Le Conseil (09/28/2010)

I’ve been at site for about a month. On September 15, the other teachers at my school were supposed to arrive, and we were supposed to have a big, important meeting, Le Conseil. From what I understood, it was a meeting to discuss teacher’s schedules, the last school year, and problems at the school. It would be my first school related meeting and my first meeting in French. I was nervous, but also excited to get going. So, September 15th rolls around and no there’s no conseil. I wait, and wait, and eventually it comes. I get a call yesterday morning from my homologue (the person at my school who’s my contact for any problems and pretty much in charge of me), telling me that the conseil will be held that afternoon at 3. Finally! Only 2 weeks late hah.

I show up at my school around 2:40, as a good American, I’m a little early and ready to go. There’s no one there. I sit around and wait. Eventually, at 3, my homologue (who is also the Vice Principal) shows up. He tells me that the Principal is sick with “le palu” (AKA malaria. SIDE NOTE: Everytime someone is sick here, they think they have malaria, a parasite that can be deadly if it goes untreated. My homologue told me twice he probably had malaria because he was really tired. They’re usually fine within a couple of days.) So eventually some of the teachers start rolling in, and the conseil starts closer to 4. We start of with introductions, and, of course, everyone is wondering who is this new white girl. I introduce myself, “Je m’appelle Sara. Je suis une volontaire avec le Corps de la Paix. J’enseigne le SVT et l’Anglais.” (My name is Sara. I’m a Peace Corps volunteer. I teach science and English.) Whew… I made it! The other teachers seem satisfied with my response because they continue on. At this point I realize that only 12 of the 20 teachers and 2 admin showed up for the meeting, and I’m the only female teacher! Oh boy.

We continue on with information about last school year. Basically just a lot of statistics unimportant to me, but there was one shocker. He announces how many students passed the BAC (the equivalent of the SAT’s, but students are required to pass the test in order to graduate). 43%!!! Yes… only 43% of the students passed! I couldn’t believe it, and I think my face said it all because my VP stopped the meeting to ask me if I was ok haha.

So, next section of the meeting, problems at the school. The big problem for this school year is lack of sports equipment, athletic fields, and a gym teacher. I take a mental note that I may be able to help with sports equipment and athletic fields. Then, he asks for someone to volunteer to teach gym. I ignore the request because he could not expect this skinny, white girl with glasses to teach any type of sport when out of nowhere, “Sara, could you be our gym teacher?” Oh fuck. Well, I once walked the mile in 25 minutes, and almost failed gym another year, so I was probably the best person here HA! I politely tell him that I don’t think I’m the best candidate, and he assures me that he can give me all the resources required (except sports equipment and athletic fields…). I try to weasel my way out of this one, and I’m still not sure if it 100% worked. We’ll see if I show up for the first day of school and have “Gym” on my schedule.

After the whole gym debacle, we move on to the part I’ve been waiting for… teacher’s schedules. Now remember, this conseil is being held 3 days before school starts and the teachers still have no clue what they will be teaching, and no one seems concerned about this except for me. I browse over my schedule… it’s looking good so far, 2 sections of middle school English (74 students each), 1 section of high school English (60 students), and 1 section of Geology (99 students!)… wait, Geology? When was the last time I studied rocks? Let me tell you, it was with Ms. Davidheiser when I was in middle school… 10 years ago! Uh oh… I’m in trouble. After the conseil, I head to my homologue’s office and the “library” (a room with one locked cupboard filled with old textbooks) to collect the books I need for my classes. I immediately get overwhelmed when I come to find out that there is no curriculum or book for my high school English class, and the geology book is a really in-depth, wordy book about rocks. Do we have a rock collection at my school? How am I supposed to teach this?? Not to mention, they throw in a section of Sex Ed after rocks… can you say “le penis” haha.

So, the whole day today I spent running around to different bookstores and the other high school in town trying to collect the books and materials that my school was lacking, and trying to figure out how to teach 99 kids about rocks. It’s been overwhelming, stressful, and frustrating. But, hey, it’s Peace Corps… “the hardest job you’ll ever love.”

Pictures

** It took too long to upload pics onto my blog, so i updated my snapfish account **

http://www2.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2589346022/a=1579671022_1579671022/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

Enjoy!

Pictures

Apparently I can only post a max of 5 pics at a time...

My New Peace Corps Record

So, I'm happy to say that I've beat my old Peace Corps record of 4 days at site. I am now going into my 3rd week... woohoo!

But, because I've been at site, I have no internet connection (womp womp). In the last few weeks since I've blogged, I swore in (again) as a Peace Corps volunteer, and moved to my site where I'll be living for 2 years, hopefully! It's been chaotic, stressful, amazing, new! I had to say my good bye's and head off to live in a town all by myself (except for the 2 other Peace Corps volunteers, a few Americans doing a health study, and the 3 Japanese volunteers)... so, I'm really not alone haha. It's been really great so far.

Instead of writing a long detailed blog about every single thing that's happened in the last few weeks, I'm just going to put up some pictures. If there's something specific you want to know, either comment on the blog or email me.

