Scribbles

New Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Wed, 08 Oct 2008 03:36:00 +0000

Check out my new blog: Krista's Stateside Scribbles

C'est fini

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 22:27:00 +0000

I back in the states. No job. Waiting for life to get going again. Not much else to say. I'll try to start this whole thing up again soon. Bye for now.

The anticipation of loss

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 07:56:00 +0000

It comes in waves. Rolling in under the surface and then hitting with the force of a tsunami. This feeling of already missing what I have not yet lost. I think this ‘pending’ missing may actually be worse than the actual thing. Once I am gone I will miss my life and the people here, but my “new life” will be starting and will help keep my mind off of it. But for the moment I don’t have the luxury of that distraction. Being here I am being continually smacked in the face with the knowledge that the missing is coming. Will this be the last time we sit down for tea together? The last time we are passing the day just sitting under a tree talking? The last political debate? The last bush taxi ride? The last offer of sacrificing a chicken to find me a good husband? The last nightly soccer game, last dolo run, last conversation in the dark under thousands of starts, last everything? It’s coming. The end is coming quickly, but the anticipation of loss has already hit the shore.

Sit back and relax

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 07:37:00 +0000

Go figure that one bug, albeit one very large bug, can kill my whole evening. Never being a big fan of bugs (honestly how I got the nickname bug is beyond me), I have found my nemesis in the scorpion carrier. I hate these bugs, technically a spider, with a passion. Or better put they make me jump and put my feet on the chair like a little girl (I do pride myself that I don't also squeal). These creatures, 'bugs' sounds too small, are the size of my hand. They are extremely fast and resilient, I can empty 1/2 of insecticide on one and it is still going, while I'm getting nauseous on the smell. Also these creatures run in no particular pattern, they'll even run right at you. Then they'll disappear for a few minutes until you finally start to relax and then here they come again. Even after killing one you can't really relax because the thing has been so spastic about running all over your house (oh did I fail to mention it was in my house) that you're not completely sure that there was only one. And no, their name is not deceiving, they really do carry scorpions sometimes, isn't that a great mix. So go ahead, sit back, pick up your book and relax and enjoy your evening now.

Tô it's not quite Pizza My Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 09:32:00 +0000

While I was at home for Christmas I indulged myself with all the yummy foods that I just can't get in Burkina. One of those delicacies was pizza from Pizza My Heart in Santa Cruz (and yes it is after my heart). I decided to share a little of SC culture with my guys back in village and brought them Pizza My Heart shirts. They love them!

It's hard to find a day when at least one of the guys isn't wearing their shirts. One of my first nights back I was hanging out with Didier and Molare (both proudly sporting their shirts) when we were brought a big bowl of tô to dig into and we couldn't resist taking a picture of Molare and me eating the Burkinabe equivalent of pizza. Being that I usually I try to avoid eating the hot play-doh textured substance with it's accompanying sauces with the consistency of snot, I agreed to eating ONE bite for the picture. Of course it took a few pictures to get it right (I argue that Didier was taking bad pictures on purpose to make me gag down more). So we have the t-shirts... now how to get the actual pizza here????

P.S.- Sorry for being terrible about updating my blog. I promise there is more to come. And no, that is not my kid on my back.

BIlamperga Library

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 09:28:00 +0000

For continually updates on the Bilamperga Library Project and to see how you can help please check out the Library Project link on the right. Thanks!

