Windy Season and A Visit to ABBEF

Being the windy season, the wind often spends the morning tossing plastic bags up over the gate into the courtyard.  This morning, it's bringing the fumes of burning trash.  But I don't want to close the windows yet, because the breeze coming in is still somewhat cool.

 The fans are on, and the AC will come on in the afternoon.  The house roofs aren't insulated, so the cool air from the AC disappears quickly.  But it helps while it's on!  

Yesterday we had a power cut from mid-morning until 6 p.m.  No fans, no AC.  I could tell that tempers were rising with the heat.  The little girl next door was crying for more than an hour.  Then her parents started yelling at each other.  The storekeeper and his wife were unusually quiet, maybe because the goods in their freezers were melting.  

If I've ever wondered why people often talk like they are angry at each other, Adama says it's the sound of the local languages.  Maybe local languages such as Moore and Dioula sound harsh because of the intense heat. He said he never heard people talk that way in America. 

Days pass despite the heat, but I must say that the one day that passes very slowly is the day we visit ABBEF.  Last Thursday morning we left for the ABBEF at quarter after six, so we made the 30 minute ride in the cool of the day.  

This clinic is part of ABBEF (L'Association Burkinabè pour le Bien-Être Familial - Burkinabe Association for Family Welfare).   The person who brought us to our first visit at ABBEF - the pastor's wife - told us that some women hide to come here because their husbands don't want them to learn about family planning.  ABBEF offers pre- and post- natal exams and things like ecographies (ultra-sounds) that many clinics are unequipped to offer.  

Between high school and college, Adama volunteered with ABBEF as a leader of the youth.   He did things such as sensitize young people about STDs and create a theater about forced marriage.  He has some great photos from that theater in which he is acting as an old man with a white beard painted on his face.  

Now he's at the clinic with me, taking a few pictures of the waiting crowd so we can show you the waiting room of a Burkinabe clinic.  People don't come by appointment.  That's why we came early, so that we were only #14 in the lineup. 

Arriving before 6:45, we entered the open doors and waited until sometime after 8:00 for the nurses to arrive.  I don't know what time they were supposed to be there. 

I suppose they are trying to be as efficient as possible, but organization is really bad.  It seems to be that way everywhere; in the schools, in the banks, in the hospitals, on the roads...

The little blue book I'm holding (left) is my health record book, which I am to bring every time I come.  It seems like the only health records kept at the clinic are written in a big book that lists everyone who comes for an examination and a few facts about them - sort of like a guestbook.







We got to the examination room after 9:30.  This is the nurse (below), reaching for the clinic's stamp to stamp a prescription. 

 By the time we left at 10:00, there were over 30 people, some waiting for consultations and some waiting for exams.  I did not envy them sitting there in the waiting room and crowding the hallways, while the air grew warmer and warmer.