Yam

 I didn't know how clueless I was about yams.  I thought they were just like sweet potatoes...

It turns out, they're usually way bigger.  

And they taste different.

This one was a medium size.

It can feed the two of us for at least three meals!

Boiled with salt (see below), it tasted half sweet potato, half manioc. 

Here's where it gets interesting: turning boiled yam into Ku Tô.

A previous blog post showed you the making of other types of tô.  That kind was made by stirring flour into boiling water.  

Ku (the name for yam in Djoula) is made into tô by pounding the boiled yam in a mortar. 

You can see how stretchy it became, like the same thing that happens when kneading bread dough.  Adama pounded the yam for 15 minutes, but the end product was still a bit chunky because our mortar isn't well-shaped from use.

Check out the video: Pounding Ku Tô

 

Here's the finished tô.  It tasted different than plain boiled yam, although the only difference was in the pounding.  The ku tô stuck to my fingers while we were eating it.  That time we ate it with some yummy peanut butter sauce. 

Excellent English

 The past week we've been busy making plans to open a center called Excellent English.  We're looking for people who would like to make an investment in education and the development of Burkina Faso by donating to help us get started!  Please take a look at our website to find out more about Excellent English: http://excellentenglishburkina.weebly.com/

These pictures were taken while I was teaching the English Club at the American Embassy.  When either Adama or I volunteer to help with an English club or discussion like this, we are afterward often approached by students asking us what they can do to learn more English.  This has been part of the inspiration to open Excellent English.  (See more: Why Excellent English in Burkina Faso?)  Please help however you can, even just by spreading the news!

Guonray

       We tried to come up with a spelling that you might read somewhat close to how it sounds!  Plus, we don't know how to spell in Moore. 
       Anyway, this guonray was a gift from our neighbors.  They rang the doorbell at 1:30 in the afternoon and gave us a plate of still-hot guonray.  When I returned the plate the next morning, my neighbor told me how they made them.
    Beans are soaked, then taken to the grinder.  (I clarified that today when we were walking together and we passed the grinding place that's just down the road.)  The ground beans make a sort of "pie" that is made to stick together with the addition of okra powder.  This pie is put into round containers and steamed over boiling water.  Then the steamed guonray is cut in slices. 
     You can see in the picture that they served the guonray with fried onions and salt.  They were pretty good, and my neighbor promised to invite me to get in on the cooking next time she makes them. 

Mosquito Net

It's morning!  Time to crawl out from under this mosquito net.

For those of you who have read about the famous things, but aren't acquainted beyond the name, here's a little walk-through of daily dealings with mosquito nets.

All day long, the net hangs from the ceiling, tied in a knot (poor thing!)  Sometimes it serves as a batting toy while trying to fall asleep for a nap.  Sorry, mosquitoes.  No lunch at 12:00 noon.  Come back at 12:00 midnight. 

This kind of netting, as you can see, hangs from a central string.  In Bobo Dioulasso, we had the rectangular kind that was tied up at four corners.

When it's time to sleep, we untie the net...

...and tuck it under the mattress.  

Tucking the net under the mattress would not be easy except for the happy idea of sewing in a draw-string at the bottom.  We're glad we did that!

From the inside....

Sorry, mosquitoes.  No lunch at midnight either. 

You couldn't get through THIS!

Thanks for reading.  Don't let the mosquitoes bite.

Burkinabe food processor

I was excited when we bought a wooden mortar/pestle.  Now I have an easy time pounding garlic and parsley, rather than mincing! Sometimes all the vegetables are pounded in the mortar before adding them to a sauce.  


People also use the mortar for pounding spices and dried fish.  Some housewives actually pound millet, corn, or rice flour using this.  Pounding flour sounds exhausting.
The thudding of the pestle in the mortar is frequently heard an hour or so before dinner time. Some days you can hear it in houses all over the neighborhood.  When we first arrived in Burkina, Adama, upon hearing the thudding, would often say "Someone's cooking!"  I guess he never heard this kind of dinner bell while he was in America! 

How it's going

 A few days ago my husband asked me a question that I haven't forgotten.  "What time in your life has been the happiest?" he asked.  

I thought it was a question I should have to think about, but the answer immediately invaded my mind.  

It is now.

This is the time when I've been the happiest. 

My husband said, "If you tell that to people, they probably won't believe you."

Why would I be happy now?  

