Thanksgiving et le Fête du Chef

For the first time since I was 4 years old, I did not celebrate Thanksgiving day with my family in Montrose. The holidays are an emotional time for many, and being a Peace Corps Volunteer in a far away land is hardly an exception. Not only am I lacking the family and the familiarity of the holiday…I am celebrating it in a country that hardly produces a climate of Holiday Cheer (I’m still negotiating the acquisition of a Christmas Tree…). But amid my worries of solitude, depression and the inevitability of eating Tô with Baobab Sauce on Thanksgiving, I was saved by a little bit of planning, a lot of friends, and a Pig.

Amid many options to spend Turkey day in various towns (Djibo, Ouahigouya, Bobo, Ouaga), I chose Fada as my destination, primarily because a good portion of my Pre-Service training group would be there, and lets face it, us GEE volunteers are pretty cool. My secondary RFD (reason for decision) was the promise of Turkey (a bird about as rare here as a killer whale in Colorado) and Pumpkin Pie. So, like the hyper-optimistic Candide in search of the riches of El Dorado, I Packed my Bag and journeyed East to Fada.

A Day that had potential to live in Infamy

My first mistake (actually my only mistake) upon arriving at Bobby’s house, 5:30 AM Thursday Morning was asking the obligatory “Is there anything I can do to help?” question. With a mischievous chuckle, Bobby hand me an unjokingly large knife and points to a dead pig that recently met its maker. “We’ve got one more Pig Joel, care to do the honors?” Keep in mind this is 5:36 in the morning, my hair is disheveled, and I haven’t even had my morning cup of Nescafé. Amid all conceivable appeals to humanity I manage to conjure in my head, I agree to slaughter the second pig. Without going into detail, after 4 stabs directly into the pig’s heart and after 3 endless minutes of it realizing its inevitable demise, it was dead. Where upon I claimed I had done my share of labor for Peace Corps Fada Thanksgiving 2006. Then I ate Pancakes. And life was good. The End. Well, not really, but you all know how the rest of the day went…just how all other Thanksgivings go. Except, the whole being in Africa Part. Did I mention the Pig tasted amazing?

The day after the day after Thanksgiving

So Fada is 495 km from Pobé-Mengao. Whether you’re in the Rockies or the Sahel (that’s where I am, FYI), 495 km is no short trek. So one could imagine my sense of defeat when I learned via a text message Friday morning that my Chief’s annual (yet unannounced) Fête (Party) was to fall on Saturday, Nov. 25. To the credit of Burkina Faso, their transportation system is relatively reliable and frequent…unless you live in the North (which, of course, is where I live). Does Joel suffer defeat and opt to stay in Fada to thoroughly digest his Thanksgiving feast from yesterday or does he attempt the impossible, a Fada-Ouaga-Djibo-Pobé death run in time to catch the tail end of the Fête? I chose cultural integration over gastrointestinal peace of mind. One bus ride to Ouaga, one bus ride to Djibo, a trip to the supermarket and a 28 km bike ride later, I arrive to home sweet Pobé at 5:24PM, Saturday.

True to Muslim tradition, the Fête du Chef is contingent not upon the calendar, but on the cycle of the moon. Ramadan comes the first day the moon appears in the Western Sky following the new moon. The Fête of Pobé falls 5 days after the following new moon. Does everybody follow? The party is essentially recognition of the main family that resides in Pobé-Mengao, the family of the Chef Konfé. About 90% of the inhabitants here are Konfé. With any fête in Burkina, food is the main attraction, however so bland. In addition to the fête’s honoring of the Chef & his family tree, it indirectly marks the end of the harvest, the end of 6 months of backbreaking labor out in the fields. No, for the next 6 months, until the rains begin again, many in Pobé will not work (in other parts of the world, this is called “unemployment”), as there simply is no work to be done. This is a concept I myself am still trying to reconcile. But unlike in the United States where one who “can’t find work” most often they can’t find work they want, here in Burkina, in the village setting, there truly is no work.

Me, however, being the Ultimate Optimist SLASH Cynic (if such a dichotomy is cohabitable), am determined to help change the status quo, here in Pobé. Sometimes all it takes is a new set of eyes and an attitude of potential. What I don’t have to offer is Money. And that is why I think change can happen. Because money won’t be thrown at the problem…but such is another debate, for another day.

My 3-month lockdown period is over. My work is beginning to take form, little by little; I’m teaching myself to be a volunteer. Stay tuned and I’ll let you all know how it goes. So from the headlamp lit mud hut in Pobé-Mengao, this is Joel saying, Happy Holidays, you know, ahead of time.

Joel's Wish List

Just received a letter from Joel and he asked that I post a wish list for those inclined to take pity upon his inability to acquire some of the tastes of home. - Virgil

• Nature Valley Granola Bars (regular, not chewy)
• Skittles
• Green Orbit Chewing Gum
• Dried Fruit
• Granola
• Powdered Coconut Milk
• Pilot Easy Touch Fine Point Pens w/removable caps
• Glide Floss
• Real Coffee
• Crystal Light
• Tyson Chicken in foil pack
• Beef Jerky
• Spices
• Basil
• Cumin
• Thyme
• Curry
• Oregano
• Black Pepper
• Cinnamon
• Photos of friends, scenery, etc.

How to Write a Letter and other Stories

other stories...