The Art of Doing Nothing -or- Taking Tea in Burkina

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 10:29:00 +0000

In the States life is always on the go. Even an event like having a cup of coffee or tea has been turned into a moving event with the invention of paper cups, sleeves, travel mugs and drive-thru Starbucks. It has become harder and harder to just sit and enjoy your drink. When those times do arise we shun converstation and turn to our books, our laptops, our homework. Please don't expect me to be social while I sip my grande non-fat 2 pump peppermint mocha with whip cream.
But then there is Burkina. As usual life here is a little different, even drinking, or as we say here, taking tea. Taking tea is a process. It is not something you simply drink and move on with life. Taking tea is an event that can last more than five hours. When you take tea you sit together with people (shock number one) and you spend hours without books, music or other diversions (shock number two). You just sit, talk and watch as one of the guys makes the tea.
Okay, I know what you're thinking. How on earth can making and drinking tea take so long. You just put the tea in hot water let it seep for a few minutes and you're ready to go, right? Not so here. Let me see if I can paint you a picture. First you get some charcol going (no hot plates here). Then you start boiling water in a little tiny tea pot. Added to this is loose leaf China Green Gunpowder Tea. The boils for upwards of 10-20 mins. Then the tea is poured into a glass, wait not done yet. Then it it's poured back into the teapot, then back in the glass, and on and on. Ending in the teapot, it is put bqck on the charcol to boil again. After 5-10 minutes you fill the glass half full with sugar and do the pour into glass, pour into teapot thing again for a while trying to get a nice foam on top. Once the foam is formed the foam, not the tea is put into two or three shot glasses. The tea goes back on the charcol to boil again. Finally after another 5-10 minutes the tea is poured into a shot glass and everyone has a shot of tea. But wait, we're not done yet. We don't want to waste those tea leaves, so we do the whole process at least two more times, with the tea getting a little weaker and a lot sweeter each time.
So, wait, we have one guy sitting there making tea for hours, what happens to the rest of us. We sit. Just sit and chat. Five hours of just sitting, no laptop, no books, no driving the car to work. Just sitting there, honestly watching the pot boil. I'll admit it, the first couple times I 'took' tea I didn't make it. I couldn't last. I would pass by, maybe stop for a half hour, take one of the shots, and then continue on my way. Honestly, how is anyone supposed to do nothing for five hours, just be social? But then something happened. Not really sure what. But I started to gte the hang of this whole sitting thing. I found out it was okay to just sit and do nothing. Just sit and listen to the conversation (hey, it's mostly in Gulmancema, speaking might be pushing it for me). And, you know what, I think they have it right here. It's great to just sit, do nothing, and watch the pot boil.
(But don't get me wrong. I would still kill for a grande non-fat 2 pump peppermint mocha with whip cream.)

~New pictures linked to in sidebar. Enjoy!~

Fine line between courage and stupidity

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 07:51:00 +0000

Once again Burkina has given me the opportunity to test my limits and hey I survived so this is a good story.

Transport is always an adventure in Burkina. From over crowded buses, to sheep that bite while they're sitting under you, to bush taxis that breakdown every 100 meters are fixed by replacing the filter with a bic pen, you never know what you're going to get (if you get a ride at all). By and far the most reliable transportation is my own two legs via biking, at least usually.

Last week I decided to make the trek up to see another volunteer who lives a little more than 30km away. Since we are in the rainy season it's not too hot, so I figured I would make a nice bike ride out of it and probably beat any bush taxi anyway. The rainy season has other effects besides giving a little break from the heat and since it decided to rain for 16 hours the day before my trip I was expecting some mud, but hey I can handle that. As I was leaving my house a concerned neighbor stopped to tell me I wouldn't be able to bike because there was a lot of water in the dam, but he hadn't left village in a week so what did he know. I said thanks and that I would be fine, turned my ipod on and I was off.

