Just a quick little note about life

It is possible that months 18ish through...whatever last month was...21?...were the most difficult months of my time here in Burkina. The repetitive comments, sexist "jokes", the calling of "nasara" were all getting old, very old, wearing away my last nerve old. I began counting down in earnest the time I had left before I could go home, determined to stay a full two years until August 25th instead of taking advantage of our option to leave a month earlier. The two-year mark has been symbolically important to me. Two Full Years.

But something happened after my Close of Service conference, and I'll tell you what it was. I was hoping that the week spent with volunteer friends, talking about our lives and our activities and our hopes for the immediate future, would inspire me and reignite my motivation for this last chunk of time I have here. ...but it didn't.

The morning I left the hotel was a morning without fanfare...everyone was dispersing and I walked through the doors alone, meandering through many hot under-construction roads before finally finding a taximan willing to not ask for a ridiculous fare. Got to the bus station and definitely did NOT make friends with the lady in the ticket booth who not only didn't seem to want to do her job but also didn't seem to want to be polite about it. My patience snapped and I was preeettttyyy American in my response to her reprehensible customer service. Finally I got on the bus and just sat there in indignant upsetness. What the hell? Why are little things like this so hard, that used to be so easy?

The bus ride was ok, and I spent my first day back in Kongoussi with Thomas, talking about our weeks and our lives, trying to figure out the logic puzzle of my post Peace Corps travel plans and how they will fit in with the rest of my time here. Not easy to do...I want to work during the coming Peace Corps training this June, I want to visit Mali...but I want to be in my community for a good solid time towards the end. I could try to arrange an internship with a local organization for a month or so during cultivation season, or be in the fields with my friends, or run some activities that I've always thought about running...but what about getting home to travel with friends? Or seeing bits of the world on my way back? In bed at my house the following evening, I tossed and turned with manic excitement and a new resolve...the way to fit everything in is to go PAST my August COS date to September...not to COS a month early or even right on time, but to take the offer to stay an extra 30 days. Six more months.

Six months! That is its own legitimate chunk of time. I can face these six months as though they are months of their own, not the end of a culmination of 27 of them. Living in Kongoussi is not something I will easily be able to do again. Traveling to neighboring countries is much easier now than it'll probably be for a long while, if ever.

I don't know exactly how I did it but I forced a change of attitude, a new mindset. I am more willing to see frustrations as adventures, to detach from my life here in a way that allows it to become vacation like, not holy-crap-I-need-to-get-through-this like. To enjoy my neighbors, my kids, my town, my life.

I'm feeling good these days. I am full of new resolve and new plans.

It's gonna be a good six months.

Peace Corps benefits ... people.

Here I am. COS. Close of Service. In Ouagadougou. Preparing for the end of my Peace Corps stint. Unreal. I am here spending time with my Peace Corps group, enjoying the good company, being reminded of the wonderful connections I've made (and am making) with some extremely interesting, motivated, intelligent, fun Americans.

My good friend Julie is one of those Americans, and she's got a pretty ambitious project going on in her teeny tiny little village down south near Ghana. I have been very lucky in finding people to help me with getting funding for Denise's school year, so I wanted to share this other meaningful project with everyone who reads my blog.

"Each year hundreds of students in this rural district of Burkina Faso are unable to continue with their formal education due to a lack of resources and a dearth of available places in the only secondary school within a 35 kilometer radius. These out-of-school youth then have few options other than following in their parents' footsteps, which means subsistence farming for boys, and marriage and babies for girls. To combat the social and economic problem posed by this growing wave of out-of-school, unskilled, and unemployed youth, the community is creating a vocational school to provide young people with real-world skills and continuing education."

The sun is shining and it's not so hot...yet.

Past the year and a half as a volunteer mark.

Today is going to be full of funeral festivities. Got a late start on the day because yesterday was also full of funeral festivities...I was up 'til one in the morning. Whoa, baby. I might be missing the church service this morning but since I sat in on two of 'em last night I don't feel so bad about it.

I don't want the experience I end up getting out of my two years here to be "ugh, I survived that, it was hard and look at how tough I am." That really diminishes the value and importance of this place and the people I know. I'm very glad to have opportunities to be a part of life, to celebrate with my friends and neighbors like I did yesterday and will be doing today. It gives a bit of balance to the days when I really DO feel like I'm surviving here and it's hard.

