A Typical Day

It appears to me that I have written about random projects or ideas without really giving a picture of life here. So, here’s a snapshot of a day in the life at site.

It’s 5:00 and I can hear the rooster crowing in my yard but I ignore it. School doesn’t start for another two hours and I’ve had a restless night. I roll over, adjusting my sheets that always seem to come undone from my bed, and collapse… for way too long! It’s 6:30 already and I’ve got to get going. I put some water on the camping stove I have to heat up and run out to my latrine which is fairly cockroach-free. When I get back, I get some water in my shower bucket, add some hot water to it and take my bucket bath. I have time to brush my teeth and run out the door with my backpack and bike to get to school.

At school, I go and grab my chalk, greet the 349032 other teachers and other faculty at my school and walk across the courtyard to my classroom. Two students start running at me frantically, pushing each other and yelling things I can’t hear, in a desperate attempt to be the first to have the privilege of carrying my backpack to class for me. It’s completely unnecessary but it’s what they do for teachers and, besides, they’ve worked so hard to be the first… So, now slightly unburdened, I can go and get started. (On test days the students are especially eager to take the tests off my hands. NICE TRY BUT NO.)

My classes this year have a meager 80-82 students in each of them and I’m teaching the same level as last year which makes things much easier. I’m able to plan out better in-class activities and examples. Mostly, I like to get the class moving. This involves making gestures or standing and sitting in accordance with various mathematical ideas. It’s packed but these simple actions help engage the students in a way they never experience in math class. We get through the two-hour block fairly harmlessly and I’ve finished teaching for the day!

A student grabs my backpack and we make our way back to the main administrative structure with students peppering me with questions about America along the way. Every so often I make a rousing and impassioned speech about success and hard work and the importance of education. Because I can. Anyways, I get back, pay for a small ground-mystery meat sandwich from the head of discipline, and then relax with my fellow teachers for a while. They talk about soccer, their subject matter, world events and more and I can usually keep up with their rapid-fire French.  It’s shady under the mango tree where the teachers have set up their benches and during the right season, one teacher will take a big pole and knock some fruit down for us to eat.

After a bit of relaxation, it’s time to eat. I normally have three options- cook for myself (I’m becoming quite proficient if I do say so myself), eat attieke that a lady makes near my house, or swing by the local restaurant for some upper-class fare (slightly more expensive rice with peanut butter sauce). Afterwards, I take a siesta. It’s too hot! The town virtually shuts down as between 1 and 3 in the afternoon, people go home to rest. There are people in my courtyard back home who sleep under my mango tree on huge mats during this time. The kid in my courtyard has rigged it so he can have electricity to play music outside. He also built an awesome looking antenna which he claims boosts his radio reception so much that he gets broadcasts from Europe. I should really look into that. The kid, Boureima, is about 17-18 years old and dropped out of school a few years back after finding himself mixed up in the wrong crowd. Now he’s living on his own and works with a butcher selling mutton.

So, after my siesta, I either go back to school for my extra practice courses I offer to my students every Tuesday and Thursday, or I work on something else. (Attendance for these extra classes ranges between 30 and 60.) I might go into town and find some people to talk with and pass the time, or I might work on my grad school applications at the cyber café that just opened up (with wi-fi!). I’ve had great conversations with random strangers about economics, America, poverty, politics, or what have you. Sometimes, I get mixed up in random projects or opportunities such as when I was invited to observe and help out with an information session about tuberculosis for some of the nearby villagers. Here’s a story one woman shared (in local language of course):

She was from a wealthier, educated family in a developed town but was the youngest of a large family. Thus, she ended up finding herself as a third wife to a man from “the brousse” (the brush, meaning a small village). Things were ok until the first wife got very sick and eventually passed away. While she was sick, the husband demanded that everyone avoid contact with the first wife and she was completely cut off from the family. Despite this, the second wife then fell ill, was isolated, and then passed away. After this, the husband began accusing the third wife of being a sorceress and killing the other two. Fearing for her life, she took her child and fled, eventually being able to divorce the husband and she moved to my site. She had heard the cause of death for the other two women was tuberculosis and wanted desperately to know more.