So, once again, I was reminded that when a Burkinabe tells you something about the weather or effects of the weather he probably knows more than you do. I had a nice not too hard bike ride of 15 km and then as I was arriving at the dam I noticed a good amount of people just standing on around on both sides of the dam talking and messing with bikes and motos. So I stopped to see what was up and recognized a guy from village who was motoing a friend north. We said hi and he proceeded to tell me me that the water was really strong. I once again said thanks and that I'd be okay and started to walk my bike across (hey I was smart enough to know riding my bike was not an option). The water was flowing over the dam really fast and was about knee deep. I got about 10 feet across when my bike started being lifted horizontally and dragged away from me. There was no way me and my bike were going to make it across like this. Somehow I managed to turn me and my bike around and made it back to the edge. Of course on arriving all the locals were smiling and telling me that I had given it a good try. But I was going to get across this dam, somehow. My friend from village told me he wasn't going any further because he didn't want to loose his moto, and then suggest we tie his friends stuff on my bike and the other guy would walk the bikes and I just had to walk by the side and hold onto the bike rack. Sounded like a good idea to me. So I put my helmet back on (hey there were big rocks on the other side of the dam) and put my flip flops on my wrist and we were off. Once again we made it about 10 feet and started to loose the bike. This was not good, if that bike went over I would be stuck in the middle of nowhere and would also loose all my stuff that was in my bag. So we stopped. The wonderfully nice guy who I had never met and still don't know his name, said he would just carry my bike the rest of the way and all I would have to do is walk myself. This I could do, and we were off again. About half way across I noticed the bags starting to slip off the back of the bike and tried to hurry up and catch the guy with the bike. Before I got there, plop, there went my nalgene, over the side of the dam. Did I try to grab it? Nope. Not that stupid. But I did get to the bike before the bags fell off. And thus we stopped again in the middle of the dam to take the bags off and strap them on my back. We made the last half of the dam without too much more drama and we were back on at least semi dry land. I was soaked from head to toe but still standing so it was a good morning. I hopped on my bike and rode the last 15 km in relative ease. So courageous for deciding to cross or stupid for doing it. I'm still not really sure, but hey it's one more story.

This a picture of a dam we crossed in a car when it was only about ankle deep.

Books

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Tue, 29 May 2007 22:39:00 +0000

I was browsing Amazon.com today (a little indulgence I take when I find free time at a computer) and all of a sudden came up with an idea I wanted to share with all of you. I am working with a primary school in Bilamperga and have noticed a huge lack of reading materials for the students. We have possibly a grand total of 20 books for over 300 students, most of which are history or science text books. For those of you who know me even a little bit you know how much I enjoy reading. I am almost never caught without a book. And I am having a hard time imagining how my life would be without books. They help with vocabulary, grammar, spelling, literacy in general. They bring enjoyment and can give a way to discover new ideas and places. They can teach amazing amounts of things. Okay enough lead up, here's the idea: I am going to try and start a mini library in Bilamperga. And I am starting with the two french books I have, the third Harry Potter and Lord of the Flies. Peace Corps is also going to try to buy some kids books, en francais of course, for us (the volunteers) to use in village. But, I thought, why not take this a step further and open it to all of you. So, if reading interests you at all, or if you were just itching to send something to Africa for the first time, I invite you to consider donating books, in french, at any reading level to the upcoming library of Bilamperga. Below is a link to amazon.com and some french kids books (hopefully it will work) but you can also go about this how ever you would like. No pressure, just thought some of you might enjoy this.

http://www.amazon.com/Je-taimerai-toujours-Robert-Munsch/sim/0920668496/1/ref=pd_sxp_filt_b/002-1821844-1824028?ie=UTF8&pf=3

Much love and happy reading,
Krista

Krista Kay, PCV
S/c Corps de la Paix
01 BP 6031
Ouagadougou 01
Burkina Faso
WEST AFRICA

Please mark all pacakages air mail

Phone: 226 79 11 47 22

Thank You & the long awaited pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 28 May 2007 08:24:00 +0000

First and foremost, thank you again to the SLV 1st graders and all of you others who made the shoe drive a success.

Secondly, I finally have over a hundred new photos uploaded for your viewing pleasure.

