A day in Burkina

I’m at a training this week in preparation for the new volunteers coming, so I’ve been thinking a lot about my first impressions of things here. Volunteers often talk about is how quickly you get used to life here and how things quickly lose their novelty or strangeness. But thinking back to my first days (months) in country, there was a lot that I just thought was crazy, that I now found not really that crazy.

For example, when I first got here I was amazed at the number of lizards here! I mean, I’m from Minnesota, not a place really known for any sort of reptiles at all. But here in Burkina (and the majority of Africa, I think) lizards run around like squirrels do in the Midwest. And animals in general are just everywhere here. I’ve written about several incidents involving bulls, but there are also donkeys, chickens, cats, dogs, sheep, goats and pigs everywhere. And they make noise. All. The. Time. But I’m used to it. I can sleep through the roosters’ morning cries, and the donkeys’ random screaming and the goats crying (that really does sound like kids). Just this weekend I saw some horses racing down a street in the capital, which was actually really weird. Though riding in a taxi in the capital city that’s following a donkey cart, that’s not weird at all.

In addition to animals everywhere, there are children everywhere. And they aren’t really supervised… They poop where ever they want. For example, my neighbor kids poop 10 feet from the gate to my courtyard, so often open the door to go out to school and see one of the popping a squat. They used to run away in fear of the white girl, but now they just ignore me and I ignore them. And then a pig or dog comes along and enjoys a nice breakfast. (I’ll let you connect the dots on that one yourself).

Another weird thing that you quickly get used to here is eating food from plastic bags. Instead of “to go” boxes, street vendors and even restaurants will give you your food to go in a black plastic bag. And at first you think it is absolutely bizarre and little gross to be eating your rice or spaghetti out of bag, but you get over it.

You also get over being dirty constantly. You never stop sweating, and it’s so dusty that you will always have a thin (or not so thin) film of dust and sweat on your face and clothing. If by some act of God, you do stop sweating, you have a crust of salt everywhere. Mostly on your neck, it’s rather unpleasant.

Transportation here is also really something you have to see to believe. Most of the transport here is what we call bush-taxis, which are vehicles larger than a mini-van, smaller than a 15 passenger van (would that just make it a van?) But in addition to loading the inside with as many people as possible, the top is loaded up with baggage, motorcycles, bikes, animals, etc. There have been numerous occasions where the height of the stuff on the roof is the same as the height of the car itself. Not a comforting site, but I have yet to see one tip over! One of my first bush-taxi experiences involved a jam-packed van that had 2 bulls and 15 sheep/goats on top. At one point some water was falling off of the roof and everyone was trying to avoid getting hit by it from the window. I thought to myself “why are they being so weird about it, the mist is kind of cooling,” then I realized it was animal pee...

But in addition to all these funny (and somewhat gross) things that I have gotten used to and now consider almost entirely normal, there are some things that I will never get used to. And I think a lot of that has to do with being an outsider in this culture. I will never get used to children (and adults) blatantly staring at me, following me, crying at the sight of me (not so much the adults on that one), and asking me for things. I will never get used to people trying to touch my hair, people calling me fat or telling me I’ve gained weight, no matter how many times they try to explain it’s a compliment…

One last fun story (once again about animals): the other day I was biking home from a little shop in “downtown” Yaho. There is a spot where a bunch of young men/boys hang out, and right as I biked past, one pulled up alongside me and challenged me to a race. Being an awesome biker, I accepted his challenge and we both took off pedaling. Not even 100ft down the road a pig starts to cross the street, so the boy veers to the side to avoid it. At this same time the pig realizes that he is interfering in our race and starts to turn back, but where he turns is right where the boy had swerved! Boy hits pig, sending boy flying over his handle bars. Boy is fine, as is pig. Everyone downtown had been watching our race, and they are now all laughing hysterically at the poor boy, who simply grabbed his bike and turned back in shame. Needless to say, I think I won that race.