I'm in one of the poorest countries in the world, surrounded by dust, dirt, and lizards.  I miss my family.  I'm lonely and far from friends.  I feel strange whenever I go out.  I'm entertaining more new experiences than I've even recounted on this blog.

What would I tell someone who asks me what attracted me to Mr. Millogo so much that I left everything and came to harsh, horrible Burkina? 

What would I tell someone who thinks that I'm missing out on a the "free" years of youth, of schooling and society?

What would I tell someone who is caught up in whirlwinds of doing this and that, always keeping busy and entertained?

I would tell them that keeping busy and entertained is a trap to prevent you from giving time where time is due.  

I would tell them that schooling and society blind youth, keeping them in darkness as to what really matters in life.

I would tell them that there is someone more powerful and attractive to me than even Mr. Millogo, that worked through him to bring me here.

That someone is God.

That Someone is why I am happy, and why I am confident that every moment that I call "now" will be the happiest in my life.  I say this because every "now" of my accomplished life I have come closer to God, and it is my heart's desire that every "now" for the rest of my life I will come closer and God will come closer to me.  And He said that He will give me my heart's desire!

 I won't try to pursue happiness, because that leads in the opposite direction.  Looking away from so-called happiness means denying comfort in culture, acceptance in society, and applause from church, family, educators, and friends.  What can be pursued that will lead to comfort and peace beyond happiness?

Pursue God.

"Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you."

I believe that this happiness can only come about by obeying all God's commands through the grace of Jesus Christ.

If I tell this to people and they do not understand, then let them not understand.

To even once refuse to conform to the pattern of the world is to step onto a path that will thoroughly strip away everything until the truth is clear.  To be honest, it used to feel like a curse to not know how to do anything.  But now I see it as a clean slate to work from.   I am a baby again; emotionally, physically, spiritually... 

People will talk about nonconformity and so on, and they will pretend that they are different.  But it is easy to see that they, too, are sucked into the same culture they grew up with, boxed into the same morals and traditions of their society, acting from the pressures of those with whom they are familiar.

There is only one way to avoid conforming to the world.  Finding that one way is the Light that lights my path, even in the darkness of the darkest valley.  That one way is Jesus! 

The problem is that most people stop there.  Okay, Jesus saved me!  

True.

But don't continue to crucify him.

Make your life be about running the race to obey God in truth and in spirit.

This takes immersion in all of His commands and intentions - this takes the planting of God's words in your heart.  This takes much prayer.

This takes realizing that the truth can only be found when we turn everything upside down from what the world teaches because we realize that the devil has already turned everything upside down from how God created it to be. 

 I know that you all like when I post pictures of material things. But I don't agree that that's all you need to hear about what's happening in my life and why it is important for you, too!

Handshakes and Please

Adama was telling me about a student in his class yesterday. This student could hardly be convinced that a sentence with a "Please" could be an imperative sentence.  Adama, realizing this was a misconception fostered by culture, explained to her that in Burkina, a command is usually very demanding, while this is considered impolite in some other cultures.  The student was having trouble grasping that a command could possibly be polite!
I think I can honestly say that NEVER ONCE since coming to Burkina have I heard "Si'l vous plait."  It felt strange to say when I tried it. 
There is a different way of being polite in Burkinabe culture.  That would be greetings.  It is as strange to pass a stranger without saying Good day as it is strange in America to pass a stranger and say anything at all.  And it is appreciated when you say it with gusto! 
At any gathering or visit, if you cannot shake hands, you apologize sincerely.  If you're eating and your hands are dirty, you offer your wrist. 
Last month I led the English club at the American Embassy.  The American woman who normally teaches the club was absent but gave me all the materials to lead discussion about "fist bumps."  We were to read an article "Fist Bumps More Hygienic Than Handshakes."  We got some discussion going.  One guy in particular was a very avid defender of handshakes.  I think that if the rest of the class hadn't been asked to defend other types of greetings, they would have expressed the same sentiments.  Handshakes represent respect, acknowledgement, and connection.  It was conceded that fist bumps could be an alternative with the threat of Ebola. (Ha, that's what their usual American teacher mentioned they could talk about.) Someone said then that Ebola must aim at killing the culture. 
 One interesting type of handshake here that I haven't seen elsewhere is the familiar handshake with friends.  You shake, and as you're leaving the handshake, you snap your fingers off the other person's fingers.  Some people have tried it on me, but I haven't acquired the talent yet!