I had more eloquent things to say about this but I am a bit sleepy and I have to get ready for the day. Hello, day!

So You Want To Join Peace Corps?

Also...

watch this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-wDq17zyN0

Run for fun?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. The completion of an entire marathon begins with one step. Now there may be some of you who have not heard of this goal of mine. That's ok. It's a pretty recent one and I am living far away from most of you readers at the moment, with sketchy access to the internet. But anyhow, marathoning is not the point.

While visiting my dear friend Marita, who threw herself a birthday party for town friends and PCV friends alike, I allowed John to convince me to take a morning run with him. I finished red-faced and sweating (and very impressed with my rugby-playing college self) and absolutely not wanting that to be as difficult as it was, so I decided to let the momentum continue into everyday life here in Kongoussi and have been running every other morning at least and loving it. Looking forward to it.

Unfortunately I did not run this morning...I woke up later than I intended to wake up because of some righteously terrible dreams and lamented that the cool morning weather had already disappeared. ...I was a little bummed on biking over to the internet (where I find myself now) to discover that it really hadn't gotten too hot yet by 8:30. I may try to run this evening to make up for my loss, because I don't intend on trying to squeeze a run in on Wednesday mornings, when I have to be up at the school to teach classes by 7. It's possible...but there's not a whole lot of room for error, so I don't want to count on it.

Anyhow, running is great. I've been starting slow, working the kinks out of my body as I get these particular muscles used to moving again. I take in the landscape as I go, I listen to music with the one side of my earphones that works, I take time for myself to do something good for my body, and it feels great.

Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, socially, sexually...there are many different facets of well-being that can be attended to. I've started relecting on this lately because getting through the days seems to be taking a lot more out of me the second time around. I need to find ways to take care of myself so that I can keep putting a good amount of effort into the things I am doing here. It's not always easy. Having everything I do be self-motivated...it can wear on a person after a while, especially for those tasks that no one really holds you accountable for. Self motivation...perhaps something I should write a little more about here sometime soon.

...it's what gets me up and running.

mortal combat yuurle

Thought I could go the entire two-plus years without it happening, but no! Saturday night I was stung by a scorpion, on the ring finger of my left hand. Ouch, baby.

I had been dumping my bucket of dirty kitchen water out into my latrine (sometimes I just dump it over my wall so that the animals can come by and eat the bits of food in there, but it was a little too intense this time around). When I had finished pouring everything into the bottomless abyss, I put my hand against the mud brick wall and PING! A white hot bolt of electric pain surged through my hand. At the same time I heard a weird rattlesnake-like bark-y shriek from whence the pain had come. Looked up and saw not one by TWO big momma scorpions there on the wall. Got my butt out of the bathroom and over to the porch outside of my house where I stood clutching the fingers of my left hand and using the Lord's name in vain. For a good minute or two I was convinced I was never going to stop squeezing my hand ever.

After the pain subsided a little bit (perhaps because it had diffused up into my entire arm), I went on a search for someone brave to come and kill the b@$+@&#s for me. I heard Antoinette in her courtyard, talking up a storm with someone else and figured, hey, 16 year old girls are incredibly brave, aren't they? So I called over to her, but she didn't hear me. A few seconds later, however, two nine-year-old girls came walking by in the dark so I called THEM over instead. "Are you brave?" I asked. "Oui," they replied...but changed their tunes a little bit when I told them their task.

Ok, so I didn't make the nine year olds kill the scorpions for me, but I did have them follow me back into my latrine so that I could be brave. By this time a pretty large crowd had gathered in my courtyard by the light of the moon, mostly kids and teenage girls. Claudia's two nieces did a very thorough inspection of my latrine with my phone flashlight and determined that the scorpions were nowhere to be found. Several people suggested that they had moved into my house. Pretty much everyone asked me if the sting hurt, and then agreed that yes scorpions do hurt, and wanted to look at my finger (which I had let go of by this time, sort of enjoying the throbbing pain in a masochistic way).

Several remedies were suggested to me, one of which included blood letting and Maggi cooking tablets. I refused that one. The best thing woulda been ice, but that was obviously not going to appear from anywhere.

