A'densé

Toussian-Bandougou: the coming of age ceremony

2008-05-29T07:22:00.000-07:00

Arriving by bicycle from Orodara, a present strapped to the back of my bike, we road along a narrow winding dirt path towards the village of Toussian-Bandougou. As we approached you could hear the buzzing of activity. It was 9 am when we arrived and the village had been up for hours preparing for 3 days of festivities. The women were busy cooking enormous amounts of rice with palm nut sauce, tô mousso (fried bean paste balls), banbara (ground pea flour pancakes with shea butter and onions) and bissap (a drink made from Bissap flowers). The men were tapping fresh bangi (Palm wine) from the sap of palm tress, setting up benches and charging car batteries to have light for the evening parties.

Making Banbara

It is the coming of age ceremony. A ceremony that takes place once every 2-4 years, depending on when the elders of the village deem that there are enough young women of marrying age (which is around 18 years old) to hold the festivities. This year there are 20 young women passing the coming of age and one of the women was Moussa’s “wife”. The ceremony is just one of the many steps the two of them have been progressing through in order to become an official married couple. They have been together now for a few years and have two adorable children (age 3 and 6 months). Moussa has passed through the male coming of age ceremony and has finished building his wife’s house. After she finishes the coming of age ceremony they are planning on having the legal wedding at the church.

New house built for the wedding

The ceremony is three days of celebrating womanhood, passing along the secrets of married life, dancing, singing, eating and supporting each other. Young girls dream of their turn and older women reminisce. Every family that has a daughter in the ceremony cooks enough food for every possible visitor that may pass by, they hire the Griotts (important musicians who sing benedictions) to play the xylophone and jambé’s so everyone can dance.

Griott playing the xylophone

For a portion of the ceremony all the girls are grouped together and dance in a circle with their sisters, cousins, aunts, friends and their “maid of honour”, then later they will move onto individual parties at their family’s home. The maid of honour is a married sister who transports a basket on her head every where the “bride” goes and people give presents of money, clothe, dishes…that they place in the basket. This maid of honour helps the bride throughout the 3 days, never leaving her side and getting her what she needs. The bride herself changes outfits several times throughout the 3 days, wearing ornate clothe and decorated with jewelry, glasses (to protect from the sun), a small basket (to capture blessing and good chance for the future), a broom (to represent her future life) and a fan (as she will dance for 3 days often under the hot sun). The women sing and dance, the Griotts play music and friends gather around to cheer, sing and participate. The party continues into the night, sleep is forgotten and everyone has a great time.

Dressed for the ceremony

( Moussa's wife to be)

Rain drops keep falling on my head!

2008-05-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

Today it rained!!! This is quite exciting as it hasn't really rained since October! Adults ran for cover and kids ran into the streets squealing, running, dancing, singing and getting soaking wet. It felt great. A nice relief from the dry heat, but after the rain stopped we now get to enjoy hot, sticky and humid... still nice to see a little rain.

Village Stay: discovering the other side of the story

2008-04-08T04:26:00.001-07:00

The other day I decided I wanted to see the other side of things for a change. What I mean by this is that often with work I spend my time with men. Men tend to be the producers of mangoes, exporters are primarily men, but even though processors do tend to be women they are women from urban centers who are educated and usually very well off. So I wanted to learn about how the average women lives and what life is like in a village setting.

I went to a village called Dodougou. It’s only about 20km from Bobo but it feels like much further. You head down the highway till you reach the village of Coro, a tourist attraction, know for its weird rocks scattered everywhere. Once you reach Coro you head down a dirt road, which is anything but smooth. You pass several smaller villages then reach a larger village. In the market you cut through the stands and head along an even smaller dirt road. Following this road through fields and wide open spaces, you finally find Dodougou. Though the distance is short the trip takes about 3 hours.

Dodougou is a mid sized village that spreads out over much flat land. The village is divided into 4 sections based on ethnicity and language. There is the Mossi section that speak Mooré, the Bobo section that speak Bobo, the Dioula section that speak Dioula and the Tiéfo section that speak Tiéfo. There is also a population of Peuls that live more on the periphery than being integrated as part of the community. Dodougou has no electricity; limited cell phone access (you need to walk around in a circle till you find the right spot and hope the wind doesn’t change direction); a couple water pumps, but mainly wells; a brand new and opening this month community grain storage; no latrines (you go in the bushes); a primary school, but no high school (kids have to go to Bobo); and nothing but foot paths to get around.

I spent a week in Dodougou cooking; fetching water and wood; learning different traditional skills and economic activities that woman partake in, but most importantly making friends.

Learning a woman’s traditional skill

Shea butter

Shea butter, a much sought after product among the cosmetic and chocolate industries, yet a tradition within many West African villages. Many people have seen and probably used shea butter products for dry skin, and many have surely eaten chocolate without realizing that shea butter was a key ingredient. Here shea is used primarily both as a cream for dry skin and as an oil for cooking. Traditionally women have engaged in shea processing mainly for local consumption, but in recent years shea has become an increasingly important exportable commodity (unfortunately usually as a raw nut rather than a processed product where the value add and the monetary gain is so much higher).

I admit I have been one to indulge in chocolate and to use shea butter on my skin but with little knowledge or even reflection on where shea comes from, what it looks like and the process it has do go through to become this final product that I enjoy. In Dodougou shea processing is an old tradition and you can ask pretty much any woman and she will tell or show you all the steps. I spent 3 days working with a grandmother, a mother and her daughters to learn these steps.

Step 1:

Collect the shea nuts from the shea trees that grow throughout the forest and in people’s yards. These shea trees have two prime seasons, one for nut collection and one for caterpillar collection, both contributing enormously to local diets.

Step2:

Pound the nuts with a pestle and mortar to separate the fine outer shell from the inner nut. This is relatively easy as the outer sell breaks easily and the inner nut is harder so keeps it’s shape. You pound just for a little while till it looks like most are broken or at least cracked open.

Step 3: Now it is sorting time. You separate the outer shells from the nuts, discarding the outer shell. The nuts are an oval shape with a slightly wrinkled surface and a deep brown colour. If any shells are not broken you just tap them with a rock and they open right up.

Step 4:

The crushing begins. Using a rounded rock against a flat rock slab you pound the nuts into little pieces. It is at this step that you start to realize why shea is used in chocolate. It smells so much like chocolate and it smells so good! This is quite a long step as you can only crush about 1-3 nuts at a time. It is also tiring due to the repeated movement.

Step 5:

Once all is crushed you boil the mixture over the fire till it becomes soft. Then let it cool.

Step 6:

The cooled mixture is placed back in the pestle and mortar and pounded till it starts to become smooth.

Step 7:

Once it looks pretty smooth the mixture is taken in small amounts and crushed using a smooth slab and a rounded rock. Looking much like melted chocolate (and smelling much like chocolate as well!) the mixture pours and is collected onto a pile of sand at the end of the rock slab.

Step 8:

Taking the smooth mixture you now mix it by hand, creating an incredible rhythm and music. The women use their arms like a giant blender or mixer which helps separate the oil and the fiber. This step takes both arm strength and lots of work!

Step 9:

The smooth creamy mixture is now transferred to the fire to boil again. This boiling step will separate the oil from the fiber and the sand will fall to the bottom. It froths and boils for quite some time and then sure enough the oil separates up to the top and the fiber and sand sink to the bottom.

Step 10:

Oil is skimmed off and the residue is discarded. Once cooled the once deep brown mixture is now a creamy white and is ready to be used either as a skin cream or as cooking oil.

Family life

The family with whom I stayed is a complex mix of four families and a fifth family there temporarily. The compound is set up with 7 houses each consisting of one room and facing into a central courtyard. Each woman occupies one house which is where she does all the cooking and where she and all the children sleep. Each man has his own house. The roles of the sexes and age hierarchy are much defined. The oldest brother is the head of the house hold and the main large family decision maker. Each male is head of their own individual household and the decision maker for that family. The woman’s prime role is as house maker; she does all the cooking making sure it is ready for when the man wants it, all the cleaning (inside and outside the house, laundry, dishes etc…), most of the food processing (grinding grains into flour etc…), the children’s education and raising, gardening for household consumption and any other income generating activities (shea butter, market selling, making charcoal etc…). The men’s role is farming for consumption and sale (grain crops, vegetable and fruit crops, cotton etc…), building of houses, chairs, beds etc… and any other contract or permanent positions outside of the home (mechanic, tradesman etc…). At the head of this household is the patrilineal grandmother, she is the eldest and much respected, she is head of the women, though will obey her eldest son’s decisions.

The children have different roles and jobs depending on their age and sex. The girls follow in their mother’s footsteps doing much of the housework, cooking, cleaning, fetching water and taking care of their younger siblings. From a very young age (about 6 years old) girls are used to carrying their younger siblings on their backs, feeding them, changing them and generally taking care of them. Little boys are required to help their father with his work or to run errands for the mother.

The family’s “work”

Regular activities for family consumption

Income generating activities

Women

Wood collection
Water fetching
Children’s education
Grain processing
Food preparation
Laundry
House and courtyard cleaning
Dishes
Prepare water for showers

Charcoal making
Prepare Sorghum for Dolo
Wood gathering
Vegetable gathering for sale in the market

Men

Chair and bed making
Mattress making
Farming : Sorghum, Corn, Millet
Wild animal trapping
Duck raising

Cotton farming
Vegetable gardens
Contract work outside of the house

Learning to cook

Cooking is the village clock. Women’s days are run around the hours where meals are to be prepared and served. If the meal is even slightly late the husband gets quite annoyed, so all other chores and activities need to be fit in around those cooking hours. Cooking is done over an open fire pit using gathered wood. Most meals consist of tô and sauce or rice and sauce. The sauces tend to be peanut paste based, dried ochra or leaf based (often baobab tree leaves).

The women and children of each household eat together within their household and the men are served a portion of all the women’s cooking from all the households. The women therefore have to be timed together to be able to serve the men all at the same time. Nothing is wasted. Leftover sauces will be reheated the next day and left over tô can be kept a few days in water.

Fetching water

Well water is gathered with a bucket on a rope while balancing over a hole. I have to admit that throwing the bucket in has a certain technique that requires practice and the right wrist movement, and I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone ever fell in the hole. Once the bucket is full you hoist it up and fill another bucket. This is where the fun begins, well at least for me. To bring water back to the large pottery jugs that keep the water cool and dust free at the house, you carry it on your head. Now not being someone with great natural balance it became a game to see how much water I could carry, how much I would spill and how much would be left at the end. Considering that it is quite hot out, I can say that the water that did spill felt quite nice, but the more you spill means the more trips you need to do. Each woman fetches water for her household use and often does 2-3 trips a day. The younger children try to help out and the older daughters often take turns fetching the water.

Fetching wood

Wood for cooking is gathered in the surrounding area. Technically the Government does not allow you to cut down live trees, but in the village I am not sure how they monitor this. Using a hand axe women venture out into the forest to gather and chop wood required for cooking. This is an activity that occurs every 2-3 days. The pile of wood is tied together with a strip of material and then carried back home on their heads. The wood here is dense and heavy and after a while makes your head soar from carrying it. My attempts at chopping branches were met with both laughter and disbelief. I can say that my accuracy is not that great and that my arm strength is limited! I’m much better at the gathering than the cutting!

Charcoal

Charcoal is a prime economic activity of many women in the villages and also a much better heat source for cooking then straight wood. Women gather the larger trunks of trees from the tree they had used for cooking wood. The trunks are piled into a dug out hole. Dirt is piled onto the wood creating a dome like structure. The fire is set within the wood and the dirt create an oven effect raising the temperature of the inside fire. The fire burns for about 2 days and the mound shrinks in size. Using a hand tool, a daba, the women dig the still very hot charcoal out from the dirt mound, opening the mound little by little and pouring on water to stop the fire. This part of the activity is quite difficult as the mound is both very hot and the digging creates lots of dust and smoke. Women protect themselves with a piece of clothe wrapped around their mouth and nose, but all of them will tell you that the dust and smoke can make you very sick. Once the mound is opened and the charcoal removed to the side it is left to cool. The charcoal is then gathered into large bags and brought either to the market or on the side of the road to sell.

Sun baked pottery

I was fortunate to meet with an elderly woman potter which is another traditional woman’s activity. Pottery pots are used primarily for storing water but are also used for incense burning or grain storage. The pots are made with termite dirt mixed with water, then formed into coils that are placed on top of each other, the coils are then smoothed and joined with slip (water and termite dirt). Once the pot is formed a corn cob without the grains is rub along the outside to create texture and design. The pots are left in the sun to dry and cook by solar heat. Pots are made in all sizes from small bowls to ones nearly as tall as my shoulders. Apparently the pots can last many years.

Spending time with the kids and women

Women’s days are spent primarily at home and therefore the youngest children stay with their mothers or aunts. In this family, 6 of the 16 children were in school, while 2 others are already married (at age 18) and no longer at home. The 2 teenagers are off at high school in Bobo, while the other 4 are at the local 3 classroom school with classes of mix grades and age. This left 8 children at home playing together and helping around the house. The women communally take care of the children, but work independently on their household activities. I spent most of my time with Mamou and Rachel (Sally is her original Muslim name, but since marrying a Catholic her Christian name became Rachel). Mamou was the only woman who spoke French, though her education was limited. Mamou had worked as a nanny and housekeeper for a French family in the Ivory Coast for most of her life and returned to Burkina during the war. She was of great help in explaining things to me and for having conversations. Mamou is a very proud yet slightly jaded woman who has lived another life and experience many things, she became my cultural informant (and the cultural informant about me for the other women) and I know she was constantly watching over me.

Rachel is caring and curious. She showed me around the market, taught me to fetch water and wood, showed me how to cook and taught me about traditional medicine and where to gather it. Rachel and I spent our days together and many an afternoon exchanging knowledge and ideas. I helped her learn how to write the alphabet and her and her daughter’s name and she taught me different sentences in Dioula. This opportunity came from Rachel’s initiative. She asked if I could teach her to write her name and some words in French. She has a strong desire to learn, but a hesitation due to an inner feeling of not being able to do it that had to be over come. The first time she took the pen she laughed as she created a rough wiggly line then immediately passed it back to me saying that it wasn’t good. I told her to keep trying. She started to copy the letters that I had written down for her. I would draw step by step the letters in the sand and she would copy on paper. She became so passionate about learning to write that she would be so focused she wouldn’t hear those that were around her. As she practiced and her letters improved she became excited. She was so happy by the end to be able to write her name. The ironic thing is that even though her husband is literate and that he teaches reading and writing in the village (to men mainly) he still couldn’t see what the point was in his wife learning to write.

The other women kept about their routines calling me over to show me how to do something special, like make tô or grind flour. In all I was much more of a curiosity to them and they thought it was hilarious that I wanted to learn what they do naturally.

As for the kids it took about a day before they warmed up to me and were comfortable with the idea of a stranger. Most importantly this was their first real interaction with a white person so most of the time they were full of giggles. They would help me out when I wasn’t sure how to do things and would follow me around. We would play together and laugh.

One week in a village is just long enough to start to build some good friendships, but too short to really appreciate and understand life and the culture. Village life is different from city life in so many aspects that I am still ignorant about. Tradition is lived and breathed with all activities and interactions, time moves slower yet seems more quite structured and people spend the time to stop and say hello and to drop in on friends. The time I spent there was short and with hopes I will be able to return to reconnect and meet the new baby.

Masque Festival

2008-03-05T06:21:00.000-08:00

On the weekend we headed up to Dédougou for a Masque Festival. Masques are a tradition in much of West Africa and groups had traveled to Dédougou from Cote D’Ivoire, Benin, Togo, Ghana, etc… The costumes were incredible and the dancing and flips from both the Masques and the musician were impressive!

Just for the fun of it!