Hello all and greetings once again from Burkina Faso. I want to send a thank you to my dad for taking some of the letters I wrote home and retyping them onto my blog for you all to read. Believe it or not, such a tedious task is in all reality a convenient way for me to get my words out there for you all to read. The process is as follows: Let us say it is a typically hot Friday morning in Pobé-Mengao. I sit down on my metal chair in my recently cemented mud-brick home, pull out a sheet of paper, an imitation bic ballpoint pen, and I start writing (dear family…). Once I finish the letter, highlighting my triumphs, my shortfalls, odd encounters, et cetera, I sign the letter, stuff it in an envelope, address it aux États-Unis then let it sit on my cement floor until the next time I bike 28 km to my provincial capital, Djibo. Fast forward to the following Wednesday. I just biked 28 enjoyable yet equally cardiovascularly complimentary kilometers to Djibo. After an obligatory breakfast stop at Kiosque la Paix (Yogurt, baguette, and a cup of tea: $0.55), I hop on my bike and pedal to the Post office. After greeting the two gentlemen who run this dusty post that resembles a lonely alimentation in a sleepy Arizona border town I ask for the necessary postage to send my letters back home. After a joint effort of licking and placing the stamps on the letters, I take my modest pile and throw them in the mail drop, hoping that they do not fall between the cracks at some point on their long journey home. Fast forward 12-25 days and 6,000 miles. During lunch on some idle Thursday, my mother (or Father) checks their mailbox and finds to their utter glee that they have received a letter from their son all the way over in West Africa. After reading it and enjoying his rather clever quips about life and consequence and such in rural West Africa, my father sits down on his de facto trusty laptop and transfers my words written on weak dusty paper with a non-committal imitation bic pen to my blog site. And there you have it, the general process by which my experiences find their way to your eager eyes.

But not today. Today, I found internet.

It has been an amazingly indescribable past two months since I wrote you all last (without the aid of my loving parents to transcribe my letters). I still have one month remaining in the dreaded “settling-in period” of the 24 month term of service. As per the suggestion of my superiors, I have not started any real work in my village, but after spending several weeks doing nothing but drinking tea with neighbors and reading heaps upon heaps of William Faulkner, I have found it necessary to conjure up some ideas of what I can do in my wonderful little yet larger than life village. But such explanations can be saved for when I actually execute such things. Let us discuss what has happened.

Ramadan and the art of being selectively devout

For those of you who pay attention to your Hot Air Balloons Calendars would have noticed that a week ago today was Ramadan. The thirty days that led up to October 23rd were the days of fasting for Muslims worldwide. Between sunrise and sunset, one is expected to eat no food, drink no liquids. The reality of the matter in my village is there were a few devout Muslims that participated in the fast the full thirty days, whereas the rest simply talked about how they should fast. Some donated a conciliatory day or two to participate in Islam’s most holy celebration. After all, the fast is not obligatory. And given the backbreaking labor that almost all villagers participate in during the harvest season, I blame not a single for not fasting…and I am humbled by those who choose to fast and work in the hot African sun.
With Ramadan, the day, approaching, I had no real idea what to expect. There was some talk of a big fête, but most of my neighbors remained ambiguous about this day and the events it would house. I awake at my usual 5:13 am on that Monday morning, fix my oatmeal and my cup of Nescafé, and begin to work on some French grammar exercises…at 9am, Amidou, my neighbor and closest friend in village, arrives in a very shiny, silky forest green Boubou. This is a far stretch from his normal attire which consists of olive-colored Levis and a grey tank top. If I remember correctly, he was even wearing dress shoes. Allons-y a la Mosquée, Joel! Not knowing what I was getting myself into, I threw on a pair of khakis and a Royal Robbins button-down shirt and slipped on my “dressy” Chaco flips and barreled out the door. Along the way to the Mosque Amidou explained to me that at 10am, everybody was to pray. Reminding him that I was not Muslim, he assured me, Prier n’est pas obligitoire – To pray is not obligatory. Waiting outside the Mosque was much akin to arriving at Church back home in the USA. The elders were lined at the entrance, and many handshakes were had. I took my place at the back of the courtyard (while there is a building, since it was Ramadan, there were far too many people to all fit in the Mosque) and then came the call to prayer. It is quite a site to witness over 1,000 men women and children participate in a Muslim prayer. All facing east, all participating in the same motions, the silence followed by a decisive THUMP! when everybody moves in unison to the floor. It was an experience I will not soon forget. Following the prayer, I spent the day eating. Everybody ate, all day long. I am convinced now that Ramadan, at least here in West Africa, is best described as Thanksgiving, Halloween, and Senior Prom, all rolled into one. After a day of eating various African dishes (believe me, they’re not as exotic as you might think), groups of girls, dressed up in their finest complets would come around and ask for cadeaux (gifts). Most people would give each girl 10-25 cfa (equivalent of about 2-8 cents). I gave out pieces of candy I had acquired in Djibo. At the end of the day, all of Pobé’s younger generation filed into a large courtyard equipped with a solar-powered fluorescent street light in the center, and then came the music. Over 2,000 under 30-something’s danced the night away in honor of Islam’s most holy of days.

The next major holiday is Tobaski (I hope I spelled that correctly), which comes 70 days after Ramadan. It is the Fête of the sheep. This is where many of the sheep are slaughtered and people eat a whole bunch all over again. This year it should fall on I believe the 29th of December.

I guess that’s all I’ve got for now. Better send this off and head back to my village. My closest PCV neighbor and I created a Boy’s and Girl’s club in my village and the informational meeting is tomorrow afternoon. Call it what you will, but it is my first venture into the life of a volunteer, so wish me luck! I certainly hope everyone is well, wherever you are, whatever you may be doing. Until next time!

Mini-Hot Season

Note: The following are excerpts from a letter from Joel written October 4, 2006.

