Finally, back in the comfort of my own home. My trips to Ouaga, where, incidentally, I have access to the Internet, are generally so action-packed, I seldom have the time to breathe, let alone write a coherent, Blog-worthy entry while I am sitting in front of a strange device known as a PC.
9 PM and it’s a temperate 91 degrees in my home. Who am I kidding? I’m sweating up a storm. I have been in this country for over nine months and I still live like an American. You see, 9 months out of the year, it is generally too hot to do anything inside the house. For most “au village”, the home is a place to put one’s belongings and, in the event the temperature drops below 80, a place to sleep. All household activities take place outside. I addition to the house, most courtyards have what is known as a hangar, essentially a semi-permanent awning made of several 7-foot long logs and a pile of Millet and or Corn Stalks (dried) which are draped on top to create an outdoor shaded area. This is where the men spend much of their day, sipping on tea, talking about life, football, etc…while the women are generally doing laundry, pounding millet into flour, and/or fetching water from the pump.
I, myself, have quite a lovely hangar (see photos). It is extra tall and completely enclosed, for my privacy and avoidance of that pesky star known as the sun. In time, I will be sleeping under this hangar, as the Solar Oven known as my house will soon be impossible to sleep in. In the meantime, my hangar space has become not only a social hotspot for wandering men in search of hot tea and broken-French conversations, but also my very own, fully functioning workspace. On Thursdays and Sundays a handful of attention span challenged 12-year olds come by my house to study. Normally, I snag their workbooks, see what they’ve been studying, then I quiz them orally. After a few weeks, I casually mention to my friend Salam that I want to create a cement chalkboard on the side of my house. Two days later, Salam arrives with a 4’x7’ wooden chalkboard, ready to go. And like that, I have myself an education center.
In fact, I’ve found many ways to do my work from home: Our newly formed Women’s Empowerment Association holds its meetings under my hangar. I will be sure to take plenty of photos to give you all a virtual tour of my pad. While I love the idea of “ doing development from home”, I do try to get out into the community, chatting with friends, telling the old guy selling tomatoes, for only the 500th time, “no, I don’t have a wife” and “NO, you need not give me one”. In many ways, being the only white member of a village of 7,000 makes me a novelty. But at least now, after 6 months in my new home, I am a familiar novelty. I hope this short entry, brought to you by Air Mail and then my kind father finds you all well.
Thanks for reading
J.
(From Letter Dated 6 March 2007)
Friday, March 23, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
That Which Empowers All.
Hello friends and blogger-goers. I'm back in Ouaga after what seems like only a few days (it has been, in fact, 17 days since I was last here). Myself, along with a handful of other GEE compatriots are in town to meet with a "Consultant" from D.C., I believe, to discuss the GEE program. It's my understanding that our overall project plan for GEE is taking on some changes, so they have called in a few volunteers to provide input (they also are visiting many volunteers at their sites).
While my time in village was relatively brief, I found myself busy with, well, WORK. Before you all rub your eyes and verify that I did say the word "Work", keep in mind that while the PCV is "on the clock, 24/7 "...what many in the United States would consider "work work", I do about 3-5 hours a week. Nevertheless, I feel productive... on my game, if you will.
Women, namely Pobe-Mengao Women, rock.
My Women's association is off and running. While I was in Ouaga enjoying FESPACO, they had a meeting, where all 20 of the members cotiser'd (pitched in) 1,000 f.cfa (about 2 bucks) to the treasury of the association. They have used 10 of the 20,000 francs to purchase a demand for membership with the Provincial offices in Djibo. While such a following of protocol is not necessary, it is good to register your association with the government in the event that it grows or you choose to handle any significant sum of money, through savings and credit and or simple monthly dues. I recently learned that there is a department in the government loosely termed, "the morality police." They are known to check up on associations, savings and credit groups, no matter how small, to ensure they are not "bouffing" (West African slang for skimming the fat...stealing, if you will) the funds that members give. Personally, I am really excited to see the level of motivation and organization that already exists in the association. They even came up with a name for their association. Namanegb Zanga, Moore for "That Which Empowers All". I happen to like it. The English version, at least, has a nice ring to it. I cannot, for the life of me, pronounce the Moore version. Once we get the green light, so to speak, from the Provincial offices (you think U.S. bureaucracy is slow...), our plan is to kick off by having a General Assembly meeting with the entire community. Here, we will explain our mission (That being 1) Raise awareness about issues facing women, such as maternal health, family planning, HIV/AIDS, etc 2) Increase literacy among males and females in the community 3) help create small-scale savings and credit groups, primarily for women), and announce a tentative schedule of events. Since our association is made up of a bureau of 9 men and women and 11 representatives (all women) from each sector of the village, we hope that a "trickle-down effect" of awareness-raising with oversight on the part of the "permanent 9" will be the general method of action. Essentially, we sensibilize the 11, they carry the info to women in their family compounds, and thus the info spreads. Something like that.