2008-03-04T05:19:00.000-08:00

Here is a photo taken the other day. My challenge to you is to see who can guess what it is! Post your comment and we’ll see who figures it out first! Good luck!

Our house becomes a farm

2008-03-04T05:14:00.000-08:00

In the last little while our house has transformed into a mini farm. It all started with the goat and then the family acquired a few pigeons and finally some friends brought me a chicken and a rooster. The chicken is doing wonderfully, and the rooster tasted good. Unfortunately for the rooster after it screamed all night, starting at 3 am, it met its untimely end in a pot. Morning is not till 6am so if he could have waited he would still be here! We then left for Ouaga and upon our return found the family had acquired 1 chicken and 1 young rooster (he is still not in his wake up mode yet and if he knows what is good for him he’ll start at 6am!). Now yesterday after much fussing from our chicken we found that she laid 3 eggs and looks like she might be about to lay some more. We toyed with the idea of an omelet, but have decided instead to wait it out and see if they hatch. More chickens=more potential omelets!

Also against popular belief and now much into disbelief from Africans we have a semi trained goat! Everyone here said goats are stubborn (very true) and cannot be tamed. They say they will never follow you or come when you call and they will definitely never listen to you. Well then we must have a confused goat! She follows me everywhere. I took her outside the other day to try to train her to go out and come back, but she stayed beside me the whole time, when I went across the street to talk to a neighbour she charged after me to find out where I was going. Around the courtyard she follows me every where, even to the shower and cries when I close the door and won't let her in. If she is wandering around the courtyard and I call her she comes galloping to me. It's true she still gets into things she is not supposed to and tries to get away with it when I am not looking, but she eats out of our hands and will walk along beside me on her two hind legs till she looses balance and falls over. She cries when I go to work, and gets excited when I come home. She loves to be scratched behind the ears and horns. She runs around the courtyard in circles doing flying leaps when she is excited. In other words we have a goat that thinks she is a dog!

So our little house has become quite the menagerie and there is never a dull moment.

The price of life is too high!

2008-02-22T06:44:00.000-08:00

Life is seeping slowly back into the city, some doors are opening to stores and people are out heading about their daily routines. It has been 2 days now of strikes, which resemble more like a riot than what I know as a strike. Last night there was an eerie calm about the city as we were under a city wide curfew and all the street lights were turned off. Normally lively streets were empty and a hush seemed to loom over the houses.

It started Wednesday morning when a group of merchants and consumers went to city hall to present a petition about raising taxes and raising prices. They were met with tear gas. Groups dispersed all over the city. The downtown was shattered. Rocks were thrown, signs were ripped up and much was destroyed. There is not a street light left functional or a stop sign left standing. Tires and garbage burned on most streets from the down town right to my neighbourhood, which is in sort a suburb. Though much was destroyed and the police and army were out, not too much violence occurred (other then against signs and kiosks). Fingers are still being pointed between the governments, the merchants and the consumers as to whose fault it is for prices rising and whose responsibility it is to resolve the present problem.

In the past few months basic necessities have raised in price by 67%. Burkina is one of the poorest nations in the world and yet gas cost 500-600F cfa per liter, that is equal to the 1.00$ -1.10$ per liter in Canada. Though it must be noted that about 40% of the population of Burkina makes less that 1$ per day (500 F cfa). Since our arrival we have seen bread increase by 30% from 100F cfa to 130F cfa for the baguette. Cooking oil went from 800F cfa to 1000F cfa in the past month. All this just adds to the stress that last growing season was largely a failure for many farmers, with the rains starting late and ending abruptly and early. Burkina is a country where 90% of people are involved in agriculture whether it is to grow food for their family or as farming as a business. The cities are also rampant with unemployment, with many youth with nothing to do.

The strike took place in three cities simultaneously, Bobo-Dioulasso, Ouahigouya and Kenedougou. It is being organized to strike in Ouagadougou around February 28^th and is estimated to be much worse. Ouaga is a big city, it’s the capital and it houses much of the government so there is so much more to break!

In all this I do have to say we have been safe. School and work were cancelled for 2 days, and things are just starting to come back to life. We stayed home, listened to our neighbours and have heard many a debate.

As the debate continues and as the city tries to pick up the pieces I can’t help but wonder what the answers to so many questions are. How do you address the rise in basic necessities when already much of the population is scraping by to make ends meet? How do you address the distrust of the population for the government and their use of taxes? How does a government in needs of funding create the social services, roads and address the needs of its population? What needs to happen to create a more balanced society between the haves and the have nots?

http://www.sidwaya.bf/dossier_manifestation-vie-chere.htm

Mmmm…peanut butter

2008-02-22T06:34:00.000-08:00

Once when I was about 8 years old I decided with a friend that we were going to make peanut butter. Armed with a bag of peanuts still in their shells, a potato masher and very little knowledge of the process of making peanut butter, we started on multiple hours of mess creation with a disastrous end product of inedible peanut mush that had little resemblance to peanut butter.

Now after 6months in Burkina, a few years of culinary experience, I am finally well equipped and knowledgeable about the processes to create peanut butter and the different uses for it. Peanuts are a main staple to Burkinabé diets, eaten raw or roasted, made into sauce for rice or fonio, peanut oil for cooking and used to make snacks of coulees (fried dough with peanut residue) and peanut corn balls. There are probably many other uses that I have yet to discover.

Making peanut paste “butter”

Traditionally and still this way in many villages, peanuts are husked by hand by squeezing the tip of the peanut. This is a long and finger grueling step. Shells and nuts are dropped into a basket. Later the peanuts are separated from their opened shells by shaking the basket. The movement of the basket moves the heavier part (peanuts) to the bottom and the lighter part (the shells) to the top. By tossing the basket contents up the breeze helps blow the light shells off leaving just the nuts. The nuts are then soaked in water to loosen their skins and dried in the sun. Back in a basket and repeating the process of squeezing the sides and tossing the contents up and down the skins fall off the nuts and blow away in the breeze. With just the naked nut remaining the roasting process starts. Using sand to help retain heat and limit the chance of burning you turn the nuts and sand over the fire until the nuts become golden. Using a sieve the nuts are then separated from the sand. Now depending on whether there is access to a grinding mill or not will depend how much time it takes to take the nuts from their present state and to make them into paste. If there is a grinding mill then the process is simple and done by the mill itself, roasted peanuts in one end and peanut paste out the other. If there is no mill then the process is much more time consuming. First the peanuts are crushed using a pestle and mortar until they are broken into little pieces. The pieces are then ground finer by hand using a rock slab and rounded rock. The crushed peanuts are then placed back into the pestle and mortar and pounded until it becomes a peanut paste.

Here are two recipes for those who are experimental and want to try peanut butter in a different form than just on your toast. Both recipes are for natural peanut butter that contains nothing but the peanuts themselves.

Benin Tieguè “Peanut balls”

2 cups fine unsweetened peanut paste “butter”

2 cups fine corn flour or millet flour

1 cup sugar

Salt to taste

Optional:

Chili powder to taste (to give it a little kick)

Roast corn flour until golden. Mix peanut butter, corn/millet flour, sugar and salt (chili powder) using a pestle and mortar till well combined and smooth, but not too dry or too sticky. Roll the mixture into little balls; nothing should be left on your hands. Eat and enjoy! (Warning: they are tasty but a little dry)

Tieguè diguè nan “Peanut sauce”

4 cups water

2-3 cups peanut paste “butter” (unsweetened)

2-4 onions, chopped

4-6 cloves of garlic, crushed

4-6 bay leaves

2 bunches onion leaves or green onions, chopped

1-2 chili peppers

6-10 tomatoes, cubed

1 cabbage, cut into quarters

2 cubes of chicken stock

1-2 small cans of tomato paste

Salt and pepper to taste

Optional:

~500g of chicken, lamb or beef cubed and fried

1-2 green peppers, chopped

2-4 carrots, chopped

Boil water then add peanut paste stirring occasionally. Cook till slightly frothy and paler in colour, basically till the water and peanut paste are well combined and a unified sauce. Add tomato paste and mix into sauce. Add onions, garlic, bay leaves, onion leaves (green onions), chicken stock, tomatoes, salt and pepper. Mix well. When it starts to combine add cabbage and chili peppers (carrots, green peppers). Simmer on medium till well combined and everything is soft. Add fried meat and cook till tender and sauce has penetrated the meat.

Serve with rice, fonio or couscous.

Mission: find goat!

2008-01-25T09:50:00.000-08:00

Now if you have ever looked for a goat you will know that it is not easy to do and it is even harder when you are looking for a specific goat. Two days ago the neighbour thought that it would be nice to let the goat roam free with other goats in the field. True it is a nice idea, but the goat has only been with us for a week and half so really has no idea of where her new house is. We hope to be able to let her roam in about 2 month’s time once she is truly adapted to her new surroundings. The neighbour removed her cord while we were at work. When I got home she came to tell me that the goat was gone. I quickly left looking for her, but with the sun setting it is impossible. I went to tell the women from whom we bought the goat as I figured if the goat went anywhere she would probably return there. She promised to keep an eye out for her. The problem is here everyone has told us stories of animals being stolen or grabbed while wandering around and resold. So naturally I imagined the worst.

The next morning Boris and I headed out early by bike to search. Most of our day was spent searching and getting to know our neighbourhood very well. Luckily by 4pm we found her with her at her old house. Goat is now back home and I’m now relaxed again. I do think that she needs a friend though, maybe a sheep…

Getting to know you, getting to know me…

2008-01-25T09:44:00.000-08:00

Day 1: My little goat, still nameless, otherwise known as “goat” or “Mademoiselle” and sometimes “Bacaroni” (goat in Dioula) has finally come home! Boris had to carry her to our house as she is not yet used to the idea of a leash (rope) and went a little crazy when we put it on her. She is now old enough to leave her mom and grow up to be her own mom one day. She is a little lonely and freaked out right now, as she is used to being with many other goats and sheep. She doesn't know us and she was alone outside last night which I think made her panic a bit, so she screamed all night! I have to admit that it breaks my heart seeing her panic especially when she hears another goat outside the courtyard and her eyes start to bulge and her ears prick up and she starts to scream to talk to them. Hopefully soon she will adapt to her new surroundings and new family and relax a little.

Day 2: I kind of feel like we completely skipped the whole baby part of the goat and have been thrown a very curious, stubborn and mischievous toddler that is still not house trained! I am trying to train her to go on a cardboard “litterbox” as presently I sweep the floor multiple times a day; as man does she ever poop! No matter what, she is by far the best fed goat in town, she has tones of food (dried peanut plants) and vegetable scraps.

Today for lunch both Boris and I went home to check on her (yes we are the worried parents). When I got there I could hear her screaming from outside, but as soon as she saw me she calmed right down. She obviously does not like to be alone! We took her leash off and let her roam around the courtyard. She was into everything, so curious and nosy. She is starting to understand that we = food so is warming up to us a little though she is still not completely calm. But we can see a definite improvement in our relationship in just one day!

Day 3: She slept through most of the night, which meant we got to sleep as well. She is starting to adjust which is good. In the mornings when we open the door she is there waging her little tail all excited that we are up. A friend brought over cotton seed tonight for her and she dove straight in it. She rubbed her face all over the cotton and started to eat like crazy. While her mouth was chowing down on the cotton her tail was constantly waging with excitement. It was pretty hilarious.

Day 4: Goat started daycare today. In the morning she is brought to a neighbour’s house that has a whole menagerie of animals from chickens to cows. She is going to spend her days there and come home in the evenings. At least this way she won’t be bored or alone. She now lets us pet here and will take food from our hand, though she is still a little cautious. She is adapting to the idea of a leash, though would still bolt if it came off. She is very curious and social. If we are in the house she pops her head in to see what we are doing. When we are cooking she watches from the door tilting her head from side to side and sniffing with her nose.

Day 5: Goat is really starting to feel at home. This morning when Boris left for work and I was in the shower I could hear her start to scream. When I came out she calmed down. Then when I left for work she started to scream again. I guess she doesn’t take too long to adjust to the idea of new parents. She is also putting on weight as she never stops eating. For the first time she doesn’t have to fight with other animals to eat and now she is becoming a real glutton. I also think that this little box thing is working, though Boris is still not convinced.

Tô Mousso

2008-01-16T07:30:00.000-08:00

Tô Mousso are fried balls of white bean flour mixture that are extremely yummy!

The other night while we sat at a friend, Ardjouma’s, Maquis we shared a plate of the best Tô Mousso in town! I then asked the woman, in my broken Dioula, if she could teach me how to make it. We came to understand that I could learn if I came back the next day at noon to her house. So the next day I headed off to the Maquis and Ardjouma took me to her place. I think she was a little surprised to see me yet happy that I wanted to learn. I spent the next hours pounding white beans to remove the skins, then letting them soak in water and garlic. I also prepared the sauce that you dip them in, made of zucchini’s, tomatoes, hot peppers and onions and boiled a long time. It’s so tasty! After the beans soak a while they are then brought to the grinding mill to be made into flour. This flour is later mixed with water into a foamy dough mixture. Using your fingers you drop little handfuls of dough into very hot oil and cook till they are golden and a little crunchy.

For a couple hours that night I helped her make Tô Mousso, friend potatoes wedges and fried plantains at her little street stall on the side of the road. Most people passing by couldn’t help but stop and smile at the fact that I was working at a street stall and making something that they all love. Soon I was making little packages for people, 10 pieces for 50 F CFA, but she always gives one extra as a thank you to the client. People were laughing at the site of me. All in all she has me as a faithful client and I will return to help out any day!

How can we change this?

2008-01-16T06:53:00.000-08:00

In the span of just a few days I’ve gone from happy to anticipation to sad, but most of all I was brought back to reality on the current situation of Burkina Faso and its position on the Human Development Index, #176 out of 178 countries. It is so easy to loose sight of the struggles that people face when you are so involved in life here. The friends I have here are great people and really not much different than the friends I have at home. We talk about similar things and hang out in similar manners, that it is easy to forget that they are not living as cushy an existence as I do, that they don’t have nearly as many opportunities or chances as I do, nor are they as secure in the avoidance of poverty as I am and that there is no real reason other than circumstance and chance.

We have two friends whose wives gave birth on December 24^th. We spent a weekend with one of the babies not so long ago, but we didn’t get a chance to meet the other baby. As we wait with anticipation for another friend’s baby due any day now, we are nervous and sad about the next few years. We are reminded that approximately 15 %, almost 1 in 5 children here don’t make it to 5 years old. How can we change this?

For more information please see:

Human Development Index

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_development_index

Burkina Faso

http://www.nationmaster.com/country/uv-burkina-faso/eco-economy

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burkina_Faso

Toussian-Bandougou

2008-01-08T05:28:00.001-08:00

This weekend Boris and I headed out to Toussian-Bandougou to visit a friend of his whose wife had just given birth to a little girl, Noely, on December 24th. We packed our bikes onto a bus that took us to Orodara then biked a few km along a dirt road up to the village. We turned off a little too soon so were shown the way by a man we met in a field of bissap (deep vermilion red flower used to make juice that tastes a little like blackcurrant).

Bissap

Arriving at Moussa’s house everyone came out to greet us. When you greet someone here in order to show your respect you crouch down sort of to kneel and bow at he same time. You tend to do this with people who are older than yourself or with someone who is socially more important.

With the night fall the stars came out in full glory, as the village is without electricity. We sat around talking and shelling peanuts in the cold night air, with a flashlight tucked under Moussa’s chin. For dinner we shared a bowl of rice cooked with shea butter.

Moussa’s house compound has several houses set up in a circle. There is a house for his father, a house for his fathers new wife (his previous wife is deceased), a house for his brother, two kitchen houses, his own house and some grain storage silos. Moussa is presently saving up money and preparing materials to build a house for his wife (drying and weaving grasses for the roof and breaking apart an old building to recuperate the bricks). They hope to have the official wedding come March and the house to be built by March as well. Presently she sleeps in the kitchen with their two kids as it is warmer for the baby near the fire.