I can’t believe its already October! I’ve all but forgotten what the weather must be like there right now. Here in Burkina, the Rainy Season is almost completely finished. We got a good rain last night, but unlike past rains, the earth sucked up the moisture instantaneously. October-November is known as the “Mini-Hot Season” as the decreasing rains means more chance for the sun to heat things up. December-End of Feb. is the Cool Season, where everybody wears coats and beanies (seriously). I am shocked at how sensitive my body has become to the changes in temperature. I can generally indicate a change up to ½ degree. But enough talk of the weather.

School has begun her. Yesterday I went and met the Director of the Primary School. He’s new, as all teachers and directors come from different places teach in villages. It called Affectsion. Since there is not enough (or sometimes any) qualified teachers to occupy a school, the government assigns all the teachers in the country to villages and towns. Generally, the newer the teacher, the smaller/more isolated the village. So teachers “Pay their dues” by teaching for 3 years in a particular place before they can be assigned to a more desirable location (which for most is the Bobo region in the South…least desirable is the North…go figure). Given the circumstances, I think that it is the best possible method, at this time. It gives newer teachers in small villages incentive to up their work performance, thus helping students and giving them an opportunity to “move up”.

At this point my plan of action is to be a familiar face around the school both with the teachers and the students. That nobody knows what I am doing is both intimidating and promising. People know I am to do work here, but what? Nobody knows.

My french is really coming along. I still have difficulty listening to people, especially if they are not as educated (equiv. of someone in America who speaks a lot of slang and has a general poor speaking quality). But among the teachers, they speak clearly, so I feel more confident when I speak to them. Today I was doing laundry. I caught myself thinking in French. You know how people say once you start dreaming in another language your relatively fluent? I wonder if this is the same thing? My level of vocab is not very high, but I find that I learn new expressions as necessary.

I have been reading a lot of books, which is good. I guess they are my new TV. The art of book trading among PCVs is very unique. Before leaving to your site for the first time most will grab a handful (or 4) of books from the PC hostel library. Each time you travel to a place where other PCVs may be, you bring a few or all finished books and exchange with the others. I brought with me George Orwell’s 1984. Since my reading of the book, it has passed through 4 other volunteer’s hands. So far I have read approximately 9 books, which is monumental for me. Currently reading “the curious incident of the dog in the nite-time” by Mark Haddon. I highly recommend it! It’s the story through the eyes of a 15 year-old autistic teen, of the murder of a neighborhood dog. He investigates the murder. Its all from his perspective, so it is very brain-teasing.

Happy 3 Month Anniversary of being in country!

Note: The following are excerpts from a letter from Joel written September 7, 2006.

Sorry, just a little self-lauding. … So I’m already beginning to be a familiar face around Djibo. People have actually called me by my name (my Burkinabé name) in the Marché. Sometimes I recognize them, sometimes I don’t. I’ve run into a couple of people from Sananga, believe it or not, who some up to sell stuff at the Djibo Marché. Anyway there is a certain niceness to be recognized as a familiar face.

…

So there was a scorpion in my house tonight. Not cool. Luckily my ZX/2 Chaco doubles as a Scorpion Killing Device. It was intense, but he/she is dead now. The End.

The rainy season is winding down her. It has rained once in the past week. Sometimes, the clouds will roll in, but no moisture comes. People say this is normal for September, but there is also a hint of worry. There are about 10 days of planting to go. That means after 10 days, there will still be need for rain for the tail end crops. Since Pobé has no Barrage(Reservoir), like Ouahigouya and surrounding villages, they only have the rainy season to depend on for growing crops. These villages with barrages can begin planting “dry crops” in November, crops that require no rain, simply light irrigation (potatoes, green beans, onions, etc.). For Pobé, after the rainy season, there is no real work for the greater population. Some people stay here and wait it out somehow. Granted, I have to experience the dry season, so I have no genuine clue as to the social plight (or lack thereof…).

Interestingly, during the dry season, there seems to be more things to do/acquire. Since everyone is working out in the fields right now, few have time to provide other services (bread-making, tailoring, etc.). During the dry season, there is wide variety of vegetables. Right now, during Pobés marché (every three days) tere are NO vegetables. In November, there should be a lot. It is confusing and even I have no clue what’s going on…

P.P.S: 10:40 PM and its 90 degrees in my house!

Day Four in Pobé - Mengao

Note: The following are excerpts from a letter from Joel written September 1, 2006. Joel is in an area devoid of reasonable priced Internet service. In place of his posting his thoughts and observations himself, he asked that I post excerpts of his letters so that you may follow his adventures.

I still haven’t been able to comfortably detach myself from the confines of my house. Knowing that I am a stranger in this town makes it difficult to break the ice. The language barrier is one thing, but moreover, finding a way to be recognized, let alone trusted, as a member of the community, is going to take time. Unlike Sangaga, I don’t have 3 other Americans in the same position as I, there to catch me if I stumble. Ça Va Aller, as they say here.

I got to Djibo on Wednesday, to catch their world (well, at least B.F.) famous Market Day. Despite being in the dry Sahel, the Djibo area is famous for its near year-round supply of tomatoes, eggplants and cucumbers. People from all over the North half of the country will travel to Djibo weekly, to buy and sell. I like Djibo because it is incredibly ethnically diverse. Unlike every other place I have spent time in B.F., Djibo is not predominatly Mossi. The dominant ethnic group is that of the Fulani people, also known as the Peules. This is a much more conservative ethnic group, as they are by nature nomadic. Have you ever seen the famous National Geographic cover photo of the woman with the big green eyes? That is very much what a Fulani woman looks like, only darker skinned.