Knowing it wouldn't do me any harm and enjoying having pretty much the entire quartier occupy themselves with me, I allowed myself to be led across the quartier to the house of an old old woman who mixed some powdered leaves with water in her palm and then rubbed it all over my fingers with her leathery hands. Didn't you know scorpions sting? she asked me in Moore. Why did you touch one? It took me a minute to figure out what she was asking me and to explain with a laugh that I just hadn't seen it sitting there.

The kids were crowded around me as I sat on the little wooden stool in the old lady's courtyard, and they moved back to follow me as I got up and thanked her and walked away. At this point, Claudia came out with a long white scarf, which she tied around my upper arm to stop the pain from spreading. "Wend na kof laafi" she said with a smile as she turned to saunter back to her house and I continued on my way.

...and you know kids, so considerate...two crowds of them showed up at my house at 11pm to check on me. I was in my bed, which is pulled up next to my door to catch the nighttime breeze, dressed in very not-public sleep clothes. Never am I even out and about after 8pm, so this 11pm call was super special. The silly full moon with its ability to keep children out all night long. I created quite a ruckus in my telling the rascals to get the h#!% away from my door, to leave me alone, that they are very nice but this is not normal, that I would see them in the morning.

They must have thought I was weird. Why wouldn't someone want to be woken up by a swarm of children in the middle of the night--twice--to ask about an insect sting?

They really are sweet kids.

Cross cultural fun.

hot hot heat!

The heat is coming! The wind is here! The blinding dusty wind that smacks your face like a blowdrier on full blast! It's nice to feel the change of seasons. For some reason it seems like it's energizing me.

Energied! And it's not too cold to take bucket baths anymore, so I hope to not ever get as gross as I have very recently been! Cold season over? But what about my warm fleece blanket?

I like my village and my kids and my Caludia's family. My schedule is fairly full and weekends feel like weekends. And I'm looking into getting a little boat made for me to take out on the lake here. I think that'll make me happy.

Good almost-February to you.

Whatcha doin' prunie? Stewin? Mmmmm?

I just took a bath in the med unit of our bureau in Ouagadougou. I had an offical errand to run in the big city (getting money out for Denise's scholarship...yay!) and had just been thinking about the fact that my last bath was in the States, and sort of lamenting that I wouldn't be able to take another until my return. I'm rul durty, I've been noticing. The cold season makes it very very difficult to bathe and so I have been caked in dirt and kind of smelly.


But then I realized...I could take a bath in Ouaga! So I came in, hopped a taxi, got Denise's scholarship money (yay!), and picked up soap on my way to the bureau.


Before feet:



After bathwater:





I don't know what's grosser...how much dirt came off my body or how much DIDN'T. I did some serious scrubbing!


Fortunately I am a very good Girl Scout and left no trail. If you are the next in the bathroom in the med unit, you will find it clean as can be (with a nice bar of soap for you to use if you'd like as well).

Things I have been doing lately

Hello hello! I have myself an internet key plugged into my laptop USB style, and am sitting in the office of the administration building at my school, hoping to be inspired to write a blog entry worth reading. I had a busy morning this morning, and grabbed a sachet (little plastic bag) of baobab fruit juice ("twega" with a super nasally "twe" is how you say it in Moore...I'm not sure how it's actually spelled) and a fish sandwich (super garlicy and oily fish paste spread into a skinny piece of village bread) from some lady street vendors on my way from the high school to my school where I am now. Figured if I had some food in my belly I could come here, get my work done, and then just blah blah blah on the internet 'til the time for my next obligation.

A month has passed since last I've written, and what a full month it's been. To save you all the suspense, I am feeling a lot better about being here than I was before my super-necessary vacation. I think that a break from all of the ridiculous little bits of ...stuff... that I have to put up with every day did my psyche good.