That was a powerful story when I heard it translated to me. The trainers shared some preliminary information with her and directed her to a contact at the local hospital to learn more. Afterwards, the trainers gave several kilograms of rice to each participant. This encourages people to come to future trainings and info sessions.

Anyways, after afternoon adventures and apparently assonance, I either go to watch a soccer game at a friend’s house or retreat back to my own home to prepare for my lessons, cook dinner, practice my guitar (thanks again R.A!), or just relax at the house. It’s getting dark and I need the personal time to recharge.

And THAT, my friends, is a typical day. 

How to Kill a Mouse

This may have been one of the least efficient and most barbaric things I have ever done.

Due to holes in the screens covering my windows, mice have started invading my house for the first time. It took about a year and a half for me to see the first one in my house and now they keep on coming. I have two mousetraps that only sometimes work- I usually have to reset it several times before it finally snags the mouse. This past time was different though. A neighboring volunteer was visiting and needed to crash on the floor, wishing it to be mouse-free. Maybe five minutes after he arrived, the mouse sprinted across my “kitchen” floor and darted into the other room. The hunt was afoot.

First, materials list. Needed are the following:

Two pairs of shoes

Two heavy books

Pestle

Cinder block

Step-stool

Two brooms

Wooden dowel

Feather duster

Bug spray

Mousetraps

Laundry hamper lid

One pair of pants

Large piece of fabric

Empty soda bottle

Two cell phones

Head-lamp

Dresser

Piece of paper

A shred of intelligence or jus blind, dumb luck. (We chose the latter.)

Yes, that’s right, a feather duster. I don’t care what you think- I killed a lizard just the other day with its handle. Haha, the other volunteer was laughing at me wielding it though against the mouse.

First, we chased the mouse into my rec/storage room, the easiest place for it to hide. We blocked off the exit with the cinder block and step stool, leaving a small opening where we placed the two mousetraps in case it tried to flee. I was waiting outside and B began moving and removing any potential hiding places. There were so many old bottles and containers amongst other crap in the room. However, eventually we narrowed it down to the very last place possible: the small suitcase inside my larger suitcase. As soon as B removed the small suitcase, the mouse made a break for it! We both swung our respective blunt objects (feather duster, bottle, broom and a shoe) and missed, the mouse made a break for it, and it somehow managed to not trip either mousetrap. I need a refund… And to the “study” we went!...

Wait, no, it tried to get under the bookcase but then turned and ran into my bedroom.  Here, we thought we had trapped it. After all, the crack under the door was much too small for a mouse to get under. We start removing all hiding places again. The laundry hamper, the dirty clothes, the random shoes and such lying around were all placed together away from the dresser. We try to sweep under the crack under the dresser looking for the mouse but the duster was just not long enough. Or maybe the mouse had fled… So we start searching drawers one at a time only to find there was no entry for the mouse. We put the drawers back. Then B took the wooden curtain rod/dowel thing and starts sweeping under the dresser while I am waiting for it with a laundry hamper lid to trap it. B says something, I get distracted and the mouse flees… back under the door. Should have blocked it I guess.

Back to the study! Same process! This time, we narrow the hiding spot to under the bookcase again. We sweep under it, the mouse gets out, the shoes and brooms miss again, but the hamper lid does not. That’s a catch!

We don’t want this mouse to get out of this alive, as barbaric as that sounds. I guess, spending time here has somewhat diminished my view on rodent rights. We need to make sure this thing doesn’t escape again. But now it’s trapped under the hamper lid and if we lift it, he’ll escape! Well, my friends, lessons learned. We drag the lid back into my bedroom and I immediately block the door with some pants and the step-stool. Now there’s no escape for mister mouse. It’s only a matter of time… We move the lid around rapidly on the ground to disorient the mouse and then pull it over a waiting, armed mouse trap. THUMP. The mouse moves the lid by quite a bit so we weigh it down with shoes and books and a giant bear-killing sized pestle lying around. B takes first watch… and sprays bug spray under the lid to try and gas the mouse… Yikes.

