First Week

Thursday, August 28

Thank you, Mama, Papa, and Greta, for staying with us during the wait for the airplane.  It seems like only God let you come past security and watch us depart. 

Flying toward time was a big surprise for me, and it seemed like that small plane carried us to Dulles, Washington D.C. in no time.  I even wondered if we boarded the right plane!  We found our flight to Brussels without trouble, although Adama had to graciously put up with my worrying. 

The night passed very quickly.

Friday, August 29

Then we were in Brussels, waiting four hours for our final plane to Ouagadougou. 

Six hours and many sore body parts later, we descended on Ouaga. 

(The police lady wouldn’t let us take a picture outside the airplane)

The plane stopped out in the middle of the runway, and we stood in a jam-packed bus to the airport.  Immediately inside, we were asked to sanitize our hands and were checked for temperature.  Adama would have been left behind (to be checked for Ebola) if his temperature was 38°C; it was 37°.  We paid a very friendly official (friendly, perhaps because of business) to change some dollars to CFA, then wheeled our luggage past inspection - thank God, they didn’t confiscate anything! - and onto the sidewalk outside the little airport.

Hearing we wanted a taxi, a boy standing there ran to find a friend.  We packed the luggage into the taxi car and bumped through Ouaga to find a bus to Bobo Dioulasso. 

At the first stop, young sellers crowded around the car, but Adama didn’t find a bus.  At the second stop, he found a Rakieta (air conditioned bus!) leaving for Bobo in two hours.  While we waited, I talked a little English to the taxi driver. 

We bought some water – the bottles come in 1.5 liters. 

And we bought a phone card to call home and say we safely arrived!

Bouncing – slowly – through the darkness, we passed Muslims praying and small shops open late into the night. 

At a bus stop, very late, children crowded up the bus steps.  “Madam, Madam,” Bananas?  Eggs?  Bisquit (crackers)?  Money?  I was uncomfortable and pretended I didn’t know the language… well, that was true.  Adama says it’s what you have to do, there is so much selling and begging. 

Bobo Dioulasso.  Maman hugging Adama, hugging me.  Smiling, thanking God.  How well he protected us during the long travels.  Little did I know the likes of our journey’s remainder! 

When we arrived at the home compound 1 ½ hours later, we greeted Barak and Deborah, and they showed us our own little house.  There was a table in one room and a mosquito net in the other, and buckets of water standing ready in the shower room.  They brought us chairs and a mattress. 

Before sleeping at about five in the morning, I learned how to use the toilet and how to shower.  How good that strange kind of shower felt after the long way here.

Saturday

The heat woke us up late in the morning.  Saturday held my first sight of this place in daylight, my first experience of a tropical country rainstorm, and my first taste of guinea fowl – a very expensive meat, prepared by Adama’s mother in a delicious sauce and serve with couscous.  Barak and Deborah carried dishes and food to our house so we can eat there.  In the evening, we gather after dinner to talk. 

Sunday

La iglèse is about a fifteen minute walk, at a slow pace so we don’t get too hot.  We hear praying as we come down the path.   The church doors and windows are open.  When we arrive, the pastor greets us at the door.  Throughout the service he walks around the building, and other people freely move about also. 

The congregation sings and sings and claps.  Accompaniment is a tambourine and a square drum played by a young boy.  The youth sing, the women sing a song, and a girl leads the children in two songs.  Songs in French and Dioula.  A song during offering.  A song of triumph.   We are asked to lead a song in English before the sermon.  And the service closes with a song (of course) and shaking almost every person’s hand.

The son returned from America and his American wife were greeted many times. 

Adama translated the entire service for me.   And someone translated to Dioula, for those there who didn’t know French.  During the singing it wasn’t hard to stay awake, but listening to a long list of news in a different language, followed by the translation, was kind of hard on a backless bench.  I took a nap when we got home.

