I wish more people knew about Burkina Faso - I wish I had known about Burkina when I was assigned here. But with so many other, bigger countries on the map, its no surprise that this small, landlocked country in West Africa often gets overlooked. I feel so lucky to see this country - my dad likens it to John Dunbar in Dances with Wolves seeing the western frontier of the U.S. before we pushed west-ward....one last breath of another, maybe simpler way of living. Its one of the least developed countries in the world, but I've never seen bigger smiles, nor people more willing to be friendly and generous. It actually says something to the effect of the "big smiles" of Burkina in a tour book I bought before coming here, and when I first read it in the states, I thought it sounded cliche and almost degrading for a people struggling so hard each day to survive. But, as I've learned, smiling, shrugging off minor problems, not holding grudges, etc. is so much apart of the Burkinabe culture that many refer to this as the sole reason why Burkina Faso hasn't had the civil wars or "ethnic cleansing" problems that are unfortunately more common among its neighbors. Burkinabe even have a term for this aspect of their culture: "Parentes a Plaisanterie", which basically means "the jokes of our parents". It allows people of different ethnicities to tease/joke with each other about their heritage in a very innocent way. Leaders of other African countries have actually come here to Burkina Faso just to learn about its "Parentes a Plaisanterie", and how they can try to replicate it in their own countries. Imagine if this dynamic had existed in Rwanda....
Truth be told, though, I almost didnt make it past my first day here. The plane filled with Peace Corps trainees landed in Ouagadougou at dusk on August 2nd, and we were escorted through the streets of the capitol in big white jeeps. That ride was my first exposure to the developing world, and I think my system went into shock. I'll never forget my first sight of the small shanties that are storefronts here, the garbage on the side of the road (because this country has no trash management system...literally), children playing in the trash, people driving beat up cars that you might not even find in junkyards in the states. All of the trainees in the car with me were silent, faces pressed to the windows. To me, the city reminded me of what Central Park must have been like in the 1930s - a misplaced Hooverville, a graveyard of people's dreams.
I feel awful writing that now, as I have seen Ouagadougou in the daylight and there are many nice areas. But it took a lot of getting used to, living here. I spent the past three months or training just 2 hours north of the capitol in a small village called Niessega, population 5,000. There, I had daily French immersion classes, cross-cultural courses, and technical courses for my job as a Small Business volunteer. The way of life in Niessega is about as remote as you can imagine...mud huts, subsistence farmers, a one-room school house for 100+ children lucky enough to get to go to school, etc.
While in Niessega, I lived with a host family. My host family's name was Sayaogo - my father, Gilbert, my mother, Bernadette. Gilbert is the nicest man - kind, patient. Many nights we sat outside and talked about his family, his work as a farmer, while his two youngest children were asleep against his chest. Bernadette was very shy around me for a long time. She can barely speak french except for the little she remembers from grade school, and I could barely speak the local language. One night, some of the younger kids in the "neighborhood" were dancing to music on the radio, and I went over to join them. The moment I even tried to move my hips, Bernadette burst out laughing at me. From then on, I think she felt a lot easier around me, and maybe I felt at ease to. Its amazing how far you can go without words, or how much is conveyed in a simple laugh or smile.
I have so many stories from Niessega - teaching the kids in the village how to play baseball using tree branches as bats and hearing their absolutely unrestrained shreaks of excitement each time one of them stepped up to the plate - building stoves out of mud, hay, and cow dung, and cooking on it for the first time - going to my first muslim baptism and my first Catholic mass given in Moore (the local language) - when it finally rained on the night of my birthday and everyone at the party, volunteers and villagers, had to pile into a one room mud hut and wait out the storm...I could go on. All in all, I couldnt have had a more positive training experience. It didn't even feel like training, it just felt like living.
Towards the end of training, we had this really inspirational missionary come and talk to the business volunteers about his work when he is not evangelizing, implementing sustainable development ideas for rural Burkinabe villages. He left us with this, and I thought I'd share it because I love it so much:
Rural Reconstruction by Dr. Y.C. James Yen
Go to the people
Live among them
Learn from them
Plan with them
Work with them
Start with what they know
Build on what they have
Teach by showing
Learn by doing
Not a showcase
But a pattern
Not odds and ends but a system
Not to conform but to transform
Not relief but release.
Isn't that great?! *Sigh* Anyways, training wrapped up last friday with a really beautiful ceremony at the U.S. Ambassador's house in Ouagadougou. We all got traditional African outfits to wear for the ceremony, mine cost me a whopping $10.00 for the fabric and the tailor. On Saturday morning, bright and early, I packed up all of my belongings and moved to my post for the next two years. I've been assigned to work in Ziniare, the hometown of the president of Burkina Faso. It is a much larger Burkinabe town just a 20 min. drive outside of Ouagadougou, a town with electricity, paved roads, a large medical center, and a VERY active political scene. Because Burkina's elections are coming up on November 13th, every one seems just a bit on edge here, but my homologue ("boss") tells me not to worry. My homologue is named Jacques, he is the president of the artisans association I've been assigned to work with. He drinks about 10 cups of coffee a day and listens to country music at the office - he tells me that "that's where he gets all of his big ideas". The other day, we were listening to a song by Don Williams, and I thought a line from the chorus was just so appropriate for the setting, so I'll leave you with this until the next time.
"Money, I've got none
but I've got silver in the stars
gold in the morning sun..."
Love always,
Elizabeth
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