“But Mom, the bissap is finished” (8/22/2010)

Yesterday morning, before Katherine and I left for school, our dad asked if we would be around after dinner that evening. We said yes we would be around, we didn’t have any plans, and he was excited and announced he had a surprise for us. This coming from our Burkinabé host dad, we had no idea what to expect, but were really excited.

So after school we ate lunch (hamburgers and chwarma... yum!), and then hurried home for our surprise even though it wasn’t until dinner time. When we got home, our family was preparing a feast. They were making popcorn, crevettes (like shrimp flavored chips, which sound gross but are actually really good), bissap, many chickens, and there were a lot of drinks. At this point, we realized our family was throwing us a fête! We sat around for a few hours and watched them prepare the dinner and the house. They got out the good music, the fancy cups and plates, the new tablecloth, and of course, their party clothes. Katherine and I adjusted to the situation as good Peace Corps volunteers learn how to do, and put on our party clothes too, which happened to be matching green and brown outfits (AKA our mint chocolate chip outfits). Around 8 pm, the party began.

Our dad started with a speech, saying that this party was for us as a going away party. He said he wanted us to know that we will always have a family here, and whenever we pass by, he hopes we will stop by. The doors are always open and there is always room for us, even when there are 9 people living in a 2-bedroom house haha (as it is right now). He said their family learned as much from us and we did from them, and that they appreciated the experience to meet us. The speech was probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

Then, as any good party, came the food. It was a buffet style feast that included salad, two kinds of chicken, couscous, chips, popcorn, and French fries. It was delicious! After dinner, our host dad opened the beers and wine, and then came the dancing. They put on a mix of traditional Burkinabé songs, some French music, and even salsa. They laughed at Katherine and me as we tried to dance. There’s no competing with African women haha. But, it didn’t matter, we danced away the night and had a great time. At the end of the night, my host mom announced that I had found “the rhythm”. For those of you who know me, you know this is not true, and I have never been able to dance well. She insisted it was true, but I think it could have to do with the amount of whiskey she consumed haha.

After we finished the second bottle of red wine and our family wanted to continue dancing, our 4 year old host sister said, “But Mom, the bissap is finished.” She had thought that the wine was bissap! Haha! After a few hours of dancing, eating, drinking, and me finding the rhythm, our host family decided that we “passed” and invited us back for their New Year’s Eve party haha.

This has definitely been one of my favorite and most memorable nights spent here. After living with four different host families across Guinea and Burkina, I had found MY family. A family that I felt comfortable enough with that I had adopted them as my own as well as them adopting me. It was a great night, and made me glad to be here.

“Sometimes Signaling isn’t Enough” (8/20/2010)

As a Peace Corps volunteer in Burkina, I ride my bike… a lot. We go through a few sessions of bike maintenance and bike safety. The most important things are always wear your helmet, and always signal when turning. Since I haven’t been on a bike since I was about 12 when I had a purple sparkly bike, I made sure to always follow the rules and pay attention when I’m biking. After about 2 months here, biking around on dirt roads, I was getting pretty confident on my bike and becoming a pretty good biker. Or so I thought…

A few days ago, after a long day of teaching and classes, I left the school and headed towards a nearby restaurant to celebrate the birthday of a fellow trainee. (Let me preface this by saying that as a part of our training, we have to give a 15 minute presentation in French about a cultural aspect here. I chose to give my presentation on traditional medicine vs. modern medicine in Burkina. After interviewing a few people, I found out that people who practice tradition medicine mainly treat using different parts of plants. Being a biology major, I was really excited about learning about the different types of plants here and what their uses are.) So back to me biking down the road, I was riding near a part of town where there are a lot of trees and plants, and so I was looking at the plants and thinking about what their possible uses are, and trying to remember what they looked like so I could look them up in my traditional medicine book when I got home. I was approaching the turn to the restaurant and signaled like a good biker… or at least I thought I did. So I’m turning left when a moto swerves around me and WHAM! I’m hit! My bike flew to the right, and I flew to the left. I hopped up really quick, made sure my glasses weren’t broken, and then checked out the rest of me. I had some nice scratches on my knees and my hand, but nothing was bleeding too badly. I decided I was ok, and after convincing the other trainees who witnessed my mini accident that I was ok, we continued to the restaurant for the birthday.

I’m there for about an hour or so, and realize that my elbow really hurts and is starting to swell. I decide its time to head home. I ice it and wrap it for the night hoping it would be better in the morning. Well, I woke up in the middle of night with it really hurting and couldn’t fall back asleep. The next morning, my elbow still swollen and in pain, I realized I should call the doctor. Luckily, he happened to be at our training site that day. He takes one look and it and says I need an x-ray immediately. Crap. All I can think about is the other trainee who was recently medically evacuated to South Africa for a similar incident involving his elbow and a bike. I don’t want to be evacuated. I want to swear in with the other trainees.