Grass drying to make a roof

Moussa insisted we take his bed while he slept on a single bed in his living room. His house is two small rooms with two small windows. The doorways are short so you must duck to enter. The walls are thick (about a foot wide) so they keep the house cool in the day and warm at night. We slept well under our blanket, and I hardly noticed the mice scurrying above out heads.

Morning was announced by the roosters, they seem to start at random different times till the sun finally rises and they all chime in together (they really need to learn to coordinate their wake up call). The air is very cold in the morning and so for my bucket shower I have to admit I couldn’t jump all in. I just washed my face and feet and even then I was frozen! I spent my days with the women while Boris and Moussa sent theirs with the men.

I started the day with separating the peanuts from their shells, roasting the peanuts over the fire, and then we removed the skins by tossing them up and down in a basket letting the wind blow the skins away. Once we were done we sent the peanuts off with the brother by bike to the mill to be ground. I then joined a group of women to help with removing the bissap flowers from their stocks. The flowers themselves are surprisingly thick (about 2-3 mm) and have little tiny hair like thorns that make your hands itchy. The red sap of the flowers dyes you fingers a deep red, though it is easily removed with lemon juice. The bissap flowers are then laid out in the sun to be dried and later sold in the market.

Removing the skins from peanuts

Seperating the Bissap flowers from the stocks

Bissap ready for the market

Seeds for next year

When I wasn’t separating Bissap, I was helping in the kitchen (learning recipes), playing with the kids or taking the new born for the mom to have a break. I learnt how to make Pambara a ground pea flour and ochra flour pancake, of sorts. Basically you mix the flour and water and cook it in a frying pan over the fire, once cooked you chop up an onion on top and place four or five giant heaping spoonfuls of shea butter or oil on it. You chop it all up making sure each piece is coated and dripping with the shea butter and then you eat. The pancake is quite good; it’s just the quantity of butter I had some difficulty with. I also made tô wosso, which is basically mashed sweet potatoes with peanut paste mixed in (picture mashed potatoes with peanut butter and you get the idea). This was pretty good! I recommend trying it at home as it is really easy.

I spent some time with the kids drawing pictures in the sand and playing imaginary games. Lea, Moussa’s older daughter who is 3 years old, is extremely curious, happy and lost in her imagination. Her best friend and inseparable companion is Willie, also three years old and Moussa’s father’s last child. Willie is clam, content and easygoing; she kind of grounds Lea and brings her back to reality when necessary. The two of them became my instant friends. As for Noely, the new born, well she is like most little babies. She eats (constantly), sleeps and poops, it seemed like it was almost in 5 minute rotations. I also got to experience the joys of a new born without diapers! Lots of clothes changes for Noely and for those that are holding her! But she was pretty cute as well.

Asha, Willlie and Lea

Lea and Noely

What was amazing was that I spent my days with the women without a communal language. Both Moussa’s wife and his father’s wife haven’t had a chance to go to school so neither speaks any French. Theirs and my Dioula is limited, they speak Toussian, so we spent most of our time talking with gestures and facial expressions. Despite the language barriers I know that we got along and that we have built a friendship.

At one point during the weekend an airplane crossed over head. Lea jumped up and ran after it squealing with joy. Her amazement and excitement was contagious. I have become so accustomed to planes that I had forgotten how to marvel at their impressiveness.

We spent an afternoon visiting the village. As Boris had already been there he was visiting people he had already met and presenting me to them. We joked that it kind of felt like I was his trophy wife as it felt a little like I was his show and tell item. Everyone was happy to see him again and to meet me and many served us Pambara. As part of our tour we visited the chief of the village and the local musician. Boris has now put in an order for a xylophone to me made, that we will pick up in about a months time. Here the xylophone has a deeply cultural and almost mystical symbolism. The musician makes two kinds of xylophones, one called a Toussiane and the other a Dioula. It is believed that the xylophone speaks rather than just makes music. Only someone who can speak Toussiane can play the Toussiane xylophone otherwise it doesn’t work, but people who speak Dioula or French can play the Dioula xylophone. The musician played us a few melodies and at one point Moussa replied to the notes as he said that the xylophone was pronouncing benedictions.

When it was finally time to leave, Moussa over loaded us with heaping amounts of food. He wouldn’t let us decline his generous gifts so we left with our bikes ingulphed with giant bags of oranges, peanuts, papayas, rhones (palm tree fruit with a clear jelly inside) and bissap. Once back in Bobo we broke a few stereotypes by biking with all our good on our bikes rather than taking a taxi. Then at home we separated our many goods into smaller bags and distributed food to our neighbours and friends. There is no way as two we can finish all that he gave us.

We have made good friends in Toussian-Bandougou and hope to spend much more time there during this year.

Brrrrrrrrrr

2008-01-08T05:27:00.000-08:00

Last night I surprised a few of my friends. No one could believe that a Canadian could be afraid of the cold! Canadian or not I’ve never liked the cold and yesterday it was very cold! Good thing I have years of experience in the art of layering clothes and yesterday I was well and truly layered. I think the main difficulty is the temperature deviance here. At noon the temperature rises to 30C and then at night it can be 12-15C. So going from hot to cold is a thermal shock on your system and the piercing Harmatan winds that make the cold enter into your joints doesn’t help! And let me tell you that the morning is challenging to get up! When you are lying under the covers all warm and your cold nose (only part exposed to the outside air) tells you that getting up is going to be freezing all you motivation drains out of you. It doesn’t help that the sun is rising later so the room is still dark at 6am when the alarm rings. Then when you start to think that you need to step outside in the cold wind for a shower, heated water or not, you know that you are going to be cold, I can say that you really want to pull those covers over your head and wait till noon to get up!

Static my new “best friend”

2008-01-08T05:21:00.000-08:00

It is dry, very dry. Daily I use shea butter on my skin to try to keep it slightly hydrated, but no matter what it is still dried out. My lips chap and my mouth dries out when I bike. Dryness I have been able to manage, but I never realized how poorly designed my hair would be for this kind of weather! It is the static that is driving me crazy. Unless I well and truly pull my hair back and pin it down it stands straight up! The moment I take my ponytail out I have every hair on my head standing in all possible directions and sticking to my face. The static is everywhere. Every time you touch metal you get a shock. At night if I run my hand along the mosquito net I see fireworks of white and blue sparks.

Christmas=Food!

2008-01-07T05:10:00.000-08:00

Christmas means food and lots of it!

On Christmas Eve Boris and I headed out for dinner with a bottle of wine a friend had brought us from France a few months back. It was time to celebrate, yet neither of us felt like it was Christmas. Maybe it is the fact that it is 25C everyday that threw us off! At the restaurant there were Christmas lights twinkling all over, so we started to get into the spirit. We ate chicken, closest we could get to a turkey. They do have turkey’s here, but they would likely serve us the whole thing and as two it seemed a little too big!

After dinner we returned home over fed and feeling like maybe it could be Christmas after all.

Most people here go to Church on Christmas Eve and the church behind our house had decided that it was indeed Christmas and the celebration was in full swing. Tam tam’s were beating and people were singing! At first it was charming and we started to feel like celebrating too, then by 6am while the tam tam’s were still beating, and our heads as well, we woke up to the warmest, driest Christmas I have ever had.

We spent the morning at the market, with everyone else, scurrying to buy vegetables and meat. We had invited some friends over to eat and we wanted to make something special. We decided to make Moroccan style lamb with honey, dates and raisins. Who would have thought it would be so hard to find Cinnamon and Cumin, and how it is even harder trying to describe it especially when the woman speaks Dioula and you french. In the end we found all that we needed and returned home to start the cooking frenzy. Once all was ready friends arrived for an experience very different from anything they had ever seen before. We kind of pushed their culinary boundaries to new frontiers and it was pretty funny seeing their reactions to sweet meat. But our friends were willing to try it and open to new ideas.

We then packed up some pots with food and headed out to visit friends. Here on Christmas you go around all friends and family, to pass on your best wishes and to talk and eat. Every where you go people have prepared so much food and you are fed a full meal in each house. By the time we reached our last friends house (5 houses on our tour) we had already eaten 5 full meals in a few hours. We ate again! At this point my shirt seemed to shrink size and I could hardly breath it became so tight!

There is a story here that parents tell their kids about a spirit that comes in the night of festivals and that picks up the kids while they sleep. If a child is too light, hasn’t eaten enough, then the spirit takes them away. Basically this is a way that parents make sure that their kids eat what they are served when they visit friends and family so as not to waste the food. A friend of mine told me that when he was little he was so afraid of this spirit that he would eat so much that his stomach would hurt for days. I also started to understand the feeling!

All in all Christmas was fun. Lots of food, laughter and friends!

The other day

2007-12-24T08:49:00.000-08:00

Waiting…waiting at work for the phone to ring to tell me when we are leaving. Waiting…waiting at home for the truck to come pick us up. Waiting…waiting on the side of the road to be picked up. Waiting…waiting again at home to be picked up. Waiting…waiting again on the side of the road. Time runs differently here. Schedules are more flexible. Waiting…waiting from 10 am to 10 pm to finally leave.

Driving at night red, yellow and orange danced into view, fluttering, twisting and glowing in the darkness. The countryside was lit by bush fires in the distance and close to the road, dancing in small groups or long chorus lines that cut across the landscape. Bush fires are common here as the rains have stopped flowing for the past month and a half so the ground is dry and the grass brittle, the sun is hot and the Harmatan winds are blowing.

Night driving on a road riddled with pot holes, unable to see what you are about to hit due to the dust being kicked up by the other pick up truck in front of us. I was happy to be in one of the few vehicles that still have seatbelts installed and functioning. My seat belt saves me on more than one occasion from hitting my head against the ceiling as we bounce and jiggle for 3 hours. I took to assuming the position of a rag doll as there is no chance of controlling your movements and it is much easier if you relax completely and just go with the bounces.

1 am we arrived, standing on solid ground I felt my body trying to reposition all its innards to their original places. Sleep was a very welcome friend.

Morning came early and back onto the pot holed road. This time I could see the state on which we were driving. It is almost worse in the day as you can anticipate the shock of each hole and you know what is coming. They dropped me off in the market in Douna, a small village outside of Sindou. I sat in the market talking with a woman and her friend who was laughing and dancing to the music on a small radio placed on a makeshift table surrounded by papayas. The women’s husband had gone in search of someone who knew Mr. Kara, the president of the rice growers cooperative that I was to be meeting that morning. I was waiting as the cell phone antennas were down and so there was no way of contacting Mr. Kara. The husband returned on his bike, he had had no luck. Apparently Mr. Kara was in another village 7 km from where we were. Then a man on a motorbike passed. The husband hissed (the noise use to grab people’s attention here). The man stopped. I was told to get on the bike as he was headed out to the office where Mr. Kara works.

I was in the plains area where rice and vegetables are grown. The plain is vast, lush with different shades of green and patterned with squares of different people’s fields. It looks like a giant patchwork quilt spread out blanketing the area. In the distance the peaks of Sindou stand tall, jagged and a rich red brown that creates a strong contrast with the green. Women and men were bent over working their fields in the morning sun. We arrived at the office compound where I met some of the other members of the cooperative. First I met Mr. Belem, the plains agricultural chief; he is University educated, works for the state and is out spoken. After nearly every sentence he asks “do you understand” or “do you see what I mean”, almost unconsciously but also a little to show his knowledge. I pretended not to notice so as not to get annoyed by this mannerism. He was official at the beginning but soon warmed up to a more casual chatting. The president arrived, Mr. Kara, he has been village elected to the position and in charge of taking the poorly functioning cooperative and making it into a well functioning cooperative, not the easiest of jobs. In his 2 years of service he has restructures the whole association, removing the elite class that governed it and who were enriching their personal affairs through it, by replacing the office positions with local producers.

N’falin (unsure of the spelling) is the village that I was in. A few producers, only 10 of the 1000 were there to talk with me, but they come with much to say. I got an ear full which is exactly what I was hoping for. After the meeting we headed out to view the plain and the dam. N’falin is an area with a large dam and over 6 km of canal systems that quench the thirst of the land. It is also an area that is able to produce 4 growing seasons, unlike the usual 1 growing season in most of Burkina. But N’falin is also the area that with this year’s heavy rain in August was flooded. Most of the plain was flooded leaving close to 100 farmers with no crops and many people without houses. But they are busy rebuilding and replanting. There is hope amongst the stress and devastation. There is also uncertainty. The dam and canals are old, over 20 years, the flood and age are taking their toll. Along the canals there are many areas where the walls are cracked and water is flowing in directions that they do not want. There is much lost. Those who are further away from the dam are lucky if the water makes it to them. They want to repair it but are unsure where they are to find the money to do so.

The sun started to set. As the light was growing dimmer, whistles blew from all directions. The women were returning from the fields. In lines the women march with their daily harvest, pots from lunch or tools all balance on their heads, babies strapped to their backs. One woman per group keeps the pace and signals the arrival with short blasts of a whistle. They came from all angles and distances filling the area with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation of their return.

As night fell and the moon rose over the peaks I stood at their foot and looked up. I sense their omnipresence and stillness. These peaks have been there for centuries and will remain for many more. They stand like jagged teeth biting into the sky.

Night fell and I cuddle into my bed in an empty house on the cooperative compound. Empty in the sense of people but I was not alone. The ceiling was alive and awake with activity. Owls were my night time companion and they were awake after a day of rest. Closing my eyes I tried to pretend that I heard no noises, but my sleep was not the most restful.

Morning arrived and as I followed the road back to Sindou by motor bike the air was filled with the sound of thumping. We stopped on the side of the road where a group of men were pounding rice to de-husk it while the women sitting on the side were sorting the grains. Music is played with a beat of the drum and the work followed its rhythm.

Then it was the return to Bobo along the bumpy road, this time with the back of the pick up truck full of producers needing a ride into town. I couldn’t complain of the bumps while sitting inside the cab, held down by my seat belt, while they were balanced on bags, bumping along being whipped by wind and dust. Fires still burned along the road and in the day I could see the charred remains of previous fires. Black scorched soil sometimes only ending due to the paved road other times reaching close to houses before someone put it out.

I arrived home in Bobo for a much needed shower and a good nights sleep in a bed without owls!

Tabaski

2007-12-24T07:36:00.001-08:00

Tabaski is the sheep festival for Muslims (not much of a party for the sheep if you ask me). It is the day when Muslim families get together and sacrifice a sheep in commemoration of Abraham’s sacrifice to God. For the past week prior to Tabaski there have been sheep everywhere. The streets of downtown have been filed with flocks of well fed male sheep being led around in hopes that people will buy them. “La Tantie” as we call her out of respect (the mother of the house where we live) has been busy cooking about 20 guinea fowl, tigue digue nan (peanut sauce) and rice well into the night. I think she finally crawled into bed around 1 am. The next morning, up with the crack of dawn she is busy making tô and reheating her previous nights work. The men and boys have the duty and honour of sacrificing the sheep, this is done quickly and they work together. After all the meat is cleaned “La Tantie” divides up portions to share with the neighbours. She also shares meals of tô, guinea fowl, peanut sauce and rice with her neighbours and all who drop in to say hello and wish a good Tabaski. Then she cooks up the rest of the meat to share with family and friends. It is a day of eating! It is a day of talking! But most of all it is a day to visit your friends and family and to wish them health, happiness and good fortune in the new year!

Ani san koura (Happy New Year)!