This thing trips the mousetrap and doesn’t die. He trips the second mousetrap and doesn’t die. We try to take a large piece of fabric called a pagne that I normally use for a tablecloth and lay it on the ground. At this point, we just want the mouse out of the house. We think to move the lid over the pagne so that we can carry the whole ensemble far from the house and drop the mouse out into the wild. However, B lifts the lid up a bit too far, the mouse gets out, and it runs back under the dresser. 

UGH.

WARNING: This next bit just gets a little barbaric. I’m… I’m not proud of what happened here. We sweep under the dresser, blah blah blah… and it’s not there. As if from a scene in a horror movie, I look up and the mouse is somehow waiting ABOVE US!!! He had made a hole, and climbed up the back of the dresser. We get up and the mouse freaks out, falling back behind the dresser. Ugh. However, I shine a light behind the dresser and see the mouse comfortable stuck between the dresser and the wall. I don’t know what happened. Our adrenaline was pumping. We had been hunting this thing for over an hour. WE ARE MAN AND IT WAS MOUSE. Enough was enough. Again, WARNING. B yells PUUUSH three times and I body slam the dresser three times. The poor thing is trying to escape and is flailing wildly. After the third time, it manages to get out and falls to the ground beside the dresser. And what delivers the coup de grace? None other than the feather duster.

We sweep the mouse onto a piece of paper and carry it outside and dump it unceremoniously into the courtyard. All of my neighbors are staring at us like we’ve gone mad. After all they’ve been hearing all sorts of bizarre things coming from inside the house.

I’m not proud of this. Let this blog stand as a testament to my sins. But this is life here in Burkina. A local would not think twice about killing the mouse and would have taken much less time. Before I host Thanksgiving dinner for neighboring volunteers, I need to close up these holes in the window and really make my house mouse-proof. We are never going through all of that again. No sir.

The Day the City Burned

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! 

Camp Glow... Reflections

We had just finished sweeping the campus for all lingering trash, plastic bags, pen caps, and other debris from our Olympics when one student, Hippolite, ran up to one of us. In French, he exclaimed, “Thank you! Thank you so much for doing all of this… But, I have a question… Why? Why did you come here and do all of this for us?” It was unbelievable for him that we would set up a week-long camp, free of charge, for students of all backgrounds. Why was he chosen? What did he do to deserve this? Why would we spend so much money on a camp of all things? The volunteer with him said something about being motivated and wanting them to teach the others and Hippolite disappeared to go back and play soccer with the other students. But the question remains- why?

The idea of Camp G²LOW is simple: promote healthy lifestyles, promote gender equality, and empower students. We brought sixty students together with the intent to teach them life skills and empowerment techniques so that when they return to their villages they might teach others, and so on and son until everyone can hear from their own peers about things such as family planning or malaria prevention. The students we chose were motivated and dynamic, influential among their peers. We hope that they can inspire a change in others if, during the camp, we could inspire a change in them. Everyone thinks the future belongs to the youth; the camp was created in order to motivate them to take charge. The very name stands for Guys and Girls Leading Our World. This was a week-long shove in the right direction.

There were so many encouraging moments throughout the camp where the students truly shined but one day in particular jumps to mind. We had one day dedicated to sexual education, a topic which is often avoided at the village level. Many students have little to no knowledge of the anatomy, puberty, or HIV/ AIDS. The subject is taboo. Girls are circumcised in secret. Rape is covered up and HIV rampant. However, for perhaps the first time for some of these students, they were given a safe environment where they could ask questions, find answers, and be fearless. When the boys were having their sexual education session, they asked so many questions that the session ran for almost fifty percent longer than the scheduled time. Each day’s schedule was crowded but we could not afford to put a stop to the students’ search for answers. I feel that this day showed how curious the students are about the world around them and how they are desperate for knowledge. It is a strong indicator that, indeed, they will take the lessons learned at camp this week and teach others.