I head off to Ouagadougou, the capital, with our doctor to get my x-ray. I walk into the Peace Corps med unit when I hear, “Holy crap, Sara!” Who do I know here? I look over, and it’s Phil and Dylan (my fellow volunteers from Guinea)! They were coincidentally in the med unit at the same time as I was! This was a nice little surprise and comfort to see people I know. After quickly saying hi, I was off to the radiologist for my x-ray. I went by myself, which I was a little nervous about. But, I successfully got an x-ray and received the results from the doctor… all in French! This whole thing took about 45 minutes, and I found out that my elbow is fine. I have to wrap it and wear a sling for a few days (so embarrassing!), but after that, I’ll be good as new! Yay!

When I get back to the med unit, I meet back up with Phil and Dylan, who I think felt bad for me, and took me out for some pizza! So, all in all, I got a nice little vacation away from training, some pizza, and got to see my old friends… getting hit by a moto wasn’t so bad after all.

I learned a few lessons from this whole experience. One, there is a reason I haven’t done one physical activity or sport in my 24 years of life… because the one time I do, I get hit my a moto. Two, I now know how to wrap my left arm with only one hand. And three, sometimes signaling just isn’t enough.

Sabou & the Sacred Crocodiles

The last few weeks are the most intense part of our training, practice school. We teach for a few hours each day at a summer school. I have been teaching math and biology. Friday was our last day of practice school! Woohoo! Normally, we have 4 hours of language class on Saturdays, but yesterday, they decided to take us on a little field trip to celebrate our hard work and the end of practice school. They announced that we were going to feed crocodiles…

I really didn’t know what to expect from this. I’ve been to the zoo and paid a quarter to feed the ducks or an occasional camel, but crocodiles were on a whole different level. We arrive at the crocodile place, which was basically a huge lake surrounded by some marshy wetlands and trees. There was a place to eat lunch, and naturally, the touristy shops. The first thing I noticed when stepping off of the bus was that all the workers there had some type of deformity or handicap in their feet. Of course, the first thing I think is that they were attacked by the crocs. This makes me a little nervous, but I follow the group down to the lake.

Now, if this were America (if only I had a dime for every time I said that phrase), there would be a clear separation between us and the crocs, but we walked right up to the edge of the water. I’m looking into this lake when all of a sudden, about 10 feet away from me, I see a croc peak it’s head and eyes up out of the water. It was like something you would see on a movie… a horror movie haha. Now, I’m still a little wary of these crocs, so I step back… behind the rest of the trainees ha. Next thing I know, the man in charge of the crocs heads out into the middle of the lake with a dead chicken died to a string. He starts swinging it around in the water until a croc gets close enough that he can grab it. Yes, I said grab it. A wild croc. With his bare hands. He gets a hold of the tail and starts dragging it out of the water towards us. He puts the croc down in front of us, and announces that we can go touch it now. It started with our brave trainers, and then slowly progressed to some of the trainees. For most of the time, the crocodile would just sit there while all us took our turn touching it. The man in charge of the croc would swing the chicken near its face, presumably to distract it from the thought of eating us haha. Everyone few minutes, the croc would get angry and snap towards someone, or try to head back into the water.

After the novelty and this croc wore off, one of the kids in my group asked jokingly if he could sit on top of a crocodile and ride it. We all laughed, when to our surprise, the man in charge says yes, he can arrange that. He’ll go catch “le vieux” aka “the old one”. We were all shocked as we watched him put the first croc back into the water, then head back into the crocodile infested lake, with the chicken in hand, to catch the old crocodile. A few minutes later, sure enough, he’s dragging out a much larger, older crocodile. He plops it down in front of us, and says we can sit on it. Once again, I’m thinking hell no. All I can picture is me trying to sit on the croc, and that’s the end of my right hand.

After about an hour of so of poking and sitting on the poor crocs, we’re finished and we head up to eat lunch. At this point, the man in charge of the crocodiles tells us their story. First, let me start off my saying that there’s a common joke among Burkinabe that, “50% of them are Muslim, 50% are Christian, but 100% are Animists.” Obviously, the numbers are a little off, but the point is that most people here are animists. Ok, so the croc story. So along time ago, the crocodiles lived about 5 kilometers away from their current town. One day, the founder of the town where the crocodiles currently live, Sabou, caught on fire. Luckily, the crocodiles were around and they saved his life by putting out the fire. After that, the crocs were moved to Sabou, and have lived in the same lake for over 100 years. He said there is a relationship between the crocodiles and the humans. The crocodiles saved the founder’s life, so now the people of the town care for the crocodiles. Every year, they make a sacrifice to the crocodiles to keep them happy. He didn’t say what the sacrifice was, but I would think that it would be a chicken, or other small animal. He said it’s ok to go swimming in the crocodile lake because the crocodiles and humans are friends. (There are 100+ crocs in the lake… this is not a theory I would want to test out!). He also said that during the dry season, the crocodiles will leave the lake and venture out into the town. If you happen to find a crocodile in your house, which apparently is common, you feed it a chicken and it’s good luck for the family.

Later that night, when I return home to my host family, I ask them about the sacred crocodiles. They assured me that the crocodiles and humans in Sabou live peacefully together. But they also said that the crocodiles know the difference between “good people” and “bad people”, and they only eat the bad people. This led me to believe, that at some point, the crocodiles have in fact attacked a human… or two.