I had a blast spending the days leading up to Christmas and Christmas itself with Thomas and his brother Justin who had come to visit. Christmas in Lioudougou was great...lots of giving candy to kids (very Halloween-like) and me running around like a madwoman making pancakes for everyone and giving them out (pancakes were a hit when I shared 'em a while ago, and they were a hit on Christmas too...not without stress, though. Holidays). The day AFTER Christmas is actually the big party day for the folks of my region here, whereupon people sing and dance from dusk 'til dawn. I was really anticipating to that...I'd been a part of it last year when I lived up in the castle and was looking forward to being there now that I actually live here and know the ladies and gents and teenagers and kids. Unfortunately, my neighbors slightly less than one year old baby died that morning, out of the blue suddenly. Ridiculously terrible, right? No carefree party for our neighborhood this year. Instead, Thomas and Justin and I went over to my friend Claudia's courtyard where we passed the time chatting with her kids and the various young guests that were there while Claudia sat by laughing at particularly funny things or making comments about the chatter she heard. I think that it was nice for her to have a full yard that night...her husband passed away very very recently (did I write about that?) so this Christmas was not, I imagine, the most joyous for her.

I have a deep and true familial love for Claudia and her seven children. I passed along some Christmas presents from my parents to her just the other day. Aren't my mom and dad great, sending over Christmas presents for the family that has been so kind as to adopt me over here in little Lioudougou?

Vacation in Togo was...well, it was quite the adventure getting down there, that's for sure, but it was nice and relaxing after we finally arrived. It relaxed and refreshed me so that I am now able to better face my days. Which is good, because there are a lot of them left here and they are relatively full.

Remember that thing I said about wanting to help out Sister Elisabeth with her classes when she is unable to be there? Well, it's happening! Felicitations to me. I've led her two Tuesday classes twice so far. The first time the girls drew pictures of where they wanted to be in 6 months and in 10 years, and then we talked about short term and long term goals and how to decide upon/plan for them. The week after that we talked about peer pressure and strategies for resisting it, and they role played some situations, including one that had to do with SEX which they were pretty much all really excited to talk about. I feel like I've built a good little foundation and can go in a few different directions with them now...we can talk about decision making and weighing the pros and cons of our choices, figuring out personal values, strategies for communicating our feelings and opinions, sex and all sorts of stuff that goes along with that.

I'm a GEE volunteer! Who knew?

Another thing I've got going on, as always, is computer class. My 5eme girls are currently working on typing personal letters to the people of their choice, and a great number of them are writing to students at my old middle school in the States. Typing skills, English skills, describing yourself skills, asking questions skills, learning that there are other people in the world skills...so many skills. A ridiculous amount of planning, but lots of skills.

Lots and lots of time goes into planning my computer classes. It almost seems like it would be less work if I had class more often because things could carry over easier. I'm in the midst of figuring out when and how to give my 6eme and mixed class kids their first test, and how to grade this letter thing that I'm doing with 5eme. There are also of course the inherent difficulties of being a teacher. ...and the added lovely difficulties of being a teacher here, where critical thinking is not high on the priority list. Unfortunately for my students, I am not going to immediately explain to them how to do something that they've already done before and could figure out if they took a minute to think about it. Unfortunately for me, I get asked how to do things that they've already done before and could figure out if they took a minute to think about it ALL THE TIME.

Teaching here will perhaps be a good thing to have done. It is not always my favorite thing to be doing.

Which leads me to something else I am doing, at least for today. Thomas is in the big ol' capital for a IT Committee meeting this weekend, and I am filling in for him in his two English classes substitute teacher style (a system that, surprising or not, does not exist in Burkina). So I went in this morning and taught the little boogers the days of the week and the months of the year, and harassed them a bunch by making them "stand up," "jump," "turn around," "sing," "sit down," "be quiet" every so often. It was pretty fun, and I've got another of his classes in about an hour. Mostly I'm just happy to help out someone who's always helping me out.

I am continuing to help out with baby weighings and vaccinations Mondays and Fridays at the CSPS (health center), though I doubt anything further will come out of my relationship with the place. It's starting to get too late for new big projects to take place, and no real internal push is happening among the staff there. So that's fine. Aside from the sexual harassment and continuous annoying questions I have to endure from the staff, it's not so bad. I actually have things to do when I'm there and so if I can suffer through the initial arrival part of the morning it ends up working out alright. Except for sometimes. The absolute and total lack of respect that certain CSPS men show for the mothers who sit waiting for their babies to be vaccinated drives me to the edge of my patience. And it's treated like a joke. And the women take it because here there isn't the expectation that your doctors should respect you, should explain things to you, should pay attention to your individual needs. The women come, they sit, they wait for EVER sometimes, and then they are hurried through like animals and told brusquely to go home. I take every opportunity I can to tell them what good mothers they are for bringing their children in, I agree that they have been waiting a long time when one of them tentatively mentions it, I make goofy faces at their babies, I clarify respectfully when they have maybe come in too soon for a certain vaccination and are told without explanation to come back next week.

