looked puzzled as the shower head was right over the toilet...yeah...well at least you can pee and shower at the same time.</li><br /><li>Mom running and screaming as the bat that decided to take residence in my house then decided to fly around the room. I swear if flew right at me! Even better...the look on Mom's face when the 11 year old boy in my courtyard attempted to kill it with a corn stalk. The bat ended up getting caught in spider webs near the ceiling of my house (I knew there was a reason I didn't clean those things out).</li><br /><li>The curse of NO ANIMALS (aside from our bat incident I guess) - all Mom wanted to do was see some animals, and it seemed we were thwarted in every way. The game parks did not call us back to make reservations. The hippos (who are always at the same place in the river in my village) deciding to migrate downstream for the week. The DISASTER that was Boromo (including being stuck in the mud for 20 minutes and me getting covered in mud from the flying tires) and seeing TONS of elephant poop but alas no elephants. We didn't even get to see the pet monkey in my village. This trip was definitely devoid of all things "animal"."Wasn't meant to be mama!</li><br /><li>Sadly, getting my bag stolen off the STAF bus on the way from visiting my host family in Ouahigouya. Unfortunately, there were a whole lot of expensive items in there that I won't mention...mostly to save myself the embarrassment of being thought stupid...</li></ul><br /><p>There were a lot of funny moments, some frustrating ones, and even a few scary ones...but over all I can not say how much it meant to me that she came. No one can understand what it is like here unless they come--and I think she would attest to this. There is no way to even imagine it in your head until you come here and see what my life is like...up close and personal. I am grateful that I had at least one person do that...someone I could talk to about it and they would understand. So, THANKS MOM!!</p><br /><p>So, her time expired and here I am adjusting back to my normal life. I am in Ouaga for the next couple weeks working with the new volunteers on some training things. I am also working to organize the big blowout COS Party. It is a party held twice a year to say goodbye to those people who have completed their 2 year service. It is a day of events, and has definitely been a handful to organize.</p><br /><p>On a good note, last January I applied for this grant from Disney called the Disney Minnie Grant. They give grants to organizations that are organizing events around Global Youth Service Day, April 25-27. I applied to get funding for my school garden that I am hoping to establish at my local middle school. I was under a hell of a crunch to get the application in and filled it out in a day (it was a 10 page application!!!). A few days ago I got the email and.........................I GOT IT!! Woo hoo! It is a $500 grant that will help me buy all the necessary equipment to really get this garden started. On April 25th we are going to have the inaugural planting of the garden, compost demonstrations (taught by students), health classes (taught by the students), and much more. I am really excited about this project, and a little scared because of the time crunch. But, I am just going to hit the ground running and get this thing together. The potential of this project to really benefit the kids is huge...SO YAY YAY YAY!!</p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180871444886204370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 151px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="202" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHv5qMTAyZc2UtSm32WXZpzyL7awspMbBSO0mUoHfwd0Og2KMEW2hEvaohXfRMcxVvQAd45vmYcM0nPf5Ycb1kDKik1oBEjFQDLuGT7LlRRf9r77D1BfLpMcpcnZW4Ojlo_eevA/s320/GYSDLogo2008fra_sm.jpg" width="168" border="0" /><br /><p>The seasons are changing, the rain is coming months too early (thank you Global Warming), the air is stifingly hot...the hot season is fully upon us. There are tough times ahead...hope you are all staying warm there, while I try to stay cool here. I will keep you updated...stay close!</p></div>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-39597310570860852182008-03-13T10:30:00.000-07:002008-03-14T09:54:15.837-07:00Mom's Burkina Adventure Update!Hello all! Well, I am just checking in as we do the Burkina Tour 2008 with my mama! Don't worry everyone...she is fine, happy, and (luckily) healthy! We had an amazing time touring Banfora, hanging out in my village for the March 8th Women's Day celebration, and although our elephant hunt was a bit of a bust (more on that later)...we are having a blast.<br /><br />We are currently visiting my host family in Ouahigouya, and on Saturday we will continue to Ouaga for her to fly out. It has been an amazing trip. There have been adventures for sure, but I am sure she will be coming home with a lot of fun memories. I will elaborate on our trip later. For now, here is a little slideshow of our trip thus far. Stay Safe!<br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzJGdOIi-pVbFLpMjtkXY9dbjmGxUoL_K2pYK1bONFNSYnF2CAzw_8Cx0_mKwmmPCdKK1mwMXEsbJQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-38255310326787458862008-03-02T01:18:00.000-08:002008-03-02T01:27:34.628-08:00The Eagle Has Landed!<span style="font-family:georgia;">Finally! After all the planning and organizing my Mom has touched down in Burkina Faso! I wasn't sure if it was even going to happen...what with all the riots, and almost canceled flight in Paris, and everything...but she persevered and at 3:30 am she walked out of that airport. So, for all of you who are worried about her, or wondering if she got in...she's here, happy, and healthy (so far).</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">My life is so drastically different and separate from my life back home, so to see a piece of my life at home show up here is a bit surreal. I am excited, however, to introduce her to the life that I have been living this past year and a half. I am excited to have someone truly understand what I mean when I talk about heat, people, annoying animals, adorable kids, pooping in a hole, etc. There is only so much that you can convey through words and pictures, and so much of this experience can only come through seeing and feeling...so I am SO happy that someone will be here to experience it and join in it with me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Our itinerary is pretty loose. We may go to one of the animal reserves to see some cool animals, and then after that we are headed to my village for the March 8th, International Women's Day celebrations--Question: Why doesn't the US celebrate this holiday as well? It is a HUGE holiday here, and I am told others around the world celebrate it as well. It seems odd that the "greatest country on earth," doesn't honor the women that brought it there...anyhoo...</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Alright, well, I just wanted to let everyone know that Mom got in okay. The adventure begins!!! Stay safe!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-29411539484244447912008-02-22T01:15:00.000-08:002008-02-22T12:57:11.899-08:00Who said Africa wasn't exciting???<span style="font-family:georgia;">Hello all! Gosh, what an eventful last few days this has been! I have been preparing for the arrival of my mom, but as we all know at this point, plans in Africa don't always work out like you would like them.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Last week was a whole lot of fun as several of my friends and I came up to Ouaga to play in the SOFANWET (get your mind out of the gutter...it means Softball Fanatics Weekend Tournament) tournament. I will be the first to admit that softball isn't my strong suit...but I like playing pretty</span> much any sport whether I am good or not. We had about 15 people come up to play, a healthy sized cheering section, cold beer, pizza, sloppy joes, and donuts, so I was in absolute "American" heaven. I ended up being pitcher because, well, my only skill in softball is being able to lob it relatively accurately underhanded...and it seemed more fun then being catcher (plus, there is no way I will put my face near a swinging metal object). Even though we didn't exactly dominate the social bracket of the tournament--between you and me we got our asses kicked by a bunch of 10-14 year olds from the local middle school--we did manage to win 2 out of 4 games, and I think we came in 4th place (out of 6...hehe). Here is a picture of all of us at the end of the tournament:<br /><br /><a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PqFvVhQ4v8GGgLPJQLb2guX54zq8rflwPRCqhlQEbCNCJpj3Km_VESCJJM0PvKP7HxCt_DDh5Xi3ZCY9I4wXCNIuxbZAYysR0MvaRs748VzZlim8qJt7QTGNKUYMnEGGvyqe9A/s1600-h/softball.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PqFvVhQ4v8GGgLPJQLb2guX54zq8rflwPRCqhlQEbCNCJpj3Km_VESCJJM0PvKP7HxCt_DDh5Xi3ZCY9I4wXCNIuxbZAYysR0MvaRs748VzZlim8qJt7QTGNKUYMnEGGvyqe9A/s320/softball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169734646481838562" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">After our rousing weekend of competitive sporting myself and two of my friends decided we would take a little ride down to Fada N'Gourma for two days to go see the animal parks. With my Mom coming, I wanted to see if it would be worth our while to head down there. Now, I don't consider myself a "rule breaker" by any means. In my entire time here I can only recall breaking cerain rules once or twice, and most of the time on accident. Honestly, we weren't supposed to be down there, and we did so without telling anyone...but this practice of "going under the radar" happens ALL the time without much consequence (since most people don't get caught). We left on Monday afternoon and had planned on being back in village by Friday morning, so considering the distances it wasn't that bad. Off we went on our safari adventure feeling pretty good about everything. We had made it down there in once piece, and we had actually worked out a free safari...pretty good so far! Just on the safari end...it was pretty a</span><span style="font-family:georgia;">mazing. I won't lie to you...there</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> is a lot of sitting in the car and driving around without seeing anything except the butt end of an animal running away. However, towards the end of our adventure we started to really see some interesting stuff. We saw an Koba (an antelope-type creature that is as big as a clydesdale), warthogs, gigantic rabbits, baboons, crocodiles, some birds, and of course the largest land animal of all...the elephant (including almost getting charged by one when we drove into the path of ornery elephant trying to eat). It was a really great afternoon, and I was really feeling like, "yeah, now this is the Africa I hear so much about." I didn't have a lot of pics loaded, but he is what I had...keep in mind that most animals didn't exactly stop and smile for the camera!<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwm2cL_E8TJdQVzzocqFLrpj4YE3I8N5YciMKfTkOjlQMUb_8oNs9gOy62zkNLjuYEiXvJvhR7zjjyvQg62R2qgFguITjBKh46U-g7NdPK0H8Od6YXnbRZIbbuqxZfTib760J5A/s1600-h/bird.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBwm2cL_E8TJdQVzzocqFLrpj4YE3I8N5YciMKfTkOjlQMUb_8oNs9gOy62zkNLjuYEiXvJvhR7zjjyvQg62R2qgFguITjBKh46U-g7NdPK0H8Od6YXnbRZIbbuqxZfTib760J5A/s320/bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169910375068754434" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here is a picture of a bird, not sure what kind, but this one actually stood still...