What I love about this setup is that it shows promise of sustainability. Sensibilizations (awareness-raising) is a significant part of a PCVs job description, but what is the village to do once the PCV leaves? It is my hope that with this association, they will acquire the resources and know-how to carry this on regardless of Tall-White-Guy-Presence. Make sense? Its far from a perfect world, but it's a start.
Theatre/Debate
After what seems like 6 months (wait, it HAS been 6 months) of trying to get a Boys/Girls club started at the Junior High (C.E.G.) in Pobe, Kim and I finally smelled the sweet scent of success. We just wrapped up yesterday a shorter-than-desired Theatre/Debate camp with 14 C.E.G. students. All students were encouraged to apply to join the club, by writing a letter of interest. In the end, we received 14 letters. Hence why there are 14 members of our club (its complicated, I know). The idea of the club is simple, Kim, with a strong background in theatre as a means of raising awareness, would take up the theatre half and myself, having a year of coaching debate(for whatever it's worth), would attempt to introduce these teenagers to the idea of organized argumentation. We then took major issues facing people in village (such as polygamy, female genital mutilation, Forced Marriage) and filter the issues through the lenses of theatre and debate. Though our camp is over, we will continue to have weekly sessions. We hope to have an end of the year theatre presentation, open to the whole community. The assistant director of the C.E.G. even asked us if we would be interested in starting a debate class, 8 hours a week. I am still undecided about this, as I haven't really the expertise to lead a class on debate (in French, no less), but I must admit the prospect is highly compelling. Perhaps something to look into next year.
What I do the other 163 hours of the week
The beauty of life here as a PCV is even if you put in a full-day's work (2-3 hours) you still have a full day to relax, read a book, perfect your preparation of instant oatmeal, or knock back a cup of tea with neighbors. I recently received a care package from my wonderful friend, Wyndi. Aside from the usual but always welcome selection of goodies (Skittles, Caramel Apple Suckers...delicious), she threw a curve ball in this package in the form of a Sudoku puzzle book. I am not ashamed to say that I am scared of Sudoku's, what with their deceptively challenging layout and their eraser-friendly squares within squares within squares. With a sudoku, looks are most definitely deceiving. But seeing as how my Association meeting had come and gone and debate club wasn't for two days, I felt I could sacrifice an hour or two (or 14) for a few puzzles. After 4 hours of undivided concentration, a sensation I have not experienced since writing my Modern Political Theories term paper two years ago, I completed, correctly, my first Sudoku Puzzle. I was absolved of all logic puzzle ghosts.
Seeing as how one of the three goals of Peace Corps is "Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of peoples served" and also considering that Sudoku's are the sole reason 60% of US Americans buy newspapers nowadays, AND, realizing that I still had only occupied 1 hour of that day with actual work, I thought I would take my sudoku puzzle book outside, and see if my neighbors would like to learn, thus working towards Goal #2 of Peace Corps. My first contestant: Maiga. 20-something, civil servant, well-educated, slightly resembles Dave Chappelle, perfect candidate for Sudoku exposure. After explaining the general rules of the puzzle, the 1 through 9's, the lines, columns, boxes (you ALL know what I'm talking about), he takes the book from me with functionaire-like certainty and says, "Joel, here is the strategy. You check to see if a particular number already exists in a particular line. If no, you can put it in a box." I chose not to argue with him...I let him have this moment of tutelage over me...even though he was explaining one of multiple necessary strategies. He continues, "Joel, this game is simple. Give me your pencil. I will be done in five minutes." Knowing Maiga's competitive nature, I had pre-traced a particular puzzle and we started together, working on the same Sudoku. After 45 minutes, I completed my puzzle. Maiga asks to see my puzzle. "Joel, all of your numbers are in different places than mine. What does that mean?" With calm humility, I tell him that he screwed up. Moments later, Bas, the local veterinarian, stormed up in his motorcycle. When he saw that Maiga was scribbling numbers into a book, he naturally asked what he was doing. Maiga proceeded to explain the rules of the game, only this time, providing the addendum "it's more challenging than one might think." Whereupon Bas retorts, "Maiga, this game sounds simple. I can finish it in 5 minutes."