Watering the soul

2007-12-15T09:09:00.000-08:00

We organized a EWB retreat in Bobo for 3 days and 14 of our colleagues from different regions of Burkina and Ghana came to share their ideas, challenges and strategies. Though we worked the majority of the time in sessions on development theory, action learning, root cause analysis… we did take some time to have fun! We all piled into the “scorpion” minibus that we rented and headed south west to Banfora.

After a long bumpy ride in the crapped minibus, I unfolded myself and climbed out to see a spectacular view of Lake Tengréla. I boarded a roughly made pirogue, squared edged canoe, and we headed out in search of hippos. The lake was calm, the water clear, water lilies decorating the edges and there was a low hum of birds singing. I have to admit it felt amazing being out on the water and it showed me just how much I miss living close to water. As we approached the shallows we started to see the twitch of little ears peeking out, noses popping out occasionally with a spray of exhaled water and then submerging back into the cool of the water. Clustered together the hippos grunted and groaned, observing us as we observed them. We did not approach too close, nor did the hippos put on a show for us, but with an air of tranquility we watched each other, feeling very much relaxed.

We piled back into the minibus for an even bumpier ride in which we discovered an all encompassing cloud of dust. Picture a dusty dry red earth road, full of pot holes, lined with tall fields of sugar cane. Now picture a minibus where the windows don’t roll up and the door doesn’t close. Add a little speed and imaging just how much dust those tires kick up. Take a deep breath and feel the grit in your teeth, your lungs heavy with sediment. Feel your skin covered in a fin film of dust making you look exceptionally tanned and your hair is now a deep red tone. By the time we arrived we were all desperate to jump into water. Good thing was we had arrived at Banfora’s spectacular water fall! I can say it has never felt so good as to jump into water!

Creative solutions to everyday things

2007-12-15T09:01:00.000-08:00

Often on my way into town I pass by many stores, street stands and women toting their wares on their heads, but there is one seller that stands out in my mind. This young guy has come up with a creative way to sell his everyday products like dish and laundry soap. He doesn't have a stand but rather occupies a small area beside the road. He has laid out bowls in about 5 rows with 5 across and places one product per bowl. People passing buy can buy a chance to throw a ring. If the ring fall around the product then they take the product, but if not they have to pay for another ring. Let the fun begin!

A few introductions

2007-12-07T06:13:00.000-08:00

I thought I would introduce you to a few special people that I know:

Aimé- Our cultural informant! Aimé is 30 and probably the person that I know best. He is very open, honest and direct. He tells it like it is! He is always there to help us and look out for us, but especially he helps us understand what is going on. Aimé is not afraid to tell us when we have made a cultural blunder, and is constantly try to help improve our Dioula. He works days with an NGO and has recently started his own business of distribution of the cereal goods his NGO works with. He hopes to one day be able to open up his own store to sell the goods and also coffee and tea. Right now he is trying to build his clientele. Some days Aimé dresses in suits just for the fun of it, he often puts us to shame with his outfits!

Martial – 25 years old and a lot of fun. His family is from Mali, but he has lived in Burkina for most of his life. Presently he works at his brother’s Maquis (really his cousin but family dynamics are a little more flexible here), Monday through Sunday, day and night. He rarely gets a day off! He is dreaming (and saving) to set up his on Maquis so that he can be independent and self reliant. His present challenges are to save enough money from his small salary and finding a guarantee in order to get a Bank loan.

Martial always has a big smile and is always joking around. He plays really good music, which keeps the customers coming, and him dancing while he works. We often sit and chat and he tells me off if I haven’t passed to say hello in a few days.

The other day he coerced his brother into giving him an evening off. (His brother works days at a local supermarket and then manages the Maquis on the side.) With this time off we went out dancing, despite the fact that it was a Sunday people still go out. It was great! A few of his friends joined us and Martial finally got to relax, dance up a storm and have some fun.

Céline – Céline is a mother of 3 and woman with plans! I met her at a Mango Conference and we have kept in touch ever since despite the fact that she lives in Ouaga. She is very kind, gentle and sweet, but she is also determined and ambitious. Céline works at a fruit processing factory in Ouagadougou where she makes jams (and good jams I must say!). During the evenings she has been taking night school to learn about business management and finance. She runs a small vegetable farm in Kaya (an hour from Ouaga), where she has hired a local man to cultivate it and she has purchase a small motor pump for irrigation. Through this farm she sells fresh vegetables and dries onions and tomatoes. Her family recently gave her a portion of the family property in her native village, not far from Bobo-Dioulasso. She has been planning and working towards clearing the land to set up a Mango Orchard. Céline is working on setting up her own processing and drying unite in order to dry her mangoes, tomatoes and onions to sell locally and at export.

Agara- She is a young girl of between the ages of 14-16, she has a limp, a big smile and likes to sign very off key. Agara hardly speaks any French and has not had the opportunity to go to school. She lives across the street from our house and arrives every morning at 6am to our house. She never stops working. She cleans the yard and house, she washes all the dishes, she cooks (along with the family, only eating after everyone else), she makes jus, water and yogurt to sell at the family’s store and she runs the fridge all day and night running in and out to serve the customers and finish the household chores. She laughs at my Dioula and speaks the French that she knows when she can. I think she thinks I am pretty funny and strange, but we can always have a good laugh together. Agara has been instrumental in helping me learn what to do and not to do (ie: with the dishes, where to pour the soapy laundry water…)

Mahmou- Always ready with a smile and a kind gesture, Mahmou is in her late 20’s early 30’s, and she runs a fruit stand near where we live. She is 7 months pregnant and looking fabulous. She is excited as this will be her first child, but she is also feeling the fatigue these days. Mahmou opens her stand everyday at 8 am and is there till 11pm, except on the days she cooks at home, and then she arrives at 10am. She lives in a courtyard with her brother in law and his wife. The women take turns doing the cooking 3 days on 3 days off. Every time Mahmou gets a new fruit in that she think we might not know she send it on to our house for us to taste, which has been a great learning experience for us. She also always helps me choose the riper fruit, will tell me frankly when something is not good and gives me a few extra in my bag. Mahmou has great taste in clothes and always looks stunning. After a long hard day at work stopping to chatt with Mahmou always puts a smile on my face.

Mori- A colleague and a friend. Mori is in his early 30’s, kind, friendly, proud, honest and passionate about his job. Mori comes from a family of small scale subsistence farmers. He loves working in the field, working with producers and being in the village. He feels down when he is confined to the office to write his reports. Mori has an accent when he talks in French and it took me a while to fully understand him. He is always willing to share stories and ideas, and he loves to learn new things and soaks it up like a sponge. Even though some people are pressuring him to find a wife, Mori is too cautious and calculating to act quickly. As he his job is on contract he does not want to secure a relation without knowing that he has a secure job and that he will be able to provide for her. I know that when things are settled whom ever he takes as a wife will be treated like gold!

how to make Tô

2007-12-04T09:56:00.000-08:00

Bring out the woollies!

2007-12-04T09:52:00.001-08:00

Pull out the tuques, sweaters, socks and jackets! With the start of December there is the start of the frigid temperature. This morning it was a freezing 18 degrees out and I have to admit that I’ve resorted to heating some water on my stove before taking my bucket shower; otherwise I’m sure I would give up showering all together! However once you run out of that warm water, oh boy you are cold!! 18 degrees you may think is not cold, especially as back home you are now entering the bellow 0 temperatures and the snow is falling, but when the day is between 30-35 and it drops to 18, trust me you are cold. With the looming Harmatan the winds have also started and they are no longer a nice warm breeze. I’ve taken to wearing a sweater to bike to work, though I am often passed by people wearing tuques and winter jackets. I still have yet to purchase a blanket, next on my To Do list, so have spent the past two nights sleeping under a pile of skirts, works alright.

Sights to be seen

2007-12-04T09:51:00.001-08:00

Here are few "sights" that every time I see them I can’t help but smile.

1. Street lamp learning
In the evening along the main Boulevards that have street lights you can see rows of youth sitting along the side of the road doing their homework and studying. At home their houses are without electricity so in order too work past 6pm they find themselves a place to sit under a street lamp and try to ignore the passing mopeds and bikes. It impresses me to see their dedication and I wish them all the luck in their studies!

2. Shadow dancing
In the evenings when we sometimes sit at the local maquis near our house we can watch the shadow dancers. The maquis always plays great music and I have yet to see someone pass in front without moving a little to the beat. Across the street the street light projects like a spot light against a wall and often there are little kids that dance to the music watching their shadows dance along the wall.

3. Runaway wheels
A favourite activity of many kids here is wheel chasing and it is defiantly something that has unfortunately been forgotten in Canada. Kids take an old bike wheel and a stick and make the wheel go while running along beside it trying to keep up. It takes skills and lots of energy and I want to put the challenge out to kids back home to try it (once the snow melts).

Field visit to Toussiana a “village”, more like a small town.

2007-12-02T07:31:00.000-08:00

I just spent 5 days in Toussiana, what I would consider a small town rather than a village. Why do I say this, well it is a very well off village. Toussiana is placed between Bobo and Banfora right on the side of the road. There are multiple foot pumps stations for ground water, electricity for the majority of the houses, cell phone antennas, some houses with latrines and it is the market center for all the surrounding villages. Toussiana is also a successful mango production area and has a large dam that is surrounded with many small and large scale vegetable gardens.

Though Toussiana is booming in fruit and vegetable production there is still a mass emigration of the youth towards the cities. Many of the youth have little interest in continuing their father’s agriculture production and have set their sites on the bling and flash of the potential money and leisure activities of the city. Many of the older generation say that now that tv’s have come to town many of the youth have turned their interest and sights outward.

I was in Toussiana to learn a little about mango production in the area, the challenges, the opportunities and the perceptions of APIPAC (where I work) in the community. I happened to be there at the same time as a World Bank project evaluation visit. I got to watch the stress level of the local producer’s association, Tensia, reach maximum, the frenzy of preparing for the visit and the worry. I was staying with the president of the association, Rémé and he was so nervous. The World Bank visit arrived an hour late and was in a rush to quickly see an orchard and before we knew it they were off again, not stopping to have the meal prepared for them. Listening in on the conversation I did get to see that communication was by far the biggest challenge. The “Banker” would ask very specific questions looking for specific quantitative answers and the producer would answer with proverbs. Now if you understand the “Bankers” western culture you understand that he wanted specific measures and numbers to explain the benefit of the project, and if you understand the Burkinabé culture you will understand the producer’s proverb did answer with specifics and was quite clear on the benefits of the project. However, neither party fully understood the other. I’m not so sure how this lack of true communication will play out on the grand scale of things, as the “Banker” came to see a well maintained orchard and that is precisely what he saw.

On the other side from work, I spent the few days with Rémé and his family. Rémé is a short man in his late forties early fifties. He has strong diagonal lines scared into his cheeks, sign of his Toussiana ethinic origin (scaring practice not really continued today). He is the father of 9 kids, all which have or are presently going through school. Rémé speaks French, though his wife can’t. At home there are 3 kids left, ages 17, 14 and 12. There are also two other kids aged 10 and 12, the first daughters crippled son (he can’t walk and gets around by shuffling on his bum, so he never goes beyond the families yard) and a neighbours son. They were extremely nice with me, showing me around the area, teaching me how to roast peanuts and sharing many a meal of Tô with different sauces. I tasted Banji, a locally made drink from the sap of a type of palm tree. It is sweet and mild, but hard to describe the taste. They use all parts of this tree, drink the sap, eat the fruit (kind of looks like a coconut but inside has 3 sections with a jelly like substance with a very mild taste) and they use the leaves to weave baskets and traditional bee hives. I also had my first encounter with a naked chicken! This poor chicken was born with out any feathers, but it didn’t seem to notice or care. I guess when you want to eat it; it saves you lots of work!

I left Toussiana with the requests to return soon and a bag full of roasted peanuts.

Flying sheep!

2007-11-28T09:13:00.000-08:00

On my way to the internet cafe this afternoon I was stopped by a passing train. As I sat on my bike watching the many wagons filled to capacity with sheep and the occasional man sitting carelessly on the edge of the wagon, I witness the amazing break away. A young, courageous and slightly crazy sheep decided to make a break for it and tempt his luck with freedom. Your guess is as good as mine as to how the sheep was able to wiggle it's way out from the mass and jump to the ground from the moving train. Luckily for the sheep it hit the ground running, but not far behind it one of the casually sitting men was alerted to the fugitive and started in hot pursuit. I have to admit I was cheering for the sheep! If you take that big of a risk for your freedom it should be granted. There was many a chuckle from the other bi standards as you see a sheep and man running as fast as they could in the opposite direction to the train. Unfortunately the man runs a little faster than the sheep, and he also knows how to tackle. The man, now carrying the sheep upside down, ran to catch up to the train and throw the fugitive back into his spot. I'm not sure where the train was heading, but maybe the sheep will find another opportunity for freedom...

Today it snowed in Africa!

2007-11-26T05:01:00.000-08:00

Giant snow flakes fell from above, believe it or not! Today I taught some of the kids in the neighbourhood how to cut out paper snow flakes. Then Ibrahim climbed up the tree in front of our house and he would “make it snow”, letting the paper float to the ground. We also tied the snowflakes on strings hanging from the branches and watched them dance in the breeze. This is the closest any of these children have ever been to snow and may ever be to snow. It was a magical afternoon!

Drawing extravaganza

2007-11-26T04:56:00.000-08:00

Crayons and paper, two very simple tools and a neighbourhood full of fun! The artist in me can’t resist a little time to draw and the teacher in me can’t resist in sharing the opportunity with a bunch of kids! So with just one package of crayons our courtyard was filled with kids as young as 2 up to 14 years old, drawing. For some this was a very special moment and I can say that the hugs that I received that day proved to me just how special it was. Crayons and paper are not in ever household and to have a day to draw doesn’t happen often. I don’t think I have heard the neighbourhood so quiet, they were all concentrating on their creations that they were too busy to even look up. Many master pieces were created, some brought home to cherish, others shared as presents and others to be sent as love letters to Léna. This is definitely an experience to be recreated!

Young love

2007-11-26T04:49:00.000-08:00

We invited our friends from France to eat our poor little guinea fowl (from under our kitchen table) for dinner. It was also an occasion for their 2 kids, Léna aged 9 and Mattis aged 2, to play with our family’s kids and the kids in the neighbourhood. Who would have guest that 3 little boys, ages 8-11, in the neighbourhood would fall head over heals in love with Léna and that the war to win her heart would begin. So on Sunday just before the family left Bobo to start their trek back to France across west and northern Africa, I brought two of the young Romeos to say goodbye to their beloved and to give her the love letters that they had meticulously written. Since her departure they come daily to find out news. One of the boys even declared to his mother that one day he would marry Léna, which made her laugh. I’m not so sure that Léna is so convinced by their affection... At present I have a giant envelop on my desk full of love letters and drawings waiting to be mailed….

playing tourist

2007-11-19T06:56:00.001-08:00

Recently we had a visit from a good friend, Simon and his family. His family left France 2 months ago by van and have been traveling through Tunisia, Mauritania, Mali and now Burkina. This has been their last stop before the route home. Simon took the opportunity to visit them and us though just for a short week. It has been great eating stinky cheese (it kind of aged in the voyage from Ouaga to Bobo), chocolate (little mushy, but soooooooo tasty!) and we are holding on to our bottles of wine till we need another taste from home.

This visit also gave us the opportunity (excuse) to play tourist in Bobo. We spent a touring around the old Mosque Dioulasso-Bâ and the old town. The mosque was built in 1880 inspired by traditional architecture. It was built by the King of Sya to thank the Muslim leader Sakidi Sanou who helped him defend Bobo from the invading King Tiéba. The mosque is built on the site of an old animist temple, a symbolic gesture to show that Islam was now part of Sya. Islam and Animist religions continue to coexist peacefully.