Some of the CSPS people are really good. They work with the resources they have, and they do their job the best they can. Sometimes though...we seem to forget that the essence of being a "civil servant" is doing a job that is FOR the people. Not just for you.

Ha...so that's that. Still going on with my test typing and proctoring, and I stop in during homework hours from time to time. My Thursday study group has been slow to start back up, but will get rolling again. My cuisinaire girls and I still meet at least once a week to work on writing and reading skills. ...and one of them came back! She had been taken away again by her father, and I don't know where she went or why or how she came back but she's back, and because I feel secure in my place here and comfortable stepping over lines that I tried not to cross initially, I'm gonna ask her all about it. ...and what else. Extra study/typing time for my computer class kids who are struggling will happen soon, next weekend I think. I'm going into Ouaga to take out the money that has been donated to Denise's scholarship fund this weekend (yay!). While I'm there, my boyfriend (yeah I said it) and I are gonna go out on a little date to celebrate the anniversary of one of our several relationship milestones (you can take the girl out of the gay but you can't take the gay out of the girl).

So yes...life's ok. It's not always full of things I necessarily want to be doing, but it's good to have things to do. I'm happy to be at a point where I am thinking about what I will be doing next. I'll save speculations and such of that nature for another day.

So Proud

So I will, after all, have classes tomorrow. Planned out ones with notes and activities and such. Way to go, Miss Responsibility.

As it turns out, it makes more sense to go do Ouaga errands on Thursday rather than tomorrow. My travel partner will have just returned from an 80k round trip bike ride and might like a day to relax...and if I CAN teach my classes, I should.

Soo...I will.

These next few days are weirdly packed...PCV visits, shopping and Christmas prep, classes, Christmas cooking, Ouaga money retrieval, Christmas...making sure I don't miss any of the holiday throwdown that'll be going on.

Now I must go to the post and then brace myself for the walk home, whereupon I will have to get gallons and gallons of water because I am out.

...& then I will sleep like a baby with my new soft warm blanket. Mmm winter.

Failure is not an option

(From 15 November 2010)

I am sitting in the salle d’informatique with my mixed class of new students, having given them a free day since we had a test last week. After my first four classes this morning I’m feeling kind of lame just sitting here not guiding…the morning kids demanded a lot more attention and help. These guys (gals) (whatever) are content to practice typing or play spider solitaire and they have a combination of smarts, experience, and maturity to be able to figure things out on their own a little more than the younguns do. Also, all of the 5eme students who are normally in the class are not here today because they are calculating grates with their head teacher, so I am left with just seven students.

Tiny!

Sitting here not doing anything teacher-like makes me sort of rethink my initial plan to not have class next week. The 22nd is the last day of classes…and mayhaps one of my only chances to get to Ouaga to sort out some money stuff before going on my all-important vacation at the end of the month. Why introduce brand new stuff the final class before vacation, I asked myself. Isn’t everybody ready to just go home? I figured I just wouldn’t have class, that way kids could get ready to go home and I could go into the big town and run my errands.

Man, that looks kind of bad when written out, especially when you consider that I’m only with these kids for an hour a week each. This is something I would never get away with as a teacher in the States but it is perfectly logical thinking here in Burkina. Obviously the last class means that classes are already over by then. Duh.

But I’ve got some plans for the next trimester, ones that I’m actually going to make work instead of just thinking and talking about. I’ve decided that I want all of my students to have a passing grade in my class. This trimester, about 10 out of about 125 didn’t. This is not abnormal—if anything, it’s an abnormally low number of non-passing kids—and usually students are just expected to work harder and bring their grades up. But I’m going to have an extra class for the students who did not receive passing grades this trimester…not sure yet if I’ll make it mandatory or not. I’m also going to have extra sessions after the first devoir (test) I give to help the students who did not score well on it. I’ll also continue offering review/practice sessions before the devoirs. YOU WILL SUCCEED.

