Rat Again (Mom can't cook tonight...)

I have committed an act of American heroism and sin at the same time: I have killed a rat and eaten it too.

Amy has already posted about the other four rats we killed and ate. The other night was rat number five. This time was different, though. The past rats have been unfortunate enough to fall into a hole from which they can't escape. This time, however, I was heading to lock our gate when I spotted the mother of all rats (well, at least the mother of four rats!) just sitting there in front of me, looking confused by my bright headlamp. A chase ensued. Suffice it to say there was rock-throwing involved, many misses, and finally a hit.

The next morning I skinned, gutted, and seasoned the rat for a Rat Tandoori lunch. It was delicious.

Harmatan

And now Aaron's perspective on the dust:

We're snowed in. We're rained in. We're dusted in! Today we're fortunate enough to have the morning off from school. We woke up to a bright red sky and it hasn't yet abated. This is the Harmatan: dust blown in from the Sahara. The past few weeks have been similar--huge dust storms kicked up by the wind and ultimately caused by deforestation laying bare the land. Our house is in a perpetual state of decay. Even with the house "sealed up," one gust brings in enough dust to visually coat everything. Today, however, brings a new phenomenon. The Harmatan does not come and go with the caprices of the wind, but steeps us in a sea of orange. Relief will only come with the rains. We have heard from volunteers up to 40 miles away experiencing the same thing.

I wish I could include a photo. If you'd like to approximate, go to Paint, set the color to orange-red, click fill.

That's all for now. Back to school this evening or tomorrow.

April Update

Happy Earth Day everyone! Well, everywhere else it is Earth Day. Here in Titao it’s more like “ the day of yellow”. We had a big dust storm roll in and it’s so cloudy that everything outside is in a yellowish red haze. It’s 9am and people are still using flashlights to get around outside because the visibility is so bad. Now, I’ve never lived on Venus but I imagine it’s something like this.

The good thing about days like this is that it gives us a small break from the heat. We’ve been hitting around 120 degrees the last few weeks and it’s been pretty miserable. Our mode de vie has involved several bucket baths a day, keep a hand fan in every room, and no trips in town unless the destination has cold water sachets. We had a brief glimmer of hope last week that our 6-month rain drought was coming to an end when all the villages in the area got a rainstorm. By the time it reached us, there were enough drops to help the dust stick to our bikes better but no real rain.

One of our students invited us to his annual family meeting in his village to discuss the affairs of the Komi family. We couldn’t make it but afterwards he gave us a debriefing. I guess the main part of the meeting was recounting the history of how the Komi family got their name. I asked for the story and after 15 minutes of recounting it, I still can’t for sure say that I know the answer. I’ll give you the highlights: a woman gave birth in a tree and there was a clay pot nearby that had four eyes. Then some kids were given a pet giraffe and the evil dad rode off on the giraffe and got decapitated. And, voila, the Komi family!

We had the annual fête de la pomme de terre a few weeks ago. There was the usual speeches and opening of the potato market where you could choose from many different piles of similar-looking potatoes. Unfortunately this year, since Easter Sunday was the day after the potato festival there was no all night dancing party, which means no Miss Pomme de Terre competition. All my campaign efforts over the last year went to waste.

No Regrets

Whenever PCVs get together, the conversations always gravitate towards a long list of complaints and frustrations about life in Burkina. This obviously stems from the fact that we spend most of our time in our villages dealing with little annoyances surrounded by people who don’t see them as annoying. What was great about our COS conference this month was that for the first time, the conversations began to shift toward the little things we will inevitably miss about our life in Burkina.

Yes, it has been difficult and those stories of transportation breakdowns, promiscuous pets (did I mention we just had our fourth generation of kittens), and digestive gymnastics always make for good entertainment but they don’t tell the whole story. We have been robbed, frustrated, angry, homesick, and just plain sick during our time here but the more honest description is that we have been happy. Despite all the difficulties and frustrations, we have been happy and have never regretted our decision to join the Peace Corps and our decision to serve in what is considered one of the more difficult PC countries because of the living conditions.

How could we regret such a decision? We don’t regret learning a new language and learning the power of communication when there is no common language. We don’t regret making tô with Bernard and Clarice, eating rat with Coach, and making American food for Mariam and her kids. We don’t regret rocking out to the Celion Dion, Beyonce, 50 Cent, and (the untouchable) Phil Collins in the teachers lounge at school. We don’t regret eating a dinner of mangos and peanuts when it was too hot to cook. I don’t regret Bingo, the Hokey Pokey, the Happy Song and all the other games and songs we did in class that pulled in even the most determined “cool kids”.

I don’t regret my failed girls club. It taught me that youth development work is not my strength (a.k.a. I’m awkward and don’t know what to do with teenagers). I don’t regret the sameness of available food. It forced us to get creative and start eating food we wouldn’t touch in America (hello canned tuna and potted meat product). I don’t even regret our favorite nemesis: the Titao bus that breaks down every other day. I learned how much better if feels to pig out in the big city after biking the 47k to get there. Even if, after our departure, corruption wins out and our computer lab doesn’t get a chance to impact many students, we don’t regret bringing such a powerful resource into our community to people who would otherwise never have a chance to work on a computer.

Every faux type has forced us to get creative in blowing them off (my favorite: I’m from Antartica and only speak Antartican). Every late meeting has honed our waiting skills until we can easily sit for 2 hours without getting restless. Every laughing crowd has taught us to be self-confident. Every challenging class has taught us patience and a sense of humor. Every old woman offers us the best of her garden vegetables as a gift has humbled us. And every toothless old man or woman who has defied their age by singing, dancing, and laughing with or without us has made us smile.