The Library is Open!

It took a little longer than expected, of course, but my school and I were finally able to buy, catalogue, and organize all the books we bought, and open the resource center at my school. With sporadic school closures and striking across the country in the months of February, March and April, things took a lot longer to get started than expected. (For more info on the situation, check out: http://topics.nytimes.com/top/news/international/countriesandterritories/burkinafaso/index.html )

The first day that the library opened, I went around to each of the classes in the school with my school’s principal. We showed them some examples of the types of books and resources available—everything from comic books to novels to dictionaries and exercise practice books. We explained to them how the library would function, and how the books should be treated—don’t sleep on them, don’t sit on them, don’t write on the pages! Students are allowed to check out the books for one week at a time. We have also chosen among the school two students to act as librarians. They’re at the tops of their class—very capable, dynamic kids, quick learners, and passionate about the functionality of the library. Next year, students will pay a small resource fee (less than the price of the cheapest book!) so that the school will be able to purchase more books and provide even more for the hungry minds of our students.

In the days after the library opened, I taught class as normal. I’d be writing a math problem on the board, then turn around only to see kids with their noses in the books! I didn’t quite know what to do. “Faites attention!” I’d say. (Though, secretly, I was overjoyed that they were so eager to read that they didn’t even want to stop for class.)

A thousand thanks are not enough to all my friends and family who donated to this project. My school’s staff and students recognize your generosity, and assure me that the resource room will continue to grow and to benefit students for years to come.

A Day in the Life

So, for the last few weeks, schools have been closed due to student striking. As a result, I’ve been in a bit of purgatory—I don’t quite know when school will start again, but I can’t go too far from home, because we could start up again any day now. Serendipitously, there was a nation-wide polio vaccination campaign going on at the time, so as soon as I found out, I stopped by the village hospital to ask how I could help. Psyched to have me, they sent me out with a vaccination team to go door to door, giving the oral vaccine to kids under five.

Vaccinating, I thought, is serious business. The goal was to vaccinate all kids under five in Thyou and its surrounding villages—about one thousand of them. We headed out on the first day on bikes with a cooler full of vaccine, sweet “Kick Polio OUT of Burkina!” apparel, and some forms to document the vaccination. The vaccination team I joined comprised one of my closer friends in village, a woman who makes millet beer and sells it at market. “It’s a shame it’s Friday,” she said, referring to the Muslim day of rest. “Otherwise we could quench our thirst.” The meaning of her statement didn’t quite register with me—it was hot, and I was thirsty too. Luckily, I’d brought water. We were very productive, able to vaccinate almost all the kids in our assigned area.

Well, the next day, Saturday, was market day. Market day is always huge. People come in from all over, they visit friends and cruise around the village on mopeds and bikes. All the while, we were trying our best to vaccinate.

7:00am: I arrive at the village hospital. As always, I’m the first person there. Even when I try to show up late (more than fashionably), I look the fool, and wait a half hour for others to start trickling in.

8:00am: Everyone’s finally in, we’re given our assignments and we head out to cover the ground we missed the day before.

8:15am: My team and I hop on our bikes and head out.

8:17am: First stop of the day. We walk into a big family’s courtyard. There’s a lot of kids running around, so I set down the cooler and set about checking to see if they’re vaccinated (we mark a fingernail with a permanent marker to avoid double-vaccinating). I soon realize that all these kids were vaccinated the day before. I ask my friend, “Oh, yes,” she says. “We got them all already. Here, have a seat.” She immediately passes me a calabash full of millet beer, and I realize the purpose of our visit. After a few good gulps, we move along. Onto vaccinating children.

8:45am: “Hold on, Monsieur, let’s stop here for a second and have a drink.” There’s a woman with a big blue barrel full of millet beer on a stool under a tree, a few early customers lounging about. And who am I to refuse? This is not my culture, and I can neither pass judgment nor change their plan. We have some more. We move along.

