circle of life

life typically progresses in a logical sort of cycle. babies are born, they grow, they turn into adults, have their own babies, and thus the cycle continues. i take a certain degree of comfort in understanding this cycle and in knowing that life evolves as it should.

there are times, however, when a person is forced to accept that this life cycle is not necessarily a given, and it is not definitely not promised to anyone. this week was one of those times for me.

life was unfolding in a nice leisurely manner in rikou. it was a sunny afternoon and i was drinking tea with some other volunteers, waiting for the afternoon "repose" to be over so that we could get back to work at the CSPS. we heard the familiar sounds of a moto around the corner and then our language and cultural facilitator, diallo, came strolling into the courtyard and asked to speak to me.

he informed me that he had just come from my quartier and that there had been a death in my host family.

my mind immediately went to the "vieux" (village elder) who lives next door to me. i greet him every morning, and that day he had been lying on a mat, had barely moved to shake my hand, and i had heard him coughing as i left. the death of an elder, although sad, is typically a cause for a party in burkina faso, to celebrate a life well lived.

the "vieux" however, is still alive and kicking (and in much better health, now, by the way), but my baby host brother had died just a half hour ago. i literally felt my heart sink. he was not even a year old. diallo told me that the culturally sensitive thing to do would be to go sit with my family, and i immediately hopped on my bike and followed him back to my quartier.

when we arrived, all the men were sitting somberly under a tree outside of the entryway. diallo sat down with them and told me that i would have to go in on my own because men and women must grieve separately. i was petrified of not having the airbag of a translator, or someone to tell me what to do, or what to say, but i nodded and slowly walked in.

my family's compound was deserted, the wooden containers where women pound millet practically 24 hours a day were knocked over, and the usually bustling courtyards were empty. my host mother came out of one of the courtyards...the first time i have seen her not smiling.

i offered the only phrase in moore that i could think of for the situation, a benediction, a sort of apology, and she nodded and said "amina, amina, barka." (amen, amen, thank you) then led me through the courtyard, into a small room filled with women sitting on mats. there was one mat off to the side, with no women on it, just a small bundle. it was here where my host mother led me, and lifted the edge of the blankets to reveal my little host brother. he looked so peaceful, like he was just sleeping, but he would never wake up again.

i knelt down beside him to pay respects. taking a cue from the women, i was completely silent, but i could not stop the tears from streaming down my face.

it was not until that evening that i learned what had actually happened to him. my host father came into my courtyard to talk with me about "le petit" (the little one). he explained that the baby had been sick for a month, but he had not been to a doctor until that morning, when he began vomiting. the head nurse at the CSPS had written a prescription for some medicine and in some tragically ironic timing, my host father had been 10K away in Ouahigouya picking up the medication when his son had died. i was still unsure of what exactly his ailment had been, so my father brought me the medication to look at. it was a malarial treatment.

"c'était le palu?" i asked incredulously, and he nodded. a completely preventable disease, that had led to senseless death. the only worthless words i managed to choke out were, "il était trop jeune" (he was too young) and my host father again nodded and said "trop, trop jeune."

sadly, infant deaths are not at all uncommon here, and village life returned to normal by later that evening. it was as if the baby had never even been there.

the very next day, the CSPS was abuzz with women bringing load after load of water...a tradition that takes place when a woman is about to give birth. it was a boy...born small, but healthy.

i had the opportunity last night to go to the ceremony to celebrate his birth. the men sat drinking tea, listening to a radio program in moore, while the women again sat clustered in one small room. again, there was one mat sitting aside from the rest, with just one little bundle on it...but this little bundle was moving around contentedly in his sleep.

i went to sit by him, grinning from ear to ear, and before i realized what was happening, a woman was excitedly shoving this newborn baby into my arms. he nestled comfortably, and as i looked into his little sleeping face, i hoped that he would be given more of a chance than the baby that had been buried just two days before.

i realize how painfully cliché it is to talk about the "circle of life" (hello, africa, lion king...cheesy), but i really cannot think of a more fitting phrase. when the life cycle is so tragically altered, and a baby senselessly dies from a treatable condition, you have to keep the idea of a circle of life in mind so that you do not lose all hope.

it is too late for my little host brother, but the circle of life keeps pushing us on, bringing new lives, and new opportunities.

holy crap...i am in africa

although i am finally starting to get accustomed to my new burkinabé home, it seems that each day brings yet another moment that sends a jolting message to my brain of "holy crap...i am in africa."