Down and Dirty Update

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 14:27:00 +0000

I know, I know, you think I have fallen off the face of the earth and some of you haven't heard from me in who knows how long. But I haven't completly fallen off the world, just relocated to the other side, Bilamperga, Gnagna, Burkina Faso, West Africa to be exact. I have been here for 10 months now and thought I would jot down a quick update. First of all though I need to thank all of you who have kept me in your thoughts and prayers, those of you who have sent stuff (you're amazing) and those of you have kept up with my blog. Thank you all so much.
A quick run down for those of you who are out of the loop. I am working with Peace Corps. I live in a very small village, no electricity, no running water stuff like that. I have a bat who lives with me named Arnold (I have given up trying to kill him). I now think anything under 90 degrees is cool and get bundled up at anything under 80. I shaved me head in October, completly, utterly bald, luckily unlike my Dad, my hair grows really fast and might have to get cut soon for being to hot for the hot season. I bike an average of 12km a day. I have eaten to (pronouced toe) and don't recomend it too anyone. And that brings us up to now.
So I guess I should also give you a little update on life here in Burkina.
I am currently working on 3, hopefully soon to be 4 or 5, projects. First off is a girls math club for 5th grade girls. This mostly consists of flash card games and writing and grading homework, but it seems to be helping and the girls seem to like it. Second is a project to get flip flops for all the kids in the school I work with, our big day for this was the 31st when I had over 275 kids show up to clean the school in order to get the flip flops. With the help of 3 other volunteers and one of the teachers this happened without too many issues. I have also discovered due to this that all burkinabe kids between the age 5-15 have the same size feet. Who would have guess that? Not me when we started out with a variety of shoe sizes. But ca va allez. Other stuff going on is planning for 2 girls camps for this summer and working with an British NGO called Coaching for Hope which trains locals to coach soccer and also teach kids about AIDS. This is one project that I am really excited about and am hoping will work out. So that's work.
The rest of life here is always interesting. From experiencing the culture, traveling around the country, hanging out with other volunteers life seems to be going kind of fast. Lately life has been a little harder than normal. We are in the middle of a meningitis epidemic which has killed over 800 so far and some who were fairly close to me. We are also in the middle of the "real" hot season which is not particularly enjoyable, although some may find me odd I do like it when it gets below 98 degrees at 2 in the morning. I know I am strange like that. But life goes on and you learn to get by. I am looking forward to the future, the coming rainy season, my parents coming to visit, a trip to maybe see "African" animals (since I am told the donkeys don't count) and a possible trip to Ghana or Mali.
Bad News: my camera and the computers here have decided for the time being they don't really like working together. So although I have some amazing pictures you have to wait.
I hope this post finds you all in good health and happy. I would love to hear from you all. Best Wishes, Krista

New Pictures!

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 10 Feb 2007 14:56:00 +0000

Use the link on the side to view.

Endurance and Crocodile Tears

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 03 Feb 2007 08:26:00 +0000

When my little sister Lizzie was about two years old I thought she had unmatchable endurance (or stoberness). One evening at the dinner table she did something bad, not anything big, but enough to get Dad to scold her. Which made this cute litttle two year very mad. A few minutes later when Lizzie wanted to be excused and taken out of her highchair, Mom said that in order to get down she had to ask dad. Lizzie just turned her head, looked at Dad and refused to say a word. She didn't cry, she just sat there, and if a two year old can glare, she glared at him. My older sister, Trinity, and I found this hilarious, to the point where Dad told us to leave because we could not stop laughing. Lizzie lasted over a half hour before finally caving in and asking Dad to let her get down. That little girl amazed me with her perserverance. But Lizzie, I have to tell you, you don't have anything on the kids here.
The kids here seem to thrive on crying. I have heard one last over four hours without stopping. You would think at that point he would have been too deprived of oxygen to go on, but oh no, these kids have unbeatable endurance. Now, I know there are those of you out there wondering what on earth could have happened to these poor, sweet Burkinabe kids to make them cry and scream for so long. Let me put your mind at rest. The answer: Nothing. These kids are not injured or sick or anything like that, they are simply trying to be noticed. These kids are the kigs and queens of crocodile tears. They have been left out of a game, or are not the center of their group and so they cry. If it looked like for one minute they would haeva better chance of being included and the center of attention without crying they would stop in a instant. You can even watch them scream loody murder, stop for a second, look around and see if anyone is paying attention yet and if not they go right back to crying. I have watched a kid sit a couple feet away from a group and cry, then when the group gets up and moves, the crier follows at an equidistance. Goes when they go, stops when they stop, all without losing a beat in their tears. The only other thing I have seen come close to having this endurance level is the other Burkinabes' ability to ignore the screamer, but usually the screamer wins. My endurance level is not that high. In trying to cope, I will admit I have walked out of my house, picked up the screamer, walked a couple of fields away, put them down and headed home in an atempt to muffle the sound. And even then the kid doesn't even stop to for a breath, they will just sit where you left them and cry on. If only I could find a way to put this stamina to good use.
**I was going to write this blog on the ear-piercing noise of a donkey, which in and of itself is a far more painful noise than the crying. But, I figured a story on the endurance of Burkinabe kids would be a more heartwarming tale. For those of you unfamilar with donkey braying, try to imagine the noise of a sea lion, a sick pig and the afore mentioned screaming kids all mixed together. Amplify it by 10 and wait until you are fast asleep to hear it. Ahhh Africa, always a new experience.

