Well hello lovely people,

So Burkina Faso has gotten increasingly hotter, as in over 100 degrees hot. It’s really fun to explain why I have that perfect circle appearing on my stomach… I haven’t quite figured out the word for sweat in either French or Jula so I either tell people that my skin’s crying or that I’m melting. Rumor is April’s even worse…

So I kicked this past month off down in Orodara for an AIDS formation, where 9 volunteers, including myself, brought 4 fellow villagers along in order to further educate the masses on one of Africa’s biggest killers. Like most things in PeaceCorps it seemed to be thrown together at the last minute, but despite the down to the wire planning all of our fellow villagers seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves. The volunteers, however, had minimal participation in the formation since most of it was done in Jula by a doctor from the region. I thought this could potentially be problematic seeing as sometimes the Burkinabe are reluctant to talk about the subject of AIDS, such as how one can contract it, what one needs to do for protection, etc., but I was incredibly pleased by how much energy the audience had and how much willingness there was to participate. I guess for those of us volunteers it was more of a chance to see one another and swap the major cultural blunders of the month. The time in Orodara flew by and before I knew it, it was time to head back to my ville.

I can say that the one thing I thought I would never have to do upon arrival in village is sell myself to the people. I knew all about the Burkinabe’s addiction to Maggi, the scorpion carriers and the hot season but had no idea that there wouldn’t be a line of people through my courtyard waiting for advice and ideas. This is after all a country that always finishes near the end in literacy rates and even making it through some of high school is a considered a high accomplishment. Along with the college degree I also figured the word America would give me some credit since just about everyone in the village has begged me to take them back to (which of course I always say yes to… and hope that none of them take me seriously…). However, instead of waiting for the pounding on the door it’s you who has to take the long walks through the community in order to find people to work with, it’s you who has to make a fool out of yourself attempting to speak languages that you don’t know to the constant laughter of others and you who has to all but badger people into meetings and follow-ups. I now completely understand why so many successful politicians have Peace Corps on their resume… Fortunately at that point some of the walks and talks were starting to pay off. I could at least walk down the main street and hear my name being called rather than some form of ‘Hey whitey.’

Before I had a chance to conquer all of the town though, it was time to once again leave. This time I was meeting up with almost everyone who I flew into Burkina with for the BF’s biggest claim to fame, FESPACO. I have no idea what it stands for, but I do know that it’s West Africa’s biggest film festival that’s only held once every 2 years. Of course this alone made it pretty necessary to attend but even more excitingly, I had heard rumors that some of the greatest movies done about Africa such as Blood Diamond and The Last King of Africa had showed in previous years. Being as this is Burkina though, choosing films such as those proved to be pretty difficult seeing as all we had to go by were the films’ titles. If I wasn’t before, I am now a firm believer in ‘don’t choose a book by it’s cover’ because that’s exactly what we did and that’s exactly how we struck out every time. While I’m sure there was some sort of art to washing a dead corps for 20 minutes without saying more than 5 words, I just couldn’t seem to figure it out. We even stayed up to watch a showing of one of the most talked about films in FESPACO only to find ourselves watching some sort choppy chick flick that oddly incorporated a woman’s rights in Egypt. Despite the lack of seeing this event’s Hotel Rwanda, it was still an experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

When returning back to village this time around, I walked that main strip from the bus station to my house and pretty much everyone I passed along the way gave me the ‘welcome back’ greeting in Jula or French . I can’t lie, that was an awesome moment. That alone made all those seemingly pointless and relentless walks worth it. Luckily enough the community integration didn’t stop there, thanks to International Women’s Day. Yeah, I never knew it existed either. It’s on March 8th. For those of you who now want to celebrate. The day before the main event a bunch of us women gathered at the House of the Women and prepared to clean the village. Cleaning the village here consists of using a broom (and by broom I mean one with out a handle so one has to bend at the waist and sweep) and sweeping the dirt and garbage into piles to burn. Huh. Despite the fact that to me sweeping dirt seems to be the most pointless activity ever invented, (which I pretty much refuse to do around my house here and is probably why the neighbors think I’m a filthy individual) I grabbed up a broom and swept around town for four hours with somewhere around 30-40 other women. I also should include that there was one male who decided to help us… Although I think he might have been drunk and joined by accident… The next day there was a large parade/gathering and a female soccer game (with some males dressed in the female apparel playing both for and against). The second of the two was by far my favorite event of the day. The women that played were all the ‘old’ women of the village and they were throwing elbows, grabbing on to bodies, picking up the soccer ball, and pulling out pretty much all the same tricks that my teams used to do when we played against the boys. I couldn’t stop laughing at the site of the slightly overweight, older women in WalMart sweatpants and bi-focals thundering after the smaller man wrapped in a skirt, completely ignoring the ball and instead hurling him to the ground like it was no big thing. I wish every day was International Women’s day.

So after that day it feels more like things are clicking between myself and the village. People now stop me on my walks and will say more than just the ‘take me to America’ or ‘do you have a husband’ and I’ve actually had requests for meetings! The only downside to all of this is that I’m once again leaving village, this time for 3 weeks for the In-Service Training. Of course I am incredibly excited about being reunited with the SED crew but I’m also hoping that it doesn’t mean 5-6 steps backwards in integration… Because it would pretty much be terrible to have to go on long walks in more than 110 degree weather and to attempt to explain that there wasn’t a rain cloud over me and that I actually just sweating that much… Can’t wait.

Hope all is well back there and you all made it through the winter okay! Thank you all very much as well for the birthday wishes. It was very nice to receive emails, cards and calls from the other side of the world!

Much love.