8:50-something am: We’re following through now. It’s getting hot. I can feel some sweat dripping down my back. I haven’t touched the water bottle in my backpack. We manage to find a few kids who weren’t at home yesterday. We give them vaccines; move around to a few other families. No worries.

9:30-something: “Monsieur, we should go to market now and see if we can’t find some children at market who’ve been skipped over.” Seems logical to me.

10-ish: “Hold on, let’s stop in the shade here and rest while we fill out the documentation.” We stop in the shade, go back through the numbers, cool down a little bit. Down the path, we see a woman and an older girl approaching, donkey in tow. In a cart strapped to the donkey, there’s another big blue barrel. She’s got the goods. “Hey!” the other woman on my team calls out. Says something in Moore. She pulls a calabash out of the cart and dips it in the barrel. Brings it over to us, balancing carefully—it’s filled to the brim.

10-ish, later: “Let’s get going.” I stand up and steady myself. The two women suppress a chuckle. I’m not used to this like they are. But I’m a coordinated young man. I hop on my bike and start following. Further down the road, we cross paths with a young man in vaccination apparel. They converse in Moore. I catch “going to market” something about “Monsieur”. The young man turns to me, “Will you go back out with me, Monsieur?” No objections. He’s going alone and could use the help.

Almost 11:00: “Are you thirsty?” he asks, stopping next to the second woman I saw today. “I am, will you join me?” Well, I don’t want to be culturally inappropriate… A few gulps, and we’re on our way. We hit a family courtyard that was having a funeral the day before, where it was inappropriate to come by vaccinating. A bunch of kids here. We shake hands with the older family members, give a few condolences. Vaccinate, mark their hands. Say thanks, God bless, God bring you health, God will help us, God will repair us. Amen, Amen, Amen. “Shall we continue, monsieur?”

Sometime before noon: I see we are approaching another tree with two millet beer vendors sitting underneath. Obviously, we can’t be biased towards one, so we taste it from both. A tipsy old lady challenges the white man to a foot race. He counts down in Moore (laughter), fakes injury (laughter). “Is your foot okay!?” “Oui, oui. I was faking.” (laughter).

Is it Saturday?: “Shall we continue to market, Monsieur” Well, I suppose so. We continue. We grab a few kids to check if they’ve received vaccines. “HEY!” we hear, cruising by. Something is said in Moore. “She’s offering us a drink, Monsieur”. It’s one of the vendors from before. When it’s offered, you don’t pay. Well, we’re not the types to turn down a free drink.

Sometime in March, some place in Africa: We’re walking through market. The young man I’m with calling out to every woman-with-child nearby. “Did your kid get medicine?” “Did your kid get medicine?” We stop in one of the dens. The young man offers me more. I’m trying to count how many times I’ve stopped to drink millet beer today—I’m totally lost on volume. “I’ve had a lot,” I say. “Well, I haven’t!” says the young man. He buys a calabash. The vendor doesn’t have change. He takes change in the form of another calabash.

Quelle heure es-(wait...how do you conjugate that?): “Let’s get back to the hospital, Monsieur. It’s about time to eat.” We start on the way back. He sees a large group of children. Turns out, they’re not vaccinated. But we’re out of medicine! We get the kids to follow us back to the hospital—about 20 of them in tow behind our bikes. We show up. The nurses are filling out paperwork. They find some extra vaccine for these kids. “Thanks Monsieur, you can head home. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lunch time: This will be the first time I eat today. I need a nap.

So, you say you want a revolution?

I hope the holidays are treating you well. I'm here in Ouagadougou, awaiting the much delayed (four days!) arrival of a friend from home.Even transportation here doesn't get delayed that long. Hundreds of flights into and out of Paris have been cancelled due to the wrath of the snow gods--if only Burkina could be so lucky.

We'll probably do the x-mas thing here. Eat things and drink drinks. Then run around the country a bit. See if we can't catch sight of a few elephants or feed a chicken to a crocodile before he flies back out after the new year.