Bonne Fete

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sun, 31 Dec 2006 10:40:00 +0000

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

I just wanted to wish all of you a Happy Holiday Season from Burkina.

I celebrated Noel (Christmas for all you english speakers) in my friend's village about 30km from my house. It was not exactly like Christmas back in the states, but it was fun none the less. From crazy headbands and birthday cake to a 4 hour lunch and hours of singing Christmas carols my first Christmas here was one to remember.

New Years is turning out to be a little more hectic. I am in Ouaga with about half of the volunteers in Burkina, a lot of whom I haven't seen in months, so it is pretty much one big reunion with a lot of good food and movies.

Best Wishes.

New Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sun, 10 Dec 2006 18:24:00 +0000

New Pictures loaded... even me carving a pig. Ewww.

Of Life & Death

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 30 Oct 2006 18:54:00 +0000

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**

Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 30 Oct 2006 07:51:00 +0000

Yes pictures are finally online. Click the link in the sidebar to get a little view of my life over the past 5 months.

Creature Comforts : When a Craigslist Roommate Search Goes Bad.

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 14 Oct 2006 19:18:00 +0000

I have been blessed with an amazing, new, large concrete house for my sojourn here in Burkina. It comes equipped with a large salon; two bedrooms, an indoor washing area and high ceilings. My new “pad” has been enviously admired by other volunteers, but I found out recently that it is not only other volunteers who think moving into my house is a good idea. My humble abode also houses innumerable lizards, termites, crickets and spiders, the occasional fuzzy caterpillar, inchworms, millipieds and a toad. A toad who likes to stop by and leave me presents. But the newest seen housemate (although he has been around for a month) is a rat who has taken up residence in my walls.

I will be the first to admit that my house is pretty large for a single occupant, being that it is bigger than previous apartments I have shared; but my new “roomie” is definitely not one I would have picked. Roommates almost always have some habits that the other may not agree with, but my new roomie is grossly deficient in the “human decency” field. Staying up all night making noise, digging in the walls, eating other housemates, going to the bathroom in the house (this is why we have a latrine), and never once has he offered to take out the trash. If I had wanted a husband, I would have asked for a ring.

Although there is no official rental agreement to depend on, I think it is time for my roommate to be evicted.

Reader’s Poll:
Who/what will Krista’s next housemate be?
A. Poisonous snake.
B. Family of bats.
C. Herd of goats.
D. Some other random menagerie.

***Update as of Oct 28: New housemates: bats, mice, and scorpions***

Playing, Being a Wife, Dancing, Being Amused and Hitting Someone are all the same thing, right??

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Mon, 04 Sep 2006 11:58:00 +0000

They are in the wonderful language of Gulmancema. "Pua" is the word for wife, to play, to dance, to be amused and also to hit someone or something. At least it was yesterday, Gulmancema also has the amazing ability to to change meanings, spellings and pronunciations depending who and when you ask. If that is not enough to keep you on your toes, the gens (people) of my new village and reason find it amusing (pua) to speak in Gulmancema, French, Moore and even a bit of Fulfulde all in the same sentance. Sounds like fun, doesn't it. It is like a huge jigsaw puzzle. It can be frusturating, challenging and fun all at the same time. There are certain pieces or words that fit together easily, other pieces that look like they should fit together but never do, and a bunch of pieces that look almost the same but end up being vastly different. And after a long and argueous process it all comes together, or at least I hope that is what will happen in this process. And so dear readers I will say "se dalinba (or gar linba)" until next time.

