September 2011

So here we are back for episode 2 of our Burkina experience.

I apologise for the lack of posts in the second half of last year.  The civil and military unrest here was a little all consuming, and what with the 110 degree heat and 12 hour daily power cuts, I rather lost my sense of humor, and my will to write, with it.
Peace in Burkina is currently resumed and I now stand convinced, that the heat was actually driving people here crazy.

So year 2.   It should be a breeze.  I mean,  after all, now we have sussed the culture, got the whole thing nailed, right? Not exactly, but we do understand more of our cultural context, we can speak some of the language and we are less frustrated (on good days) by the inefficiency and amount of time it takes to achieve the simplest tasks. The electrician has been three times this week to fix, re-fix and re-fix again, various simple electrical faults in the house, and each time I smile and welcome him like an old friend, as I will when the plumber arrives next week to fix my toilet for the 179th time since we arrived here.
I also no longer get angry about the "white man's tax" that is applied to much of the produce I buy. I am no longer suprised when the fish man comes to my house and charges me $60  for two small pieces of fish ( I wasn't there, so my housekeeper kindly paid him from housekeeping money). Neither am I overwhelmed by the fruit sellers who refuse to accept my polite no thank you and thrust, throw, shove and force their fruit into my face, through my car window. I simply wind up the window, and drive away, hoping sincerely that I do not have any of their fingers unintentionally trapped in the window. They are, after all, just trying to make an living.
As I write, the household staff next door have started their weekly ritual of pounding the grain. A constant, dull, incessant thud, that can last for hours and causes you  to feel like its your head that is being pounded, rather than the millet. I breathe deeply and settle into the rhythm of it.......  
Such aspects of daily life  feel normal now, and I am learning not to "headbang" my way through each day. Life is slow. So - very - slow. No one is in a hurry, and they are not going to be pressurised into moving any quicker, no matter how loudly you blow your horn, and trust me, I have blown mine very loud.
Burkina is rich in lessons.  Lets face it, we all know how crazy our lives in the west are, with our schedule keeping, and achievement driven society. Despite my slightly sarcastic summery above, I am grateful for the opportunity here to "take my time".  It is a gift.

The rains are here again, and its a relief to see the landscape greener.  Driving along the other day I passed an area of land that back in May was a parched, cracked, desolate looking wasteland.  Now it was covered in green. I commented to my Burkinabe friend "Look grass!"  She laughed at me and said "No Emily, weeds"  I never thought my soul would be fed by looking upon a field of weeds, but after the 6 month drought of last year, I drank it in.

I visited an orphanage last week for the first time.  Our new au-pair, Hannah, will be volunteering there one day a week.   It is a refuge for babies who have lost their mothers in childbirth and are awaiting  the often long, dragged out, bureaucratic process of international adoption.  The babies were so tiny.  some of them only three or four weeks old, and still the size of a pre-mature newborn.  And there were so many of them.  Its was disturbing to see them all lined up side by side like some kind of production line. All  these tiny, motherless, lonely little people.  The smell was bad, and the conditions unacceptable to say the least.  There were some older babies too, one with big open sores on her legs - mosquito bites turned septic, I think.  One little boy is deaf and mute.  The doctors have said his hearing can be helped but it is costly and they must find a family who are prepared to take on the medical implications of his condition.  I came home feeling a little numb and overwhelmed. My own wealth and abundant good fortune screaming in my face.

I do find the poverty emotionally exhausting. The terrible truth is, that I don't like having to look at it every day. Its the constant niggling feeling of guilt that follows me around all the time.  And the feeling that its all too big.  That we only ever scratch the surface of it, no matter what we give.  That for every tiny baby who gets welcomed into a new family today, another will fill its place in the production line tomorrow.