And so it goes in village. There are always ups and downs. Nothing will change the inevitability of ebb and flow at site. The next few months will be the hottest of the year. Temperatures are already roaming between 90 and 107 (lows and highs) and are expected to get even warmer in the coming weeks. This will be a new challenge. Okay, it's going to suck. But if the presence of older volunteers is any indication, I think I'll survive the heat. I'll let you know how it goes in letters from village.
That's all the time I have for now. Expect a post that I wrote and mailed snail mail to my family in the US o A, whereupon my loving father will transcribe the written word onto the blog. I completely forgot what I wrote, it may be a lot of the same stuff here. I guess we'll all find out sooner or later.
Thanks for reading.
Wend na kond nidaare!
joel
While my time in village was relatively brief, I found myself busy with, well, WORK. Before you all rub your eyes and verify that I did say the word "Work", keep in mind that while the PCV is "on the clock, 24/7 "...what many in the United States would consider "work work", I do about 3-5 hours a week. Nevertheless, I feel productive... on my game, if you will.
Women, namely Pobe-Mengao Women, rock.
My Women's association is off and running. While I was in Ouaga enjoying FESPACO, they had a meeting, where all 20 of the members cotiser'd (pitched in) 1,000 f.cfa (about 2 bucks) to the treasury of the association. They have used 10 of the 20,000 francs to purchase a demand for membership with the Provincial offices in Djibo. While such a following of protocol is not necessary, it is good to register your association with the government in the event that it grows or you choose to handle any significant sum of money, through savings and credit and or simple monthly dues. I recently learned that there is a department in the government loosely termed, "the morality police." They are known to check up on associations, savings and credit groups, no matter how small, to ensure they are not "bouffing" (West African slang for skimming the fat...stealing, if you will) the funds that members give. Personally, I am really excited to see the level of motivation and organization that already exists in the association. They even came up with a name for their association. Namanegb Zanga, Moore for "That Which Empowers All". I happen to like it. The English version, at least, has a nice ring to it. I cannot, for the life of me, pronounce the Moore version. Once we get the green light, so to speak, from the Provincial offices (you think U.S. bureaucracy is slow...), our plan is to kick off by having a General Assembly meeting with the entire community. Here, we will explain our mission (That being 1) Raise awareness about issues facing women, such as maternal health, family planning, HIV/AIDS, etc 2) Increase literacy among males and females in the community 3) help create small-scale savings and credit groups, primarily for women), and announce a tentative schedule of events. Since our association is made up of a bureau of 9 men and women and 11 representatives (all women) from each sector of the village, we hope that a "trickle-down effect" of awareness-raising with oversight on the part of the "permanent 9" will be the general method of action. Essentially, we sensibilize the 11, they carry the info to women in their family compounds, and thus the info spreads. Something like that.
What I love about this setup is that it shows promise of sustainability. Sensibilizations (awareness-raising) is a significant part of a PCVs job description, but what is the village to do once the PCV leaves? It is my hope that with this association, they will acquire the resources and know-how to carry this on regardless of Tall-White-Guy-Presence. Make sense? Its far from a perfect world, but it's a start.
Theatre/Debate
After what seems like 6 months (wait, it HAS been 6 months) of trying to get a Boys/Girls club started at the Junior High (C.E.G.) in Pobe, Kim and I finally smelled the sweet scent of success. We just wrapped up yesterday a shorter-than-desired Theatre/Debate camp with 14 C.E.G. students. All students were encouraged to apply to join the club, by writing a letter of interest. In the end, we received 14 letters. Hence why there are 14 members of our club (its complicated, I know). The idea of the club is simple, Kim, with a strong background in theatre as a means of raising awareness, would take up the theatre half and myself, having a year of coaching debate(for whatever it's worth), would attempt to introduce these teenagers to the idea of organized argumentation. We then took major issues facing people in village (such as polygamy, female genital mutilation, Forced Marriage) and filter the issues through the lenses of theatre and debate. Though our camp is over, we will continue to have weekly sessions. We hope to have an end of the year theatre presentation, open to the whole community. The assistant director of the C.E.G. even asked us if we would be interested in starting a debate class, 8 hours a week. I am still undecided about this, as I haven't really the expertise to lead a class on debate (in French, no less), but I must admit the prospect is highly compelling. Perhaps something to look into next year.