The old town at the foot of the Mosque consists of two neighbourhoods, Sya and Kibidoué that are surrounded by the rivers Houet and Sanyon. The visit shows the different sacrificial sites and rituals of the animist religion, traditional style houses, a visit to the river where there are sacred cat fish and numerous visits to local artisans.

Dust is not just for sneezing….

2007-11-19T06:55:00.000-08:00

I have recently discovered that dust comes with many vices! We are just beginning to enter the dry season where it rains close to never. The frequency of rain is so rare that that the sight of one small rain drop is surprising! Instead of rain we now have dust. The air is constantly filled with a layer of dust that is particularly visible at dusk. It is almost like the air is tinted a slight burnt orange hue. Dust covers everything with a light dusting of orange. But the dust also comes with vicious intentions. Like November back home, it is impossible to get through the month without a cold. Well here instead of the frigid temperatures bringing in the germs, it’s the dry blowing dust that likes to carry the germs along. Unfortunately it is impossible to not breathe in this dust, which likes to fill up and dry out your nose. So like many people around me I had a nasty bronchitis that literally knock me off my feet and wiped me out for close to 2 weeks.

a strange little problem(s)

2007-11-19T06:49:00.000-08:00

Presently I have a guinea fowl hiding under my kitchen table! If you have never seen a guinea fowl picture a rugby ball that is black with white speckles and then a long skinny neck with a weird little head of wrinkly grey skin and a bump that protrudes on top, now add two scrawny legs that don’t look like the could hold up the body. Currently this strange looking bird to peering at me from the shadows under the table. She sits silently hoping that the big mean giants will disappear and she can make for her escape, the only problem is her legs are tied together and someone pulled out a bunch of her wing feathers so she can’t fly. This is where the problem arises; the guinea fowl wants to live and Alanna doesn’t want to kill it. I’m actually quite ready to build her a little home, untie her feet and let her live happily ever after, but this is not the intent of why I find I have a bird under my table. Boris was presented the poor traumatized bird while in a village with work. The intent of the village was that she be eaten for dinner. My colleagues at work find it extremely funny that I am squeamish about decapitating the bird and are quite willing to take it home and put her in a pot! So looking eye to eye this bird and I are watching each other trying to figure out what to do!

The problem is now twofold! There is a guinea fowl under the table and a scorpion in the bedroom. So I have shut the door and am secretly hoping that the bird will get ride of the bug! However, I am quite aware that upon opening the door neither problem will be solved; no bird in a pot and no squished insect. Luckily we have friends that have no problem killing scorpions or birds! The 4 inch bug was flattened by a shoe and the bird met her end with a knife. I do have to say that she did taste good though I did feel guilty watching her demise.

A little story....

2007-11-04T06:12:00.001-08:00

This October I turned 30 (grumble, grumble!) but I have begun to embrace the idea of no longer being in my 20s and I have a feeling that being 30 won’t be so bad after all!

For my birthday Boris organized to be home, as he had been traveling all week. After work I returned home so we could head out to a restaurant for dinner.

On the way to the restaurant we stopped by a neighbour’s house (whom I did not know) as Boris told me they had my birthday gift. We were greeted by Mrs. Ouattara who was selling fried potatoes in front of her house, but she jumped up with excitement to lead us into her courtyard. In the courtyard there were cows calmly chewing on their dinner and a bunch of goats off to one side. Mrs. Ouattara reached into the goats and pulled out a baby goat by the scruff of her neck. The little goat was speckled brown and white and very shy. I had a brief moment to meet my goat before it ran back to its mom to feed. My goat is still a little young to leave her mom so she will stay there a little longer which also give us time to build her a place to live.

I have to admit I was a little surprised to be given a goat, though I do think goats are really cute. We stayed with Mrs. Ouattara for a glass of water and then started on our way. The road from her house is of pounded red earth, the sun was setting and kids were out playing. Boris pulled me aside to tell me that the goat was part birthday present, but that it also had another significance…

Boris asked me to marry him!

And of course I said YES!!

Just as he was asking me, and I was holding my breath…there were kids in the background chanting tubabu, tubabu! This made me laugh, and laugh. It was surreal to be hearing the words I have waited for so long, with the chorus of tubabu.

Then the wind picked up! Dust and sand was blowing everywhere, the sky turned black and people started to run for shelter. I had sand in my ears, eyes, teeth and nose. Then it started to pour and we were soaking wet, but I didn’t care! I didn’t care that there was a storm swirling around me, I was so happy that nothing could change that!

We grabbed a taxi and headed into town to find a restaurant. We ended up at a restaurant in which we often go and are starting to get to know the staff. We sat off to the side in one of the private tables and had one of the best meals I have ever eaten here. Delicious BBQ chicken, green beans and fries, we splurged!

So now I have a fiancé and a goat!

[Boris bent the rules a little for my goat as normally he should have
presented a sheep to my father, but I'm not sure how easy it would be to mail a sheep and anyways I like goats!]

Food glorious food!

2007-11-04T06:07:00.000-08:00

I’ve been asked a few times about the food I’m eating, so I’ll try to describe some of the main dishes:

Tô: This is a staple to most diets and is an art to make. Tô can be made with yams, rice, corn…that has been pounded into flour. The flour is mixed with water and cooked over charcoal. It’s the stirring technique that makes the mixture turn into an elastic mush a little like plasticine. Tô has a very mild flavour so is eaten with different sauces. You pull a piece off and dip and scoop up the sauce.

Foutou: Foutou is made of yams or sometimes plantains. Basically you boil the yam or the plantain like you are making mashed potatoes until they are really mushy. Then you place it in a large wooden pestle and mortar and you pound, pound and pound. This is the step that takes a little strength! While pounding you add some water occasionally and keep pounding. Eventually the yam or plantain becomes very elastic, again a little like plasticine. Foutou is eaten like tô, to dip and scoop up the sauce. It really like to eat this!

Sauces:

(All sauces are boiled and boiled until well cooked and all the flavours are well blended)

Tomato: A tomato based sauce. To make it you grate tomatoes, onions, garlic and sometimes zucchini. Then you let is boil a long time with oil, and chicken stock. You can add cabbage, eggplant, beef or sheep meat if you want.

Tiguè (peanut): This is a peanut paste based sauce that is a little thick. I’m not really sure what it is in it other than peanuts.

Grains: This is a rich yellow coloured sauce. The grains used come from the palm tree and the flavour is a little sweet. Often they put a little beef in it as well.

Leaves: There are many sauces made from different leaves, so many that I don’t know. I have to admit I don’t know how these sauces are made. Often the consistency is a little slimy with a mild flavour.

Riz Gras: This is the standard rice served everywhere. It is rice cooked in a tomato based sauce. The rice absorbs all the sauce and takes the flavour. It is called “gras” as there is quite a bit of oil in the sauce. It is often served with a little beef or sheep meat pieces mixed in.

Porc au four : Pork grilled in a brick oven, cooked over wood. It is so incredibly good! It is available at 10am and it is all gone by 11am. It is the neighbourhood’s addiction! You eat the pieces of pork with baguette and a sauce of tomatoes, onions, hot peppers, vinegar and cooking juices. Some people drink Dolo along side and by the end you are truly full and ready for a siesta. Often we sneak out to the porc au four on Sundays as a sort of Sunday brunch.

Yamaku ji (ginger juice): I think I drink this nearly every day! I love this juice. It is basically crushed ginger, sugar, water and occasionally some mint. It is so refreshing. Some people make it a little spicier than others.

Bissap: This is a dark red juice that will stain if it gets on your clothes. This is another of my favourite drinks. It is made from boiled bissap flowers and usually lots of sugar. It tastes very similar to black currant.

Atieke: Couscous made from cassava. It has quite a special flavour that is hard to describe, but quite delicious. It is often served with onions, tomatoes, green peppers and fried fish.

Fonio: This is a very hearty grain a bit like couscous. It has a similar colour and size to sand. The taste is a little like roasted whole grain. It is also very filling and sits in your stomach like a ball of concrete.

Grilled meat: This is the specialty of most street vendors. They cook chicken, sheep or beef with spices and onions wrapped in a heavy paper and cooked on grill over a wood fire. The meat is often served with ground peanut powder mixed with hot pepper powder.

Galettes: Another road side specialty! This is kind of like mini oily pancakes. Galettes are made from fermented millet flour so have a little sharp taste, but are a great snack.

Degue: This is probably one of my addictions as I eat it nearly ever day. There is a really nice woman who sells delicious degue from a stall near my work and I am often sneaking over to drink a bowl! Degue is little millet balls or sometimes it is made with rice, in yogurt. She often puts an ice cube in the bowl as well so it is so refreshing.

The naming of a baby

2007-10-30T06:35:00.000-07:00

Here in Muslim culture you wait seven days after the birth of a child before it is given a name. The Imam does the naming ceremony at the baptism in front of all the family and friends. Goats are sacrificed during the ceremony and later eaten for the feast. It is a whole day affair.

Today was Bakary’s day! (Not that he really opened his eyes that often, he preferred to sleep through most of it!). Bakary is the new son of my boss, who is a very proud and happy father.

We arrived to a house full of people. All the elder women were in the living room with the mother and the baby. They were sitting on the floor with dates, kola nuts and candies all around for the passing guests. They were clapping their hands and singing. I got to hold a tiny sleeping bundle and wish benedictions to the mother.

After greeting the elders and the mother Boris and I went off to our separate areas. He sat under a tent with the men, talking, drinking tea and playing cards. I went to the areas with the women and helped with the cooking. Well actually they gave me easy tasks, which I was grateful for, once I saw the quantity of rice the women were stirring in the huge caldrons. Here you have to be very strong to cook!

Once the meal of riz gras(rice cooked in a sauce), saga sogo (sheep meat) and salad was ready, huge bowls were filled up with food and brought out to all the men. One bowl serves about 5-7 people that sit around it eating with their right hand. Once the men had all been served the women made bowls for the women and gave them according to age (elders first, youngest last).

All in all the day was beautiful and the food was good. I hope that Bakary enjoyed himself too.

Turning 30 Burkina styles

2007-10-30T06:20:00.000-07:00

I have to admit I had a slight turning 30 crisis, but am now embracing the idea and so far enjoying this new phase. For my birthday I organized a small party at our favourite Maquis. I invite just a few close friends, but still the number grew to 15-20 people by the time the evening was through. Here when you organize a party you pay for everything, food and drinks, there is no chance in having a potluck or BYOB. People expect to eat and drink well!

Luckily for me I had a friend Delphine come over in the evening to help with preparing the food, and then when the mom came home from the market the true cooking adventure began! Delphine and I cut and grated vegetables, pounded parsley and garlic in the mortar and followed orders! The mom took control of the kitchen, definitely her domain, and got us through the cooking in little time. So 2.5 liters of oil later, a tonne of salt, 3 kg of rice couscous and 2kg of Atieke, one tomato based sauce and fried “saga sogo” (sheep’s meat) we were then ready to quickly shower and get changed for the party!

Martial, a good friend who works at the Maquis had reorganized the tables and covered them with Guiness posters as table clothes. He had pre chilled a case of coke/fanta and a case of beer that we had order and was playing great music (as always) when we arrived in a car full of the whole family and all the food. (No one worrying that we were 7 people in the car with no seat belts). We soon took over the Maquis talking, laughing and eating. I can say that I definitely over ate! My friends spoiled me with little gifts, which they really didn’t need to buy. We danced a little on the street; Ibrahem (7 years old) wearing a suit, was having a great time being out with all the adults and was dancing up a storm. All of our left over food was given to a group of young guys making tea not far from the Maquis and we made sure to dish out 2 meals for the guards that sit all night watching the corner store. Nothing was wasted!

I’m starting to think that being 30 is not going to be so bad after all...

out in the field

2007-10-30T05:54:00.000-07:00

My first visit out on the field with work! I left early in the morning by local bus from Bobo to Toussiana, a mid sized village about 50km from Bobo. Getting off at Toussiana I was excited to meet up with a producer I had met two months ago at a mango value chain meeting. We had gotten along quite well during the 3 day meeting and I had wanted to visit him for a long time. Just by chance he was sitting beside the road where the bus dropped me off. We had a great conversation and it was wonderful to be greeted by a familiar face and by someone so happy to see me.

I then met up with a colleague, Mori and we headed out by motorbike to a neighbouring village to start our tour of mango orchards. Mori’s job is to go around different communities in the Banfora district and identify the different mango orchards. He takes note of the size of the orchards, age of the trees, variety of mangoes, what diseases and parasites the trees have, how well the area is maintained…all just by looking and asking questions. Mori is a wealth of information on mangoes! All this information is then gathered to help connected producers with women who sell in the local and export markets or with industries or cooperatives that transform the mangoes into other products for export (dried mangoes, mango pulp, jus…).

We started our day at a small house full of children who were very excited to see a tubabu, as it is rare to see a white person in this area. The youngest child of about 1 year old was really not sure what to make of me and burst into tears and screams. The grandmother was a beautiful woman with a weathered face with deep lines carved by age. She was thin and had a kind yet toothless grin. I tried my best to greet her in Dioula and through this gained her trust and appreciation. She sat with me the whole time we were with the family, talking through Mori as translator, and sharing mangoes with me.

The son of the family arrived after his morning work in their field ready to show us around. He was on a bike and we were on the motorbike and we headed off the different orchards around the area. We must have visited close to 9 before we stopped. Mori introduced me to the different mango varieties and how to tell them apart from the shape of their leaves to the way the tree grows. We spent the whole day out in the sun looking at trees before we returned for a small snack of bread (there are no restaurants in this part of the countryside). We sat at the local store eating our bread with condensed milk and talking to the group of young men who were playing a game that looked a little like checkers. One of the men flagged down a local minibus and I hoped in for the trip back to Bobo, leaving Mori behind as he had more visits planned for the next day. The mini bus was packed with people, piled high with luggage and coffee on the roof, with people sitting on top of that luggage. Two young guys stood hanging out the door and gripping the inside of the roof with their hands. Their job is to collect the money from the passengers that are getting on and off of the minibus. I was put in front with the driver and 2 other men in suits, even though I had said I could fit in the back. A little bit of unnecessary privilege. The ride back to Bobo was fast! I’m not sure how those on the roof stayed on, but they did. I arrived fully exhausted from a day in the sun with little food and water and with my brain trying to process all I had learned!

How to wear a baby...

2007-10-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

Step one: Putting the baby on your back.

Taking the baby off

2007-10-21T11:45:00.000-07:00

The second part of our live manual on how to get a baby secured on your back with a single sheet, a colorful one preferably.

Canadians are a very “sexy” people!

2007-10-21T10:49:00.000-07:00

Here in Burkina there are three ways in which women dress.

The first, is the most common among women of all ages and that is to wear a “tafi or pagne” or piece of material. A tafi just wraps around the waist, from right to left and NEVER from left to right (I’ve been told that if you wrap your tafi to tuck in on the right side then misery will come for your husband and family). You just tuck the end in on the left and roll the material slightly, no need for a knot. I have to admit that I often tie a knot because otherwise I feel nervous that I’ll be walking down the street and my tafi will fall down! It hasn’t happened, but it can loosen with movement. The tafi is always in vibrant colours and a vibrant pattern. This is also the cheapest way to dress as all you need is about 2 meters by 1 meter of material.

The second way to dress is by taking the same tafi material to a tailor and having a “complete” made. Here there are tailors on nearly every corner ready make custom fitted outfits for a really good price too. A “complete” is a sown skirt and top. This is considered being well dressed and many women, if they have the means to afford it, were this to work and special occasions. Most of these tafi’s are made in Ghana, Cote d’Ivore and remarkably Holland and China! It is hard to find Burkina made tafi’s but with a little searching you can still find a few handmade, local materials, but these are also more expensive. If you want to wear a more expensive outfit, women make a “complete” out of something called “bassin” which is incredibly beautiful, but also strange. It is a material that has been pounded using a wooden mallet and an engraved board. The material has a very shiny texture and almost looks a little like crape paper.

