Big Hearts

It is mornings like today that I realize how lucky I am to have had this experience. I spent the morning at School B. I was showing the director how to make hand washing stations and then we sat down to chat.

We talked about a lot of things, mostly philosophy of development. He loves talking about internal development and how Burkina could improve strategies. He is certainly a positive deviant (AKA: a good example) in terms of investment and education. If there were more government workers like him in Burkina the country would be on a faster track toward sustainable development.

At the end he asked me what kind of gift is appropriate to give a parting American. He also said something about making a big meal and saying good bye. I explained that a small token is best, so that when I look at it I will think of my second home in Burkina.

I guess my mom went to visit him the other day to talk about my departure. Ever since I told her that I am leaving she hasn't left my side when we are both at home. We had a few good chats yesterday about family and my future plans. I told her that I will be moving to a big city and that I am studying health. She seemed pretty pleased with my plans.

After I go, she will be seriously empty-nesting. All of her biological children are gone and her niece is closing in on marriage age. Now her bumbling over-grown pale adoptive infant has announced his impending flight from the nest.

It is easy to get caught up in the stress, heat and cultural misunderstandings. When in reality so much about Peace Corps service is the overall transformative experience of letting a new community and way of life into your heart. That is something no amount of African sun can boil out of me (although I don't suggest we test that hypothesis).


Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.

Spring Cleaning

I woke up today with the overwhelming sensation of impending change. You are probably thinking that I am obsessed, but cross-continental moves are complicated. I am finishing a job, saying goodbye to a community, preparing for school, preparing for new jobs, anticipating seeing my family/friends, anticipating saying goodbye to my family/friends and anticipating moving across the U.S. When I begin to list my anxieties it becomes a bit like drowning.

So, instead of choking down my unease, I decided that I need to take control of what I can. Things like dread of saying bye to my community are unavoidable, but there are lots of little things that can be done in preparation for my major life changes. Trent and Kerry call the impending physical (i.e. weight) and mood changes a "second puberty." How pleasant.

At any rate, I decided I could make lists of tasks for when I get stateside (being mentally prepared can make things smoother and more enjoyable). I e-mailed relevant professors about class selection and I am still working on the apartment hunt. (I already have a drafted 5-year plan for 2012-2017). More immediately I decided to do another cleaning/packing sweep of my hut, because I have let it get messy since I got back from glorious Ghana. Re-reading this paragraph makes me laugh at how I tend to be simultaneously mentally organized and physically disorganized.

Unfortunately, my host mother walked in mid-cleaning. I had set aside my large plastic garbage can (used for storing water) for her (to use for storing large quantities of local beer). Additionally, I have more black-eyed peas than a Southern New Years, so I put those aside for her, too. My slow intake of beans has apparently become an excellent method of food rationing for my family in a year of meager harvest.

To explain the gifts, I had to explain that I am leaving in 4 weeks. Her reaction surprised me. She looked simultaneously dizzy and like she was about to cry. I felt awful! She sat and watched me pack and clean with a frown on her face until I assured her that I will be home (aka village) for another 4 weeks. She seemed to be encouraged after I insisted.

I never expected to have a second mother.

Aside from my house, my beard is a bit out of control. So when the girls insisted on washing my neglected dishes I felt like I was in a sequel to "Castaway" where a man falls from a plane in the middle of the Sahel and lives in a manure/mud hut until local children stumble upon him and wash his crusty dishes. The parroted words of my friend Alex "How embarrassing!" come to mind.

Despite the immobilizing anxiety, the emotional moment and my comical self-neglect the past few hours developed into a productive morning.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone from Airtel Burkina Faso.