What I do the other 163 hours of the week
The beauty of life here as a PCV is even if you put in a full-day's work (2-3 hours) you still have a full day to relax, read a book, perfect your preparation of instant oatmeal, or knock back a cup of tea with neighbors. I recently received a care package from my wonderful friend, Wyndi. Aside from the usual but always welcome selection of goodies (Skittles, Caramel Apple Suckers...delicious), she threw a curve ball in this package in the form of a Sudoku puzzle book. I am not ashamed to say that I am scared of Sudoku's, what with their deceptively challenging layout and their eraser-friendly squares within squares within squares. With a sudoku, looks are most definitely deceiving. But seeing as how my Association meeting had come and gone and debate club wasn't for two days, I felt I could sacrifice an hour or two (or 14) for a few puzzles. After 4 hours of undivided concentration, a sensation I have not experienced since writing my Modern Political Theories term paper two years ago, I completed, correctly, my first Sudoku Puzzle. I was absolved of all logic puzzle ghosts.
Seeing as how one of the three goals of Peace Corps is "Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of peoples served" and also considering that Sudoku's are the sole reason 60% of US Americans buy newspapers nowadays, AND, realizing that I still had only occupied 1 hour of that day with actual work, I thought I would take my sudoku puzzle book outside, and see if my neighbors would like to learn, thus working towards Goal #2 of Peace Corps. My first contestant: Maiga. 20-something, civil servant, well-educated, slightly resembles Dave Chappelle, perfect candidate for Sudoku exposure. After explaining the general rules of the puzzle, the 1 through 9's, the lines, columns, boxes (you ALL know what I'm talking about), he takes the book from me with functionaire-like certainty and says, "Joel, here is the strategy. You check to see if a particular number already exists in a particular line. If no, you can put it in a box." I chose not to argue with him...I let him have this moment of tutelage over me...even though he was explaining one of multiple necessary strategies. He continues, "Joel, this game is simple. Give me your pencil. I will be done in five minutes." Knowing Maiga's competitive nature, I had pre-traced a particular puzzle and we started together, working on the same Sudoku. After 45 minutes, I completed my puzzle. Maiga asks to see my puzzle. "Joel, all of your numbers are in different places than mine. What does that mean?" With calm humility, I tell him that he screwed up. Moments later, Bas, the local veterinarian, stormed up in his motorcycle. When he saw that Maiga was scribbling numbers into a book, he naturally asked what he was doing. Maiga proceeded to explain the rules of the game, only this time, providing the addendum "it's more challenging than one might think." Whereupon Bas retorts, "Maiga, this game sounds simple. I can finish it in 5 minutes."
And so it goes in village. There are always ups and downs. Nothing will change the inevitability of ebb and flow at site. The next few months will be the hottest of the year. Temperatures are already roaming between 90 and 107 (lows and highs) and are expected to get even warmer in the coming weeks. This will be a new challenge. Okay, it's going to suck. But if the presence of older volunteers is any indication, I think I'll survive the heat. I'll let you know how it goes in letters from village.
That's all the time I have for now. Expect a post that I wrote and mailed snail mail to my family in the US o A, whereupon my loving father will transcribe the written word onto the blog. I completely forgot what I wrote, it may be a lot of the same stuff here. I guess we'll all find out sooner or later.
Thanks for reading.
Wend na kond nidaare!
joel
Saturday, March 03, 2007
the intensity of cinema.
I must admit that I like movies. No. Wait. I am sorry. I like film. Apparently there is a difference. Word distinction and other trivialities aside, I am currently recovering from my first African film festival. Well, I am actually recovering from my first Film Festival. FESPACO, or Festival Panafricain du cinema et de la television de Ouagadougou, is heralded as the biggest film festival in Africa. Culture buffs from all corners of the planet descend upon this otherwise difficult to pronounce capital city for 8 days of film, arts, crafts, and goat meat.