</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkkLN3vP5fzt0wuNeRIyqVoANNrx7sPI-59snwg7jZTCdS23uNef1t4DvxTn-H7tf5Wp8He85NCL7xhtadxsrpas09Vd-DWQ7vLxDnzz371Wbw3V0nLQ4j-ZVEJTsLzSyNxnq8Q/s1600-h/koba+carcass.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkkLN3vP5fzt0wuNeRIyqVoANNrx7sPI-59snwg7jZTCdS23uNef1t4DvxTn-H7tf5Wp8He85NCL7xhtadxsrpas09Vd-DWQ7vLxDnzz371Wbw3V0nLQ4j-ZVEJTsLzSyNxnq8Q/s320/koba+carcass.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5169910370773787122" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here we found the carcas of a just eaten Koba antelope, 1 hour later some hunters found and killed the lion responsible for this...</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">We returned from our safari tired, dirty, but satisfied with our little adventure...that was until the most unlikely of things happened. Burkina Faso is generally known for it's peacefulness. Aside from the various coupes during the 70s and early 80s, it has been a model for tranquility and stability. Now, on the one time that I am not at my site and I am "under the radar," the unluckiest thing of all happens...riots. As we pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, and we got reception back on our phone, my phone buzzed away. The message read, "STANDFAST, due to demonstrqtions in the Bobo-Dioulasso region all volunteers must report back where they are and stay at site!" Not only did riots go down, but they went down in my regional capital. The jig was up...I had to tell them where we were. All I can say is...BAD TIMING Stephanie. Not only am I caught out of site, but with my mom coming next week?!?! So, now here we sit, ashamed of ourselves for having disobeyed the rules (and ashamed of being caught). We can't go back to our sites, we can't go to Ouaga...we just have to sit and wait to see what happens. Will this escalate into something greater, or will this die down and Burkina goes back to being the tranquil place it has always been? First, I guess I should give you a little background and information to what is going on: </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Also, here is an english article from Reuters: (http://africa.reuters.com/country/BF/news/usnL21850568.html)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The price of goods (soap, sugar, cooking oil, gasoline) has been rising dramatically here. In my village I have heard grumblings about this. Evidently, the rumours had been spreading for days that people were going to hold a demonstration to protest the rising cost of living, or in their words, "le vie est chere" (The life is expensive). The demonstrations got a bit out of control and people started burning tires, cars, looting businesses and government offices, and throwing rocks at police. These riots were also held in a town in the northern part of t he country, Ouahigouya, and rumors have been circulating that it occurred in other towns, like Banfora. The riots in Bobo even spread to some residential areas as well. There is also rumors that scheduled demonstrations are going to be held next Thursday.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, first off, PLEASE DO NOT WORRY!!!!!! Things are relatively calm, and at no point has anyone been in danger. The Peace Corps is handling things amazingly well, and keeping a watch on the situation. It is just HORRIBLE timing for me and my friends, as well as my Mom. I can't help but laugh at the whole situation really...because in Africa what else can you do? We just sit, and wait, and hope that things don't escalate to something more widespread. For now, we are all safe...and waiting. I hope all is well back home, and I will update you soon. Stay Safe!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-60779822826346795182008-01-31T00:00:00.000-08:002008-01-31T01:31:55.382-08:00A Busy Week...<div align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">I think that in my time being here that I forgot what "working" and "stress" was like. These words were lost in the recesses of my mind, and for the most part I haven't had to dredge them up. That isn't to say that I haven't worked...just not in the "American" sense I guess. So, when this past week came upon me (i.e. business workshop, world map, and school garden)...I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. I had both the world map and the school garden project in the same day. I didn't get my normal "repose" (i.e. siesta, midday nap) and I found myself getting upset about this point. "How dare they keep me busy during my nap time?!?!" Then I remembered the days of eating lunch at my desk, and powering through with the midday coffee...so I guess life isn't SO bad if I don't get my nap just one day...HAH! Anyhoo, my "busy" week is over, and now I am taking a breather. I had a rotation of visitors/helpers come through my site to help me do my workshop and map, and I can't thank them enough for their help. Our generation is a generation of collaborators...for the most part we like to work together ("two heads are better than one"), etc. So, I can't thank them enough for taking the bumpy, dusty, and long ride out to chez moi to visit and help out.</span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">I will be honest, after spending over 16 months here I didn't have very high hopes for the business workshop. I wasn't sure how many would actually show up, and what their participation and comprehension would be. 4 of the 8 participants couldn't write very well, or speak French (try teaching accounting...yikes!), so we had to stop a lot to translate into local language. After my Girls Camp experience where the girls sat there and hardly said a word....I wasn't holding out any hopes. Also, my procrastinating self didn't even crack our guidebook on how to teach these things until the day of...so, we were employing a "sink or swim" philosophy. I don't promote a "low expectations" way of thinking to go through life...you know, "the glass is half empty" and all that crap. However, I have found that in my experiences that I prefer to go through life with low expectations, and then just be pleasantly surprised if things go my way. So, when this project decided to go my way...I was absolutely bowled over. I feel like every Peace Corps volunteer talks about that "moment"...the moment where they suddenly feel the impact that they are having in their villages (however small they may be). I had done some interesting projects...but I hadn't quite felt that impact and gratitude from the people involved. I think it was something that I needed to buoy me through...to give me that extra spark. It surprised me that the one project that I didn't dedicate all that much attention or time to was going to turn out to be that moment. From the first day all the way through to the last, it was the most fun and beneficial experience that I have had. The group of 8 guys were AMAZING! They all participated, and laughed, and shared their experiences...there was never a moment of silence in the room. We covered Marketing, Buying, Stock Control (you wouldn't believe all the old and moldy merchandise they have sitting in corners), Costing, Accounting, and Financial Management. We talked on the most basic of levels--make a sign for your business, offer promotions on your old products, buy what your customers want. I couldn't believe the response that I was getting from them. I honestly swelled with pride. They actually GOT IT...they understood what I was talking about! Not only that...but they said so, and they also said the most elusive word for me here..."thank you." Aside from gift giving, I haven't heard that word all that often in relation to my work. People just assume the foreigner is here to give...so why say thank you? It was so refreshing to see people--right before my eyes--benefiting from the knoweldge I was sharing from them. Also, I felt for once, "ah...so this is what I am here to do." I was assigned as a business volunteer and had hardly cracked into that subject. Business is what I went to school for, promotions/marketing were what my career was...<strong>FINALLY</strong> I can actually teach something that I know as opposed to trying to teach animal raising or farming! Let the choir of angels sing...I have done it...I have finally felt like I have made some level of difference that will live beyond my presence here. Sustainable is our goal, and I can't think of anything more sustainable then knoweledge....and the entire workshop only cost me $21. Definitely money and time well spent on my part.<br /></span></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">I unfortunately didn't take all that many pictures (the workshop was from 6-8 at night...so the lighting wasn't all that good). Here are a couple:</span></div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161559434575557122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuMwiX9hXl80RXiP3zsraFNy7PHIHaFFM0nnn_4ZbTfIGDy3b4wZw9eYwpIPD8lrffczEy92S90vX8HTmERv-IvB9ilPo8XXx0a3V1lM8BTTC6rjV6GfxSw63W-KMVY0RgYbVj8Q/s320/Steph+G+-+Jan.+%2708+003.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong>Welcome to the Business Workshop!</strong></span> </div><br /><p align="center"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161557089523413490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UEVMX2q7BV1Xk5pCLEbOShhJaBEbN5mAeZPArQ2eEmznz8nCzKkFegV8VTZ5H4HDwHtRun02zogzDP0slOFeGBjIt_9bPFqG4jyrzGbRY7Z3bMxDHOE35vcQdZWBBdsJNzaL3A/s320/Steph+G+-+Jan.+%2708+006.jpg" border="0" /></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Another business volunteer, Helen Ho, and I at the end of the workshop. We gave all the participants certificates and sodas. They were so excited!</span></strong><br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">The World Map...well...the world map was an interesting project. I had never worked with the students (boy and girls) by myself and in large numbers. I would imagine that giving paint to middle schoolers in the US would be stressful enough, but the kids here?!?! WOW! I will first say that the map does look like a map. I think everyone at the school is impressed that it turned out like it did. I guess for us anal Americans it was a bit difficult. Kids were flinging paint around, about 20 new islands just appeared in the Pacific Ocean, and congratulations Hawaii you have just been upgraded to continent-size! I about smacked those children a hundred times. They are passing and dropping paint across the map like they were trying to imitate a Jackson Pollock painting. It was almost more than my nerves could handle. Thank goodness I had my friend and fellow volunteer (in the education sector), Rose Kanasty, there to help me. She has been teaching lovely little monsters like these for the past 2 years...so she knows how to handle them. I am WAY too nice...and the saying "give an inch, and they'll take a mile" has never been more appropriate than here with children. She helped me set ground rules, communicate with the kids, and be the "bad cop" of the two of us. I still have about one whole days work to make it presentable...but I am going to fix all the mistakes, and then this Monday we are going to have a presentation ceremony at the school. Even with all the frustrations...It was fun to see the kids pick up a paint brush and be artistic for a while.