Rainy
season is over, the vegetable selection is shrinking, and the days are getting
cooler. However, the massive amounts of rain we get during rainy season gives
way to massive amounts of overgrowth all over the city. It’s transformed; the
sights, the smells... they are all different at the end of rainy season. There
is one problem, however. If the plants are all left alone, they will slowly die
and decay and the city just looks terrible. Enter the cleaning crews, stage right.
They descend en masse, chopping down
everything in their path. New saplings, shrubberies, weeds, flowers, and
bramble all fall to their machetes and “dabas”- versatile one-handed
shovel/pickaxe/hammer-esque simple tools. Nothing is safe. When dead trees and
branches are removed, they are cut up and distributed to firewood vendors. They
arrive in swarms with their donkeys and carts, loading up as much as they can
carry. Often a small child climbs on top of the staggering stack of wood and
guides the donkey home from up high.
I see the
cleanup crews everywhere I go. There is a foreman and a selection of both men
and women in the groups. A third of the women have babies tied on their backs
as they bend over to scrap the plants from the ground with their dabas. Other
women follow these crews with coolers, selling water and little snacks to help
get them through the day. In a few hours, the day will become quite hot and
will force the teams to assemble under the trees to rest and rehydrate. From
what I hear, this team gets paid about sixty dollars a month for three months
to do this work full-time, the same salary a security guard in the national
capital would receive. For single mothers or young men on their own and out of
work, this is a secure source of income. As I look out the window of the
“teacher’s lounge” at my high school, I see one such crew walking by. Some have
fancy straw hats. I see a baby wearing a blue knit cap. They seem to be in very
high spirits.
When a team
is done clearing an area, they stack up all the brush into big piles and set
them aflame. This is a pretty cool site to see- huge pillars of smoke rising up
in all directions, tongues of flame flickering between the gaps in houses. I
see this period as a new beginning. We are at an excellent part of the year-
the rains have died down so people can resume normal work again but the
greenery, life, and vibrancy of the village remains. Cleaning up the wild brush
restores control over the city’s surroundings. It lets the citizens breathe
again. Most importantly, it keeps snakes from camping out all over town. I have
yet to see a snake in Burkina, but I know they’re out there. Another volunteer
from the neighboring village showed me a picture of the snake she ate… it was
immense. Some type of constrictor. Yeah, I don’t want those moving into my
courtyard, no sir…
I know in
other villages, they burn the brush and I’ve heard stories of volunteers being
trapped in their houses as the overgrowth burns around them. However, it’s
rarely as systematic as it is here. I have the chance of being in a larger,
more developed community than the surrounding villages and we have the
resources and workforce to do this. One day, I might try taking up a daba
myself and jumping in.
We’ll have to see!
Interesting!! I do have a solution, though, if you DO see a snake...take a LARGE book, maybe a travel book, history book or graphic novel and then just drop it on top of the snake and leave it there for a while (until someone else discovers this and picks the book up to a lovely sight ;) Unfortunate for the snake but you would not have that one snake to bother you any longer!
ReplyDeleteI'm surprised you didn't actually pick up a daba! It sounds like a blast out there. Pa's been kinda lame, and really dry come to think of it....Maybe when you get back you could Bring The Rain?....
ReplyDelete