The third way is called dressing “sexy” and this means to wear western style clothes like jeans and a t-shirt or tank top. Jeans are called “les habits sexy”, I’m not sure exactly why, but it may have something to do with the fact that the shape of your legs is more visible than in a skirt or tafi. Here legs, especially thighs, are considered the most attractive “sexy” part of the body, so wearing something fitted like pants shows it off. So considering back home we often wear jeans then Canadians must be a very “sexy” people! Most of these western clothes are imported from Europe, USA and Canada. It is funny to come across someone wearing a Canadian t-shirt with a Canadian sports logo or camp staff written on it. The other day we think we saw a Hamilton Bulldogs t-shirt! So if you ever wondered where your used clothing went….

5:30 am start

2007-10-18T05:32:00.000-07:00

Well now that I have found giant Timbits I have also started jogging to offset my timbit consumption...well not really. Boris and I have decided to drag ourselves out of bed bright and early every morning 5:30am, it is when the day is coolest and the air is not yet full of exhaust fumes! The jogging has come with a recent realization that we are no where near as fit as the average Burkinabé and this is why we are not as strong at combating all the weird ailments that our environment confronts us with. Actually, I have to admit that I have been pretty lucky to enjoy the luxury of having a “teacher’s immune system”. What I mean is that for years I have been bombarded with germs and have done my time being sick, where as Boris who has lacked in this germ control training has suffered a lot since we have been here. So far I’m not so sure there hasn’t been a week that he hasn’t pick up something, be it malaria, the brown menace (diarrhea), a never ending cough, food poisoning…it’s always a new adventure! Starting my day with a jog has also energized me throughout the day! The other good thing is that at 5:30am not too many people are out and about to see the funny tubabu’s huffing, puffing and sweating! Those that do see us look at us with a slightly amused, yet sleepy, perplexed look.

The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the…

2007-10-18T05:27:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that bugs work in cycles here. One week we are overrun with cockroaches, the next flies, then acid spewing bugs and now two new things have crawled out from where they were hiding! It is like mini storms of multi legged armies that come in an overabundance then dwindle off for a while before reemerging in force. It is not that we are ever fully free of any critter, but less of one kind replaced by more of another.

Our newest companions (if you can call them that) are these weird big bummed flying ant things. They are not too bright and make a lot of noise when they fly. They seem to fly into walls and then spin around on the floor for a while till they reorient themselves and start to fly again. Then there is the not so nice creature that I wish would crawl back into wherever it came from. Last night I met a scorpion, he was only an inch from my shoulder on the wall behind my chair. It wasn't a pleasant encounter and it ended baldly for him. Killed by a shoe! Okay I have to confess that this scorpion was the size of a dime, but none the less it had little pincers, a pointy tail. Now usually when there is a little guy there is also a much bigger mother somewhere!

my family in Bobo

2007-10-13T10:50:00.000-07:00

The end of Ramadan ends with a party!

2007-10-13T10:29:00.002-07:00

The end of Ramadan ends with a party! People dress in their best outfits(often kids wear matching outfits) and head from house to house visiting friends, neighbours and family. They offer best wishes for the coming year and people give out food to all those who pass. I spent the day visiting with friends of Chantal, Aimé’s sister. Finally I am getting to know some females! We chatted and ate and ate and ate. It is so nice to see the care with which people dress and how excited and proud the little kids, this is definitely their party! The evening comes and firecrackers explode all over the neighbourhood. Laughter and chatter fills the air. Music is playing from different Maquis and houses. Little kids are counting their earnings from spending the day visiting people and getting small change from everyone. Our house was a buzz with activity and visiting family. We were given a meal of rice tô, fried sheep, fried fish and red sauce. There was also the added treat of a coca-cola, the expensive one here as it comes in a plastic bottle instead of a glass one. Later we headed out with friends to our local Maquis and spent the night talking and swatting the occasional mosquito!

This year the party fell on a Friday which gave everyone a day off work! Now since it is the weekend, the party has continued on to Saturday with people still dropping by and music everywhere. It is really great to see the neighbourhood come to life!

Hala ka san here tiaya (God grant you lots of success) – What you say to everyone you meet during the end of Ramadan.

Acid spewing insect strikes again!

2007-10-13T10:29:00.001-07:00

This time it is my turn. Apparently this acid spewing insect is not one but all insects that are attracted to light in the night. These little beasties swarm the florescent lights with a frenzy of attraction. Now sometimes they also fly towards you or land on you. These little guys come in all shapes and colours. The danger is that when you hit them or wipe them off, if you squish them this acid like substance secretes out which create a kind of burn like blister on your skin. It doesn’t really hurt; it feels just like a mild burn. Now I have been told to try rubbing lemon on it so it will heal. Next time I’ll make sure to shake the bug off rather than swatting at it!

A little about what I do here

2007-10-13T10:27:00.002-07:00

Now I have been told that I haven’t explained enough about what I do here, where I work. Well that is in part due to the fact that everything has been slowly (this is African time here) sorting itself out. Little by little things are becoming clearer and with the end of Ramadan life will return to a more normal pace. Basically I work with APIPAC, an association of irrigation specialists and all the connected activities. What this means it that they specialize in installation, maintenance and training for simple micro-irrigation, such as, hand pumps, treadle pumps (a bit like a Stairmaster that pumps water), motor pumps, California system (underground pipe system) and drip irrigation. The part of “all the connected activities” means that they work with producers, transformers, local markets and exporters of fruit and vegetables, as well as providing access to micro-credits. It is this section, rather than the technical irrigation section, that I am involved with. My role in all this is to work closely with the mango value chain, though I have also done work with different vegetables. I am to look at all the parts of the chain from the mango producer all the way up to the exporter that sends the mangoes to you. I am trying to identify areas in which support, training and information can be better delivered, identify the key problems and possible solutions and trying to facilitate the dialogue between the different actors in the chain. I have been able so far to do a couple a site visits to local area transformers of mango products and points of sale. I am soon to be headed out on the field to visit some orchards and to talk to producers. As for right now I have been learning about and trying to understand the complicated web of problems, challenges and best practices. I have been making connections with people, analyzing data, writing reports and going to meetings, all this with making sure to sample all the goods that I am helping to promote!

Swimming against the current

2007-10-13T10:27:00.001-07:00

Have you ever felt like you were a fish swimming up stream against a mass of people walking the other direction from you. Well last night I did. Ramadan is coming to an end and you can feel the excitement for the celebration rising. Here is Burkina about half the population is Muslim and you really sense this during Muslim celebrations. Last night was the 26^th day of Ramadan and people were heading to the stadium near where I live to pray all night and feast at 4am. The daily routine for the past month has been that people, including the family with which I live, get up at 4am and eat then go back to bed till 6am. During the day they do not eat or drink. I have to admit that in this heat I have no idea how they do, must be the power of belief. Then at 7pm they are able to eat and drink again. This cycle repeats each day for 30 days. During the day, but this continues even after Ramadan, they pray at least 4 times. Now since last night was the 26^th day people were dressed in beautiful outfits and heading to the stadium or different points around town. Food was being carted on women’s heads or large pots being pulled by donkey carts. Little kids walked with pride to help carry the pray rugs. All night we could hear the faint rumble for the Imam at the mosque.

Now as the real party approaches, women everywhere are busy cooking up a huge feast for Saturday when people will celebrate the end of Ramadan, often bringing food and gifts to their neighbours.

Allah ka sun gnouma la ban (Good end of Ramadan)

my neighbourhood

2007-10-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

The road to work.
We often eat breakfast in this maquis.

The little guy turning his face is my daily greeter and this is the view in front of my house.

make that 11 favourite things so far!!

2007-10-08T11:38:00.000-07:00

I found donuts!!!! We'll it is more like a giant timbit the size of your hand, but boy does it ever taste good! It's just like the "old fashioned" timbits at Tim Hortons. Now all we need to do is find out the secret to getting the jam in the middle and start a new trend!! They are soooooo good!

Top 10 favourite things so far!

2007-10-05T11:21:00.001-07:00

· Smiles (mine and others): My daily dosage of smiles far exceeds the norm from back home. Often it is for the simplest of reasons too. Like when I respond/greet someone in Dioula and they are so surprised that they smile from ear to ear and laugh! Or when I use a new sentence in Dioula and am understood! The smiles of the excited kids when you pass them.

· Small acts of kindness: Often people are very kind and welcoming here. When you sit down to eat people will invite you to eat with them and to even share their food. At the market they will often slip an extra few onions or tomatoes or what ever into you bag as a present. The other day a woman sold me 3 plantains for the price of 1 just because I didn’t have the cash on me to buy more than one. People will go out of their way to help you.

· My neighbour’s kid: He is about 2 years old and without fail every time he sees me he charges at full force towards me just to shake my hand. I have to be very careful not to hit him with my bike as he will come at me from all angles. I do admit that I am a little worried that one day he will get hit by a passer by as he doesn’t look around; his eyes are opened wide but focused only on me. It is so funny to see his little legs going full speed ahead.

· Greetings: This is both my favourite and sometimes a frustrating thing. Here greeting someone is very important, and often long as you need to ask about their family, health, work… It’s great as it create opportunities to meet people and to get to know them easily, it is frustrating as once you know someone it is expected that you greet them, but it almost becomes mechanic and only once you go through the standard greetings do you get to know how they really are.

· “Basa” Gecko lizards: I need to find a way to train these little guys to sit in my house and catch mosquitoes! The lizard I find really cute and feisty. I have been unsuccessful in catching them on photo as they are just too quick, but I like watching them run up the walls.

· Yogurt: Burkina makes some of the best yogurt I have ever tasted! Sometimes they also put millet balls in it (kind of like cereal, but very small) and it tastes really good.

· Atieke: This is one of my favourite meals. Atieke is cassava couscous often served with onions and fried fish. We have our favourite stand on the way home that we sometimes stop at and pick up a bag of Atieke or eat it at the “Maquis” (bar) next to it.

· Yam and sweet potato fries: Thick hand cut fries fried in way too much oil and covered with lots of salt and hot pepper powder. Really tasty but so not good for you!

· Cashews: I’m addicted to cashews! I can’t help but buy them regularly. It happens to be the season for roasted cashews. Burkina produces cashews but has no weight in international markets mainly due to quality and also to the huge quantities that are sold to Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire “through the back door”.

· Dried mangoes: Not just because I work with mangoes, but because they are sweet and tasty!

photos of Kaya and the EWB retreat

2007-10-05T11:11:00.001-07:00

Kaya

2007-10-05T11:05:00.000-07:00

Team Burkina unites! Finally we spent a weekend getting to know the other members of EWB here in Burkina. It was great to get a change of scene from Bobo and to see a different part of the country. It really felt like a different part of the country or even a different country as people speak Moore instead of Dioula, so I was unable to really connect with people in the town. We were in a smaller town called Kaya to the north of Ouaga, staying in a hotel that over looks a “big” lake of brown water, small lake by Canadian standards. Those that were brave or crazy went for a swim. Personally I’m a little hesitant for brown water especially when I can’t see my hand under the surface. We nearly lost a team member as he walked in the water and fell into a deep hole. Good thing there was nothing in the hole waiting for him! Kaya is known for it's meat and leather work. We treated ourselves to some of the best roasted chicken and beef kabobs I have eaten in a long time and a tour of the handicraft market (though I didn't buy anything)! It was also just great to get to know each other and to start to build a feeling friendship and as team.

During our sessions we had some unexpected guests that really wanted to be our friends, that or eat us! This is the first time in my life to be sitting a couple feet from a vulture that looms overhead. Having their shifty eyes on you is a strange feeling. We also had the squeaky interruptions of the passing Guinea fowl or the agreement or disagreement to what we had to say by the occasional goat. We discovered, though unfortunate for Simon, that there is a kind of insect that when it passes on your skin it deposits a strange acid like substance. Simon woke to discover that he had blisters on his neck. Not a pretty sight! But luckily it heals relatively fast. And during our problem solving session we tried to solve a tricky, fast and strange looking problem, unfortunately unsuccessfully. The commotion was caused by the weirdest looking bug I have seen. It’s kind of like a crayfish, out of water though, with lots of legs and a transparent brown colour. Maybe the acid depositing insect…I didn’t stick around to find out!

In the evenings we lounged down by the lake drinking tea and watching the stars. Life is pretty good!

The daily grind

2007-10-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

I thought I would describe a normal day to show a little bit about how my life is here, I hope it is interesting...

6am: My alarm rings, I grunt and role out of bed (I’ve never been one for mornings!)

I change into a tafi (piece of material women wear to take a shower, or as a skirt) and go and fill up a bucket from the water reserve. I carry the bucket to a small room without a ceiling (basically 3 concrete walls, a concrete floor, a drain and a metal door). I wake up rapidly with a shock from the cold water from my bucket shower, but am happy as I get to use locally made shea butter soap that makes your skin so soft. Awake and refreshed I get ready for work. Enjoy a baguette with mango, orange or banana jam or dark brown honey ( all locally produced by small cooperatives). YUM!

7am: I greet all the family on my way out the door, then head off by bike on my daily route. The first stretch is unpaved, bumpy, and up hill. I greet almost all the people I see. Upon reaching the section that is paved I know it is all down hill from there! The paved road is the same that heads out to La Guinguette, but I am heading in the other direction. I join the other bikes that follow the roads shoulder while the motor bikes whiz by and the occasional car or truck. This part of the road follows the outside wall of the airport, though I haven’t seen any planes take off yet, but I am sure there are some. Between the road and the wall people have taken the otherwise empty space and have converted it into small gardens. It is hard to know where one person’s garden ends and the other starts. There is mainly gumbo (okra) and maize planted there. Right now the Okra is in flower with its beautiful cream yellow petals and deep purple center. At the stop sign I turn right, but here you have to make sure you place one foot on the ground while stopped or you could get a 2000Franc CFA fine if a cop see you (4 dollars CND, but here more than I spend in a days to eat 3 meals!).

Often while biking I end up in these “races” that I don’t intend. Mainly it is that the young guys don’t like to see me pass them so they start to peddle as fast as they can to pass me. However, their bursts of energy do not always last and as I approach them we start all over again.

7:30 am: I arrive at work greet the woman selling potatoes (who is also the wife of the guard) and her two kids. I greet the guard who likes to throw new sentences in Dioula at me to see if I understand. They live in the courtyard and have planted rice, peanuts, beans and corn. They have two kids that think I’m just plain funny. Then the day at work starts. I spend most of my day either working at the office or going around different points of sale or units of mango transformation to talk with the people involved.

I work in an office that is pretty small. Basically my boss and I and occasionally the 2 field officers when they come to write their reports, but mainly it is jus the 2 of us. I have no air conditioning, but I have a fan that could probably propel a plane, so we never use it. There is a metal ceiling with little holes in it and sometimes you can hear the mice running around. The windows have metal slats that you tilt open, here there are rarely windows with glass as Burkina doesn’t have a factory for making glass so all has to be imported.

12pm: Lunch! I peddle home, this time uphill and in the hot sun! I make lunch and take a siesta. Now this is how is meant to be!

3pm: I return to work. Yes I do have a 3 hour lunch!

6pm: Home time and dusk it is starting. I ride back with everyone else who is returning from work. Sometimes I stop to pick up vegetables or fruit from the women selling them from stalls on the street. I arrive to the area where I turn to the part of the road that is not paved, just as the cows and goats are also heading home. They cross the road on their march home after a day grazing in the fields just beyond where I live. Just as I get home the sun is setting and night is falling. But the day does not end there! The house is buzzing with activity. The daughters though only 10 and 14 years old are busy cooking. They make most of the food over either a gas stove and / or a charcoal burner. While they cook dinner the mother is often making juice or yogurt to sell. And the little baby, who is desperate to start walking, is getting himself into everything. The other day he was so curious that he bit right into a hot pepper (foronto) and got the shock of his life! I think he learnt that when mom says no maybe there is a good reason.