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">The school garden project on the other hand didn't really go so well. The Africare representative came out to my village to look at our site, and to talk about how to proceed. No matter how many times I told my school director that they weren't going to offer financial assistance he seemed not to listen. So, again, during the meeting he asked what they were going to provide financially. Once he realized nothing he turned on me, as if this was entirely my idea, and basically said that they never really wanted a garden in the first place, that students don't know what they want, and that it's too expensive. I just sat in my chair...totally embarrassed for wasting this NGO's time and mine...and for feeling like an idiot. Because of this perpetuation of, "well, if we just wait, a NGO will come and give us money to fix our problems," it has perpetuated this laziness and greed in people. "Why take the time and effort to fix anything when eventually some aid organization will come and fix it for me?" or "what am I getting out of this monetarily?" Everyone wants their fair share, and sometimes I just get tired of it. I may be becoming an aid worker who doesn't believe in giving aid!?! If people just sit around waiting for the "white people" to roll in and fix everything they will never do anything for themselves, and will never feel true ownership for what they do accomplish. There is a big difference on how you treat a car that someone gave you as a gift, and a car that you financed yourself...and the same goes for development in rural areas. I am slowly believing that aside from the passing of knowledge these people are completely capable of helping themselves, and should be forced to do just that. Not to sound mean, but desperation breeds innovation in a lot of ways...</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;">Anyways...off my soapbox. For the most part this past week passed amazingly well, and I really feel good about some of the things that I have accomplished. They say that the 2nd year of service is much more fruitful...and I am already feeling the effects of that. Well, I guess I have to sign off and return to village. My mom comes in 3 weeks, so that is something to definietly look forward to. WOO HOO! I miss you all...stay close!</span></p>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-68922138431948700972008-01-15T00:04:00.000-08:002008-01-15T14:26:12.933-08:00Village caroling, un-symmetrical green beans, and much more...Hey you guys! How is it going? I am in Bobo enjoying the food and company of other English-speaking people. I came in to town to buy paint and brushes for my 3 1/2 x 7 foot world map that myself and the kids at my local middle school are doing. I am by no means artistic...so we will see how this goes. I will try to get pictures up for you! Next week is my marketing seminar with 10 local businessmen in my village...so that should be very interesting as well. I am trying to kick off the New Year with a bang, and to stay busy so that I don't drive myself crazy. Thus far, my saving grace has been Mike and his most generous DVD burner -- I haven't missed an episode of my fave shows thanks to him and my car-batter powered portable DVD player. God bless technology...nuff said!<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Things in village have been relatively quiet...the hippos are out in full force in the river, the temperature is dropping below 60 at night, and I haven't been too sick lately. You can't ask for much more now can you? A few days after New Year's the village band decided to tour around and do their version of caroling. A group of about 100+ kids showed up at my house along with a drummer and a balaphone (kind of life wooden bells) player. They jammed in my courtyard for about 10 minutes while the kids danced and sang and ran around. It was really amazing. Here is a picture from that event:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj1xfYhyf8KfVK8ZYgh3dAARtymVimNAkvOjoy7WtZ6dbvmsVXwdvgYnIf9iiWoI83WfncnR1pale47ZY9ErH6es22n5myXDxQLBuHK0sg0_R0z9ZkdA1eBk1sMzFmfb65_FdVQ/s1600-h/IMG_2430.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj1xfYhyf8KfVK8ZYgh3dAARtymVimNAkvOjoy7WtZ6dbvmsVXwdvgYnIf9iiWoI83WfncnR1pale47ZY9ErH6es22n5myXDxQLBuHK0sg0_R0z9ZkdA1eBk1sMzFmfb65_FdVQ/s320/IMG_2430.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155829729163254514" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know if you recall my talk about green beans in the last entry...but wow, they are everywhere. A few days after I saw the refrigerated truck depart Banzon to take 10 tons of green beans to the French public...I saw it come back to Banzon. Weird? I think so. After further inquiry, it turns out that evidently the French are a little pickier about their green beans than I would have thought. The company purchasing the green beans sent ALL of the 10 TONS back to Banzon because they said that they weren't all the same length. WHAT?!?! I separated those green beans...and they were the most gorgeous and unblemished specimens I had ever seen...I guess just not perfect enough for the French. Green beans are now piled high in the market, and you can get 2 kilos of them for less then 15 cents! I have been stuffing my face with them every day...sauteed, boiled, steamed...any way a green bean can be made I eat it. The villagers seem to be pretty upset and dissappointed by what happened. According to one of my village friends, they invested 2 million CFA ($4500) of their own money into starting the harvest of the green beans, and had stood to profit 620,000 CFA ($1400)...but now that the company has sent back all the beans, they are not even sure if they are going to pay them anything. It really is such a shame. I have never seen the villagers so mobilized and motivated about a project. Everyone I knew at one point or another was working out in the green beans fields. I say to the company that sent them back....SHAME ON YOU! Green Beans taste the same whether they are a centimeter longer or shorter than the other. To all my readers...<span style="font-weight: bold;">Just say NO to symmetrical green beans!<br /></span><br />Okay...enough of that...well, other than that there isn't much going on to fill you in about. My mom FINALLY booked her ticket to come and see me: Feb. 25th - March 10th. I am so excited about her upcoming visit, and my villagers have quite a few things planned for her. I will leave you with the following picture that I took while sitting in my market...can you spot the irregularity?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Do you notice anything wrong with this picture?</span><br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgq7OEZEKNgCNDbgB__YPHUAk67OMkWK9tRO89_oeaBUu0QEtSicEAfB5_biHi8-lWafnX-VZucMX5vvtyRY9meXJ6Q3XnGKIXLshWAA1U1uJ571rxagvrKgglhRDlJbeDHBPsw/s1600-h/IMG_2392.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqgq7OEZEKNgCNDbgB__YPHUAk67OMkWK9tRO89_oeaBUu0QEtSicEAfB5_biHi8-lWafnX-VZucMX5vvtyRY9meXJ6Q3XnGKIXLshWAA1U1uJ571rxagvrKgglhRDlJbeDHBPsw/s320/IMG_2392.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5155614336553359938" border="0" /></a><br />Hope 2008 is treating you well thus far...Stay Close!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-23750223637915973782008-01-02T09:04:00.000-08:002008-01-02T10:54:09.465-08:00Happy New Year...and a stack of green beans!So, here we are officially into 2008! Every time the clock strikes midnight I feel like things should be different, or that I should feel different...but alas nothing has changed and time keeps marching relentlessly forward. Surprisingly in Africa, the land where time stands still (or at the very least is irrelevant), the New Years celebration is quite an event. Last year I spent my New Years huddled up in my house watching "A Few Good Men" and munching on popcorn. Not exactly the New Years I had planned or wished for, but as the new white female in town I didn't feel like facing the barrage of marriage proposals and "je t'aime's", so I opted to stay in. This year however was completely different!<br /><br />My friend Radhika--of Christmas Pepperidge Farm beef log fame--came to my village with the intention of staying until the 30th, and then departing to spend her New Years in the big city. However, after just 3 days in my village she she fell in love and said that she couldn't imagine spending her New Years anywhere else--well, actually everyone canceled on her and she had to choose between New Years alone in Bobo with electricity and running water, or New Years at my house with bucket baths and battery-powered lights. I am happy to report that I won out on this occasion! SCORE! Her visit proved to be very productive and motivating for me. In the days she was here I learned where green beans come from, purchased a new table and completely re-organzied my house, hung all new pictures, fixed my bike, cleaned the spiders off my ceiling, and came up with 3 new project ideas. 2008 is already shaping up to be a good one!<br /><br />One of my best treats for New Years has been the re-emergence of my favorite green vegetable...the green bean! After Radhika's arrival we went touring around my market to greet people and see what we could make for dinner. My friend, Rasmane, approaches us and asks if we would like green beans. Well OF COURSE I do!! He tells us that we are going to get green beans, but that I can't buy any of them. Hah...we'll see about that. After a long walk we arrive out in in this huge field. Thirty or so people are sitting on mats sorting through piles and piles of green beans, while others are out in the field picking them off the plants. Green beans grow on this rather pretty flower (above ground). I know it seems stupid, but it looked so strange to see this thing that I eat still attached to the plant. We were immediately put to work sorting green beans with the rest of them--assuming that I would of course get a cadeaux for all of my hard work. Turns out sorting green beans is a lot harder than I thought. I got yelled at several times for not throwing out bad ones. They only accepted perfect un-blemished green beans to be packed in the box, the other rejects got piled on the mat. The good beans got packed in boxes and were being shipped to France, while the bad ones would be eated or sold in our market. As I sorted my beans I couldn't help but think about the destination of these veggies. Right now, somewhere in Paris, someone is standing at the grocery store putting green beans in their little plastic sack...and they probable aren't thinking about the little old Burkinabe lady that plucked it from its plant, or the mother with her crying child strapped to her back around the pile sorting all of the beans in the perfect direction, or the little kids whose job is to shuttle the packaged beans to storage. Here in a small African village that no one has heard of in a country that most people don't know, there are people picking and choosing and organizing these beans. All to send to some unsuspecting person who decides to buy them at the grocery store. The next time you are in the grocery store buying yourself an green bean, apple, or a head of lettuce, ask yourself where that came from?