for the first couple of days, these moments were characterized by visual stimulation: the kids running barefoot through the streets, the women walking down the side of the road with babies strapped to their backs carrying absolutely enormous loads on their heads, the moto-vélos and bikes zipping through the streets, or the bush taxis jammed packed with people even hanging out the windows and the roof overloaded with what i am sure is much more than the recommended capacity. although there are still moments where i have to give myself a minute to process certain visuals, for the most part, these images are now a part of my daily life.

the next adjustment period of "holy crap" moments dealt with auditory stimulation. in the bigger cities, everyone rattles off phrases in french, greeting everyone they see (or perhaps just greeting us because we are the "nasarah!"- white people- and we stick out just a little bit here). as soon as i began to feel comfortable speaking french, it was off to a small village where i got over more initial shocking moments and became accustomed to hearing moore all day, and even began to feel comfortable with the daily greetings and customary phrases. again, i sometimes need some time to process the language, but its shock value has begun to wear off and hearing peope in my village speaking to me in moore, and even hearing moore coming from my own mouth is no longer a "holy crap" moment.

it seems as though i have stepped into a nice sort of comfort zone, both in burkina faso in general, and in my village. i can now bike through the bigger towns comfortably, waving and greeting as i go, and in my village as i walk past the millet fields, the women at the water pumps, and the rows of housing structures, people wave and shout out greetings to "aminata!" (my village name).

while i am sure that visual and auditory moments will never completely cease to shock me back to the reality that i am really in africa, the latest moments that have given me a serious reality check have been the ones that make me realize why i came to africa in the first place, and what i want my role here to be.

one of these specific moments i am thinking of happened yesterday in my village. the three other volunteers in Rikou and i are in the process of conducting an "étude de milieu", which consists of mapping the community, determining the "calandrier journalier", and creating and filling out a needs-assessment matrix. making the needs assessment matrix is also a three step process - first we brainstorm with the village to discover what they consider to be problems in their community, then we fill out a chart that asks village members to compare each problem, then using this information, we can determine what the village considers to be the main problem by evaluating the chart with them. this is the task that snapped me back to the reality that this is not just an african vacation, but that we actually do have work to do here.

as we prepared to begin the panel discussion, we were all sort of chatting with each other. i recognized almost all of the people we were sitting with - one was the host father of another volunteer, another was a man that i talk with regularly on the way to the CSPS, and the rest were people who i randomly converse with and greet on a daily basis. it did not feel as if we were there to be conducting some sort of important task, it felt just like another community gathering.

then the brainstorming process began. using the african version of a power-point slide show - big sheets of brown paper taped to the wall and fat permanent markers - we listed problems that the community members called out to us.

"nous n'avons pas de l'eau dans la saison séche." "nos enfants n'ont pas assez de nourriture." "le SIDA." "la paludisme." "les femmes n'ont pas les opportunités pour gagner de l'argent." "la pauvreté en général."
(translation: we do not have water during the dry season. our children do not have enough to eat. AIDS. malaria. women do not have opportunities to make money. poverty in general.)

the list continued.

as i wrote down everything they were saying, i had to swallow the lump that was rising in my throat. i have started to think of rikou not as an african village, but as my small village home...although i see these problems every day, most noticably in the children with the swollen bellies from kwashiorkor, it is so different to actually hear it coming from people's mouths, from people who i know and respect.

the village unanimously determined that malnutrition is the biggest problem facing the village. everyone seemed pleased with the activity, and thanked us over and over again for showing them how to conduct it. they said that these kinds of forums really help in starting discourse to address village problems. the needs assessment matrix was a success...

but now what?

we plan to use the information we have gatherered thus far to do a sensibilization in village addressing the problem of malnutrition. i am glad that we are able to do something concrete, and something that the village seems really excited about, but it still seems so surreal to me that i am supposed to have some kind of authority, or some kind of expertise to help people...people who i actually look up to, and people who have taught me more in the past several weeks than i learned in some of my undergrad classes.

this is why the needs assessment matrix was a "holy crap" moment for me. it forced me to remember that i am not just hanging out with my village in burkina faso. i am actually in africa, a region that i studied because big problems exist here, and i need to begin to understand them if i want to ever do anything about them.

although these moments are shocking, and this one in particular was unsettling for me, i hope to have many more of them. they help me to remember what i am doing here in the first place...and they will keep me on my toes so that i can be as effective as i hope to be.