So, in addition to the Mossis, the Fulanís, and the Algerians, there are a lot of tall, mysterious men with Black turbins covering their entire face. Mysterious, that is, until you spend a few minutes joking around with them at the bus stop, only to find that anybody can have a sense of humor. So anyway, while I don’t know a lot about the different ethnic groups up here, that doesn’t stop me from making some observations. What is interesting is that Pobé 30 km SW of Djibo, but there is no real Peule population. They are traditionally very cutoff, at they are not allowed to marry non-Peules, thus they have their own communities.

…

To get to Djibo (which will probably become a weekly event, each Wednesday), I got up at 6, walked to the Main road, where I was told a Camion (basically a huge, beat up Mercedes 30’ long truck from the 1940’s)(Oh yeah, with 40-50 people in the back with 200 chickens and 15 goats, …sometimes a cow) would drive by and would take me on for 500 CFA. 6:30 rolls around and I’m sitting shotgun with 5 non-talkative guys. Just another Burkinabé adventure.

the end of the beginning...ou quelque chose comme ça.

and then there was a village

Let me begin today’s blog entry by stating that I had composed a rather wonderful, rather long blog entry two days ago, but by some unknown stroke of the keyboard, I had erased the entire composition. Not that any of you were disadvantaged in the whole process, but I nevertheless apologize.

This past week in Ouagadougou has been fun. I think I have seen/experienced it all. Whether it was my taxi driver casually taking out a guy on a motorcycle, or the old man with twelve toes on the side of the road selling pre-paid cell phone cards, Ouaga has a (mis)adventure around every corner.

Tomorrow, I leave for Pobé-Mengao, my village site for the next two years. Today is the last day in which I can buy a cheeseburger or chat with a familiar face. Today is my last day in Ouagadougou, for the next three months. The Official Swear-In ceremony (where we take the oath to be volunteers for the next two years) took place on Friday, the 25th of August. After a day of frantically seeking out random necessities for my new home (literally everything except the kitchen sink...and a bathtub), we put on our Friday’s best and took advantage of great appetizers and diverse company at the U.S. Ambassador’s house (a.k.a. the swear-in site).

Affectation and its sorrows

The act of being taken to your site of service is known as affectation. Since Peace Corps Burkina Faso has only a limited number of vehicles, not everybody can be affecté’d at the same time. It just so happened to work out that myself, along with 4 other volunteers, are the last to be sent to site. 15 or so left yesterday, 14 today, and we leave tomorrow. I did not anticipate their departure to be as emotional as it was, but you cannot deny the gravity of it all. 33 volunteers who have seen one another for the last 3 months, every day, all day, all sharing one amazing cultural experience, only to be spread out all over the country.
What I find to be hardest to believe is that even though I have been in Burkina Faso for 12 weeks, my actual job here has only just begun. Two years remaining. In many regards, it seems like a long time, but when I think about the reality of it all, that I will be living here for two years, building friendships and relationships, two years has the potential to go by very quickly.

The next step, as it were

It is a requirement that each new volunteer remain at his or her site for the first three months of service. Aside from traveling to the nearest market town, it is important that the volunteer not travel much when they first arrive. This is what they call the “Settling-in” period. Since my job involves interacting with the community, helping them jump start programs they want to do, it would be outrageous, let alone impossible for me to simply jump into town tomorrow and start doing all the things I think is best for their community. The first three months of every volunteer’s service is to get to know the community, to conduct informal meetings in an attempt to find out exactly what are the community’s needs, and to simply become a familiar face. Generally speaking we are told to do “no real work”; simply informal needs-assessments, but ask any volunteer and they will probably tell you that the first three months at site are the hardest. The adjustment from Pre-Service Training to life alone at site is anything but subtle.

On March 17th, 2005, with a tentative stroke of the keyboard, I submitted my Peace Corps Application online. One year 5 months and 10 days later, I am here, in Burkina Faso, a day away from beginning my two years of service.

Jusqu’á la Prochaine Fois

This may very well be my last post until around Thanksgiving, as that will be the end of my three-month lock-down in Pobé. There is an Internet café in Djibo (30 km away), however, it is exceptionally unreliable not to mention extortionately priced (hey, its the Sahel). In any event, I hope that this blog finds everyone well and in the best of health. To my friends and family, I miss you all and do not doubt that I am thinking of you all constantly. To any up and coming PCT’s awaiting Staging who happened to come across my blog, sorry I didn’t provide more substantive info, perhaps next time (trust me, blogs were my Rosetta Stone for Peace Corps prior to departure). To all, stay tuned.....

best,

Joel Turner (My name :)
Porgo, Joël (mon nom de Sananga)
Konfé, Boureima (mon nom de Pobé-Mengao)

p.s. apologies for the dismal lack of photos chez moi online...my camera decided to grow legs and walk away

the shortest long non-entry you'll ever see

Hello everyone. Just a quick announcement that in a short time I will have ALL my photos available online for viewing. I will let you all know when they are there, in the electronic flesh, but I just wanted to calm some nerves, in case people were in need of some pictoral proof of my presence here in W. Africa.

Tenative date... Aug 24th. Only a week of training remaining! Next entry will be in Ouagadougou...stay tuned!

adaptation

I wish I was once told that Peace Corps is an exercise in extremes. That way I could start this long-overdue blog entry by saying "I once was told that Peace Corps is an exercise in extremes." Since I think I am the first to utilize the expression, I hereby declare the phrase "coined" in my name.