<br /><br />Okay...now back to the festivities of the New Year. Throughout the day Radhika and I were continually stopped and asked what our plans were for celebrating the New Year...and could our plans include them? After much deliberation we decided that we would go to the bar early to avoid the real drunks, and just leave before midnight. Being a girl here is so much harder than you would think...men come at you from all directions asking you to dance, give them a correspondent, be there girlfriend. Earlier that day I had to fend off my friend, Abou, who kept telling me in his broken English, "I love you. You are a pretty girl. I am a gentleman, and you are a pretty girl. I mean, woman. I love you." It then took me 5 minutes to explain to him that he didn't love me, he couldn't love me, and that I was married. Which evidently didn't matter to him because he is married too. Oh well. At about 8:45 we left my house to go have one beer at the bar and then we were going to hole up in my house. When we got there the place was packed with little kids dancing their little hearts out. Sadly, at 9:00 they ushered all the young'uns out and it was adult dancing hour. Let's just say that I was surprised to discover how many prostitutes were in my village. After our beer we packed up and went home. Just as I was getting in to my pajamas I get a call from my friend Mattias telling me that they were waiting for me at the Prefet's house (the prefet is like a governor or mayor figure). Interesting....I never got the invitation. I reluctantly hopped back in my clothes, and we walked over to see what all the fuss was about. On our walk over I kept promising Radhika that we would only stay for 20 minutes, say our "Bonne Annee's" and be out of there. Oh...little did I know what we were in for. Upon arrival I noticed 5 large tables organized in the yard. This is ALWAYS a bad sign, because that means that there will be a meal and other organized events involved. How naive of me to assume that this was going to be simple. The Burkinabe have a strict class system--and thanks to the poverty there is only two classes, poor and kinda poor. The tables were organized based on importance. At the head of the courtyard were 10 cushioned chairs, reserved for all the "important" people in the village including the prefet, the head nurse, the head policeman, etc. We were not included in this "elite" group. We got the two uncushioned chairs right next to the comfy "elite" table. This, as I was told by my friend Radhika who has done these things before, is quite an honor. We are like B-list actresses ready to break onto the A-List scene! Woo hoo! I felt bad for all the poor ostracized people at the 4th table in the row--they were the Kathy Griffin's for the evening. This party was very much in contrast with the one we had just left at the bar. It was like going from a bonfire party in the backwoods to taking high tea. In one party people are really loud music, dancing, drinking, yelling, and talking...and here....well, people just sat there. Occasionally, when a good song came on they got up to dance. But, this mostly consisted of people standing in a circle moving back and forth from one foot to another. They weren't even smiling. I couldn't tell if they were having fun, or wishing they could get out of there as much as I was. After an hour of sitting there they finally brought out refreshments, which consisted of little cake pieces--which we started eating immediately, but were then warned to stop because we had violated some etiquette because the "elite" table hadn't gotten theirs yet. I kept asking my friend if I could go home, but he kept telling me to wait. "Things" would be happening very soon. Thank goodness Radhika was there or I don't know if I could have stomached the evening. We just sat around and joked about things. At one point I made a joke about "sharting" (if you don't know what that is I am not going to explain it)...at which point she started cackling so loud that we had to be hushed by two different people. Our laughing was probably about the only laughing heard all evening. I don't know why, but the "elite" of Banzon don't know how to throw a party. People just sat in their seat staring off into the middle of nowhere or sleeping. A few got up to dance, but otherwise it was a pretty quiet party. The New Years passed and we all got up and hugged and did the Burkinabe head tap. At this point I was hoping to leave, but thanks to Burkina ettiquette and procedure I was told I could not. Radhika faked sick and snuck out at 12:45 leaving me all alone. Evidently, they were going to serve more food and there would be more "partying." At 1:30 the food finally started leaving the kitchen...one whole chicken for everyone--I wonder who was paying for all of this...the town of Banzon perhaps? After that the Prefet stood up and gave a rousing speech telling eveyone that the "funcionnaires" (i.e. rich people...compared to everyone else in the village) should stick together, and do these kinds of parties more often. I couldn't help but feel a bit elitist...while we were having this reserved soiree, you could here the blaring music and hollering of the villageois. If given the choice, I might have preferred the villageois/common folk. After I picked apart my cold chicken, I stared at all the sleeping people at my table and decided it was time to go. Overall, this evening was vastly different than the one I spent in village last year...and regardless of all the unexpected events I can't help but relish every moment...from the crazy bar to the reserved party...from the dancing and drinking and eating.<br /><br />I don't know if it is because of my eventful first transition into 2008, the fact that I am finishing my service this year, or the presidential election (thank goodness)...but this year feels like it is going to be an exciting one. To everyone reading this I wish you "Prosperite. Fidelite. Sante. Longevite. Et Plus." Happy Holidays...I miss you all...Stay close!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-40639735606833234982007-12-26T03:17:00.001-08:002007-12-26T05:47:36.933-08:00Ho Ho Ho...Merry Christmas!<div style="text-align: justify;">Hello all. Well, aside from my brief entry telling you that I wasn't going to post an entry--odd, right--I haven't written much lately. I guess my mind has been occupied with other things...or maybe I was having writer's block. The adjustment process to being back in Burkina has been a bit hard...but I feel like I am almost there.</div><br />Upon returning to Banzon I was pleasantly surprised to find that my house had not turned in to a mouse/rat kingdom, my cat was alive and still had working use of both eyes, and that for the most part things were in tact. My bike had a couple of dings on it that I don't remember inflicting...and it looked extraordinarily clean--I don't know if I cleaned it with my mind from America or if the small child in my courtyard decided to take it for a test-drive, wrecked it, and then cleaned it thinking I wouldn't notice. Either way, it still works and isn't much worse for the wear considering all the things I have done to it. Also, much to my delight, I encountered a gigantic spiderweb over the doorway to my room that spelled out, "Bienvenue!" and a pig named Wilbur sat cheerily underneath as a welcome home present...yeah dinner! Okay...if any of you are believing what I just typed...man you are gullible. Spiders can't speak French! Slowly people started trickling over to greet me, welcome me home, and demand for their gift from America. Oh gosh, really, you missed me that much...thanks! As it turns out, most people in the village, after my prolonged absence--2 months--thought that I was never coming back. I guess I am just lucky that they didn't loot my house. My house was cleaner than I could have hoped for, and luckily I was not kept awake by mice and roaches in the middle of the night....it's all a girl can ask for really.<br /><br />The next morning, as the family gathers in the courtyard, I gave them their presents from America. My host dad, thanks to the oh so lovely department store of "Mom's Closet," received a lovely fleece jacket to keep him warm and toasty during those cold 70-degree nights of winter. I gave my host mom a lovely earring/necklace set and a Mercedes Marathon long-sleeve t-shirt. To the kids I gave each of them a pair of Adidas soccer shorts and some toys I found at the Dollar Store--love that place--including bubbles and stickers. I had intended, when gifting the Hot Wheels stickers to the eldest Ali, that he would use them. And us them he did...after he marveled at the sports car stickers, he ran away excitedly to decorate his bike with them. Oh, he has the sweetest ride in Banzon now! However, later that day as I was relaxing at my counterparts boutique, I noticed something. He had taken some of the stickers from his son--this is a grown man mind you--and decorated his entire scooter with Hot Wheels stickers. Can you imagine in American if a 45 year-old man decided to stick Hot Wheels stickers all over his car? Oh yes...so now both he and his 11 year-old son are sporting the coolest Hot Wheels stickers around.<br /><br />After two-months away from village living--including exclusive access to a real toilet, a shower, and electricity--I found adjusting to be harder than I would have imagined. You would think most of the skills I acquired in village--mainly, my keen ability to pee/pooh into a hole the size of a softball and never get it on the floor or on myself--would come back to me quickly if not instantly. Well, let me tell you folks, that peeing in a small hole takes practice, and it isn't like riding a bike. For the entire week I can not even tell you how often I peed on the floor and on myself. Okay, I know you are making a grossed out face right now, or laughing, or both...but I am just being upfront and honest with you in an effort to show everything about my life here. The way I figure it, if you have been reading my blog from the beginning then you all know that this is nothing compared to things I have described before. It took me my entire time in village to finally remember what proper foot placements and positions my body needed to be in to accurately get everything on target. Peeing in a hole....harder than you think (especially for us girls). If you don't believe me then go outside right now and give it a whirl. If all goes well, in February my mom and her friend Audrie will get to learn first-hand about the difficulty of doing just this thing! Aside from my peeing incidents things in village are pretty boring at the moment. It is the holiday season--Tabaski, Christmas, and New Year's--so people aren't all that motivated to do anything but party and drink. So, that left me with a whole lot of time, and a whole lot of nothin' to do. After a week of sitting around and sleeping, I left village for the Christmas celebration.<br /><br />A fellow volunteer, Leslie, was having the festivities in her small village of Kangala...which is even smaller and more remote than my village. Woo hoo! Thanks to some creative improvising we fashioned ourselves a Christmas tree, played Christmas carols--really we only had one Christmas song on our iPod, so we just played Akon and Harry Connick Jr.