This is also the time where I try to get some laundry done so that it doesn’t pile up all for the weekend. I find that by the end of the day our shirts are ready for washing! It’s all the biking to and from work in the heat! We make dinner, though we have yet to convince the family to try our food. It looks too weird and we mix too many vegetables together. Also where is our meat? I’ll keep trying!

After dinner I sometimes help Salmata with her English homework, shower for the 2^nd time (this time the water is a little warmer as the reserve had the whole day in the sun) or chase what ever weird creature that is in our house out (cockroach, mouse, lizard..)

I have to admit by 9 or 10 I’m exhausted and ready for bed!

Furry critters wreak havoc frantically forcing feet to scurry!

2007-09-26T08:13:00.000-07:00

A mouse! Yes a mouse! A 4 inch fuzz ball with a tail created a fury of frenzied activity in our house last night. Armed with brooms and jittery feet we tried to corner our little foe. It darted towards the bed room and hid under the bed. We set up a barricade at the door and all of us (Salmata, Amoke with Ismeal in hand, Ibrahim, Agara, Boris and myself) jumped and swatted as it darted about the room. Squeals of laughter and fear echoing within the walls, I’m sure the mouse was squealing from fear as well, but we did not try to listen. We must have looked like some strange jumping circus with all of us leaping around wishing we could somehow levitate. Our furry foe made a mad dart towards our barricade of bags. Brooms ready on the other side we watched as Agara pulled back bag by bag, reaching in she grabbed it by its tail. Proudly parading her little captive, Agara proceeded to swing the mouse towards each of us with a giggle of joy. Lucky for this foe it had been caught by one who is tame of heart and who would release it to its freedom outside of the house.

some more photos

2007-09-23T08:21:00.000-07:00

Bobolais village, traditional house, pots to make Dolo, sorghum and carying wood home.

photos of La Guinguette

2007-09-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos of La Gringuette and I was finally able to upload a video to the post so take a look bellow (it only took 3 days of trying....)!!!

I killed my first chicken last night

2007-09-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

Well let me rephrase that… I had an important role in the demise of a poor chicken but it was not I who dealt the final blow. Here if you want chicken there are no supermarkets with selected cuts of meat nicely organized and wrapped tightly under cellophane. There are no isles to peruse deciding if you want chicken breasts, thighs or drumsticks. Here if you want chicken you get the whole chicken, but you get to meet the chicken first! The chicken market is an assortment of roughly built cages stuffed with chickens, roosters and guinea-fowl. It smells a little like feathers, dirt and corn, and the clucking of chickens can be heard in high volume. We approached a vendor who reached into the cage and pulled two different chickens out of the cage, grabbing them by the feet. The vendor handed the two flapping and squawking chickens to Boris to choose based on their weight. Boris stood there one chicken in each hand unsure how to really tell the difference, then one of the chickens decided to try to escape by trying to peck at his hand. That was a sorry choice as it became its act of self sacrifice. This feisty chicken was soon to be our dinner. I have to admit that I was a little squeamish with the idea of playing a role in the end of this feisty chicken, as I kind of respected its attempt to liberate itself. The chicken though complacent only due to its inability to challenge the hand that held it, was carried away to the cleaning area. It only took a second, really, and this chicken was no longer a bird but instead dinner. I was surprised at how fast and efficient they were in removing all the feathers and cutting it up into pieces. We headed home with a bag of chicken. I was feeling a little guilty.

I decided that I needed to get over my fear of the chicken so opened up the bag to wash the meat. Head to feet were in there with an eye watching me. I found as long as ignored the head I had no problem with the rest of it. Once I started to cook it I was much more at ease and it felt like normal chicken from the supermarket. In the end dinner was delicious and we shared it with two friends.

The next time you see a dried mango think of me!

2007-09-21T05:07:00.000-07:00

I spent the day working at a centre of mango transformation trying to understand the challenges and difficulties faced by those who make and sell dried mangoes. I pitched into the work load while asking thousands of questions. I sorted and stuffed I’m not sure how many bags each of 100g of dried mangoes that went on to be sealed and will be sold on the local market.

Contrary to what might be believed, selling dried mangoes is not an easy sell. Here dried mangoes are not part of the local regular diet. People don’t really have the habit of buying them as often they don’t have the means in order to splurge like that. One 100g bag of mangoes sells for 200 F CFA which is the same price as a meal of rice with sauce in a restaurant, but the meal fills your belly and the mangoes are just a snack. Also why eat dried mangoes when you can gorge yourself on fresh mangoes when they are in season. People are willing to wait for the next season rather than buying processed mangoes.

So often the dried mangoes are for export, but this also remains tricky. People in Europe, Canada and the US like things to look pretty. They like their dried mangoes to be bright orange and not slightly brown orange. This means, however that we eat the not so ripe mangoes that have been dried as they look nicer, rather than eating the delicious, sweet ripened mangoes that don’t have as pretty a face. The challenge faced by those who process the mangoes is being able to make them pretty, and package them in a way that the consumer abroad will think it is great. The problem here is that shiny, colourful labels are hard to come by and expensive, so most use only black and white printed paper. Based on aesthetics exporters chose mangoes that are accepted and return those that look a little browner. Now comes the challenge of selling the leftovers. A bag of pretty orange dried mangoes goes for 3000F CFA / kg, but the leftovers will go for somewhere around 500 F CFA /kg which then put the producer in a deficit. It’s silly really as I have to say the browner dried mangoes are much more delicious than the orange ones! So here is my little ply to convince you the consumer that brown is better!

when one thing goes it all seems to go...

2007-09-21T05:05:00.001-07:00

This morning at around 4am a battle commenced between something I ate last night and my body. I’m not all together sure exactly what their disagreement was, but it was definitely a heated argument (or maybe it was just me that felt hot!). The battle continued until 6am with repeated trips to the latrine, these times not worrying or having the time to be bothered by the cockroaches that like to lurk there in the night. From 6-7am I pleaded with the two parties to come to some sort of a peaceful arrangement, but to no avail. So packing my bag (and myself) full of Peptobismal and immodium, plus some bread and water with the hopes that I might tempt eating something this morning, I headed off to work. But not without one last visit to my not so good friends the cockroaches (latrine).

As I leave I muster up the energy to shake hands with the neighbour’s kid, it’s hard to resist a little guy less than 2 years old who gets so excited to see me that he waddles towards my bike trying to say tubabu. My energy dwindled after that and I didn’t wave, as I normally do, to all the choruses of tubabu from kids I pass on my way to work. Peddling I felt like the road had slanted the other way for a change, isn’t it normally down hill? I hit a small bump and lost a screw on my basket, which began to dangle and swing. Now one hand on the basket and the other steering the bike, I’m sure I am going to be late! I arrive at work; force a smile for the woman who sells fried potatoes in front of the office. She has always been really nice to me, helps me with my Dioula and has no need to know the state I’m in. Now I feel like I’m sweating like a polar bear in the desert! Why the rush? Why not stay in bed? Sounds like a reasonable question and a great idea. Well…because today is of course the day that I have to meet the big boss who has come all the way from Ouaga. I have been working with the Bobo branch and we are having a meeting to go over my contribution to the organization for this next year.

The one thing that kept me going is that I knew that this situation would pass (in more ways than one) and by the next day I should be healthy again.

La Guinguette

2007-09-21T05:04:00.000-07:00

It has been a month since we arrived in Burkina and after many complaints from home that we are not sending photos, we decided to head out to play tourist for the day. So we went on a little adventure to la Guinguette, a small forest with a river fed from an underground water source. The Bobolais enjoy coming here to relax, stay cool and have a swim. Unfortunately it is the rainy seasons and we are unable to swim as the current is too strong. We’ll have to wait a few months and come back during the dry season when it feels really hot! La Guinguette is about a 15 km bike ride from where we live, just past the University on the way out of town. The way there is mainly down hill so it seems to take no time at all; it’s the way home that is long! We packed a lunch, games and everything we needed to make tea, so we were well prepared for a full day of relaxation.

For the past 3 years la Guinguette has been developed into a tourist attraction and natural reserve in which those in the surrounding villages profit from the new work and flow of tourist money. The initiative was taken as a way of protecting the environment and the water source that quenches the thirst of Bobo-Dioulasso. The villages around the park work as a sort of cooperative taking turns operating the boutique, tours and maintenance. We wandered off into one of these villages, Dinderosso, for a look at Bobolais village life.

While wandering around we discovered a new concept (at least for us). This is the concept of musical farming! There is an association of workers that have gotten together in the area and that will work in your field for some food and money shared collectively. While they work there are a few of them who play drums to create a good rhythm and they all sing along. As you approach the field you can sense the energy (though I think they brought it up a notch just for us).

The house

2007-09-17T11:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes pictures speak better than words (and videos are even better!)

This is just a short video showing our house and a little bit of our life.

I hope you enjoy it.

In deep with mangoes...

2007-09-11T07:44:00.002-07:00

I've now jumped in head first into a pile of mangoes! It’s a good thing that I like mangoes!

With the start of work has also come the start of much learning and discovery. Last week I was able to spend two whole days in a meeting with 70 producers, transformers and exporters of mangoes! I’ve discovered many of the challenges and set backs faced by the players in the mango production.

Many producers lack the technologies necessary to combat the invasion of fruit flies that devastate at least 10% of their harvest and they lack the infrastructure to get their mangoes to all the other players in the value chain. One thing they do not lack in is mangoes, but sometimes waiting for a truck to bring their mangoes to market will arrive after the mangoes are rotten.

The transformers are busy working at making jams (it is so tasty it’s how I start every day!), dried mangoes (that taste way better than you can ever imagine in Canada!!) and other products, but are left searching for markets to sell.

The exporters are left waiting for quantities of fruits and transformed goods, never quite making the quota due to so many set back.

I’m now in deep with mangoes and they are becoming much more than just a fruit!

We are mobile!

2007-09-11T07:44:00.001-07:00

Boris and I have finally purchased bikes! Our new transportation has one speed, a squeak when you peddle and mine even has a basket. We have been learning the rules of the road, basically always stay alert! On the main roads which are paved there is a beveled edge which you need to navigate, on the side roads which are not paved there are incredible crevasse and pot holes that you need to make your way around/through. All the while paying attention to speeding motorbikes, crazed taxi drivers, the occasional donkey cart either moseying along or galloping under the whip and people walking in all directions with or without large loads on their heads.

Having bikes has provided much mobility and we are able to explore more of Bobo and get things done much faster, but not without many looks! Apparently women don’t bike here that often. If your husband has the means he provides you with a motorbike and if he doesn’t you walk or take a taxi. The only females that I see on bikes here are young girls, so people find it quite funny to see me pass. At Boris’ work they cannot believe that he comes on a bike and they have told him that he is miss treats me by making me ride a bike (sot that I have complained yet!!). I’ve tried to explain that I prefer to bike, but no one is too convinced. Even the other day I had a man exclaim in shock as he biked passed me “Oh, the woman doing sports!”. That is another big difference; women here don’t really do sports. If a woman is “larger” she is considered a woman of status and being thin means you haven’t eaten enough. The women at my house are constantly trying to feed me and tell me that I need to eat more.

Another area where women are rarely seen is at football (soccer) games. Every weekend you can find a tournament somewhere, so we have been going to watch some pretty fun games. Standing on the sidelines, cheering and discussing the plays I draw a lot of curious looks. All the women I’ve surveyed here tell me that they don’t like football at all, but all the young boys here dream of becoming a football star. Most of the tournaments here are for large sums of money so the players play in the fiercest of manners. The field is shorter so there is a lot of back on forth.

Red sky at night

2007-09-11T07:43:00.001-07:00

The other night I was sitting at home when I could sense a storm coming on. The wind started to pick up and people where quickly running about the courtyard picking things up and bringing them inside. When I stepped out into the courtyard I could see that the sky was red. There was a strange glow in the early dusk and a tint of burnt orange and rusty red. As the wind grew fiercer so did the shade of red. Soon everything appeared red and you had to protect yourself from the wind. The red sand of the earth had become the air and sand was everywhere and on everything. It was incredibly beautiful. It didn’t last long as the clouds opened up and the rain poured like giant water balloons.

Apparently a few years ago they had a storm here that was so fierce and that brought so much sand that people stayed inside for 2 days. Once the storm had past there was so much sand on the roads you couldn’t drive and everything had to be dug out. Kind of reminds me of snow storm, but the sand won’t melt!

Funny fowl

2007-09-11T07:39:00.000-07:00

I have learnt a few things about fowl recently. I know it is a funny topic of conversation, but it just seems to keep coming up. I had read that there were chickens here called bicycle chickens, so I went about in search of this mysterious bicycle bird. I have to admit that I have been disappointed to not find any chickens riding bicycles and have had to accept a more logical explanation for the name.

A bicycle chicken is also known as an African chicken. It is sometimes called bicycle chicken because it runs all over the place looking for food and when it runs its little legs and big feet peddle quickly. It is smaller than the chickens we have at home and definitely sportier! It is the type of chicken we can find for sale at the roadside BBQ’s (fire pits). The meat is redder, more like a duck or game bird and it has a stronger taste. There is a lot less meat on a bicycle chicken then on the chickens we get, but it is tasty!

Now there is also another type of chicken here that is fatter, lazier, waits at home to be fed, it never wanders too far from home and goes to sleep at night. This chicken is basically the complete opposite to the bicycle/African chicken who runs around all day and night, grabbing food where it can. Now this lazy chicken is called a “Tubabu” chicken, also know as White chicken. Nothing insinuated in the description that reflects white people I hope…. These white chickens are used to produce eggs, but they don’t eat the chickens very often.

Now just like the chickens there are classifications for pigeons which are also sold to be eaten (I have yet to try pigeon). African pigeons are basically the same description as bicycle/African chickens: sporty and active. Then there are white pigeons, same as white chickens, but then there is class all its own and these are called American pigeons! Now these American pigeons are BIG! Now I’m not so sure how I feel about the classification of these fowls, but taken with a little humour… This Sunday I even called myself a white chicken when I felt like staying home and relaxing instead of running about all over town.

A practice in patience!

2007-08-26T08:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning we headed out early to a freinds field to help with the weeding around his corn crops. Boris dug with a hand plough and I had to pull and pick up the weeds between the stocks. This is one time that I really enjoyed the different gender roles! My job seemed much easier, especially after seeing the blisters left on Boris' hands! We are starting to build a real appreciation for the work people do.

Last night I headed out for some girl time with Salmata. We went to the salon to get her hair done. Often here the girls add layers of plastic hair to their hair and sow hair pieces on. The girls in the salon had a lot of fun touching my hair and giggling. This was a true moment that I wished my Dioula was better so I could understand what they were saying. Before we left all the girls grabbed me and stuck me in the chair. Here the women love to paint their eyebrows with henna. They make their eyebrows really long and thin. So before I could even protests I had long black eyebrows. What looks great on them, doesn't quite work on a tubabu, white person. Its definitely not my style, but now I am kind of stuck with it. I scrubbed as hard as I could last night, but my eyebrows are still black. I feel a little like a clown. Oh well it is all part of intergrating, right!?

At home we have been adjusting, but the mom doesn't think we know how to do anything. In her opinion we don't know how to cook, clean or do the laundry. Given it is not often I have to do the laundry by hand back home, but I don't think I'm that bad at it! Everytime I try to cook, the mom comes into our kitchenand takes the vegetables out of our hands as we aren't cutting them right. Before we know it our meal is made, with about 10 times the amount of oil and salt that I would use. I know she is trying to be helpful, but it is a little tiring some times...

