Tuesday, July 17, 2007

13 months, 2 weeks

"C'est pas facile, deh?" With an obligatory smile, I assure the bush taxi driver that I have been in many a cramped vehicle in an attempt to get from point A to point B. So as I climb into the very very back of the tiny Peugeot truck, I throw a couple parting blessings to my colleagues in Korunfé, I soak up the fresh air that came with barreling down a pot-holed, washed out road at 50 mph....and I realize, this is unique.

And sometimes, a little fun.

If a friend or other loved one was able to come visit me for just one day, one 24 hour period of time, I would take them on public transport. A close neighbor of mine once said, "I never feel more like a volunteer than when I am on transport." I have no choice but to agree with her. Few other experiences offer a traveler with such a candid, inviting look into the life and culture of Burkinabés. So many of my favorite memories come from going between point A and B. Whether it is riding in the back of a truck with two camels and a cow or it is helping push the bus through a waist-deep river, few transport experiences are without memories.

"You see the thing is," a friend starts, "your bus is either going to get you there on time or you're going to have a good story to tell when you get to your destination. Either way, the trip allows itself to be worth it." I've made it halfway through my service here in Burkina Faso. If one was to ask me in what way have I changed the most, I would say that I have perfected the art of patience. I know many would be quick to compliment me on such an accomplishment. But while I do see it as an accomplishment, it was anything but a voluntary undertaking. It is, for lack of a better explanation, a means of survival, being a 20-something from the West, transported, courtesy Air France into the daily grind of a land not forgotten, but simply never known.
So whether I am sitting on the side of the road, profiting from the shade of the tiny Peugeot, waiting for the driver to walk 5km to the nearest town to find a litre of gasoline, or I am sitting in an empty classroom, waiting for people to show so a meeting can start, I have learned that here in the Faso, patience is not simply a virtue, it is also a necessity.

I know it may not seem it, but sometimes, it isn't easy.

Here's the thing: for me, a one Joel D. Turner, PCV Burkina Faso, hindsight most certainly is not 20/20. Rather, it is cotton candy, balloons and gumballs, sno cones and other things that are sweet and wonderful. I didn't choose this method of outlook, but alas, I air on the side of positive. But it really isn't always like that. It just depends on how you look at it all. I could have hopped into that mini truck which happened to have 31 passengers (this truck is the size of a Buick LeSabre) and had the most discouraging, horrible day of my service up to that point. It was hot, I had a goat strapped above me that could have decided to relieve its bladder at any moment, a young child was expelling her mucus onto my pants, and an old man was trying to give me his grand-daughter as a cadeaux. But you have to take things in stride.

While it is true that I have reached the halfway point of my Peace Corps service, the reality is that I am much more than halfway through it all. After all, I applied for Peace Corps 16 months before I left for the Faso. While I wasn't picking rocks out of my lunch in the heat the entire time, Peace Corps has definitely been a part of my life for longer than the last 13 months and two weeks.

So what does this all mean? Mid-Service Crisis. No, I'm not going to go out and buy a Camel or anything rash like that...but it is a significant period of reflection for many volunteers. Peace Corps has been a part of my life for some time now, and the thought that it will some day (within the next year, give or take) be a thing of the past is a very sobering reality. Life in Burkina is real in every way America is fake...and Peace Corps Burkina is fake in every way America is real. I have no genetically modified tomatoes nor re-runs of Melrose Place, but I have no credit card bills nor junk mail. Same same but different, only...different.

Logistically speaking, I am here in Ouaga this week doing (incidentally) Mid-service medical. It is not a comprehensive medical check, but I do get a physical, dental check-up, and I even get to poop into a cup three times over the course of three days to see if I have any latent amoebas, worms, 25 cfa coins, etc lingering in my system. Thursday and Friday us GEE's have our 2nd year In-Service training. Just another opportunity for us to swap ideas and head back to site with an armful (or three) of resources, xeroxed sheets of info, and so on.
I head back to village for one week, where I can tend to my Eggplant crop and my Sunflowers (they are now 3 feet tall!). Rumor has it I will be cultivating corn and watermelon this rainy season. Following my week in Pobé, I return to Ouahigouya, to work another couple weeks with the trainees. Like I said in a previous post, they're a good group, and I really look forward to working with them again.
THEN, and I must say I am so excited about this, in August, my wonderful friend Shannon will be coming to visit me! So Shannon, if you're out there, don't forget to bring insect repellent. And be sure to bring me a t-shirt from Prague. Okay. Enough said. Until next time.

Be well.

j

1 comment:

Jill said...

Here's the thing: any crappy bush taxi ride is made so much better by a pit stop in Titao.

If I'd known you had three-foot tall sunflowers, I definitely would have visited by now. Maybe I'll visit when Shannon's in town. I want to see the Young Frankenstein routine!