--and ate a whole lot. I brought some goodies from hom including seaweed paper, canned tuna, canned beef, Fresh Market Christmas Blend coffee, coffee mate, and so much more. The first night we dined on tuna sushi rolls...complete with wooden chopsticks that I stole from the grocery store. The next night, we had 6 chickens "sent off to pasture" so that we could celebrate in style with mashed potatoes, and a green-bean casserole--complete with cream of mushroom soup made from scratch and fried onions. The weekend was made complete by another volunteers supply of a GIGANTIC Pepperidge Farm "Yard of Beef" stick....mmmmmm!!! It was quite a weekend full of Christmas carolling, dancing, and present opening. In spite of the limiting selection of Christmas gifts available to us, I received green tea (thanks Meghann), single packets of Biore face wash (thanks Vero and your mom), a lighter that lights up multi-color when you push the button, a half-used canister of dry foot lotion (thanks Leslie), 3 Burkinabe Batteries (thanks Radhika), and a packet of tissues. It was quite a wonderful and festive event, and I couldn't be happier about my gifts. After our festivities at Leslie's we moved on to Audrie's village to continue the holiday--Pig Roast. Audrie's village, Mahon, is only 9 kilometers away, and thanks to my poor planning I didn't have a bike to get there. So, in a moment of insanity, I said that I would just run there. After my weekend of attempting to eat an entire "Yard of Beef" among all the other food that I indulged in, it probably wasn't such a good idea. It took me longer than I would have liked, but I finally arrived at the pig roast ravenous and feeling pretty good about digging into the 100-pound pig that we had selected to dine on. It ended up being about 8 of us Peace Corps volunteers and 30 or so villagers. We drank a lot of palm wine, drank a lot of beer, ate a lot of pork, and sang as many Christmas Carols as we could remember. It was a pretty fun time!<br /><br />Now I am back in Bobo ready to head back to village to celebrate the passing into 2008! Can you believe it?!?! It has been over one year since I left America to come to Burkina, and here we are turning over to '08. The year that I will come home from the Peace Corps, the year that my sis will graduate college, and more importantly the year that we say goodbye to George Bush! Thank goodness!<br /><br />I can only hope that you all have had as fun and an eventful Christmas holiday as myself, and I hope that your New Year's is wonderful as well. It's back to village I go...take care and stay close!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-29853302354840258062007-12-15T03:29:00.000-08:002007-12-15T04:00:41.664-08:00A Quick Update...Okay...so I am sitting here trying to figure out what to write about, and I will be honest...I am drawing a blank. A lot has happened in the past few weeks as I adjust back to my life here in Burkina Faso. I will admit it was a bit harder than I thought...everything looked a bit dirtier and a bit crazier than when I left.<br /><br />I am finished helping out with training, and I am finished with my own training and yearly annual physical--in case you were wondering I am apparently germ, microbe, amoeba, and parasite free, at least according to my pooh samples (I'm sure you really wanted to know that too...). In about an hour I will be boarding my "bus" back to village...a place that, after being away 2 months, feels rather foreign to me now. Back I go to the world of bucket baths, battery-powered lights, latrine holes, and hauling my water from a well. To most this doesn't sound like a vacation, but to be honest with you my senses are on absolute overload at this point and I wouldn't mind a bit of solitude. And, of course, I do have a lot of work to do...<br /><br />Alright, well, I will have more to write about the next time. I have lots of time in village to think up a fabulous entry that will leave you doubled over in laughter. Hope everyone enjoys their holidays and snow...I will be bundled up against 60 degree weather...woo hoo!<br /><br />Stay Safe!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-8776401310680043652007-11-28T12:03:00.000-08:002007-11-28T12:38:07.566-08:00A warm Burkinabe welcome...sort of...<span style="font-family:georgia;">Hello all! That's right...I am writing you from Burkina Faso. The eagle has landed! Wow...I am still reeling from all the things that have happened in the past several weeks, and reflecting on how much fun I had while I was home. I got to spend 2 wonderful weeks with Mike in New York City, eating my way through every restaurant I ever wanted to visit. We went up to Boston and explored the town. Then I migrated to the South--to much more welcoming weather--where I spent two weeks with my family. With my Dad's wedding, Thanksgiving, and of course THE IRON BOWL, I had little time to breathe. But, I tell you, I don't regret one busy second of it. Everything just tasted a little sweeter, was just a little better, and I have Burkina to thank for this new found appreciation.<br /><br />Now here I am back in Africa...my life has recommenced. Of course, leave it to Burkina Faso to offer me quite a rousing welcome in my first full day. I got in last night around 8:00. Thanks to some delays in Burkina we say in Niamey, Niger for an hour and a half. We finally land and I singlehandedly lug all 3--that's right, I said 3--suitcases into a taxi and back to the apartment. I absolutely crash, because I am running on zero hours of sleep. The next day--i.e. today--I was supposed to take the bus up to Ouahigouya to work the training for the new volunteers. All is going well. I get a taxi to pick me up at 9:00 and I head to the bus station. Of course, as the taxi pulls away I realize that I have (a) left my brand new Nalgene bottle in the car and (b) left all my medecine sitting out in the hostel. Way to go...and such a typical "Stephanie" move--those of you that know me are just snickering right now...STOP IT!<br /><br />I get on the bus and off we go...seemingly without a hitch. I do have to get used to EVERY guy hitting on me, asking me to give them money, buy them a soda, and the "oh, if you need someone to accompany you on your bus ride" offer. We get about 30 minutes outside of Ouaga when the bus stops. I have my iPod running, so I am spaced out. But, time starts slipping by, and by, and by, and by...and then I realize that it has been an hour. I get out of the bus to ask what is going on, and all I get is jumbled responses in French--and man is my French rusty. Someone says something about our driver not having papers, and that they sent for a new one. Well, turns out the second driver didn't have papers either...go figure. Time is going by, and I am trying really hard to tap back into my "African Patience" that I packed away while in the States. Another hour goes by and there I sit in the hot sun on the side of the road. Finally, I ask that the driver give me my bag that is packed on the roof because I am going to hitchhike--I know it sounds scary, but it really isn't. Well, at this point--2 hours into our joy ride--he has been getting yelled at my the other passengers, so he refuses to take my bag off. He keeps yelling about another bus coming, and that I would just have to wait. I watch as other bus lines pass by...the passengers seemingly laughing at my poor ass sitting on the side of the road, sweating...no water, no food...no fun! So, we tick through the 3rd hour, and still no one. Now, we tick into the 4th hour...and still there we sit. If only I had the guts to climb to the top of the bus and just unstrap my bag. I am cursing in English, and it makes me even more mad that no one understands me and that I don't know how to curse in French--note to self: learn to curse or be mad in French. Finally, in the 5th hour...yes the 5th hour...the driver tells us we are turning back around. I ask him again to just give me my bag back--forget about my money, I don't even want it back--so that I can just hitch a ride on another bus. Again, he refuses. At this point, there are like 5 other Burkinabes telling him he should give me my bag, but he feels like being a jerk and refuses. So, I hop back on the bus to take my ride right back to where I started...or so I thought. Rather than going back to the station he gets taken by police escort to their impound. We pull in and everyone is asked to pile out. Again, I ask for my bag...just my bag...so I can get out of there. Again, the driver refuses to take it down. He says he won't take anything down until we reach our destination...HELLO...we are never getting there!! I am furious. I start asking the police for help, but they say they can't do anything. So, there I sit in the police compound while a policeman draws lines on a piece of paper with a ruler, and stares at a sheet of paper. My adventure started at 9:30, and we are ticking past 3:00...so needless to say I was a bit upset. With my last ounce of credit on my phone I call Erica and ask her to see if she can contact Peace Corps to get me some help. I don't want to board another bus, I just want my damn bag, and I want out of there. Finally, our security director gets the police, the bus service, and the chauffeur on the phone. Within 2 seconds of him talking with them my bag was unloaded and I was out of there. Now come on people...was that really so hard? All he had to do was get his ass on the top of that bus and just give me my bag...no problems. I wasn't asking for my money back, or for an apology...I just wanted my bag so I could leave. I couldn't help having the thoughts of, "is this what I came back here for?"<br /><br />So, 6 hours after I left for what should have been a 2 1/2 hour ride, I return back to the hostel. I wish I could say I learned some valuable lesson in all of this, or that I reached my Zen place...but...I didn't. I just wasted an afternoon sitting in the hot sun, starving and thirsty. In the end, no matter how I felt or what I said, the situation didn't change...you have to just shake your head, grit your teeth, and say..."Burkina!"<br /><br />To add to my first 24 hours of bad luck,</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> my fabulous tub of grits completely busted open in my bag. Like...everything was covered in grits, and it looked like it snowed on the floor. Not to gross you all out, but I ashamedly shook them out of the bag, swept them up, and put them in a plastic baggy. I ate some this morning. Look, if the title of my blog gives you no clue, I really like grits, and it would take a month to get more sent to me. So, I am willing to sacrifice and lower my standards.<br /><br />It has been a bumpy first 24 hours back on Burkina soil, but I guess I can take solace in the fact that (a) it can only get better, (b) my cat, Shea, is still alive, or so they tell me, (c) my house is still standing, (d) it's getting cooler, and (e) the taxi driver returned my Nalgene bottle! YEAH!<br /><br />I want to thank everyone at home that I saw, and those I didn't, for your thoughts, phone calls, gifts, well-wishes, etc. I had such an amazing time visiting with all of you! Stay happy and healthy...and of course, stay close!<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-73477049725887869762007-11-15T17:42:00.000-08:002007-11-16T14:13:20.856-08:00I've only got one word for you...<span style="font-family:georgia;">I completed my 14 hour "hell-flight"--not including the 13 hour layover that I had in Paris...and here I am Stateside for the first time in 14 months. Before I get into the details of how the trip is going, I need only to tell you that being here has been pretty excellent. It isn't that I have done anything crazy, it has been the simple and ordinary that I have enjoyed the most--going to Starbucks for coffee, meeting with friends, watching TV, walking around the city, running in Central Park. I never realized how much I missed this life...and not the complexities, but the basic everyday. After only 2 weeks Burkina Faso seems like this dream. Does it really exist? Do people really live their lives there, while we live our lives here? It is so difficult to fathom that the two worlds exist in the same time-space continuum...they couldn't possibly be any more different!