We can look at the results of the administered post-test to see where the students changed the most. Upon arrival and immediately before departure, our students filled out a small exam for us to evaluate their level of knowledge. The results were outstanding. At the end of the week the number of students who thought both sexes could be doctors rose by 36%, president by 35%, and a stay-at-home parent by 76%! The number of students who could identify three malaria prevention methods rose from 45% to 78%. The number of students who thought mutual consent was needed before sex also rose from 59% to 87%. Clearly, attitudes were progressing throughout the week. Even if some students did not change their opinions entirely, progressive seeds have been planted. Gains have been made. And we are excited to see them change over time.

I am actually most excited about the participation of our junior counselors. We had six students between 10^th and 12^th grade helping with the camp. They were chosen for being excellent, motivated role models for the campers. I remember one conversation with my counterpart Amidou. Amidou is the equivalent of the student body president for my host high school. Upon arrival to the training for the camp, he saw that he would have to teach with an American counterpart on malaria and immediately started seeking resources, information, and help in preparing. He studied the material constantly, practiced with his partner, and took his role seriously. His volunteer counterpart for the lesson confided that he was impressed with Amidou’s performance. Amidou later spoke to me on his observation of life in village. He saw that there was a need for the youth to take an interest in the future of the country, that unless people can volunteer to help others, nothing will change. He talked about personal heroes and how he wants to take the activities from camp back to site. We were heartbroken when he had to return home early due to his mother’s illness.

Anne was another junior counselor who signed up to help the day before training. She struggled a lot at the beginning, wondering what she was getting out of volunteering. It is not a common occurrence in this country and she was being ridiculed by her parents for wanting to work for free. Anne approached me several times asking me about the camp, and volunteering, and American opinions overseas. She confided that she was passionate about stopping female circumcision but felt unqualified and too alone to do anything about it. “Why am I here?” she asked me. We talked for a long time that first night before camp about how she can use this experience to gain confidence, connections and teaching experience. She can go and volunteer at a health clinic and improve her technical knowledge. Despite these original doubts and difficulties, she persevered. She taught on decision making, helped with activities, stayed at camp late and arrived early. She put so much self-sacrifice into this camp for a chance at self-growth despite the ridicule of those close to her. When we presented her the certificate of participation for facilitators, she started crying. I was so proud of her work and courage this past week and wish her luck in her future work in her community.

How can I judge the success of the camp? I can look at the data for the post-test. I can talk with these junior counselors or other host-country counterparts and hear the impact it made on their lives. Or I can remember the sixty crying students the final morning of camp as they prepared to leave the community they had built here. They worked together. They learned together. They grew together. They experienced something entirely out of their comfort zones and flourished. Clearly, this week was meaningful to them. Now that they are all returned back to their respective villages, I know that something will change. Maybe attitudes and behaviors will change. I hope so. I believe so. After all, these were the girls and guys who will be leading our world.

It's GLOW Time!

Hey everyone! I'm here at our Camp G2LOW host school, an hour before the start of our Training of Trainers. Classrooms are swept, mosquito nets are hung, the water's hot for coffee, and Mr. Hiney's busy writing our camp goals on a blackboard. Fresh batteries in the camera, welcome packets made up, and now.... we pump ourselves up and prepare our lessons for the coming week. We'll have around 60 students more or less with about 23 counselors/ helpers so things are about to get a bit crazy on Friday.

Again, this camp stands for Girls and Guys Leading Our World. We want to promote cooperation between the genders as well as teach the students about topics they might not get enough exposure to: malaria, sexual education, how to plan for a goal, actions and consequences, and how to deal with violence. We hope that not only the campers can take something away from the lessons but also us the counselors. I'm really excited to be hosting several former Camp GLOW students as counselors this year! After participating in the past, they've been actively involved in their communities, making them excellent role models for the current campers.

Wish us luck this coming week! It all goes off the 19th and we start packing up on the 26th. Let's make it count, yeah?

Special thanks to all the Burkinabé who have volunteered their time for this experience as well as the volunteers coming from all over the southwest. 

Excuse me while I cough out all the dust from my lungs from sweeping yesterday... Gack...

