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. 

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!