I hope this entry finds all who read it happy, healthy, and enjoying all that they are doing with their lives. So much has happened I don't even know where to start. One thing I know for certain is that my Peace Corps experience has been a series of phases. Myriad phases, actually, some of which overlap one another, which can make processing this whole experience rather difficult...but I will delve into the phases of adaptation, so you can catch a glimpse of life here.

phase I: physical adaptation

In time and with the aide of frequent, violent, immobilizing rain storms I have rendered myself more or less adapted to the hot climate here in Burkina Faso. Two mornings prior, the temperature in my room had dropped to a bone-chilling 78.4 degrees. I exited my house to find Limata, one of my two mothers, sitting in front of the fire she had made to heat up water, shivering. She had wrapped an extra pagne around her body to help keep warm. Now I am not going to lie: for me, Mr. Colorado, ski/snowboard bum, winter enthusiast, t-shirts and chacos in February, 78.4 degrees had a little bit of a bite to it. Still not cold, but it came close. It was wonderful. Physical adaptation, they say, is the easy part. Now that sleeping in a room at night when it is over 100 degrees is a commonality and the occasional 78.4 degree morning requires me to contemplate cracking out my Patagonia R1, I can successfully move on to Phase II: cultural adaptation.

Phase II and its façade of futility

No matter how you attempt to seek similarities, things here are just different. While it must be prefaced that few U.S. Americans know that Burkina Faso is a country, let alone a state that hosts over 60 ethnicities, some Burkinabé misconceptions of the U.S.A. are quite extraordinary. For example, according to many Burkinabé, there are no Black people in the U.S.A. Only white people. And we are all rich. And there is no manual labor. In the U.S.A., all manufacturing, all agriculture, everything, is carried out by machines. While this isn't too far from the truth, we are a far cry from living like the Jetsons. Or are we? It has been two months since I've been in the states.

There is a phrase here "Americans have watches Burkinabé have time". I cannot begin to successfully stress how true this statement is. Throughout PST, I have lived in a village with three other stagiares, Aisha, Chrissy, and Theo. We have various meetings with various groups in the community. Let us say we are planning a meeting with the APE (think parent-teacher association). We, the PST's, would like to have the meeting at 2pm .
Do We....
a) tell the APE the meeting starts at 2pm
b) tell the APE the meeting starts at 1:30pm
or
c) tell the APE the meeting starts at 1pm

If you picked A, congratulations, you've just wasted half of your afternoon, waiting for the group to arrive. If you picked C, DING DING DING, you win! Because the APE members will leave their homes at the time you establish the meeting to commence, it is best to allow one hour, and here's why: After they leave their home, they will probably forget a few things and have to return to their courtyard, but on the way back, they run into their brother-in-law. In Burkinabé tradition, you never sacrifice the opportunity to salutate people, especially family. After 10 minutes of chatting, another brother-in-law arrives. 10 minutes after that...you get the picture. Each member will stop and chat with every person that crosses their path between point A (courtyard) and point b (the school). If I had more time, I'd draw a map, as this is serious stuff here. This is very close to an exact science. If APE member A, B, and C all leave their homes at 1 pm, they will all manage to arrive within 5 minutes of 2pm. No joke. Let my tone not suggest frustration. In fact, it is quite the contrary. I admire a community, a culture, that places personal relationships over deadlines. I can only begin to muse how fewer stress-related ailments the Burkinabé have than their developed country counterparts. Their actions, while lax, do not suggest laziness. Hard work is requisite for survival, just as is an emphasis on community support.

Not all roses...but then again, what is?

One final word about manual labor. I must speak to the unbelievable strength and unrecognized hard work performed by the women of Burkina Faso. Their job is 7 days a week, 18 hours a day. It begins at 4 am and ends long after dark. They cook for their entire family (which is anything but a simple chore, as familes frequently number over 50), they retrieve dozens upon dozens of gallons of water daily, all carried on their head, they clean their courtyards, they bear children, oftentimes once every year, between the ages of 18 and 30. In between household chores, the women take their children and join the men in the fields to cultivate under the hot sun. The women have no rights. Most women, almost all in villages, are forced to marry their husband at the age of 17. And somehow, for some unbeknownst reason, other than a potential lack of consciousness to their unfair situation, these women smile. They laugh. They sing and on occasion, they dance. They are stronger physically than any man in the village, but their culture convinces them that they are weak. They are taught to serve their husbands, to not talk back. I wish I could say I am painting an exaggerated, or a worst-case scenario type picture, but I am not.
And supposedly, this is where I am supposed to come in. Joel Turner, the fearless, sensitized, gender equitable PCV. Easier said than done, right?

Same same but different different

Long story abbreviated, things here are just different. Burkina Faso, much like any developing country, holds onoldson to its traditions, and because of this, one finds priceless gifts of hope and frustrating walls of futility. They are not overcome by making a buck. Burkinabé truly do place People over Profit. But with this benevolent cultural externality, there exists a challenge to change the things that hinder the autonomy and well-being of many. There is no continuum of goodness. Burkina Faso is not a bad country, nor is the United States of America superior. You cannot rank countries, because in doing so, you rank people. And that's just mean, now isn't it?

where the number of paved streets don't out-number the fingers on my left hand...

Greetings, all. Two weeks since i last posted. I try not to post too frequently, as not to instil this expectation of a frequent correspondence. Well, at least that is what I tell myself. Okay, i am horrible with excuses. But I am here now, and thus, I will delve into the news.

First order of business, I know where I will be living for the next two years! The PC staff annouced our sites a few days ago. I will be living in Pobé, a larger village in the far north, in the Sahel Region. Rumor has it I will have electricity in my village, but whether or not my house has it, well, i am not holding my breath. In reality, I am somewhat disappointed I am not in a more remote area (I am actually in the most populated area of the most remote part of the country), you know, to add to the mystery and allue of being a PCV in West Africa....but I think I will manage.