September 1, 2014

I am sitting inside with rain pounding the tin roof and wind flinging up the curtains.  Adama is working on some screen frames to keep out the endless supply of flies.  I have seen fewer mosquitos, although we take many precautions against them.  The flies, however, are readily available, especially as Deborah prepared un pullet (a chicken) this morning. 

I can hardly see Adama working in the dark house because we have the door shut against the rain.  Normally we have the door open all day, with a curtain covering the opening.  This lets in more air.  Happily, today is mild because of the rain, and it isn’t very humid here. 

Yesterday Adama bought some cereal and butter, American food for my adjusting stomach…  so I ate some for breakfast.  Other days, breakfast food has been milk (made with milk powder) and bread, maybe with sardines.   

We go to sleep a few hours after dark, around 9:30, and wake up early.  Already this morning Deborah taught me how to wash dishes here – not so different from home, only you bend over and do it on the ground.   

We were planning to go shopping today; not sure when, because of the rain.  Hopefully we can get to a cyber café also, so I can post these entries. 

Sanitation

Mouonton (Adama’s mother) is a nurse, so she is cautious about all things being sanitary.  Washing hands thoroughly – and many times – is an adjustment for me. 

First of all, the way we wash our hands is different since there is no running water.  When preparing to eat, I must use soap, rub under my fingernails, and then pour water over them.  Then I might use some hand sanitizer also. 

Fruits and vegetables are washed in eau de chavel, (which smells to me like chlorine) and then rinsed.  Then peeled.  For cooking, they needn’t be washed in the chlorine. 

The soap we use for dishes and bathing is very strong.  Apparently it will kill a worm if you put some suds on one – haven’t had a chance to experiment yet. 

We put mosquito netting over the windows to keep out unsanitary flies.  Adama hates the flies, so this job got done quickly! 

We wear shoes every time we step outside the door, and take them off when we come in. 

Only a little bit of plastic trash is collected in bags, and I have yet to find out where they put that.  Garbage is dumped in a pile behind the house. Today a neighbor boy was playing barefoot and walking all over the pile.  Then again, the chicken and dogs clean up peelings and bones.  And people don’t make as much trash as in the USA. 

Wednesday

The computer ran out of battery, so I didn’t write yesterday.  We spent ALL DAY at the bank.  I had a few minutes to check email at a cyber café but wasn’t equipped to do anything else internet. 

Then we went to a bank.  We needed this and that to be able to do what we wanted, so we left the bank.  We had to get photo IDs, for which they charged us exorbitantly.  Then we returned to the bank, but still didn’t have everything required.  So we left to go home. 

Instead we went to a bank on the other corner of the street.  Like the first, this one was large and fancy, with many people waiting inside.  You get a number when you arrive, then wait to be called up.  This bank had more friendly people (and there was a bit of English on the signs.)

By then it was after noon.  The people worked as efficiently as they could, but we didn’t leave that place until we were very tired and rather hungry.  Over four hours after arriving at the bank, we had an account opened.  

Most things take a long time here, including getting home.  We stopped to try buying some dish washing tubs, but when merchants see a white person, they raise the price.  Barak and Adama could see through that, so we just went home.  I guess I will have to trust him to get the right household items for me – yikes! 

Actually, that’s just what he did today, and now I have nice tubs and draining baskets.  He was gone a long time because of price bargaining. 

Also yesterday, we ate yams; they are very starchy.  And on the way home on the busy streets of Bobo, I burned my leg on the exhaust pipe of the motorcycle.  There was no cold water for it until we got home, where Mouonton poured huile (oil) over the burn.  Does anyone know if that’s okay?  A book I have says you should never put grease on a burn, but here they say that when water goes into the skin it will make it bubble with pus.  Mouonton was told to use oil, both to keep off flies and dirt, and to keep the burn from drying out.  I used tea tree lotion last night, and oil again this morning, and it hardly hurts anymore.  So I don’t know.