I’ve got another idea, something that I’ve tossed around my own head several times but haven’t really aggressively pursued. Sister Elisabeth has a civics course with each of the four classes, one that often turns into an hour of free time when she is off doing other things (as she is wont to do). I would like to create some discussion topics and goal-building, future-thinking, health-focusing activities to have in my back pocket so I can fill in for her some times when she’s not going to be there. If she gets on board with this idea, it could potentially work out fabulously. She’s not gonna be in class, she gives me a holler, the girls know I’m coming in to lead some stuff with them and then boom, an hour’s passed and life has become a wee bit more empowered.

That’s right. I’m a Girls Education and Empowerment volunteer. That means more than just letting sassy-mouthed Marguerite borrow my bike. Anyone out there want to hold me accountable?

(I just turned around to check on my girls…one of them has written “Bonne Année Miss Molly, I Love You!” in pretty colors in Paint.)

Well, I suppose I should wrap this up and dismiss this class for purely selfish reasons that include wanting to go into town to meet Thomas and his brother for whatever it is we’re going to have. Dinner? Drinks? Polite conversation? Whatever it is I’m looking forward to it because I have yet to meet Thomas’s lil bro and it’ll be, to use one of the most commonly used and drastically oversimplified adjectives in Burkinabè French... intéressant.

New Information?

I am frustrated by everything.









...for the sake of an optimistic report on my life and not just a one line complaint, I will go ahead and list a few things that rarely upset me. But I will only do this if you take for a given the first statement of this entry, that I am frustrated by everything.

Some things that rarely frustrate me:
Certain kids in my quartier, such as Constantine and Edwige
...umm....
hm...
Being offered yogurt sometimes when I'm up by the nun house
ummmmm....
Ok I really can't think of anything else at the moment, I'll get back to you later.

picture post

Today has been a productive, good day.

Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

The lush green field of yestermonth is becoming bare again!

Goats frolicking on headbutting each other off of my wall.

Dishes drying in the sun.

Thanksgiving feast!

Taking on the key lime pie.

...it got the best of me.

Housecleaning day. Like the rugby batik on the wall?

Dirty, happy sandwich break on a trip to Rambo.

Centre ville Kongoussi, marché to the right.

Prisca and Rose while Rose studies. My little sisters of my village whom I love.

C'est fini! Now, as per usual, I will leave the internet café to put some food in my belly. I'm thinking ragu de pomme de terre or frites and salade. With a big ol' Castle to drink.

Darling you’ve got to let me know…Should I stay or should I go?

(27th November)

The regional director of Peace Corps Africa visited my site; while we were talking about my experiences, he sincerely apologized for my service having been used as an experiment. (…Leslie and Rachel, no doubt the same sentiments apply.) A very appropriate, much appreciated apology, I think.

Because, you know, I’m tired. There are a lot of things about being an étranger for two years as you’re putting all of your energy into living, working, understanding and being a good neighbor that are exhausting. I’m doing so well at living, working, being in Lioudougou…think of how much progress I’d have made by now if I had been there from the beginning. I’ve thought many times, before moving down there and since, that this year in many ways will be a first year all over again, and that it might be worth it to stay a third so that I’ll have two in my new community, in the right place.

But this isn’t my first year, and I’m tired.

And I wouldn’t want to just do the little things I’ve been finding to do all over again next year. I’d want someone to work with to actually do things that are wanted and needed, and if I don’t find someone or something, I don’t think I’m going to want to stick around for another twelve months in the hope that I do. I think I’m ready for some professional growth, something challenging in a way that differs from the sort of hurry up and wait, cast your net wide, drop hints all over the place that you’d like to help out with things without ever actually doing anything, put up with sexual harassment challenges that so permeate life for volunteers here. I could GEE the heck out of somewhere. When I got my invitation in the mail, I would have sworn that this program was designed for me. What did I do in the five years before the Peace Corps that wasn’t Girls’ Education and Empowerment? As it turns out, I was put somewhere where, frankly, my presence wasn’t requested. I was plopped into a place where there wasn’t any community knowledge of or support of my program and told by my half of the equation (i.e., the Peace Corps, and not Kongoussi / Lioudougou), “Ok, go be a GEE volunteer now. Figure it out.”