<br /><br />My flight over was anything but fun. Thanks to yours truly and my fabulous packing/planning skills I forgot both my only sweatshirt and my only jacket...they have been keeping my empty hut in Banzon company. So, armed with a short sleeve shirt, pants, and flip flops I braved the cold weather of Europe. I FROZE my ass off in 5 degree (celsius) weather in Paris. Yup, those dreams I had of hitting up the Starbucks in Paris...FOILED AGAIN! Instead I wandered around the Charles de Gaulle Airport (which by the way is the WORST and most BORING airport ever!) for 13 hours drinking nasty Lavazza coffee. Could I have braved what from my perspective was the Artic Tundra come to life in France? Probably. Would I have gotten dirty looks from stylish Parisians as they scoffed and said, "humph, stupid Americaine..."? Most definitely. Would I have enjoyed my Starbucks? With my luck...probably not. It would either end up closed or out of coffee for the day. And, lord knows with the way the French strike I would probably have been stuck paying another 20 Euro for a cab. Thanks to the less than stellar US dollar...NOT WORTH IT...even for Starbucks!<br /><br />After my very long 3-continent adventure I finally arrived safe and sound into New York City. The "City of Lights," "The City that Never Sleeps," "The Big Apple," "The Melting Pot of the World"...okay, enough with the nicknames. Mike met me there, and I swear it was as if I had never left. After 14 months away, I was able to adjust right back to life here as if I never left. Aside from the culture shock, that for the most part is just internal thoughts running through my head ("don't throw that away," "Oooohh, those onions and apples are huge," "Turn off those lights," "You mean the chicken is dead before you buy it? GREAT!"). It is really hard to believe that my two lives exist...here and there. There are times when an image or memory of my life in Burkina comes rushing forward, and all I want to do is tell someone about it, but in a lot of ways they wouldn't understand. So, I just sit there laughing to myself about the grocery stores, the toys, the food, the drinks....and a lot of words and feelings run through my head:<br /><br />Enormous<br />Bright<br />Gluttonous<br />Ecstatic<br />Happy<br />Sad<br />Reminiscent<br />Rich<br />Poor<br />Busy<br />Fast<br /><br />But, in the end...there is only one word that can truly sum up all that I have been feeling and thinking in the past two weeks (and it seems all too appropriate for this upcoming holiday).<br /><br /><strong>GRATEFUL</strong><br /><br />I am grateful for the choices and opportunities I have in life--choices/opportunities that my friends back in Burkina will probably never get. I am grateful for my family...I am grateful for Mike...I am grateful for my friends (here and in Burkina)...I am grateful for my health...I am grateful for a shower...I am grateful for the changing colors of the leaves...I am grateful for the crisp Fall air...<br /><br />As cheesy as it sounds, I can't help but smile and be grateful that this is my life, I am who I am, and I have the choices and options that I have. I know first-hand how easy it is to be blinded by other things--my job sucks, I don't have enough money, this guy in front of me is slow, where the hell is the bus!), and I think that in my trip home I have realized that I attained one of my biggest goals in going...to gain perspective.<br /><br />So...if you are reading this...STOP! Stop for just one second and think about your life...about all the good things that are in it that maybe you have overlooked or taken for granted. Be grateful for those things, and maybe send some good vibes/prayers/whatever you do over to those in the world that don't have the choices and the opportunities.<br /><br />Okay, that was my "Oprah" moment. I hope that everyone is enjoying the holidays, and if you haven't already...get in touch with me while I am home! Stay Safe.</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-60708953744081578442007-10-28T09:35:00.000-07:002007-11-18T05:43:21.956-08:00Ummm...no thank you!<span style="font-family:georgia;">I am preparing to travel to the "land of milk and honey" (aka The United States) and in Burkina nothing is predictable...so, before I go and bathe myself in chocolate, sushi, Jamba Juice, Starbucks, pizza, and anyother food related delicacy, I will share my last crazy moment...something I am certain does not happen often, if at all, in the States.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am walking from Marina Market (our "grocery store"). I am accustomed to being hassled by the random "faux types" that hang out there, and the homeless man that follow me...so this was no different. This guy follows beside me for about a 20 minute walk. He is babbling in French something about how Americans are Africans, we are all the same blood...my mom is his mom, and his dad is my dad...and that if I just gave him some money he could buy something to do something (he was not talking coherently...and my French isn't that good). I get to a street corner and he is still babbling and following, and I am trying to just ignore him and hail a cab. Of course, the one time I need one no one comes! So I walk to a further street corner to see if I will have better luck. I am standing there, and at this point I don't hear him so I am hoping he just slunk away. Suddenly, a pigeon flies (or drops) down dead about 2 feet from me. It twitches a couple times...then goes limp. I turn around to see my trusty friend--slingshot in hand--trotting over to claim his newly acquired prize...yummy. Now, I can handle a lot, but this just about crossed my gross out threshhold. He picks up the pigeon, whose poor head is bobbing around like a bobble-head doll, and he proceeds to attempt to stuff it in my bag. OH YES! I kid you not! My hands aren't free because they are full of bags so I try to run away. I keep refusing his "generous cadeau" as he calls it. At this point I am scared he is going to throw it at me. All of the Burkinabè look on in amusement...huh, I am glad someone is enjoying this. Then he walks away...YES, I'm free...wait, NO I'm not. He finds a clear plastic sachet and stuffs the dead bird into it...oh my gosh, is he really going to try and give it to me again or throw it at me? I freak out and start power walking across the busy street. It is like a scene from "Dodgeball"...except luckily I didn't get hit. A cab finally turns and stops right as the man is approaching me. He is holding out the bag yelling--"Mon cherie, c'est un cadeau pour vous. Vien prendre et manger! Mon cherie!" AAAAHHHH...I hope in and don't even ask where he is going, and nor do I care...I want outtie from this psycho.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyhoo, everyone in the car gets a nice laugh at the crazy man trying to give me that bird...and one man asks me why I didn't take it...he would have eaten it for dinner if I hadn't. Yeah...Only In Burkina (OIB).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Stay safe...and see you in </span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:georgia;" >3 DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">P.S. Revenge on the Paris Starbuck's will be mine. With a 13-hour layover in Paris I will not be denied my Tall Skim Caramel Macchiatto...VINDICATION! </span>Operation GSCMBSKS (see May 2007 entry) lives again!<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:georgia;" ><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"></span><br /></span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-69377902931590983052007-10-19T07:20:00.000-07:002007-10-19T07:41:11.532-07:00A worthy adversary...<span style="font-family: georgia;">It has been over one year in Burkina, and I feel like at this point I can pretty much handle anything. Roaches, scorpions, spiders, gross food, babies peeing on me...but it wasn't until my long "sejour" in Senegal, that my most worthy nemesis became known. Oh yes....with the sudden departure of my cat, and the emptiness of a house..."Jerry" decided to move in...him and his entire family. That's right. For the past month I have been battling with an INSANE mouse infestation. Let's start from the beginning of our "tete-a-tete."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">Encounter #1:<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">It is my first night home...I am attempting to sleep on a moldy bed, on moldy sheets, in a moldy house. Not easy or fun. Suddenly, a small furry creature skirts across the bottom of my bed, across my legs. Fully awake, I look to see 3 mice hiding under my table in my room. Not fun! I text Mike at 2 a.m. and ask him to come and kill them...unfortunately Air France only offers one flight a week to Burkina, and it's full, so he can't come.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">Encounter #2:<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am doing massive spring cleaning on my house, and I pull out an old suitcase to pack some books in. Upon opening the suitcase 3 mice JUMP (I didn't even know they could jump that high) out of my suitcase and scatter. My newly attained kitten (aka "mouse killing machine") stares on in disinterest and goes back to sleep. I discover that the mice have eaten and pissed on all of the clothes in the bag, and they are all ruined.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">Encounter #3:<br /></span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am cleaning dishes when a towel hanging on the wall moves slightly. My first thought is, the cat is chewming my towel. My second thought...wait, the cat is outside. BOOM, a small furry creature leaps from behind the towel onto my chest. I proceed to scream like a little baby, several people come running, and the mouse scurries off. I am laughed at by all the people in my courtyard.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">Encounter #4:</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">It is the end of Ramadan and I am cooking up a feast of chicken, spaghetti sauce, and spaghetti. All the burners on my stove top are in use. Suddenly, my stove top starts to shake, one of the flames starts going crazy, and I hear a screeching coming from underneath the stove top. I rush, shut the gas off for fear of being blown up, and the sound stops. I thought I had killed something, but upon further exploration I see nothing. The next day I notice a little tail sticking out from under my stove. After further exploration underneath, I see a mouse nicely grilled medium well to the bottom of my stove top. My host mother proceeds to pluck it out with her bare hands, and drag it by its tail until my cat becomes interested and starts to chew it apart. As gross as that is, my first thought is...HAHAHA, and I didn't even have to kill it myself!