**Village Side Note** In the process of moving to my new village I have been adopted by my PCV neighbor has his little sister. Having a big brother has it's ups and it's downs. Culturally it makes hanging out together a more natural thing and saves us the trouble of not having to convince everyone we are not married. BUT... my big brother is taking his role seriously and picking on me merciously as older siblings do (Trinity you would be proud of him). He is also getting the fun job of dealing with a few proposals that have come my way. He turned down the bag of eggs, but threatens that if he had been there when Iwas offered four cows he might have accepted.

**Update on Photos... or lack there of** I have wonderful pictures I am looking forward to sharing with all of you. Unfortunatly the computer here currently is nto agreeing with my camera so you'll have to wait some more. Hey, I am in Africa so give me a little break here.

N tie volunteedi

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 26 Aug 2006 10:01:00 +0000

As of last night I am now officially a Peace Corps Volunteer. After three extremly crazy months of training we had our swearing in ceremony last night at the US embassy. Training (or stage as we call it here) has been full of ups and downs, but I am glad to say that with everything that we've been through, 32 out of 33 stagiaires became volunteers last night. During the ceremony 5 stagiaires gave speeches in the 5 languages we have been taught: French, Jula, Moore, Fulfulde and Gulmancema. Luckily we don't each have to know all five, three of the five is plenty for me. We have spent this last week of stage here in Ouaga, wrapping up classes, enjoying showers and eating a ton of good food. Tomorrow is the day when we get to see if all this training really worked as we get affectez'd to our sites (sorry that is a little franglish for you all). We will be getting dropped off with all of our stuff, and told to go at it and then the car will drive away and the next chapter of this crazy adventure will begin.

(oh and the translation of the Gulmancema title is I am a Volunteer, just in case you where wondering)

Mud, mud and some more mud

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sun, 30 Jul 2006 15:09:00 +0000

Okay so, when I think about Africa I picture hot, dry and dusty, and yes this is all true, but I never imagined the mud. We have officially enter the real rainy season and it pours alomost ever other day (of course it's blazing hot when it's not raining). If you have been reading my blog you have gt to hear a little bit about my experiences in biking in BF, but I woud like to add streams and knee deep mud to the list of things I have had the privledge of biking through. But don't get me wrong, I will take the mud because it means there's rain and rain means food and everything else here is starting to grow. I was gone from Bogoya for a lttle over a week for my site visit. When I left it was mostly still brown and dry in my village. When I returned, it was like going to a whole new place. Everything is green and beautiful. La pluie (the rain) seems to be the answer to every problem.
But there is life beyond la pluie. For one thing there is our amazing Girls Club in Bogoya F. We have had three meetings of the club so far and it has been an experience to say the least. Out club is for girls age 10+ and we have anywhere between 15 and 30 girls who come. Most of our club time is focused around dance and song. We sometimes show the girls an american song or dance but mostly we are dancing and singing in Moore or occassionally French. What a workout! We'll be down on our knees, dancing in a circle or being tossed in the air depending on the song. Hopefully I will have some pictures loaded soon of the club.
I think that's about it for now. Bilfu (bye)

Bilan Perga: Home Sweet Home

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 20:02:00 +0000

Just returning from an amazing site visit, and am very much renergized to become a full fledged volunteer in a little over a month. Site visit had two main parts; staying with a current volunteer (Tracey, Brooks and I will forever be in your debt for taking such good care of us, introducing us to Pops, and sharing your American food) and visiting the site where we will be placed for the next two years. My site, is a little village called Bilan Perga. I will have two volunteers very close by, Nathan at 4k and Brooks at 8k. Tracey is also within biking distance at just over 30k... and yes I say biking distance because I biked it yesterday. My new house is currently underconstuction and is a wonderful 2 bedroom house. Yes, I took pictures and my camera is sitting here next to me... unfortunatly the cord is back at the hostel. There are tons of trees in Bilan Perga, I even have a tamarind tree right outside my house. The people were incrediably welcoming, and patient with my french and 2 words of Gulmulcema. The AME (assoication of motheres of students) even gave my a chicken and about 30 eggs (biking with eggs is fun). Currently there is no cell service in Bilan Perga or the neighboring towns, but we have been told there may be a tower going up soon, keep your fingers crossed. My closest internet service will be in Fada... so messages may be few and far between. Best wishes to you all and thanks for reading. Check out the updated Wish and Reading Lists (links are on the right).