This morining we were woken up by drumming off in the distance. It sounded so nice. We still haven't quite managed to wake up at 6am yet. We met up with a freind this morning who took us to see how Dolo is made. Dolo is a kind of Millet beer, that I have to say tastes aweful! There are two versions, one that is not fermented and one that is. The fermented one could knock your socks right off it is so strong! A few sips and that was all I could manage!

Friendship building and trust earning

2007-08-24T07:41:00.000-07:00

Our first night in our house we went to sleep with the sound of hyper active crickets. I could have sworn that the house was full of thousands of them as they were so loud! There was definitely one cricket up in the ceiling that loved the amplification that the corrugated tin roof provided and he was more than excited to us it!
The morning we woke to the sound of sadness. We could hear wailing and crying outside. We were unsure what we should do. The family explained that the neighbour (an elderly woman) had passed away during the night and the community had set up tents for the mourners. This was a first real moment of culture shock. Boris and I had no idea what we should do, what was traditionally correct and expected especially as neighbours. We tried asking what we could do, but no one really seemed to understand what we meant. So we called a friend and colleague of Giselle, who is also our neighbour, and asked him what to do. Aimé came by in the evening and we went to visit the family and pass on our condolences. He explained in Diuola that we were new neighbours and that we wanted to pass on our wishes to the family. There was a tent of men in one area and a gathering of women in another area. Apparently they sit separately to mourn. Under normal circumstances Boris would have gone only to the men and I only to the women, but Aimé brought us to both together as it was easier. The family appreciated our respectful visit and I fell it was the natural thing to do, especially as neighbours.
During the day we spent our time at the market with Salmata and all her cousins and family. Ismael is my new little friend, as the mom often passed him on to me to take care of. In the mornings he also comes to knock at our door to see if we are up. The mom explained that before there were others staying where we are now and he would never go, but with us he comes to see us every morning. In the market ever where we go we are followed by Rastas which makes Salmata laugh. It is tourist season in Bobo so we are assumed to be rich tourists from Europe. Today was also a lesson in “what the mother says, you do!”. Mama Mariam is a kind woman, but she RULES the household and the market. She is very hard to read, as she rarely smiles, so I never know if I have mortally offended her or if she is happy. She has one volume to speak and that is to yell, or bark orders. She runs a tight ship, so to say. She seemed happy to introduce us and show us around, but when she says wait there, you do. There is no place for what you want to do.
Once home Boris and I prepared dinner. I know that that was a sight for them. Both of us working together to make a salad. I’m sure they really wondered what on earth we were making and what on earth Boris was doing helping. We are taking little steps with gender issues here. For instance, I’m doing the laundry and washing the dishes. Already I do it differently than they do so that is odd, but if Boris were to do it, it would be more than odd! Where we can show a different way of doing things we are little by little.
I spent the evening sitting out front with the kids and talking to Salmata. She was showing me pictures and we were comparing Canada and Burkina. A few tidbits that I have learned to far:
-When doing laundry always dry your underwear inside the house because they say that outside you are unaware of what spirit may put them on and bring you bad luck.
-You should never wash, not even your face in front of someone else, it is too private and disrespectful if someone see you.
-As the showers are open to the sky (basically just 3 walls, a door and a bucket) you shouldn’t wash under the stars as they say a spirit may pass.
-What ever you do pass everything and take everything with your right hand and your left had is “dirty”
-Women wear “tafé”, a piece of clothe wrapped around your waist and tucked under. You must wear it long enough to cover almost to you ankles. Pants are not really seen on women only occasionally young girls.

A house to call home!

2007-08-24T07:40:00.000-07:00

Giselle has taken me a bit under her wing and will not relax until we are well installed. Using her contacts she called around and found us a place in a family that have an extra room that we can rent. Giselle bargained to make sure we got Burkinabé price for rent. Giselle’s tastes however are a little richer than what we expect. She wanted to make sure that we were comfortable and healthy.
We moved onto a hotel for two days while our new place was cleaned and while we searched for a mattress and some basic essentials. We are now living in an area away from downtown, the suburbs of sorts. It is a community that is middle class with varying levels depending on the house. We are staying with a family that have 4 kids, Drama (Father), Mariam (Mother), Salmata (14), Amake (11), Ibrahim (7) and Ismael (10 months). The family is true entrepreneurs! The mother runs a cooking wear stand in the market, the father supplies tailors with sowing machine pieces; from the house they sell juice, yogurt and sort of homemade popsicles. They are always working, the kids included. Since it is the vacation from school the daughters go to the market for 7am – 6pm, then once home they help make juice or yogurt, then sit out front talking and playing card and selling the juice and yogurt.
There are also two women who work at the house, cooking and cleaning. One is mute so the fact we know little Dioula does not matter much. She is very friendly and helpful. The other day when I was trying to do laundry, by hand, and I was obviously not doing it the right way she kept trying to tell me she would do it for me. Once I convinced her that I could do it she then showed me how to do it properly and laughed all the time. She has a little son, Akime, who is very shy and definitely not sure of us “tubabu’s” (White person, what all little kids say with excitement on the road when they see us).
We are trying to improve out Dioula, so to be able to speak and share a little more with the family. The kids speak French well enough so we can talk through them, but the mom and dad speak only a little. It would be great to be able to communicate better, but I’m sure that will come with time.

Tea more than a drink.

2007-08-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

Claire left this morning and I spent my day wandering around practicing the little Dioula that I now know. It is starting to come out a little easier and people are always happy to see that you are making an effort to speak Dioula.
Boris arrived tonight, finally able to travel, but he still not 100%. We spent the evening with Giselle’s family and then with her brother, Armand, and his friends. In Burkina the men like to drink tea and it is almost a ritual. Tea here takes at least half an hour if not hours! First you fill up a little tea pot with half tea leaves and half water then you let it boil on a little charcoal stove. Once the tea is thick, black and bubbly you pour it into a glass from a far above the glass, then back into the tea pot then back in the glass and back in the tea pot. I lost count of how many times you pour it back and forth. You let it boil a little longer, but now with lots of sugar (here people put tones of sugar in everything), then you repeat the whole process. Afterwards you add either mint or ginger, I have only tried the ginger so far and it is good, though very strong! You only drink enough for 2-3 sips, but it is powerful. If you drink a whole cup of tea I doubt that you would sleep for a week!

It's caterpillar season here in Bobo!

2007-08-24T07:38:00.000-07:00

Since it is Claire’s last night in Bobo before returning to Canada it is time to celebrate! Claire bought a couple of roasted chickens and some wine for the family and the family bought caterpillars!!! We celebrated her departure, my arrival and friendship. Now the caterpillars are about the length of your index finger, they are black with a little green on them. I’ve seen them for sale in the market in big piles, but now I had them on my plate! Luckily the caterpillars were cut up and put into a sauce, so they looked a like more appetizing then they do in the market. Still it is a psychological block that I had to get past in order to eat them! When you bite into a caterpillar the skin is a little tough and chewy and the inside squishes out in a paste like consistency. The inside is mushy and has a strong taste that I don’t think I can describe as anything other than the taste of caterpillar. I can say that it is not my favourite thing, but it is not as bad as imagined!

Oh so that is how couscous is made!

2007-08-24T07:37:00.000-07:00

Today I spent the day with Giselle and Claire, we went around visiting different female producers of cereals. It is fascinating seeing how they work, in family units all together to produce cereal products to sell in the market or at little stores. Giselle works with the different producers to increase the hygiene standards in the preparation for the products and to increase their productivity. She is so supportive of the women and encouraging of their creative ideas. We visited 2 sites, one which owns 3 machines (Multifunctional platforms) that are used to transform the cereals (maize, millet, sorghum, fonio) into flour, she rents out time on the machines for other women producers. The other site had developed a 3 level drying rack that she was trying to patent so that she could sell them at the market but not have the design copied ( a long process).
Today I learnt how to make couscous and the millet balls that are in “bouillon”. As like most consumers I have bought and ate couscous without ever really thinking about where it came from or how it was made. It is a long process!!! First you take the cereal (wheat, corn, millet…) and you grind it into flour, then you sift the flour till it is fine, afterwards you mix the flour with some water till it clumps together and makes a big ball, then you squish the big ball through a sieve till you have little balls, the you pass through another sieve and another sieve until you have the ball at the size that you want. Once all that is done you lay it out in the sun to dry and then you can cook it or sell it.
Later on in the day Claire took me around the “grand marché” to show me a little of downtown Bobo. We stopped at a restaurant for some “degue”, a yogurt with millet balls inside. Burkina has one of the best yogurts I have eaten in a while!
Unfortunately Boris was unable to arrive today as he was held up in Ouaga suffereing from something he ate that didn’t make him feel to good. I myself feel okay though my body is adjusting to eating so many starches and cereals.

Hardly a chance to get to know Ouga and I’m off to Bobo-Dioulasso.

2007-08-24T07:36:00.000-07:00

From learning Mooré it is now time to learn Doula (language spoken in Bobo):

Ani sogoma (Good morning)
Ére sura (how are you?)
Éré (good)
Somoro do(How is the family, your health?)
Okakané(everything is good)
Ani quie (Thank you)
Édense (your trip?)
Insé (thank you at end of salutation)

This morning I ate an incredible meal, an omelet on a baguette with vegetables and an oil onion sauce, at a little stand owned by Madi. Madi is probably one of the most genuinely nice people I have met in a while. He is very friendly and open to talk about life. He spoiled us with his cooking and his hospitality.
At 2 o’clock I caught the bus to Bobo. For 5 hours I watched the countryside slowly transform from a dry, flat landscape to a lush green landscape with small rolling hills. Intermittently we would stop and women selling all sorts of goods from sesame snacks to bags of onions would crowd around the windows and doors of the bus to sell to the passengers. There was a lot so yelling back and forth, negotiating the price, but in the end everyone seemed happy, not that I really understood much of what was going on.
Arriving in Bobo, Claire-Élyse (EWB volunteer) and Giselle her colleague and present family came to pick me up. When going to visit someone it is customary that you bring a gift of food, so I had brought some bananas and apples (and probably got ripped off in doing so), but I surely didn’t want to arrive empty handed.
For dinner I finally got to taste “tô” a small millet paste made into a mushy cake type mass that you eat with “soup” (sauce). You pick up a piece of tô and dip it in the sauce. Tô is a traditional staple food here in Burkina. It really doesn’t have much taste, but soaks up the taste of the sauce. The next morning I had the chance to eat “bouillon” which is boiled cereal (millet, corn or rice), it is a soupy consistency with a slight bitterness of lemon, you eat/drink it like porridge with sugar, it pretty bland as well.
Bobo (or what I have seen of it) is a big city a little like Ouaga. There are more trees and greenery (which also means more mosquitoes!). It seems busy but less rushed than Ouaga. Tomorrow Boris will arrive and we will start to look for somewhere to live and try to understand our surroundings.

And so it starts...

2007-08-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

And so it starts… my arrival to Burkina was greeted by warm air, the morning sun and a tired but welcoming face of Robin (Regional Director) who had been waiting for us at the airport. Our flight from France had an unscheduled landing in Algeria to refuel, probably due to the excess luggage and over weight that it was carrying, so we arrived 3 hours late. Once landed we were squeezed into a mass of people trying to pass customs. Squished together we filled in our landing forms all the time making sure to listen to what was happening ahead of us and why some people were having problems passing. We flipped through our travel guide to find an address, postal code and phone number as that was the main dilemma with the customs officials. Once through we found Robin waiting outside.
Our first day in Ouagadougou we spent initially sleeping, then off for lunch in a little café for some “riz gras” (fried rice and liver) and some “bissap” (a drink made from a flower that tastes a little like black current). I spend the afternoon wandering around with Louis (Regional Director of Overseas Projects), discovering the city and getting an idea of the city layout. Ouga is busy, motorbikes, bicycles, the occasional donkey cart or brand new 4x4 SUV (for a little contrast) constantly wising by; people with goods to sell at every step; women with the most incredible balance selling fruit, peanuts, bread…from bowls on their head; and open street restaurants on every corner.
The earth here is a deep red brown and a fine dust seems to settle over most things. The women are dressed in the most beautiful patterns and colours. The people are very friendly always greeting with a big smile. Greeting people is a very important and complicated process, much different from the quick hello back home. Here when greeting you have to ask how someone is doing, how their health is, how the family is…. I’m still trying to remember the few words of Mooré that I have been taught, but they seem to slip out of my head the moment I need to use them. If all else fails I remember to say “Lafi” which means “good/ça va” and people always smile and laugh.
For dinner we ate with a two other volunteers from EWB at a Senegalese Restaurant. We shared a plate of “riz Yassa” and they attempted to show us how to eat properly African style. First you wash your hands, beside the table there is a bucket with a pot of water, then you pick up the rice and sauce with only your right hand (left hand is for other uses not meant to be mixed with eating!), you squish the rice together then using your thumb you help push the food into your mouth, making sure to keep your hand like an inverted spoon so your figures are facing up and the food facing down.
The following day we were woken up by beautiful singing. We are staying at the Catholic Hostel and as it was the 15th of August and a Catholic Holiday the Cathedral was full of ceremony. It also meant that it was a public holiday. So we continued our training with Robin then spent the afternoon wandering around. We had dinner at a corner stand with a friend and co-volunteer, Florian. We ate cassava couscous with a salty fish sauce. We then went out to listen to xylophone music before heading back.
No matter where you walk in Ouaga, there are always people “men” on the street that try to salicite you for money. Most of the time they leave you be after you say “ça va, merci” a couple of times. When I am alone they will approache me but they are generally nice and not too pushy, but when I am with Boris they will only approach him. So in a sense my life is made easy! When they talk to Boris they also have a different tone, much more forceful and aggressive. They don’t leave him as easily as they leave me alone. People here call these solicitors “rastas” and they are persistent. Poor Boris is force to do all the negotiations and discussions and he is finding it a little tiring. But all in all the arrival in Burkina has been good. I’m learning and absorbing lots.

Three continents in just over a week is a bit much though!

Un séjour en France

2007-08-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

We spent a much needed week in France visiting Boris’ family. It had been too long between visits and it was great to catch up with friends and realize that though 2 years had passed the friendship was exactly the same. I made sure to stuff myself with good cheese, yogurts, bread, croissants… It was nice just relaxing with everyone and switching my brain into full fledged French. The day before we left we made sure to squeeze in a day in the mountains. We hiked the Taillefer, eating a picnic up on top and then picking wild blueberries on the way down. That night we made a pie stuffed to almost overflowing with all our blueberries! It was delicious!!!

From Canada to France

2007-08-24T07:31:00.000-07:00

With training over and some for the volunteers already on their way to the different parts of Africa I headed home for some rest and relaxation to recharge my batteries. It was time for some last minute frantic shopping to pick up the odds and ends needed, with much help from my parents and friends!

Not just work...

2007-07-18T16:01:00.000-07:00

Time to really get to know each other and what better way then in crammed tents, with no showers, covered with bug bites and talking around a camp fire! The 9 Overseas Volunteers (OVS) and a few past OVS's headed off on a camping trip to Emily Provincial Park. We traded worries, thoughts, experiences and good advice. It's great to build friendships even though in 2 weeks we will be divided up around Africa (Burkina Faso, Ghana, Zambia and Malawi).

Training in Toronto

2007-07-17T15:18:00.000-07:00

Training is well underway and I've jumped head first into development theory and case studies. I'm living in a house with 12 other people, bunk beds and all. So far all is going well! All day I'm in sessions with homework at night. I'm still getting adjusted to returning to the student mode from being the teacher.

I've been learning all about development practices, integration strategies, gender issues, tools to help figure things out, how to ask good(probing)questions, how to do head stands, yoga sessions at lunch to re energize ourselves, fun games like Chta and living in Toronto on a minimal budget while still having fun...