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;">Encounter #5:</span><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">I am sleeping peacefully thinking that all of the mice have been eradicated from my house. I am awoken by strange sounds from my cat. The cat jumps on my bed and starts chowing down on something I cannot see. I grab my flashlight only to be awoken to the sight of a bloody dead mouse being dragged across my bed. The cat has decided that my bed is the dinner table...ummm...NO! Should I have been grossed out by this...yes...was I...no. I was more annoyed than anything else, and proud that he had actually gotten one on his own. I took him and his prize outside to finish the meal, and then covered the blood with a sleeping bag....I slept like a baby that night. And don't worry....I cleaned the sheets the next morning.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">2 down! Hopefully no more go! I still hear random skitterings at night, and scary stories from neighbors about how mice like to nibble you at night. I hope that my fierce companion, Shea, is now aware of his role in my house. I really think that from this point forward I will be able to hand most any infestation...I feel much stronger...or maybe just de-sensitized. Either way, I hope you enjoyed that little story...it is to be continued!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">For those of you that have been supporting me in the marathon...I have some bad news. A recurring Staph Infection and a pinched nerve have left me virtually bed-ridden these past few weeks, and I have decided that it is best if I postpone my marathon entry until next year. I am VERY disappointed, but I would like to survive the marathon...and at this point that wouldn't be likely. I am like an old woman here...I swear I have cut off at least 10 years of my life span...and that is only in year 1. Anyway, I still look forward to seeing all of you...OCTOBER 31ST BABY! Stay safe!!</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"></span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;"></span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-2836143920707027912007-09-30T01:42:00.000-07:002007-09-30T02:24:52.846-07:00Time keeps on tickin', tickin', tickin' into the future...<div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;"> 1 year...that's right...1 year since I touched down in the paradise that I like to refer to as Burkina Faso. Can it really be that long? I honestly feel like I just got here, and that I am still trying to figure things out, but here I am crossing the 1 year hump, and getting ready for a new set of trainees to come in. I look back at all that has happened in this past year...all the hardships, the sicknesses, the friends lost--not died...they went home, and the triumphs and achievements. It has been a rollercoaster ride, but I feel like I am finally settling in to things here, in work and in life. What's cool is that in the next few months I get to help train the new "me's"...i.e. Small Business volunteers...have I really come that far? Sometimes you expect such HUGE change...but in the end it is almost imperceptible. Only time will tell what effects this experience has had on me.<br /></div></span><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;">Things in village were a bit difficult coming back. As most of you know, my cat Gateau went missing...and as the drama unfolded it was revealed that my homologue--he owns my house--hit and killed him. So, I was having a hard time dealing with that--especially because in Gateau's absence an entire mouse colony (mom, dad, babies, and all) set up shop in my house. I arrived at my house a little bit in shock at the massive change that had happened in the time I was in Senegal. 8 volunteers were sent home for various reasons while I was there, so I had lost some very good friends. On top of that, upon entering my house I discovered not only the mouse infestation, but also a SERIOUS mildew problem. All my leather sandals were molded, my belts and clothes (ALL OF THEM) were moldy and damp, my mattress had mildewed, and the dust was BAD. But, thanks to a 5 1/2 hour tranport ride to my village, I arrived at night and couldn't do much about it. That first night I was unpleasantly awoken to the noise of gnawing, and then a small creature skittering across my bed. Yes, peeps, that's right...I had a bedfellow...a large mouse. That almost did me in...I called Mike and made him talk to me for an hour because I couldn't sleep. The mold/dampness in my house made it difficult to breathe...yeah...I don't think I need to say more...it was just hard. I went from an air-conditioned hotel room with continental breakfast in Senegal...to this.<br /></div></span><div align="left"><span style="font-family:georgia;">My village did feel rather bad about my cat, and got me another, and although he is nothing like Gateau...he at least eats the mice, and that is thankful:</span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><div align="center"><br /></div></span><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115919463942487554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvTCC3uU41hq7mLutaDHl3hoK0uH2dQvaIY_m6T-bS-YTQ3MsuQSaA5SS-ukOCWfLZGVxlQgiUb8HdfbS1dzuTPwS39OSH31WNiWfbZ59Xy3dBLw4C8z2TEY2HBTjMZTMVAR7Dw/s320/Shea+picture.jpg" border="0" /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"> Say hello to my new kitten....Shea<br /></span></strong><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Work, on the other hand, has been going well, and keeping me busy. If not for that, I fear I probably wouldn't have lasted a year. My women's groups that did the shea butter formation just started the formal process to become a government recognized Union, and a Netherlandese NGO, SNV, is coming to my village to meet them and work with them in building their capacity and skills in business management, etc. My girls camp...THANK HEAVENS...also ended. I completed another 2 weeks of the camp and then we had the closing ceremony. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I loved doing the camp, don't get me wrong. I will say that it was at times the most stressful and frustrating thing in the world. Burkinabe are anything but reliable when it comes to saying they are going to do something. I had a last minute cancellation from the nurse at the hospital for my womens roundtable, and the teacher that was supposed to come never showed up. So, my roundtable consisted of 2 people...a secretary and a HIV/AIDS specialist. An hour later the Manager of the Caisse showed up...so it was a little dissappointing. Then the guy who was supposed to help me with composting just decided he didn't want to do it and not tell me...so in about 5 minutes I had to pull together a Fuel Briquette formation for my environment group. But, as I have said countless times before...somehow, someway...it always works out. The Fuel Briquette training was a huge success...and the most fun activity I did thus far...sometimes tons of planning doesn't always make a difference. Here is a couple pics of the girls doing the briquettes:</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115923226333838866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTIMwxR8HUggg4D5VZVhTMQQa5BDyg5w6JtBbpJ7liA2xW2Xe9c9YG38ko478T1s6S55AbzYixECJEGX1kdNyrkmv2hwt0Tks4bEMzo4kDWAihGIHDZPBBOA_Dnqd8_UQ0U_dHnQ/s320/Aug-Sept+07+002.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115923239218740770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6XxLWh5ByFDLRwnRX0LX9Yfdw9S4iSig5f-BBGGr4Z1AjesvqbjKqk9JCI_oR5PPgyz4Uf9PQMlICgw1K11eEdlG-zlnG9DcRJDmpw2ii3Q2TgptwLuKzI4oXHgUd4U1LZtB1A/s320/Aug-Sept+07+003.jpg" border="0" /></span></p><br /><p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115923252103642674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeZqsrC75qEqHYKKGbAdBaNOMzHHAEP7M4jWjjKZyGIOWDufj4RSAXzk8Sm7y5jCyrCnTlx-nR6uGTZemnpNlXvfSvy_utRHt3TcWXqKvHSfHk7ZsRPgQg99doYVGLjc82ejm-2Q/s320/Aug-Sept+07+005.jpg" border="0" /><br />It was a major stress for me to plan an event like this...up until this point I had hit up against cultural barriers...but nothing like this. Their rules/cultural regulations regarding parties (or "fetes" as they call them) and who you invite, what you serve, how much you serve, etc. is UNBELIEVABLE! I had to invite every major figure in our village, which skyrocketed the price of the party...it is a domino effect...you invite one person and you have to invite another, until I had a 60 person guest list. I wanted the girls to feel special, and feel that the community cared about this event...and I think I achieved that. We killed 11 chickens, and had TONS of rice, and cokes (yes...cokes...in Southern that means it could be any drink...Sprite, Fanta, Coke, whatever) for everyone. I definitely lost my patience more than once, and felt taken advantage of because I am the "white" girl...but you know what...I had the money, everyone enjoyed themselves, and in the end I threw a party for 60 people and spent about $85 USD...not bad. Here is a picture of the girls after they had received their certificates:</span></p><span style="font-family:georgia;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115924364500172354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNaxYi1xq9YixqpUpWtNmcXfDiYxaOsd3BrZQqfl59G9dVFSF_q8cs0s4bGavxINQGYsDlLjBMlyEMtLlR59jySzfauobgwMXdXevUQfm_6tz5BpFtXshXHx57Cx02mOL22SqxA/s400/Aug-Sept+07+008.jpg" border="0" /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, I am at a bit of a break in my work, and getting ready to be out of my village for quite a while. I will be in village for a couple of weeks, including several days of hosting some trainees in my village so they can get the "vrai" village experience. After that I pack my stuff and leave village for good for 6 weeks! I will spend a week at the training center, board a plane to the USA...WOO HOO, and then after arriving back in Burkina I will spend another week and a half with the trainees as they prepare to swear in and move to their sites. So...I leave my village Oct. 21st and don't get back until Dec. 14th!!! To be honest, I am not all that happy about it, considering that my work comes to a complete halt...but, I am excited about visiting home and helping with the new trainees...so my village will survive. I have a lot of ideas for small projects to start in my village when I get back: A school garden to supplement their canteen lunches, a girls soccer club, an after-school study program for girls, a business management workshop, and of course their is always Shea butter kickin' around. I hope to bring home lots of samples for you all to try!</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Anyways, otherwise, all is well. I am battling yet another case of Staph infection, and trying to make a decision on my marathon hopes. Right now my ankle is swollen like a grapefruit, and I am battling with my stubborness on what to do. I will keep you posted. EITHER WAY, I will be home on October 31st ready to visit and take in as much of America as I can. I miss you all...and I will see you soon! Stay close!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-41770309778584446992007-09-08T00:45:00.000-07:002007-09-08T01:04:30.898-07:00Burkina Sweet Burkina!I have had serious dental work in Africa...and I live to tell the tale! As my Aunt told me, that is a first for a Gottlieb. So, I am happy to set the family record. Who is spreading this vicious rumor that root canals hurt...STOP IT...because they don't. HUGE MYTH! As scared as I was, the dentist was amazing, and I never really felt any pain. I have a new tooth to show for it...not gold, ceramic...but still fun all the same. I am glad that this is behind me, and I can move on to more interesting illnesses like parasites and giardia. It isn't all that cool to say, "yeah, I am here on dental"...much cooler to say something like, "yeah, I'm here because I have a parasite living in my intestinal tract eating away at the lining."