As many of you know, I've been working for the larger part of my service here on starting a library at my school, to provide my students with some of the basic educational resources that my school lacks--workbooks, novels, maps, and textbooks. Lucky for us, our school already has a well-outfitted room for the occasion: Sturdy metal bookcases that close and lock are installed in the walls, where we can store the books, and allow students access to them during the day.

In light of this, I've been searching for resources to fill in some of this room's empty space. Without novels, for example, the students get little exposure to the french language--they lack, in large part, that most basic of educational needs: literacy. At the end of middle school and high school, these students have to take a national exam that will qualify them for higher paying jobs and allow them to continue their education. This test is given yearly, and since my school opened in 2000, less than 15 out of 150 or more students in the highest class have obained a passing note. Meaning that each year, less than 10% of the students eligible to take this exam actually pass, and earn the right to pursue higher education and better jobs.

Unfortunately, statistics like this are commonplace in Burkina Faso, and it's my job to try--in whatever way I can--to improve them. With books and access to study tools, my students will be better prepared for these exams. They can, with motivation, attain a better grasp on the french language and improve their capacity to learn.

So, alongside the school's faculty and teachers, I've researched the prices for a set of books and materials that will be a good foundation to start the library at my school. I hope that before the end of this school year, we can obtain these resources and put them to use. I plan to use my knowledge and experience to start this project off on the right path, so that it will be sustainable, so that it will grow, and so that it will continue to provide for my students' hungry minds even after I am gone.

In total, the resources we need will cost a little over two thousand dollars. Peace Corps has set up a website for me where I can receive donations for the project quickly and easily. When the amount is obtained, the funds will be released, and the library will begin. If you'd like to make a donation, however small, please visit the site below. There is a button on the right side of the screen which will allow you to do so:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=686-137

The resources obtained through this project are, of course, a minimum. We would be overjoyed to recieve more resources to stuff the shelves of our library--french novels, workbooks, reference books. Even comic books or magazines. Things that kids are excited to look at and read about that set their curiosities alight. If you'd like to aid the project in this way, please contact me directly via email. We can certainly arrange it. Also, please feel free to forward this information to others. Though, please assure yourself that they have not already recieved it. I know I hate spam as much as anyone. (Though, fried up with a few onions and tomatoes and thrown on top of spaghetti, it can be rather tasty.)

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year to all. See you soon.

Trimester Summary 2.1

WARNING: The content of the following post contains no humor, no tearjerking, and nothing at all out of the ordinary. Consider it a nod to how life on the third rock from the sun can be pretty much the same anywhere. Consider yourself warned.

The end of another trimester. The beginning of the school year is fun. Kids are excited to be back, interested in learning something new, but three months go by, and that all becomes mundane. Teachers and students lose motivation, lose interest. Need change. Students start to cause trouble, sleep in class, ignore their lessons…the break is coming up and it occupies their thoughts. Teachers want to get through material, but get fed up grading tests, writing lessons, teaching uninterested students.

Teaching, I realize, requires much more than having your material down. You’ve got to be able to explain it in simple words, convey complex ideas, and illustrate their importance. Make sure kids CARE about what they’re learning.

Often, I’ll try to play a game to revive zoning-out minds. Or I’ll switch to speaking English to see if anyone’s paying attention. Snap them to it. But what happens when students start expecting these games? Start asking for them in lieu of class? The tactful teacher uses these tools in moderation, keeping student minds sprite and ready, but it’s a subtle art. And I find, as the trimester moves along, that I become less capable, less forgiving, more short-fused. And I start looking for diversion to take my mind off of this monotony, to not take my frustration with uninterested students back out on them. To not create a vicious cycle.

I found myself having a drink and eating a whole chicken with a staff member of my school yesterday evening. Two faculty members from the primary school inspection in town came by and sat down with us. “The end of the trimester is great,” one said. “It makes me feel reborn, renewed.” We all chuckled for the truth in it.

Happy holidays to everyone.