But what is the role of the outsider in development? What is my role here? I have not ever been down with forcing my ideas on how things should work here, and why should I be? I’m a 24 year old girl, really. No more than a few months’ experience at any one time doing any sort of important work. A (very interesting and appropriate, but) highly theoretical degree (not that the degree itself is theoretical…or so I’ve been assured) from a liberal arts school doesn’t really stand on its own; what it’s done is lead me to this, my first real work slash life experience where I am forced to apply some of the thinking I’ve done. And I think that’s going to end up being a lot of what I get out of this.

If you divorce the Peace Corps from the Peace Corps, it’s pretty alright. I like my town, I like my community, I like living here. I’m figuring out things I can do to help. These days I’m conscious of the kind of citizen I am in my town, inspired by the insights of a PCV neighbor (neighbor!) of mine. Having the chance to live next door to people on the other side of the world who you would otherwise not have the chance to know is something truly amazing. But connecting back to the bureau is stressing me out recently, and I think this is due in large part to the fact that I feel like a nebulous volunteer, someone without a real program for whom none of the objectives and official bureau support has ever really applied. I’ve searched for ways to be involved and things that I could do to help my neighbors and my community, but not necessarily alongside anyone or towards any specific goals. The things that I’ve found to do that are wanted and asked for are things that I’ve had to make up as I go along. Not the way I wanted to do this, really, but you have to work with what you’ve got.

The Peace Corps is a good program for young idealists who are in-tuned enough to know that idealism isn’t enough, who want an important and fulfilling niche in the world but who don’t yet have the experience to find it. I wonder if, at the end of my two years here, I’ll have gotten all that I can get out of being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Burkina Faso. Maybe I’ll be ready to move on, to try another way of living somewhere, to put more tools in my belt.

It’s amazing how much—and how little—can happen in a span of nine months…so who knows.

I read a very good book recently, The Blue Sweater by Jacquiline Novogratz, that’s allowed me to start to articulate a lot of the feelings that I’m having about my time here, and what it means to be effective, and what I want to do with my life. She showed up for her first job in Africa pretty unprepared and learned a lot of important lessons sort of at the expense of herself…not really a bad thing in the long term, but not such a fun feeling in the present. She relates a lot of the advice and guidance she was given along her way, and a lot of it is the sort of advice and guidance I’m starting to seek. After living and working in Africa for a while, deciding what to do next and not being completely ready to leave (even though she’s exhausted by the contradictions and difficulties of pretty much every day of her life), she’s told by someone insightful and smart that being connected to your own home, your own community or culture, can help you in connecting to the wider world. …and I can see that, after over a year of living in Burkina. No matter how much effort and energy I put into living and integrating into my village here, it will never be my home. I can navigate through the culture here (exceptionally well, on a good day), but it isn’t my culture and it’s never 100 percent comfortable. And these are all things to accept if living and working in different parts of the world is what you want to do.

I feel stuck somewhere, in my brain, and I want to break through to some new degree of understanding about myself and about the world that I know is there on the other side. It’s like a heavy fog is obscuring something, and I’ve made progress towards it with books, with discussions, with living here…but nothing’s been quite enough.

re flec tions to come

I wrote a very thougtful post to post...but left it on my USB key at home.

So, this post isn't really about anything.

I need a vacation and I'm taking one the week after Christmas. None of my fantasy locations (Belgium, Ireland, Manchester CT) are gonna work out so it looks like I'll be sitting on a beach in Togo for a week. The most necessary week ever.

After I am done with the internet I am going to get something breakfast-like in town with my lovely sitemate. Maybe an omlette. Not sure what else I'll be doing today, since my Tuesdays are not really full of solid plans. Just some interaction, I guess. Maybe I'll plan out my end of the trimester (division of school year trimester, not pregnancy trimester) test that I'm going to give my computer classes. It's going to be a hands on test, a typing related thing...something so obvious in America perhaps but pretty much unheard of here, unfaesable usually but at my school it's beyond feasable so it's happening. It does mean a lot more effort on my part, but hey...that's what I'm here for.

To put in lots of effort for everything all of the time.

Did I mention I'm taking a vacation?