I am in Ouagadougou for a few days for a counterpart workshop. Each volunteer has a counterpart with which they will work for the two years at site. Most of the time the counterpart is a teacher or health worker, depending upon the field, and they usually speak french (they may be the only person in a volunteers village that speaks french).

Last night I ate my first Hamburger since leaving the states. I feel that this is more than worth mentioning, because it was amazing. After a month of eating rice and peanut sauce, goat meat and cous-cous, I finally had a taste of home. I was content. Three other trainees and I caught a cab back to the hotel, but when we arrived, the driver tried to rip us off. It was a tense altercation, but all parties knew that he was over-charging; so we paid him the CORRECT faire and departed the cab. He was the first angry Burkinabé I have witnessed thus far in country. It was scary, but nevertheless a learning experience.

In other exciting news, I can now claim that I have gotten sick! Without going into any details, I discovered the other day that I contracted Giardia AND e. coli. Before any of you call the World Health Orginasation and demand a quarantine, I am fine. In fact, e. coli is the most common stomach ailment suffered by PCVs in Burkina Faso. Apparently Burkina Faso is the Number 1 PC country in Africa in regards to gastrointestinal ailments. Yay.

Also, I now have a cell phone! I still haven't memorized the number, but I am fairly certain that my loving father is going to post it on the website shortly for you all. I know that there are international calling cards for US to Burkina Faso for around 10 cents/minute....so no excuse family and friends, you better call me!

Well, I thought Id have time for one of my "Joel's World Famous Cultural Observations", but alas, I am out of time. I hope this blog finds all of you well and in the best of spirits. I am thinking of you all, missing you all, and wishing you all the best. Until next time, be well.

Contrary to popular belief, and other musings

Hello friends, family! Its me! I am in fact alive and more or less kicking here in Ouahigouya, Burkina Faso, or as i like to call it, the OHG.

Its almost been a whole month since I said my final goodbyes to everyone in Montrose. It is funny, at times, it feels as though I have been here in BF for months, as if time is passing by exceptionally slow, but at the same time (if one could fathom), time is also moving by lightning fast.

I apologize for not posting any pictures yet. I have taken over 150 photos, but the internet here is so depressingly slow, it would be impossible for me to upload photos at this cyber café. My hope is that when i head to Ouaga in a few weeks, i'll be able to post a few photos.

Things here are going well! And by well, i mean very difficult most of the time and finding myself challenged in many different ways :) In reality, every day brings a new challenge. The most overt of challenges clearly is the language barrier. Anybody can pass through a country with a bare minimum knowledge of the language and "survive", but i am discovering that conducting meetings and engaging in discussions that involve many social issues is somewhat difficult without a good understanding of the French (or Mooré/Fulfuldé/Gumulcéma) language. So there's that. But my French studies ARE coming along. My language facilitator (i.e. teacher) has been wonderful and he is exceptionally patient. The language instruction model here is based primarily on conversation. My LCF speaks no english, inside or outside of class. Only perfectly articulated french, which is in fact quite easy to understand.

My job description is falling into greater focus as well. We have participated in many different community meetings in our villages, in an attempt to practice and apply our acquired knowledge of the stuff they cram into our heads during class.

I haven't much time remaining, but i dont want to leave without providing what i forsee to be my very own, world famous "Cultural Observations"

When i was told that the people here in BF were nice, i had no real idea of HOW nice they really are. When leaving the Cyber Café a few weeks ago, my colleague Theo realized he had a flat tire. Not a problem, as we were all supplied with a bike repair kit, complete with all the goodies you might need in the case of a bicycular disaster. Not 2 seconds after Theo, Chrissy and I started staring at the front tire, a gentleman approached us and asked if we needed help. In our broken french, we explained that we didnt need help. He understood and began watching us try to change the tire. Later on, another gentleman approached and asked if we needed help. At some point, i'm not entirely sure, the two guys managed to merge their assistance into the equation and the next thing we knew, the Nassaras (Mooré for White Person) were standing there drinking water and the two men had patched and reassembled the tire, all within 3 minutes.
Long story short, the hospitality, the kindness of the Burkinabé is not only ever-present, but also, to a degree, it is subconcious. If you aren't on the lookout, the goodwill could take you by surprise.

Thats all the time i have for now. Back to my village, Sananga, where I get to eat more Rice, Rice and Rice. Things could be worse. Thank goodness for the overabundance of mangoes here!

Oh yeah, and if anyone wants to you know, send me a letter or a pack of gum or skittles or something else i have no chance of getting here......send it to the address at the right! Things are only taking 11 yes 11 days to get here!!!!

I hope all is well with everyone. Be good, live well.

from the land of dust and flies

hello everyone. Sorry it has taken so long for me to write you all. I guess that will simply become a trend (infrequent posts). So what have i been doing, you are all wondering... Tomorrow's actually my first free day since i left Montrose two weeks ago! I am living in a small village 6 KM north of Ouahigouya called Sananga. I am living with a wonderful host family that insists on cooking for me and doing my laundry. Yeah, tough life :) I have become quite profficient at picking out the pieces of goat bones from my nightly meal. the most common meal ive had so far is Spaghetti w/ tomato sauce and goat meat. Like i said, boneless meat hasnt quite caught on here. But it is good stuff. It is much hotter here than in Ouagadougou. Yesterday, during my language class, my thermometer read 115. At night, my room periodically gets down to 90. Periodically. We all complain, and suffer, from the heat, but I also know that in time, Ill adjust. Apparently, in December, it is not uncommon to see the Burkinabé sporting Hooded jackets and mittens (afterall, it usually dips down to 70 in December).