Films were shown in at least 5 different theatres for 8 days from 8 am to 11 pm. I saw five films and I have to tell you, I am happy with that. I feel I have earned my debut film festival wings. Two nights ago I saw Un Matin Bonne Heure (Early one Morning). It was the story of two relatively affluent yet nevertheless disgruntled Guinean teenagers in the capital Conakry. During their summer vacation, they have no choice but to wallow in what they see as a dead-end life. Feeling that a simple, "good education", will not bring them success, they resign to the fact that an escape to Europe is their only option. The film footage is raw, the writing is at times, inconsistent (nay, unrealistic), but for me, the film was good enough to allow me to employ healthy criticism. Or what I pawn of as such.
Last night was, what I called, "Film Festival Marathon Madness night," involved "theater hopping" from one movie theater to the next, quickly slipping in line to catch the next film. The first first of these was Will Smith's The Pursuit of Happyness. I am sure many of you have at least heard of this well-trailered blockbuster. I chose this film over, say, Bunny Chow or Juju Factory (i.e., non-hollywood films) for two reasons. One, I have been in Burkina Faso for almost 9 months and part of me simply wanted to see a good new-fashioned Hollywood movie, with all its Pop-Culture familiarity and flair. Secondly, and more sociologically, I wanted to see an American Blockbuster in a quaint West-African Capital city, to see how people who have not been over-exposed to Hollywood films received the film. I spend so much time in village explaining to people that there is in fact poverty in the United States. That NOT everybody is rich. The concept of homelessness is lost of people who place family far above and beyond the pursuit of individuality. The movie, for all its cute Will Smith one-liners and sweeping musical processions, showed a part of America that we Americans easily overlook. The reality that homeless persons are People. They have a story to tell. I laughed a lot during the film, and yes, tears welled in my eyes. Is that not what a movie is supposed to do?
Following this 4:30 showing, myself and a friend hopped in a cab and bolted (okay, rather, slowly crawled in the horrible traffic) to the next theater, smack dab downtown. We didn't know what was playing, and frankly, we didn't care. I had received my Hollywood fix, and I wanted to simply jump into a theater, not knowing what I would be seeing. There is a certain excitement in seeing a film about which you know nothing. We ended up seeing La Vague Blanche, Moroccan film about a rich hotel developer and an out of jail drug dealer that cross paths when they collectively recover 20 kilograms of cocaine from the ocean. Think any Charles Bronson flick, spoken in Arabic, meets Carlito's Way. I got the feeling that most other people in this packed theater entered the room as clueless as us, because when the film started, and when people learned the characters spoke Arabic and the subtitles were in English (good for the 2 Americans in the theater, bad for the 250 french-speakers), there was a waterfall of murmured discontent for the first 10 minutes. A man next to me muttered in french, "I have NO idea what they are saying." Strangely, I found this to be amusing. I assured him that the dialogue was so bad, he wasn't missing much. All harsh criticisms aside, it must be said that this was this director's first full-feature film, and I have never experienced such a wide range of emotions of a single low-budget film in my life. I went from falling asleep to laughing until my side hurt, to actually sympathizing with the main character...and yes, my eyes welled with tears once again. The cinematography was horrible, the shots were too long, the dialogues were amateur at best...but I have never been more honest when I say that this director has an insane amount of potential. Following this 8:30 showing, we crossed the street and joined a mob of people waiting outside Cine Oubri, where the South African Academy Award-Winning Tsotsi was showing at 10:30. The film, spoken in Afrikaans, had English subtitles, so again, I was wondering how the largely Francophone audience took this. The film's studied and well-executed shots were in shocking contrast to the very slopping Moroccan film I had just seen. The cinematography was phenomenal. The lighting was a misty yellow-rust, accentuating the drudgery of Johannesburg Township life. My favorite part of the movie, aside from the simple yet masterfully-crafted character development, was the music. Heavy, loud.
So that, in a nutshell, was my FESPACO experience. I will be back online in 2.5 weeks when I return to Ouagadougou to celebrate the completion of service for the oldest group of Secondary Education Volunteers. Until that time, I will be in village, eagerly helping my new Woman's association get off the ground. Oh yeah, and eagerly catching up on my reading. So many books, barely not enough time.
