Here I am...

Today, for the very first time ever, I French braided my hair into pigtails. Hair, it turns out, can actually start to get long when you stop cutting it.

I've tried to do this before, quite recently actually, but it hasn't been altogether successful.

This task was made interesting by the fact that I haven't washed my hair in quite some time. Those of you who know me might not be too surprised to discover that I decided a while ago to stop washing my hair just for fun. Just because I thought I might like how it feels and looks. Kind of chunky without all of the social and physical aspects of dreadlocks. Kind of cartoon character hair is how I imagined it.

Well, deciding not to wash your hair for an undefined period of time is one thing when you live in a house with running water that flows like wine and from a particularly useful thing called a shower head, but when you live in a house slightly more removed from this luxury the choice aspect of the decision starts to come from a slightly different angle. The whole process included, it takes me about an hour to get ten and a half gallons of water. I take two 20-liter plastic bidons halfway across my quartier to a faucet where I pay a teeny bit per jug to fill 'em up before attaching them to my bike and walking them back to my home. There is a much closer source of water to my house, a well about ten feet from my courtyard that is literally a hundred feet deep with a cement barrier around it that only goes up to just below my knees. Not only is it incredibly difficult to pull buckets of water up from such a profound depth, it is also incredibly slippery and dangerous near this well. I help the ladies with their buckets from time to time in order to get badass cred, but my nun friend pretty much told that if I didn't fall in and die she'd come down and kill me if she found out I was getting my water from there.

Imagine a large jolly lady in a habit laughing after saying this. My nun friend has an interesting way of getting her points across and a fun sense of humor.

So yes...it takes a lot more effort to get water, and it would currently take a lot more water than normal to really wash my hair, so the choice becomes pretty easy nowadays when I fill up my bath bucket and take it to my little shower space outside.

Someday I'll wash my hair again.


I am incredibly happy in my new house, my real house, my house in a community with kids and neighbors and Burkinabè. I am incredibly happy with my flashlight and my dust and my little moringa tree seeds planted in my courtyard. I am so happy to wander over to Claudia's house at night and eat tô with her and her family, and sit and chat and look up at the stars until I am too tired to keep my eyes open and must walk through the millet and corn and bean fields to my house to go to sleep. I am very excited about working with the health center in my quartier and with my school up on the hill.

Year two is lookin' good.