I am slowly beginning to realize why they call Peace Corps "the toughest job you'll ever love". Its tough, and ive only been here two weeks. But fear not, im going to tough it out. No life threatening ilnesses (yet). One stagiere (thats what we're called here) already came down with e. coli (don't fret, its equated here with the common cold) but he's okay now. That, and the medical staff here are unbelievably thorough and caring :)

Havent seen any lions yet :) but ill keep you all posted on that. I will be in Ouahigouya/Sananga area for the next 10 weeks, whereupon i should have ready access to email (so long as i am not too busy to write). After that, no telling. It looks like im out of time, ill write more later. Take care everyone, say hello to Colorado for me, you have no idea how much i miss it right now. Oh, what id give for some snow :)

hello from Ouagadougou

bon soir mes amies et famille! i havent much time to write, let alone edit my work, as the french keyboard is much different...

We arrived last night. after negotiating immigration and customs (both largely prearranged by pc), we hopped into several white land rovers (in a distinctly UN peacekeeping envoy fashion) and departed for the SIL. for the 1st time since all my fellow trainees met, we were all eerily quiet as we drove down the dark streets of Ouagadougou: There was so much to take in.

We were met by most of our country staff at the aéroport. Most of today has consisted of logistical things; but during our breaks, we get to practice our français w/ our soon-to-be language instructors: The weather is quite hot and muggy, but relatively speaking, not too bad (75-80 at night, 95-100 day).

tomorrow we head north to Ouahigouya, where we will commence training. Unfortunately, i am now out of time :( i will write again as soon as i can and hopefully with pictures!!! plus in time, i will get used to the french keyboard, so i can type fqster...

until then, safe travels to all.

joel
--
"Three o'clock is always too late or too early for anything you want to do" -Jean-Paul Sartre

I guess it's about that time

Here's my luggage. And a pair of my chacos (for scale, of course). It's slightly worrisome that this is all I am taking with me. I'll keep you posted on whether or not I over or under-packed.

.............................................................................

I'll talk to you all when I arrive in Africa!! Be safe, all of you, with whatever path down which life takes you.

Peace (I mean it, now),

Joel

What is Joel doing again? and other random info.

Bon soir and hello! "Is Joel FINALLY in Africa?" you all may be asking. Unfortunately, the answer is no. I will be magically whisked away on a United Airlines flight in roughly 4 days and 12 hours. So I have a handful of days to soak up the beauty of Western Colorado. Four days to catch a sunset, to chew on some ice, to stick my head in front of the swamp cooler....ahhhh.

So before I leave, and before my impressions of what I will be doing get grossly distorted (bear with the sarcasm :), I will give you all a run down of the what where when and why's...and if I have time, the how.

What: Peace Corps (en francais, Corps de la paix), Girls Education And Empowerment (GEE) program. Essentially, I am a "community education outreach agent" where my job is to promote the continuing education of females, w/ a focus on elementary aged girls. Burkina Faso has one of the lowest female literacy rates in the world and their inability to see any form of development is largely blamed on the overwhelming discrepancy in education between males and females. So it is my job (being the fearless tall white dude) to help create sustainable programs that aim specifically at giving the girls a boost.

Where: Burkina Faso, West Africa. Like most of you, before January, I don't think I had even heard of this country. But rest assured, it is a sovereign nation, and the cultures within are as diverse as any other country in the world. The country is a little bit larger than Colorado. It is basically hot year round, but the hottest months are March and April. I will be arriving in Burkina right around the beginning of the rainy season.

When: I leave Washington/Dulles Int'l Airport on Tuesday June 7th 2006, where I begin an 11 week training program in the town of Gourcy (subject to change, as is the case w/ most things in the PC). I begin my two year service August 23rd and end my service to head home Aug. 23rd 2008.

Why: Because I'm crazy? That's what I've been told, on a couple occasions. Because I love to travel. Because I am so passionate about international affairs, about development, about learning, about people. Because I love the world and I'll take up any opportunity that allows me to see a different corner of the planet. These reasons, and so many more.

...HOW: A lot of Patience and a lot of support from my family and my close friends.

So I was reading another volunteer's blog, which is probably very similar to mine, and he did something rather clever, which was list off his packing list. It helped me greatly, b/c it gave me an idea of what I should take...but it is also something that for some unexplainable reason, is intriguing. So, for all of you who wonder what PC volunteers take for two years to Africa, here is my list:

-Jeans x 1 (like I said, it's hot)
-Khakis/Chinos x3 (still awaiting the delivery of one of these..grgrrr)
-Boxers x 13 (150% cotton, baby)
-Shorts x 3
-Hooded Sweatshirt (for those chilly 79 degree nights)
-Capris x 2 (yeah, I'm a guy AND i have capris. They rock too)
-Dress shirts x 4 (for work)
-Dressy Outfit (may come in handy when I need a grant)
-t-shirts x 4
-ties x 2
-CHACOS (one pair of leather flips, 1 pair of regular flips, and my ZX/2's)
-Tennis shoes (of which I will probably never use)
-Dress Shoes (I am banking on wearing these three times in two years)
-Rain Jacket
-Socks x3 (See above comments about shoes)
-Belt x 2
-my schnazzy Patagucci R1 pullover (for when it dips below 80)
-30 packets of Kool-aid (i'll find sugar there)
-Teflon Frying Pan (every other volunteer has sworn by these...)
-Glad Containers (i dunno...i'll probably find some use for them...drums!)
-Ziplock bags x 100 (as another volunteer puts it: African Tupperware)
-plastic spatula
-can opener (something you don't think about but would die w/o it in a pinch)
-90 day supply of basic toiletries
-a roll of TP, for good luck
-Spyderco knife (for street cred, you know?)
-Leatherman tool
-Sunglasses (two pair)
-iPod (this is made possible in part to an item that will be listed later)
-rechargable batteries/battery recharger (see below)
-solio solar charger (these things rock. Check out their website www.solio.com)
-Two headlamps (you know, in case one of them walks away)
-Shortwave radio (to ensure that even in Africa, I can listen to car talk)
-stockpile of good pens (only the best will do)
-USB flash drive
-two books of US postage stamps
-Duct Tape (why not?)
-Digital camera
-screened mosquito tent (because nobody likes malaria in their bloodstream)
-two nalgene bottles
-sewing kit (hey...it could happen)
-two journals, four composition notebooks
-French/Eng dictionary
-camelback
-day pack
-timbuk2 messenger bag (big enough for me to pack myself into)
-Gigantor North Face duffel bag (big enough to pack a nuclear family into)
-a few books that I started but never finished

Believe it or not, all of those things combined weigh about 50 pounds, which is 30 light of my limit! Yes, I know, I rule.

Enjoy the beautiful weather! Good night!

Ten days and counting

I hope the majority of you are able to get to this particular posting hassle-free, assuming that the listserv I established works. So let us consider this a "practice" post. What can I say, I'm learning as I go along.

True to the title of this post, I have ten days remaining before I leave! I haven't really felt the urgency I was expecting, however. Perhaps that is because I have everything I need packed and ready to go. All I need to do now is wait. In all reality, I should be spending this time exposing myself to as much of the French language as possible. The PC director of Burkina Faso sent us a list of useful links that are aimed to refamiliarize us trainees with the French Language. Most areas in which Peace Corps serves have no language prerequisite; however, Latin America and Western Africa both require that the volunteer have some prior language training in Spanish and French, respectively. I took a intensive French course all of last summer, which was amazingly helpful, but nevertheless a year ago. Needless to say, a little tutelage can't hurt in these remaining days before I'll be more or less on my own.


Thank you to all that were able to make it to my going away party on Saturday! I can't tell you how wonderful it was to see all the faces I saw. I even had the opportunity to meet some new and very interesting people. Ultimately, it was the perfect send-off party! Throughout this entry are photos taken from the party. Enjoy!


That's all I have for now. Assuming this gets sent out to you all without a hitch, this will be my last posting before I leave for Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso. It's my goal to make the notifications that are sent to you as clutter free/hassle free as possible. I am not trying to inundate you with more e-clutter, so if there is any way to minimize my presence in your inbox, I will do just that. If for any reason you really really don't want to be notified of my postings, please click on the unsubscribe link supplied in I believe the invitation email which was recently sent to you.

Until then....

Party This weekend!

Hello friends, family.

My departure to Burkina Faso is quickly approaching. Each day I find myself checking off another task on my to-do list which ensures that I cover all my bases before I fly out of Montrose Regional Airport on the 3rd of June. I think I'm all but ready. I created a relatively modest (for two years) but nevertheless complicated packing list. I have acquired almost everything on my list. The next step is to make sure I can pack it all and remain under my 80 pound weight limit. 80 pounds you muse w/ exclamation? Yes. I am to take w/ me a max of 80 pounds for two years. But it's not like I'm going to be living on the moon or anything like that. There will be stores where I go. There will be places to go where I can buy clothing, soap, and yes, toilet paper. The majority of what I am packing is in fact perishable items that I will consume/use up in the first three months, as I acclimate to the country. Many of the items I have been urged to take w/ me surprised me initially.

Some of the more interesting items I am taking include: A frying pan, 3 times as many sandals as shoes (3 pairs of sandals to one pair of shoes), a low bandwidth radio (whereupon I can pick up radio stations from around the world), my iPod (yes, I won't have electricity where I'm going, but that's why I am also packing the next item on my list), Solio Solar Charger (specifically designed to charge iPods), Business Suit (I have to remind myself that even though I'm going to W. Africa, this will be a "real" job), my favorite brands of seasoning (the food there is rather bland, I have heard).

Surprisingly, for two years, I am only taking 3 t-shirts, 3 pairs of pants, 3 pairs of shorts, three dress shirts.

However, before this trip is to begin, I must have a going away party, right? This Saturday, May 20th, is just that. I'll be sure to post as many pictures on this blog site showing how much fun we all had!

ciao
joel

Greetings Friends, online wanderers

Welcome to my brand new flashy (okay, it isn't THAT flashy) and hopefully soon-to-be educational blog site. For those of you who know me and why I am writing this, hello once again. For those who do not know me, most likely stumbled upon this blog because you share, at some level, a mutual interest that I possess with Africa. So let me catch everyone up to speed. While I have not yet departed, I am slated to leave for Burkina Faso, a relatively small land-locked country in Western Africa, on the 3rd of June. It is this place that I will call home for the next 27 months.

In any event, I will surely provide much more info as time nears and well after I depart. At this point, there are many questions even I have that have yet to be answered. I hope to provide you all with my thoughts, impressions, observations, and yes, possibly even my fears, as they come to me, or as often as I can find a computer (Western Africa hasn't the breadth of technological resources that other parts of the world enjoy).

With that, enjoy the blog, be sure to bookmark it, as I do not believe I have the option of notifying you all when and if I post a new journal entry.

allez, au revoir!

joel