Thanksgiving Number 2

Another holiday down. Last year, we got together and substituted chickens for turkey, thinking it wouldn't be possible to find "dendon". Then, on the next day, walking out to the bus home, we passed two fat, flirting, flightless turkeys and cursed them for having escaped our eyes.

Well, this year we made it happen. One volunteer found a live one in his town, named him Brian, tied his legs together and packed him onto a public bus (normal practice), to bring up to the feast. We spent that evening hanging out with him in the courtyard. Next morning, found a butcher in town and paid him in the organs we didn't want to eat. Lit up some charcoal, stacked a massive pot on top and threw Brian's meaty corpse in there to roast for a few hours. Meanwhile, various side dishes were made--onions, green beans, apple pie. Opened a can of cranberry sauce sent from America with a kitchen knife (can opener was not to be found). Yours truly carved Mr. Brian up after the cook sliced open his thumb. It even got a little chilly, and we put windbreakers on. Football was the only thing missing. Woke up at 7am after the night's food coma. Ate apple pie and mashed potatoes for breakfast before hopping on a bus back home. Back to sweat dripping down my back in front of 80 clueless students.

Song Requests: Part I

I'll start with little sis's questions, because they're here and accessible, and I have internet access. I got a few more very good writing suggestions, which I'm going to work on when I get a chance in village.

She asks:
1. Do you want to come back next year or are you dreading it more than youre looking forward to it?
Yes. I look forward to coming back. It's been two years already since I've seen snow. It'll be three by the time I see it next. And of course there's American cuisine--tube steaks and meat patties, hormone-pumped chickens with breasts so big, meaty and boneless as to make Playmate jealous. And I dearly miss my Rock'n'Roll. I feel so unable to express myself without amplification. I often think of my stereo, sitting in a corner, gathering dust.

Still, things happen to me daily that I fear the loss of. I just recently started taking my study of Moore seriously--and if I don't learn a lot quickly, I never will. And who cares if it's not useful back home? It's just kind of cool... Will I ever learn to make dolo? What will happen in my students lives? What great things will they grow up to accomplish?

A great number of my volunteer friends from my last year of service have finished their service. Will I ever see them again? How quickly it goes...

But I'll be glad to go back. To be on track towards somewhere. To work hard and be able to rely on co-workers with a professionalism and attitude towards work that, unfortunately, is rare here. And the simple access to resources. My work here moves so slowly not only because of the culture, but because of the sparsity of infrastructure.

Still, that's a year from now. I'm only half done, and it's not until now that I feel truly capable in what I do here--work and otherwise. So it's far too soon to start dreaming of ice cream cones and microphones.


2. How is the dry season coming along?
Not quite dry yet. It still rains about weekly. But before I know it, i'll be waking up in the middle of the night to dig dry black rocks out of my nostrils.

3. How is school going? I hear you are teaching Physics and Math this year. Do the kids get it? What types of labs are you doing with them?
Good. Yes. Two math classes and one physics/chemistry. Math is fun. I can do exercises and ask applicable questions to the kids. In the lowest level, some of the kids--especially at the beginning of the year like this--have a very feeble grasp of french. It's frustrating to ask a four word question and get a blank stare in response. But the'll get a hold on it soon enough. No labs to teach. No labs to teach in! I do experiments in front of the class, reminiscent of the Late Show's "Does it float?" and my own pyrotechnic experiments in the back yard as a kid.

4. AFRICA HAS SNAILS?!??!?!
Yes. In Moore, they are called garweongo ("gar-ah-way-own-go"). Seems excessive in syllables. Guy was BIG, though!
I also saw the biggest snake on the african continent on a hike the other day. I was about to jump off a rock I had been climbing with my new volunteer neighbor, when she pointed out to me the strange, scaly, diamond-shaped texture of the ground deep down, between the weeds. I pulled up a nearby plant and started poking it down below. Suddenly, the earth shook. The weeds around the beast shuffled like a hurricane was passing. The clouds parted and lightning struck. I felt myself floating up above the ground, in the presence of a mythical god--the African Rock Python. It's a boa constrictor. It eats goats, my village friends say. We don't think it's ever caught a kid.
Moore: snake=waafo, african rock python=waa-kenfo. Best leave him be...