I hope you all enjoy the quickly approaching spring. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to the 120 + degree days which are due to arrive in a few weeks' time. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on my level of sanity. Until then, be well, everyone.
over.....and out. j
Films were shown in at least 5 different theatres for 8 days from 8 am to 11 pm. I saw five films and I have to tell you, I am happy with that. I feel I have earned my debut film festival wings. Two nights ago I saw Un Matin Bonne Heure (Early one Morning). It was the story of two relatively affluent yet nevertheless disgruntled Guinean teenagers in the capital Conakry. During their summer vacation, they have no choice but to wallow in what they see as a dead-end life. Feeling that a simple, "good education", will not bring them success, they resign to the fact that an escape to Europe is their only option. The film footage is raw, the writing is at times, inconsistent (nay, unrealistic), but for me, the film was good enough to allow me to employ healthy criticism. Or what I pawn of as such.
Last night was, what I called, "Film Festival Marathon Madness night," involved "theater hopping" from one movie theater to the next, quickly slipping in line to catch the next film. The first first of these was Will Smith's The Pursuit of Happyness. I am sure many of you have at least heard of this well-trailered blockbuster. I chose this film over, say, Bunny Chow or Juju Factory (i.e., non-hollywood films) for two reasons. One, I have been in Burkina Faso for almost 9 months and part of me simply wanted to see a good new-fashioned Hollywood movie, with all its Pop-Culture familiarity and flair. Secondly, and more sociologically, I wanted to see an American Blockbuster in a quaint West-African Capital city, to see how people who have not been over-exposed to Hollywood films received the film. I spend so much time in village explaining to people that there is in fact poverty in the United States. That NOT everybody is rich. The concept of homelessness is lost of people who place family far above and beyond the pursuit of individuality. The movie, for all its cute Will Smith one-liners and sweeping musical processions, showed a part of America that we Americans easily overlook. The reality that homeless persons are People. They have a story to tell. I laughed a lot during the film, and yes, tears welled in my eyes. Is that not what a movie is supposed to do?
Following this 4:30 showing, myself and a friend hopped in a cab and bolted (okay, rather, slowly crawled in the horrible traffic) to the next theater, smack dab downtown. We didn't know what was playing, and frankly, we didn't care. I had received my Hollywood fix, and I wanted to simply jump into a theater, not knowing what I would be seeing. There is a certain excitement in seeing a film about which you know nothing. We ended up seeing La Vague Blanche, Moroccan film about a rich hotel developer and an out of jail drug dealer that cross paths when they collectively recover 20 kilograms of cocaine from the ocean. Think any Charles Bronson flick, spoken in Arabic, meets Carlito's Way. I got the feeling that most other people in this packed theater entered the room as clueless as us, because when the film started, and when people learned the characters spoke Arabic and the subtitles were in English (good for the 2 Americans in the theater, bad for the 250 french-speakers), there was a waterfall of murmured discontent for the first 10 minutes. A man next to me muttered in french, "I have NO idea what they are saying." Strangely, I found this to be amusing. I assured him that the dialogue was so bad, he wasn't missing much. All harsh criticisms aside, it must be said that this was this director's first full-feature film, and I have never experienced such a wide range of emotions of a single low-budget film in my life. I went from falling asleep to laughing until my side hurt, to actually sympathizing with the main character...and yes, my eyes welled with tears once again. The cinematography was horrible, the shots were too long, the dialogues were amateur at best...but I have never been more honest when I say that this director has an insane amount of potential. Following this 8:30 showing, we crossed the street and joined a mob of people waiting outside Cine Oubri, where the South African Academy Award-Winning Tsotsi was showing at 10:30. The film, spoken in Afrikaans, had English subtitles, so again, I was wondering how the largely Francophone audience took this. The film's studied and well-executed shots were in shocking contrast to the very slopping Moroccan film I had just seen. The cinematography was phenomenal. The lighting was a misty yellow-rust, accentuating the drudgery of Johannesburg Township life. My favorite part of the movie, aside from the simple yet masterfully-crafted character development, was the music. Heavy, loud.
So that, in a nutshell, was my FESPACO experience. I will be back online in 2.5 weeks when I return to Ouagadougou to celebrate the completion of service for the oldest group of Secondary Education Volunteers. Until that time, I will be in village, eagerly helping my new Woman's association get off the ground. Oh yeah, and eagerly catching up on my reading. So many books, barely not enough time.
I hope you all enjoy the quickly approaching spring. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to the 120 + degree days which are due to arrive in a few weeks' time. I'll be sure to keep you all updated on my level of sanity. Until then, be well, everyone.
over.....and out. j
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