New Volunteers! (Brief)

So the new group of volunteers have arrived and I have been spending this first week with them here in  Burkina Faso. We need to prepare them for homestays, teach them where to find minutes for their phones, give advice, encouragement, and fear to the new trainees. It's been a good time! But now I'm being eaten alive by mosquitoes so you will hear more another day. Oh man, this is uncomfortable! A long post coming soon! - Matt

Malaria- An Anecdote

I woke up naturally at around 6 AM. Throwing back the cover, I felt around the floor for my sandals; I had no interest in going barefoot until I had swept. Besides, the spider was most likely in here from the night before. Some people enjoy killing bugs. I am not some people.

I unlocked the screen, and then the metal door, taking my first off-balance steps into the daylight. Clearly, once again, I was the last one up. My father was nowhere to be seen, my mom making noises from inside the house. But, like clockwork, there was my sister washing plates by the kitchen. And if she was over there, that meant hot water.

The courtyard was wet and a bit muddy from the rain last night. Here it always seemed to rain at night. I’m not quite sure why that might be- maybe it takes a full day and only a full day of intense sunlight to evaporate enough water for a heavy rain. Whatever the case may be, I stepped across carefully with my bucket and towel, dipping the squash shell into the big metal pot over the fire. Taking a bit of hot, clean water, I took a few more scoops of water from the big clay pot in the shadow of the wall. Feeling the water, I decided to add a few more shell-fulls. Because I’m spoiled.

I cannot possibly describe what it’s like to shower outside on a cool morning. Some of my most awe-inspiring moments have been here. Looking back at my time here, I can’t imagine how it would feel with cold water. The warm bucket baths may have single handedly ensured my continuous high spirits during the first three months. Now, when I run into an actual shower from time to time, if it doesn’t boast hot water, I’m not having it. Again, like I said, I’m slightly spoiled!

Everything this morning was going well until I saw my four-year old host sister throwing up in the middle of the courtyard. She started crying uncontrollably, squatting in her pool of vomit. My mom came out of the house and started speaking hurriedly to my sisters who also came out to calm their younger sister’s cries. As I left for my day’s trainings, I still did not know what was going on. But I had a feeling…

It was confirmed that night. My dad came back from work and explained that they had taken my sister to the hospital to be tested for malaria. Sure enough, she had gotten bitten by an Anopheles mosquito, carrying the malaria parasite from a previously infected host. Since my family was not sleeping with their treated mosquito nets, it really was only a matter of time.

The Burkinabé love the rainy season since it’s good for the crops! However, the April showers bring malaria. The heat dies down a bit, and the mosquitos are able to breed easily in the pools of water that form from any heavy rains during the rainy season. My sister could have been infected by the parasite for weeks before her symptoms started. One can never know. However, for children under 5 years of age, their immune systems are not as developed as in adults. Malaria can be especially dangerous in these cases.  Fortunately, my host family had some money and went right away to the health center. She was able to receive treatment and recover.

However, my family continued to not use mosquito nets and my father fell ill as well. Maybe it was due to the same mosquito which bit my sister. Maybe it came from a neighboring village. Whatever the case, my family was becoming like the millions of others worldwide which are affected by malaria.

Around 700,000 people die from Malaria each year, the vast majority coming from Africa. Fortunately, we can work to end this epidemic. When the international community is educated, resources are donated, and the people become motivated we have the power to take the steps to eradicate malaria forever. Thus, many initiatives have been undertaken towards this goal. Stomping Out Malaria in Africa is one such Peace Corps initiative that uses strategic partnerships, targeted training Volunteers and intelligent use of information technology to support the local malaria prevention efforts of over 3,000 Volunteers in sub-Saharan Africa. Please, take fifteen minutes to check out the website at stompoutmalaria.org/bamm2013 or follow Stomp activities at http://www.facebook.com/StompOutMalaria.

My family was lucky to avoid the deaths which are all too common. Others are not so lucky. Through this initiative and others like it, we hope to bring a change here to Africa. A brighter tomorrow. And just maybe, we can replace the malaria with some May flowers.

-Matt