"as you cannot do what you want, want what you can do."

when i applied for the peace corps, this is pretty much how i imagined my job description:
live in an african country. help its citizens.

although this description is technically correct, i am finally starting to learn that there is much more to the job than just living here and making promises to help. now being in burkina faso, i have finally had the opportunity to learn and experience a little bit of what my project is going to be for the next two years.

my official project title is "community health development"...still sounds pretty vague, huh? by way of a brief summary, the peace corps is working in cooperation with the government of burkina faso to implement this big grandiose plan called the "bamako initiative." it was created about 20 years ago in bamako, mali by policy makers from all over the west african region who wanted to improve the quality of life through health care systems. the leaders decided that having just a couple of big hospitals in large cities to care for entire countries was not an effective way to care for members of smaller villages...surprise, surprise...and that the health care system needed a revamping that would include changes on a more local level.

enter: peace corps volunteers.

i will be working, in conjunction with the bamako initiative, in a small village health care center called a CSPS - centre de sante et promotion sociale - and a community group called a COGES elected by citizens to oversee the CSPS and ensure that community needs are being met. we will initiate small changes here and there, and be an informational resource in terms of diseases, nutritional information, maternity care, and basic access to health care.

last week, i had the opportunity to do a preliminary evaluation of the CSPS facility in my village, and to visit a current volunteer at another CSPS in a different part of the country to see how peace corps volunteers work with their community. all i can say following these visits is...yeesh.

upon first glance, the CSPS in my host village looks just like a huge empty warehouse building. upon entering, i found myself with the three other volunteers in my village in the "consultation room" where the head nurse warmly greeted us...smoking a cigarette. i thought that perhaps he just did it in his office, but after about a half hour interview with him about his role in the facility, we began a tour through the different areas and buildings of the CSPS, and he chain smoked the whole time. he weaved his way through patients hooked up to IV poles, and children waiting with other children, and even in the "maternity/birthing room" (which was really just a bed and a sink), cigarette lit the whole time. the sad part of this tour was realizing that this, this warehouse, this health building that doubles as a home for lizards and insects, was one of the well-functioning health facilities.

the CSPS site in the current volunteer's village was more of the same, but, sadly, worse. their facility does not even have a bathroom for patients, (i assume they must just go outside, dragging their IV poles with them) nor does it have any sort of maternity wing. it was just one building, with four or five beds, and another "consultation" room, with some informational posters that most community members are not able to read.

kind of overwhelming. where does one begin in this sort of situation to "help the community members"? i can think of several changes that need to be made in order for this to even be considered a "safe" health facility, but how do you decide, with limited funding, time, and resources, which changes are the most important? which changes are sustainable? and which changes are actually feasible?

what i would absolutely love to be able to do is just a complete overhaul of the village facility. start by building a latrine at the one CSPS site, and continue to make big, exciting changes from there. build a maternity wing, install electricity and running water, and hire educated people to work there to help the limited staff handle their more than 6000 patients. i would make similar changes to the CSPS in my village. this is what i want to do...but it is obviously not possible.

i read somewhere a quote by leonardo da vinci that has stuck with me and helped me to keep my wits about me in this situation: "as you cannot do what you want, want what you can do."

although all of these changes i want to make are not possible, i am in a surprisingly convenient situation to implement some changes that actually are possible.

perhaps instead of trying to build a huge new building, i can help the staff make changes to its existing structures that would help community members even more than electricity, or running water. for example, if the community is educated in how to purify their existing water sources, then they do not have a need for a brand new water source. a big part of the job of peace corps volunteers is designing "sensibilizations" to get important information like this out to the community, in a way that they will understand, and in a way that will make small, but crucial, changes not only possible, but desirable for community members. this is something that i want to do, and it is something that i can do.

there are also opportunities to work with community groups, most often women's groups, but sometimes theater groups or children's groups. we will be able to plan activities to educate people at the village level that CSPS structures exist, and that they are an affordable way to get health care for families. this is something that, sadly, many village members do not know. another small, piecemeal change that obviously will not make a huge impact on all of west africa, or even on all of burkina faso, but a change that will make a difference to the people that i am able to reach through these activities. this again, is something that i want to do, and more importantly, something that i can do.

it is so important for me to keep this perspective in my work here. i must want what i can do. and i promise to do it.

the honeymoon is over...

i think it is safe to say that i fell head over heels in love while i was in college. not the kind of love you are probably thinking...this is not that kind of blog...i fell in love with africa.

in spite of its problems, or probably more accurately, because of its problems, i have felt called to africa to make some kind of a difference. i mustered up all the courage i had, decided that, yes, i love africa enough to pack up my life and go there, and made a commitment to move to burkina faso for two years and prove to the continent just how much i love it.