I'm Still Alive

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Thu, 20 Jul 2006 19:58:00 +0000

The following is a song written by some of my fellow trainees and the polished up by a fllow PCT. You can check out more of his blog at: http://dabblerinburkina.blogspot.com/

I'M STILL ALIVE (sung to the tune of "I Will Survive")

First I got my shots, and was immunized.
Still uncertain how I'll live without wifi...
Spent my first few nights wondering how I'd get along,
If I'd grow strong,
So I went and wrote this song!

And now I'm here,
In this strange place,
Where the sun is beating down all day upon my face.
I'm learning to speak French:
"Je n' sais pas" and "C'est la vie,"
And now a man I hardly know has just tried holding hands with me!*

And so I do,
And it's okay.
And now the smile that's spreading on my face will never go away.
That is, unless I get the runs,
Which'll put a damper on my fun.
I might not thrive,
But I'm alive.
ça va aller!

* Although homosexuality is frowned on in Burkina Faso (and incredibly dangerous to engage in), it is not uncommon for 2 men or 2 women to be seen walking hand-in-hand in public, as an expression of their familiarity and friendship. Ironic, no?

And Krista's new village will be...

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 15 Jul 2006 16:48:00 +0000

I have made it half way through stage (training) and just got my site announcement and had my counterpart workshop. My site is a village called Bilan Perga (or BilamPerga or multiple other spellings). Bilan Perga is northwest of Fada and east of Ouaga, for those of you who know your Burkina geography. Right now I don't have that much info on the site, but I get to go there this coming week so hopefully more info will be coming soon. I do know they grow a ton of tomatoes there... so at least I will have something good to eat. My closest PC neighbor is going to be a very close distance of only 8k, in a village called Bilanga Yanga. The local language is Gulmancema, so I have my work cut out for me. The school in Bilan Perga is a bilingual school, meaning the first two years are taughtin both the local lang and french. We just finished our counterpart workshops today in Ouaga. My counterpart (homologue) is a very nice teacher from my village named Natalie.
Okay, some other updates since last time.
Village life is good. I am really enjoing Bogoya and will miss my family there at the end of stage. My grandpere is the chef (traditional leader) of Bogoya, which is neat even though it means that I have been called princess a few times. And I have a new More name given to me by my family is Malika, so I am Kindo Malika. And yup Malika is princess or queen in Arabic. :o)
Training is going good, long and hard but good.
For the 4th of July we decided to party in style at Chez Malika (that would be my house) so we had 40+ PC people for dinner, prepared by yours trully and some other trainees and volunteers. Cooked for fires in my courtyard. After dinner we invited the community in for dancing. Lots of sweaty fun! Check out the pics.
More pics hopefully will be added at some point, but remeber I am in Africa and these things take time.

Biking in Burkina

noreply@blogger.com (Krista) — Sat, 15 Jul 2006 16:48:00 +0000

Meeriam Webster- Biking- bik·ing: to ride a bike.
Sounds simple right.
Pedaler au Burkina - ped·all·eh o burrrr·keen·a: trying to keep a velo (bike) in an upright position and preferably having the bike moving forward. In 90° plus (over 100° for really pedalers). Through/over gravel, sand, rocks, more sand, bigger rocks, puddels, small streams, holes, cow dung, rain, more sand, wind, small bushes, goat droppings. While trying to avoid people, trees, more sand, bulls, dogs, goats, motos, other velos, mango stands, sheep, cars, trucks, lakes...
You might be asking why cow dung is under things you ride through instead of avoid, here is the simple answer: when it comes to chosing between getting hit by a moto, running into a bull, or riding through cow crap... cow crap lloks pretty good.
Anyone up for a ride?