It’s hard to say that I’m really making friends in village, since I can’t speak the same language at 90% of the people around, but I’m making “friends”! Here is a run down of the most memorable people in village:
The Major of the CSPS (the CSPS is the village health clinic), my counterpart, is a serious but friendly man. He is middle aged, I’d say in his 40’s, and is a very hard worker. He is nice and very patient with me and my French, but doesn’t really go out of his way to make conversation or anything like that. I think he is a bit introverted, and leaves me to do my own thing, which is fine by me. That said, he is quick to smile and will crack jokes, sometimes.
There are two other immediate staff members at the CSPS, Emanuel and Sylvie. Emanuel is another nurse/doctor type. He is not as hard working as the Major, probably why he’s not the Major, and seems to get annoyed with people sometimes, but he is always nice to me, in a when-I’m-busy-don’t-both-me type of way. He seems slightly more extroverted and when the CSPS is slow he tries to make conversation- usually an English/French lesson. As long as the CSPS isn’t filled with lots of sick people, he’s a good person to ask questions to and enjoy. Sylvie is Burkina’s version of a mid-wife/OBGYN, and is always beautifully dressed in a Comple, a full outfit made out of pagnes. She seems the type that does not want to do any extra work/seems a little annoyed that she has to work at all. She often has to fill in and do the Major/Emanuel’s job if one or both of them are away. She is generally nice and patient with me, but I get the impression she views me as more work when I am sent to help her in the maternity, because of language barriers. As a women working in Burkina she seems to has a tough, no bullshit exterior while she is working but lightens up a bit if patients aren’t around. She is also the only functionaire woman in village, that I’ve really meet. She passed me on her moto the other day, and she was in front driving while a man road on the back. Now this is something you rarely see in the States, much less Burkina, so I’ve decided she must be a badass.
Roger, the pharmacist, is the person I could actually call my friend. He’s the one person I interact most with, as he’s the person that helps me with everything. He is young, mid to late 20s, and has a great smile and happy personality. Everyday he comes to my house to help me get water (You try carrying a 20L water jug on your bike!) and sometimes he brings me things that you can’t buy in village and have to “know somebody” to get, like eggs and guava. He speaks a little English, took it in school, so between my French and his English we can usually hold a decent conversation/ he helps me understand what the hell is going on most of the time. I’m very grateful he is around and so friendly, but I pray that he really is married, not that it matters here, and his “gifts” are not something I need to worry about.
Then there is Allen, Claude, and Ellie, the three guys that help with some stuff at the CSPS. I don’t see or interact with them much, but they at least speak French and know my name, so when I do s'ee them we can at least have a superficial conversation (i.e. greet each other). It’s nice to hear someone say “Bonjour Ashley” on the street then always “nasara”.
There is one young woman I’ve meet, older then me but not by a whole lot, who I hope get to know better. Her name is Sally and we met at the Major’s fete. She speaks very good French and has a list of American friends I believe she said she worked with, meaning she is well educated and must either be a functionaire or come from a functionaire family. She also had her nose pierced(!), however she is Muslim so it might be a religious thing. She speaks Fufalda and was sad that I did not, so I’m guessing her ethnicity is Puel, so the nose ring might also be a Puel thing. I’ve only seen her one other time and I believe she lives in a satellite village, but she is one of the only women I’ve meet that I can really speak to, outside of the CSPS, and she is very nice, so I hope to run into her again and become friends.
I don’t know anyone else’s names, so I have given the people that I recognize and like nicknames. First there is the "Sassy Grandma”. The first time I meet this women she came into my yard as I was dumping a bucket is dish water and asked me why I was wearing a bar. No joke. At least, I think that’s what she was saying- it was all in gestures, since she speaks Moore, but she did something like folding her chest up and confining it and making the why motion and pointing at me- so clearly asking why I wear a bra, right? Well, lady, so my boobs don’t look like yours. The next time I saw her she tried to say something to Katie and I in Moore and all we got was eye, doctor, and money, but she spoke with such sass that I expected her to snap her fingers and say “oh, no you didn’t!" Last week I passed her coming out of the maternity with a brand new, white baby that she proudly showed me. (Note of observation: when white babies are born, they are pink. When black babies are born, they are white.) Now I’m pretty sure that was not her baby, unless she is the skinniest pregnant lady ever, hence “Sassy Grandma”. She is a hoot.
Then there is the “Head Lady”. I’ve only seen this lady a hand full of times, but every time I see her she asks why I’m not carrying things on my head. usually she asks why I am not carrying my water jug on my head (as translated through Roger). Are you crazy, lady? I can barely life a full water jug, much less put is on my head. And then I saw a 10 year old girl carry one on her head… The last time I saw her she asked why I had nothing on my head and told me that she was carrying sticks on her head, and she was, in fact, carrying a woodpile on her 70 year old head. She has a big toothless smile and I love seeing this old woman.