after the first couple of days, i was overwhelmed by just how happy i was with my decision. i really do absolutely love it here. i cannot speak for the whole continent, as i am only in one small country, but burkina faso is amazing. the people are so welcoming, the weather, though hot, is almost always sunny and beautiful, and what the country lacks in money it more than makes up for in diverse and wonderful cultural experiences.

however, as it is in most relationships, my love for africa is being tested. now that the exciting novelty of being in burkina faso has begun to wear off, certain realities are setting in. the reality of the oppressing heat that makes you wish you could just sleep under a tree all day; the reality of sickness, both my encounters of the sickness of people in my village, and my own sickness from the strange new foods; the reality of the poverty that words could not begin to describe; the reality of just how inconvenient it is to not have electricity and to journal only by the light of a lamp at night; the reality that, damn, i really am living in africa.

it appears as if the so-called honeymoon period is over.

it was inevitable, really, because anytime you decide to embark on something big, challenges will arise. i knew that my idealistic love for the continent, studying it and wishing i could help, and longing from afar, could not continue forever, but i have been taken aback by just how many challenges i will face here.

my daily life varies, but right now i am staying in a small village called Rikou with a host family, in a small hut, with no electricity, and dirt walls and flooring that seem to trap heat, making me feel as though i live in an oven. my host family is very kind, and though there is a language barrier, it is wonderful to begin to learn about the burkinabe culture from people who are actually a part of it, and not just sit and read about it from one of my many text books.

the training that i have begun can only be described as intense. i wake up each morning with the sun, because there is really no need for an alarm clock in this kind of heat, i take a bucket bath (no running water, remember?), and bike 10K into the training facility in ouahigouya. i spend all day in training classes learning about what i will doing in the health facilities i will be working with, learning how to adjust to burkinabe culture, or taking language classes learning moore, or learning how to avoid certain diseases, inevitably end up getting at least one or two immunizations - my poor arm is turning black and blue - and then i bike back to my village to eat with my host family, and sit in my courtyard with some of the children for a while until i just crash.

it has been busy and stressful, and my patience with this country has been tested over and over again after only two weeks, but my love for africa has made me stick it out. as with any relationship, once the honeymoon is over, the real work, and the real difficulties begin...but along with the difficulties will come the real substance of this experience. i am glad to be over the initial excitement, and i am now eager to begin to make this *relationship* work.

A smile always translates

A note to the reader - my blog will be updated as frequently as possible, but the entries will not necessarily be posted in order, and most likely not posted on the day they were written. Also please forgive any big typos as I am using a crazy keyboard. A million thoughts are spinning through my head as I sit to write this. There is so muchthat I want to write about, but so little time, as I am sitting at an internet café and my time will run out soon and the different keys on the keyboard are messing with my instincts. In times like these, I suppose it is best to just start at the beginning. For me, the adventure started on the plane. I was sitting enjoying the inflight movie when suddenly the volunteer behind me flipped up my window covering, then grinned and pointed below; the Sahara desert stretched out beneath us. It was then that I realized that I was finally on my way; finally going to Africa. My face remained pressed against the glass,searching below for signs of civilization, but there were none, not a single road. By the time we arrived in Ouagadougou, it was dark, and the only lights below us were the few on the runway and various smatterings of the headlights of the motovélos that zip all overthe city. I will not go into detail about the airport; suffice it to say that it was oneof the most surreal experiences of my life and it involved a test of both my patience indealing with lost items (nothing too serious, just a broken zipper that cost me some cooking supplies, a leatherman, and my nerves) and the first real test of my french. What I learned from this test, was that regardless of language barriers and stress levels and cultural differences, human conditions and experiences translate through something as simple as a smile. I was frazzled, separated from my group, sitting in the office of a man working for the airport, and speaking fragmented french without the airbag of a translator, but I was smiling. Perhaps it was the fact that in my tired state I realized that I had just referred to the pans missing from my luggage as "the bread" (le pain), or perhaps it was nervousness and excitement all rolled into one, but I was smiling from ear to ear...probably looking like an idiot. The man from the airport began his questions gruffly, but after a few minutes, he also cracked a smile and said "tu souris" (you smile) in spite of the predicament and we both agreed that "ce n'est pas le peine" (not a big deal) and continued to discuss what to do. While this was not my ideal way to enter the country, it really helped me to keep things in perspective in the face of problems. Living in a new country, I will most certainly encounter problems, and I have to be ableto say "ce n'est pas le peine" for many things, and continue to remember that a smile will usually bring nothing but good things to a conversation.