Clinic

They kept order in the first-come-first-serve waiting room by leaving it up to the patients waiting there. 
The patients patiently filled the room, changing concrete bench for vacated concrete bench, moving closer to the destination.  And more people came.  There were continually 20 or so sick persons with a parent or family member inside the concrete room, and more people hanging around the motorcycles outside.
The sickest woman there waited outside until she was called - you could see pain in the eyes of everyone watching her "walk" to the examination room with the support of two or three men.  
A nurse came out and tested each patient for malaria, weighed them on the scales, and checked for temperature (higher than 37?  Adama's was 40...)  All this happened right in front of everyone there (imagine that!)
There were several babies and as many children.  They sat quietly or slept.  When the nurse drew blood for the malaria test, mostly they were still quiet - the one that wasn't was asked by his father - if I understood right - if he was a girl? 
The entire hospital was open-air, and about as dusty as outside. Their sanitation included wearing white coats, changing plastic gloves frequently, using an alcohol wipe where they needed to prick a finger... and throwing the numerous plastic packages from injections and test kits in a pile against the wall.  The place had no noticeable smells of cleaner, ointment, or medicine. 
Our turn in the examination room: they hand wrote patient information and symptoms in a little yellow book (each patient takes this with him) and stamped it with the blue-inked hospital stamp.  The doctor did some further examining and thinking, then prescribed medicines. 
We went next door to the second of three buildings in the hospital compound - none of them large - where we could  buy half of the medicines.  One we took directly back to the doctor, who injected a large shot into Adama's arm. 
We were there for Adama's bout of fatigue (similar to what I had a month ago).  Unfortunately, I think watching that red medicine ready to fill his arm triggered a head- and stomach-ache that lead to more fatigue for me as well. 
Thank God, that was last Monday night, and we are feeling much better now! 

I don't have pictures of that hospital visit, but I do have one of Adama' s mother in her office at the maternity hospital.  She is looking over record books, the same kind they used at the infirmary clinic.  The biggest difference between the infirmary and the maternity hospital was the amount of people.  In this picture, Mouonton showed me that they had 37 births for the month of September in the district of Belleville (new section of Bobo Dioulasso).  Despite this significant number, no one showed up during the hour that I was there with her. 

Cool Evening

Rainbows come often, even when it has only rained "there."  No rain in this neighborhood tonight, but the blessing somewhere else sent a cool evening our way.

Cool enough for action!

Walk in Ouagadougou

Look at God's beautiful words become creation!  It was about 6:30 yesterday when I pulled on my shoes for a 40 minute walk in the neighborhood.  I took the camera along, and now I want to share some of what I saw with you. 

You will see the good and the bad; the happy faces of children and the trashing of creation. 





(Left:  Some high walls around homes are topped with things that will help deter thieves.  Doesn't help to deter lizards, however!  I saw a lizard crawl right over this broken glass.) 

These children followed me for almost half of my route through the neighborhood, calling a few friends along the way to also come get a bonbon or a photo. 

biking to school:

walking to school:

People are up and about early: I think the first Muslim prayer of the day comes on the local mosques' loudspeakers at 5 am.  Of course it gets hot early too. 

(Right:  People are very careful to protect trees they want to keep.  But then you have this sometime too: Below:  where all the plastic bags end up.)

Street views.

Another kind of taxi: the blue cart built onto a motorcycle.  I've seen these with all kind of loads: animals, hardware sticking 5 feet over the sides, and up to 9 or so people piled in the back. 
This is what Adama's mother had waiting to carry our bags home when we arrived in Bobo a month and a half ago.  It is also what broke down halfway home and so we took one of the broken-windshield, broken-trunk door, green taxi cars. 

 

"Prendre une photo!"                       In front of one of those many little "boutiques," stores about 10 ft. by 10 ft. where you can buy water, juice, packaged and canned foods, and other assorted goods. 

Trash burning in the street. 









Donkey sleeping by the street.

Playground.

A neighborhood well, where those without running water in their homes can go to fill water barrels.  The cart to the right is the type I've seen people pushing. Other people use a donkey and cart. 

And who was there when I returned to the house? 
He turned around and click! there I was with the camera.  
Adama!  (People here call him Aziz and his family adds the endearing "o" = "Azizo!" so he knows it's me saying Adama.)




What did your walk or drive or glance out the window look like today?  What did you notice that you'd never realized before?

Sabari Ka Di

I've uploaded two short clips from Sunday morning worship service at the little church we attended in Bobo Dioulasso.  You can access them on youtube from the links below. 
This church was about a 15-minute walk from our home, a walk through the developing neighborhood of half-built concrete block houses mixed with temporary clay "place holder" homes.  I'll call this the suburbs, the city wanna-be without the noise and crowding, a place half-way into the bush, scattered with as many fields and trees as there are houses and people. 
When the path of red sand and wheel ruts curves toward two homes and a millet field, we see the children's class meeting outside or we hear many voices praying. 
I explained some of the service previously: the multiple translations, the open windows, the almost endless singing...
But even a short video will tell you more than my words. 

Sabari Ka Di - clip 1

People are willing and excited to bless, thank, and petition God through prayer!  Don't be shy; God wants to hear your voice.  (At the end of clip 1, volunteers quickly stood up one by one to pray.)

Sabari Ka Di - clip 2

I hope we can find a church with this much welcome and enthusiasm in our new neighborhood. 

Change of City

In a series of fortunate events, God gave a job to my husband.  We are back in Ouagadougou, and he is teaching his first class at the post-secondary African Institute of Management, IAM.  It is a first-year communications course, and the hope is that they will find it necessary to hire him to teach more.  I am at Tantie's house (we stayed here last time we visited Ouaga.)  Tanti went out, perched on her motorcycle in a ruffly white dress.  Apsa, her little sister (or is she a maid?) is gone to high school.
And I have fair internet to work with again. 
I want to share some pictures from our time in Bobo Dioulasso.

We are staying at Tantie's until we find a house here in Ouaga. I don't know that I will miss the clay house in Bobo, but I will miss the family there, and the cooler weather.  This is the home compound we left behind, landscaped with stormy skies.  The greens growing around the houses are used with pounded dried fish to cook a sauce that is eaten with to.  Sometimes they also use sweet potato leaves.

Throwing out dishwater.

A visitor and Maman dressed beautifully.













The road, lined with trees and fields of millet, beans, and peanuts. 

Maman on her moto.

Nice chair, bro!






(Left) We are leaving in a taxi to take the bus to Ouagadougou.  Approaching us on the road you see another taxi. 

"Nansara!"

In Bobo they called me "Tu Baboo!"  Here in Ouaga they say "Nansara, Nansara!" The local language of Ouagadougou is Moore.  

Our host, a friend from university, and Adama remembered their childhood, a time when they also ran after the rare white person to get candies.  Today we bought candy so I could share it with my little friends.  

The store where we bought candies.  (This one is organized beautifully compared to many.)  The shelves hold soap, couscous, oil, milk powder, what they call biscuits, juice, etc....  Below: outside the door of the boutique, children come for the bonbons.  To the left you can see bags of water in the blue case.  People drink water from 6-8 oz. bags, as I've heard is common many places around the world where drinking water is unsafe.  

      Smiling for a photo.  

I don't know how I feel about it...

  

On the way home we passed the neighbor ladies sitting outside with their daughters, braiding hair.  Let's see if a very short video will upload....