Next there is the “come woman” (come means water in Moore, pronounced like comb). I think her husband is currently living at the CSPS with a bad head injury, and she has been there to care for him. I’ve seen her there everyday for about the last 2 to 3 weeks, and she is always followed around by a 4 or 5 year old “little man” whom I presume is a grandson. He is rather cute as well, a shy yet self assured little boy. When there are people in the waiting area is a bashful, but when no one is around he warms up to me. I think he is bored at the CSPS all day everyday and just wants someone to play with. The first time I met “come lady” she was highly amused that I carried water with me in a nalgene and then kept offering me her water because she knew I wouldn’t/couldn’t drink it. Everyday for the first week I saw this women she would greet me and then rub her arm and point at mine and then make the “leaving” hand gesture. I can only infer something about me being white and either when am I going back or why did I come. Anyways she always jokes about me being white, like how babies are scared of me, and now anytime I have any marks on my skin, like the heat rash I’ve acquired on my neck, she always points it out. She seems really amused that there is a white girl living in village. I actually have no idea what she’s saying ever, besides the greetings, but she seems completely good natured and always seems happy to see me.
I have 2 favorite older men. First there is my “Moore teacher”. This man has been at the CSPS everyday for the last good while, and I think his daughter or someone is there with malaria. He only speaks to me in Moore, even though I’m pretty sure he secretly speaks French well. He tries to teach me something new in Moore every time I see him, often several times a day. I’ve got head, stomach, hand, nose and mouth down. He’s very friendly and really appreciates my efforts. My second favorite older man I don’t really have a name for, but he really amuses me. He is very tall and sturdy, in his 60s or 70s, and reminds me of an African “Big Bob”. He always wears long pants and a long-sleeve button up, despite the heat, and wears a nit winter hat loosely on the top of his head and carries around a messenger bag from some vaccination campaign USAID did that always appears to be empty. He always stops in the side of the path to shake my hand and smiles big with is missing nubbins for teeth that are always orange from Kola nuts.
Then there are all the “petites”. There are a lot, a lot of children that mill around my house all the time. And often there seems to be one or two new ones that I don’t recognize, a new face. There are a couple that I don’t mind in a small group, but more then 5 gets to be too much and makes me feel like a sideshow attraction. There is one little girl that doesn’t come around that often, but I love running into her. I call her my “African Ava”. She is about baby Ava’s age and has a very similar, adorable personality. Without sounding racist, She actually looks a bit like a black version of Ava. I just learned her name is Emma, and doesn’t “Emma and Ava” just sound like they should be friends and play princesses together. I could actually see her twirling in a princess dress, but I doubt she has ever seen a TV, much less knows what Disney is.
My favorite petite is a 5 or 6 little girl that is named Angle or Angela or some form there of, and is at my house most often. She is the granddaughter of the Chief de Village, and therefore lives in the neighboring compound. She is too little to speak any French and doesn’t speak Moore, so I literally have no way of talking to her besides sign language. She is very sweet and cute, slightly shy, and always smiling at me. She is happy to just sit next to me in my courtyard while I read or write, which I like opposed to other children that try to ask me for things or want to show me things or speak in some language at me that I can’t understand. She is usually accompanied with one of two other little girls, one of which is named Kristine, but she is my favorite.
There is also one little boy, maybe 7 or 8, that I get a kick out of. He speaks a little French, so we can communicate a tinny bit. He seems a little mischievous and is full of personality, but in a fun way, like the kind of little boy you can tease and play with, but know that it’s all in fun and when you politely ask him to leave he will. I have a hard time getting the petites to leave me alone sometimes.
And then there is my mouse, Jared. When I first found him I thought he was kind of cute and told him not to run away from me. I even would leave him my leftovers in a tuna can, thinking if I gave him food he wouldn’t get into mine, and we could be friends and I’d call him Gus and he’d sing to me and make me a dress for the ball. False. So I named him Jared instead, after my favorite Pike Floyd song. Now every night when I lock up my kitchen I play the “What will Jared Eat” game, a game I use to play with Big Bunny only I was actually trying to feed Big, and take everything I think he will eat into my other room. Attempt number one to get ride of Jared failed- I mixed up a rat poison and foods he usually eats concoction and left it out for him, but he just ate the cheese off the top and moved on to eat my tomatoes on the table.
There are tons of other children and people, but those are the ones that stand out. It will be amusing to read this in two years and see what my thoughts are about these people and all the new people I’ve meet.
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