<br /><br />Burkina Sweet Burkina! Who thought I would ever say that! After a 3-week sejour in Dakar, Senegal I am back in familiar territory. It felt so good to hear a local language that is familiar...even if after a year I still don't know what the hell people are saying. It felt good to see everyone, and get caught up on all the PC Burkina Faso gossip...and believe me there is a lot! Just in the 3 weeks that I was in Senegal 6 people went home (either ET'ed or Separated). So, it has been a whirlwind trip to the airport everyday to say goodbye to someone else.<br /><br />I had such a great time in Senegal...from running with my Senegalese friend Fatou, to sunbathing on one of their many islands, to scuba-diving--that's right...scuba-diving...awesome! I ate my way through most of the wonderful restaurants, met some great volunteers and people, and now it's over. When I came back from Israel it was a difficult transition, and I am feeling that again. It is hard to be back, having been away for so long, and know exactly where to pick up again. I have to rejuvenate my girl's camp, work on shea butter, and at the end of this month I will be welcoming the new trainees! Can you believe it...a year...how does that go by so fast?!?! My head is still spinning...<br /><br />Anyhoo, so...back on my crappy transport to village and back to my life in Burkina. I am scared to death to see what my house looks like. One of my other friends who left for a few weeks came back to mildew and a termite infestation. So, I am afraid I will have my work cut out for me. Lord help me...if there are roaches and spiders (and no Gateau to eat them for me)...I don't know. I think I will pay some small child to just clean my house out for me...the beauty of Africa. Best part is, that would probably either be free or cost me $.50. Gotta love it.<br /><br />What I am most excited about is doing my last 2 months of marathon training in village. NOT!! Yeah, this should be a blast trying to avoid gigantic mud puddles, potholes, and random farm animals. Could someone please remind me what I was thinking? I have come to a realization in the past few weeks...I am a social runner...much like a social drinker. That whole "runners high" thing...yeah, I don't get that. That is a load of crap. What I loved most about marathon training last time was the great friends that I made...so that when you go on that 20 mile hell run you at least have company and conversation...a comraderie. Now, all I have is my iPod and random people yelling at me as I go. And, lets not forget the weather conditions on top of that. How do these Kenyans do it? No wonder they win everything. Yeah...not fun! This may quite possibly be the hardest thing I have ever done. And, once again I remind you, if you would like to show your support--which I know you all want to do...hehehe, click the link at the top left of my blog to donate to my charity! I need your help to succeed in raising $2500!!<br /><br />Anyhoo, I am boring you...so I will let you go for now. Stay safe, happy, and healthy. I will probably get back to the computer in a couple of weeks. So...talk to you soon...and SEE YOU IN 2 MONTHS!GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-10398682779309514792007-08-31T06:33:00.000-07:002007-09-03T09:50:21.175-07:00RIP - My Kitty, Gateau<p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Well, I had heard a few days ago, but now with his continued dissappearance it is confirmed. My wonderful cat, Gateau, is gone...</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I know he is just a cat, but having been with me since the beginning he has become my family and my best friend. He took care of all my creep crawlies, snuggled on my lap, and was my companion.</span></p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='280' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dws9FUlsWZkC_TaE40p_NP5iESqIkIReSK6Dfm4DHUEGwn0JBQbG_Irif8l1fUiCy0CYERqhDX_ZoQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">I am still in Senegal, so I feel a bit powerless about the whole thing right now, and as you know I have a <strong>LOT</strong> of free time on my hands right now, so I made this video...</span></p><p><span style="font-family:georgia;">Hopefully, I will be back in Burkina next Thursday. I will keep you all posted. Stay close!</span></p>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24483664.post-58373157790452800362007-08-26T11:55:00.000-07:002007-08-31T09:34:57.184-07:00More Misadventures as GRITS navigates West Africa...<span style="font-family:georgia;">Hello from Dakar, Senegal! Sorry it has taken me so long to provide an update...I do have a lot of free time, but somehow it flies by so fast. I had a pretty interesting last night in Burkina Faso before I left to come here.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Myself, and two other volunteers decided to go out and have dinner and drinks in downtown Ouagadougou. Now, ask anyone and they will tell you that Ouaga is one of the safest capitals in West Africa. The evening goes by without incident, save for a few street sellers being a little more than persistent. We finish dinner and head out to the road to catch a cab. One cab stops, and as usual because we are foreigners, we get quoted some obscene price, so we say no thanks and move on to the next cab. We finally agree on a price, and hop in. Now, I will admit that I wasn't being all that attentive...but as we are sitting there I am texting away on my cell phone. A hand reaches into the window. Now, logically I should have been surprised by this fact...but in typical Stephanie fashion...i was completely oblivious. I thought, "why is that guy reaching in here? Is the other taxi driver pissed that we didn't go with him?" Hahaha...well, I learned pretty quickly why this hand was in the car. Yup, this little street urchin wanted my cell phone. I send my text message, and as the cab pulls away I realize that it isn't just my hand on my cell phone...but his too! He starts running by the car, and we engage in a tug-of-war of sorts over my cell. I have two hands on it, he has one. Jerk, jerk, jerk...I let out an "Eek!" type scream--like if you saw a roach on the wall or something. Everyone in the car is unaware of what's going on. After several tugs back and forth, and my child-like screech, I win the cell phone! HAHA...VICTORIOUS! I wanted to go back and confront the guy, but the taxi just kept going...and little did I know that not only was my fun-filled night not over, but that the taxi had an important role to play.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">We round the corner, only to be flagged down by two women on the street. My first reaction is, "hell no...no room." Well, as it turns out this poor woman is actually in labor! Yes, my friends, when they go into labor they calmly stand outside and hail a cab. We all got out and offered her the cab, but the driver insisted that we come along. He promised it would only take a few minutes to drop her off. I am sitting in the backseat scared to death that her water is going to break on me or something. She seems so calm, even while knowing that her birth would be performed withou anesthesia (hah...epidural? What?) and in a room furnished with 2 buckets (if she is lucky). As we speed along I look her way and see that she has her head buried in her mother's shoulder, and she is whimpering. To break the tension, I ask them whether it is a boy or a girl...they don't know. "Do you have any names picked out," I ask. No...they haven't thought that far ahead. Well, I say, don't worry...if it's a girl you can call it Stephanie and if it is a boy it can be Stephane. Problem solved. They both giggle, and I see the tension wipe from the girl's face...for just a second. We pull up, she gets out, we wish her the best, and we're off. Crisis averted, and no need to deliver a baby in a taxi. Whew!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">It was an interesting night, to say the least...and if anyone asks you what really happened. I slammed the robber with the door, kicked him in the groin and rode away laughing. I then proceeded to deliver a baby in the taxi, and in my honor they named it Stephanie. Now...start that rumor mill!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Now, here I am in Senegal in the middle of my dental work. By the time I am done I will have a brand new tooth (not a gold one unfortunately...I tried). Senegal is pretty great...it's crowded, busy, and modern...and most importantly has sushi, imported beer, and ice cream. Truly, I couldn't ask for more. I have even been keeping up on my running. I met a member of the Senegal National Junior Track Team, and she offered to run with me...so that has been quite an experience. I warned her ahead of time that, "white people can't jump...or run...especially this white person." So, if she is happy going at a pace that I am certain she could crawl at...then I would be happy to run with her. Luckily, she obliged...and being that she is a sprinter and only does the 200m and 400m races, I actually outrun her at times. Now THAT is a boost to the ego.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I have another week and a half here as they make the crown, and ensure that the infection has entirely gone away. Most people would think that I am living in the lap of luxury--and don't get me wrong, I am enjoying myself!--but I will be honest with you folks...as cheesy as it sounds...I miss my village, I miss my friends, and I miss my cat. Home is where the heart is...and never before has that rung as true for me. Burkina Faso may not have the food, the beaches, the beer, and the ice cream, but in the past 11 months it has become a sort of home to me. So, I am looking forward to finishing here and heading back.<br /><br />For those of you that are reading this twice, or are just bored, here is a little present. I finally, with all the time I have here, have been able to edit my first little video. My neighbors were cementing their courtyard so that they could dry rice...so all the surrounding neighbor women got together and helped...it was really amazing...watch and see:<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='280' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwsbYVqhAnA99hPYiXJ2G6rFQLKcuiLWuWdzJCkrRba1GGzzxgpGqbw_B-2bKSY-ocrtgCLaSTSxfU' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">The countdown continues to "Stephanie's Tour d'Etats Unis"...2 months! DON'T FORGET...hop on to my marathon fundraising page to make a donation to the Children's IBD Center of Mt. Sinai (Click Here: </span><a style="font-family: georgia;" href="https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=240021&lis=1&amp;amp;kntae240021=1F148B72E1DD42EBAB9FFA43AE7B6AC6&supId=185065766">Steph's Fundraising Page</a><span style="font-family:georgia;">). $5, $10, $20, $100...whatever! It all pushes me closer to my goal of raising $2500...so pop out those wallets and get to donatin'!!!! Support me as I raise money and train to run in the 2007 ING NYC Marathon!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">I hope you are all well, safe, and dry--for those of you in the Midwest. I am thinking of all of you. Stay Close!</span>GRITS 2 NYChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09149053067651757898noreply@blogger.com0