5. How DO magnets work?
Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to propose this question. I think it has to do with the ionization of the metal inside the magnet. It creates circular fields which grow more neutral towards the middle of the magnet, and align anything with a charge along it's axis, which is in fact perpendicular to the axis of an electric field. I forget why this matters. Perhaps it doesn't. Perhaps nothing does.

6. Do you want Chili's chips and dip?
Shut up. Of course.
Nowadays I crave wierd things like rice with vegetable sauce and fried dough balls. Barbequed corn. Fresh bread. The things that are, if not immediately accesible, at least within my near future. I didn't convince myself of it. It just happened. I miss cheese.

7. What are you going to be for Halloween?
A scary white dude with glasses and a beard.

8. How many girlfriends does Mirza have these days?
I don't inquire about his goings about, and he leaves me to my own. He's like any good roommate.

9. What's the bat situation at school like?
My school had a bit of a bat problem, especially over the summer when nobody was using the classrooms. They were hanging, ubiquitous and stalagtitic, from the rafters of one classroom. The ground was carpeted black in their waste. It smelled unpleasant.
We had somewhat of a specialist come in to lay down a chemical that would make them leave. It worked for the most part. Though every once in a while I hear a strangely mammalian chirp in response to a question posed in class. Could be a choked up student...


Hope that clears a few things up.

Blogity Blah Block

I'm having what I will choose to refer to as "Blogger's Block".

I want to write something that is interesting to you, dear reader. I want to write something that makes you think, "wow!" Of course, only wanting to write something interesting is a sure-fire route to monotonous boredom. I've said it before: I'm way past the point where this experience is fresh as muffins and exhilarating as free-falling. I'm at home here. I really can't see myself doing anything else, being anywhere else, at this moment. So, what new experiences are there to write about!? None that seem worth blogging (see: writing home) about. I ran (and biked) around a lot this summer. A lot of the time feeling bad for not being at home, with my puppy, in my house. I was, more or less, working. There were few dull moments. I'm a little nervous--how will I cope with the drawn-out, hazy, humid days of village life again?

And I've got more work to do even before school starts in the first week of October. I had imagined that summer would stretch on forever. That I'd wake up on my creaky cot, sweating at eleven o'clock, and ask "wait...when's market day? I need something to do." As it turns out, there was a short vacation (it seems so long ago!) and a whole lot of work that needed doing. A fat block of business in between the static school year. This time, I can't wait for school to start. I get to stay put.

In another way, maybe all the work I've been doing has kept me up to pace. I'm not ready to slow down, and it wont be hard, now, to jump into it. I'm getting things started on my library project. I've decided to man up and do the leg work of researching book prices. (Until recently, I was too nervous about the inadequacies of my french to do so solo.) But running around today, for the first time, the formerly-daunting Ouagadougou felt like my proverbial oyster. No heckler on the streetside could irk me. No falter of language could slow me down. Only the magnifying sun provoked curses from under my breath. But, that's expected. I feel capable, on top of things, excited. Happy.

It was in this moment that I realized I've been living for the last year in subconscious fear! I'd been nervous about what people wanted from me. I'd become unfriendly to people I didn't know. As soon as I admitted that I AM capable of getting things done here, I quickly shirked my inhibitions. I'm not fearful anymore. I can do anything here--as well, if not better than I could in the so-distant home. I have more at my disposal.

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So, speaking of writer's block, I have a new idea: send me questions! Comment them here or email me. On anything. Burkina's culture. The weather. My thoughts on the french language. What color was the slop I ate for breakfast? Magnets! how the heck do they work? I think this exercise will inject some freshness into this here webpage. I look forward to pontificating.

J

Here are some pictures:

Kids with a snail we found while cleaning my yard.

Landscape engineers.

Girl selling peanuts.

At a bus station.

Some kid somewhere.