Alright, I’m going to try to pick up where I left off last night. After the adoption ceremony I walked to my home-stay with my host mother and a following of children. It was unclear, probably because I don’t really speak French or Moore, who all the kids belong too, but there seemed to be at least 20 under the age of 15 that lived in my family compound. My host father, who is the only member of the family who I can sort of communicate to in my broken French, went on a head on his moto. Once we arrived home I was immediately shown to my room, asked if it was ok, and then left alone. My bags were already in my room, since they were dropped off earlier that day, so I spent a little time fiddling around with my bags and whatnot in my room since the family had left me to myself and I didn’t know what else to do. After a few minutes I went out in my courtyard and sat down and almost immediately was swarmed by an army of children. They pretty much just stared at me and then a few brave souls attempted to speak to me. It took me a good five minutes to realize they were speaking French, not Moore, which I’m not sure says more about their French pronunciation or my French comprehension. However, even after this realization I struggled to get anything more across then “Je m’appelle Ashley”.
Soon my host father came and told me to “leve”, as it is part of their culture to wash before eating dinner. My host mother brought a bucket of water my “shower” and I was given a large cup and set off to the bucket bath. My first bucket bath was slightly awkward because the privacy wall didn’t even come up to my shoulders and couldn’t tell if it fully covered me when I stepped away from the wall. Also there was a very small piece of wood that was covered in black plastic in my shower area, and I couldn’t figure out what it was used for (a stool maybe?). But I was pleasantly surprised that the water was warm and in the end embraced the full bucket bath while enjoying the sunset in the African horizon beyond my latrine.
After my bath I attempted to venture out into the family courtyard to try and interact with the family. I was welcomed with lots of greetings and blank stairs and only made it a few steps past my courtyard. I let my host father know that I didn’t speak French very well, like he couldn’t tell, and I believe he told me that his children are learning French in school with me. I tried to tell him he had a beautiful home, but that didn’t quite come out right at all and he just stared at me. After an awkward pause he called to his wife to bring food and lead me back to my courtyard. After the food arrived – yams - he told me to pour oil over then and salt them and sat me down in the chair in my courtyard to eat. I tried asking if i should eat here or with the family, but that failed. Then he left me to eat my salted yams alone, in the dark, with only the light from a small lantern to keep me company. It wasn’t long before the lantern caught the attention of all the local bugs, and I was soon joined by this huge scorpion-looking monster bug. I’ve never seen anything like it; it wasn’t a scorpion, but I have no clue what it was, and it seemed to be charging at my feet. Of course I jumped and screamed and I’m sure looked like a fool to these Burkinabe. That crazy American girl who doesn’t speak French and runs from harmless bugs…
It didn’t take long for me to finish eating, one can only eat so many salted yams, and then I sat for while debating what I should do now/waiting for someone to come back. During this time random people would wander in to greet me. Some younger men, who would shake my hand and then turn around and walk out, and some older gentlemen and older women, who would try for a longer formal greeting and got a kick out of the few Moore phrases I knew. Finally my host father came back and sat on a log in my courtyard. After a few minutes of silence he asked if I was finished eating and if he could take my left-overs to his family. Then he took my plate and walked out. I sat alone in silence, praying for Appo (my language and culture facilitator) to come check on me. Finally he came and help me put up my bed net, and then him and my host father said good night and left me to my own in my little mud house.
It was getting late (like 9 o’clock) and I didn’t know what else to do, so I spent some time unpacking my suit case into the Peace Corps provided trunk before attempting to go to bed. Attempting, because it was a million degrees in my room and I didn’t get more then 2 hours of sleep at a time before waking up in a pool of sweat.
At 5 a.m., just as it was starting to cool down and I had finally fallen asleep, my host mother came to wake me to get my water bucket. She brought me shower water and when I didn’t immediately go to the shower to bath, she came back to tell me again that the bath water was ready. So I enjoyed a hot bucket bath under the light of the moon in the early dawn hours. Then she brought me breakfast, plain baguette and Lipton tea, before it was time to head to the CSPS for training at 7 a.m.
Night two pretty much went the same, only a little less awkward and a little more hopeful. This time, after returning home from training my host father sat with me in my courtyard for five or ten minutes before telling me it’s time to bath. We attempted to talk, I asked what he did, but then couldn’t understand the answer. This time for dinner I was given a huge plate of white beans, and again told to douse them in oil and salt. After dinner I got out my French homework and sat in my courtyard to do it. It wasn’t long before I had a group of kids around me watching me as I translated sentences in English to French. Some of the older kids were reading my words as I wrote them and reading my French notes, which impressed me but makes sense since they were learning French in school. Even my host mother, whose name was Miriam I found out, came to look me over for a bit with the other girl who may or may not be the second wife, before she shoed the kids away to let me study in peace. Then bed time, and luckily it was cooler and rained so I could actually get some sleep. The morning repeated it’s self almost exactly, only this time I was served yams for breakfast.
That night we were staying at the hotel in Ouahigouya since everyone had to be at a medical session the next morning, and I hate to admit that I was a little relieved to not go back to home-stay. It’s not that I didn’t like my family, but the lack of communication made it difficult to interact and the whole of it was uncomfortable. Plus, the hotel had air-conditioning.
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