Of Life & Death

In coming to Burkina I knew I would be faced with many challenges and adventures. Life was going to be harder, more basic and much more grassroots. You buy your food very regularly and in small quantities so it doesn't go bad. You conserve water because the more you use the more you have to carry. You check the floor for things that crawl before walking. You learn to squat. You say "Hi" to everyone, because everyone knows you and is family. Your schedule is based on the sun, when you rise, when you sleep, and when you don't go out of the shade. And you realize that life and death happens, not just with animals in the spring time or the aged, but as a part of everyday life that has to be grasped, celebrated and mourned.
I am hearing you say, "Krista, life and death happens everywhere. Why is Burkina so different?"
Here is my answer:
It's not different, and that's what makes it stand out. People all over the world are born and die everyday. We all get to experience newborn babies and have to deal with the pain of losing loved ones. In all the differences between Burkina and the United States life and death are the two constants.
In the past five months I have experienced the miracle of 3 new babies, in my host family in Bogoya, my friend's counterpart in Bilanga Yanga and in the family that lives next to me in Bilamperga. Three beautiful babies, two of which I will get to watch grow over the next two years. But as if to keep life even, I have also experienced 3 deaths pretty close to home. At the beginning of August my host grandma and wife of the village chef (leader) passed away and I had my first real experience with the Burkina Muslim mourning process, a week long event with hundreds of people. Two weeks ago I got the news from home (the states) that my Papa had died, though on the other side of the world this one has hit very close to home. And then just two days later a little 6 or 7 year old boy in village, the "dancing Gildas", drowned in the barrage one village away from mine, kids dying are never fair and when everyone in a village is family even harder.
And so, when on this far off continent, in a little known country, in a tiny village when I am feeling how far away America is and how different life is, I am reminded that when it all comes down to it life is what connects us. Life and death, the joy and the pain, we all experience it no matter where we are. And strangely enough, realizing that makes the distance between my two homes seem a lot shorter.

**In Memory of Grandmere Kindo, Papa and Gildas**