So, after looking over past entries of this blog, I realized that I've been pretty mum about what it is I actually do in Burkina Faso. I've shared some pretty pictures and few little anecdotes and that is all. Since my affectation to Gorgadji, I've been stingy with the info, huh? Time for some details, n'est-ce pas?

Well, let's talk about my living situation a bit. During training, I was living in a tiny, tiny village, which consisted of about 10 families. There was one primary school with three classrooms in which all six grades were taught. Rather than a regular market, there was only a little shop that sold bread, fried dough, sugar and non-perishable items. (but no toilet paper!) There were two ethnic groups in the village and it was clear who was who and who spoke what language - overall, everyone understood Moore. I was trained in assessing the needs of a very small community and I got used to be able to just ask around to find anything or anyone.

Before coming to Gorgadji, I heard that the Sahel is rough, villages are small and the people are extremely difficult to work with and resistant to change, especially when it comes to their young girls. I had the impression that I would be working with just a handful of people and getting to know about them indepthly. I was told that life in the North is very difficult, with constant problems in securing lasting sources for water and that my village would have nothing to offer me in terms of resources and amenities.

When I got to Gorgadji, I was a bit overwhelmed. It took me some readjusting to the fact that Gorgadji is not at all as small as I imagined. There is a primary school with all six classrooms, a high school with three of the six grade levels, a clinic (CSPS - Centre de Sante and Progres Sociale), three mosques, a Catholic church, a Protestant church and a bank. There are several Quranic schools (madrasas) and apparently, after most agricultural work is done, there are literacy classes. Wow! Plus, there are several little shops that are open all week long and the market which comes to town every three days with goods from neighboring villages. There are several ethnicities and languages represented: Peuhls (who speak Fulfulde), Fulses (Kurunfe), Mossis (Moore), Gourmas (Gourmantchema) and a few Hausas. Whoa! The fabric of Gorgadji is so much thicker and richer than I was expecting to face.

Now, this scenario poses many challenges and offers several resources. Because there are two large educational centers, I can work with students in a more long-term way, since they do not need to leave the village to pursue their educations. There is a health clinic which can provide (and has already been providing) me with a wealth of knowledge and support that would have been near impossible to find. The presence of a bank means that I can use their help and guidance to educate people (and women, most importantly) on managing money and financially planning ahead. The mix of ethnicities and religions suggests that the people of Gorgadji have experienced and absorbed elements of foreign culture before. The first inhabitants of the village were Fulse and then, absorbed Peuhls who were no longer nomadic herders. The Mossis and other ethnicities are either sent to Gorgadji by the government because of their occupations (teachers, health works and other state-sponsored employees) or have opened businesses here.

However, the drawbacks of these aspects are many. Though Gorgadji seems to have a thriving market, because there is no large water source nearby, there aren't vegetables or fruits grown in the area. And, this isn't even the hot, dry season yet. The harvest is coming in now. What will be available later? This means that it is hard for the people to maintain well-balanced, nutritious diets. Also, growing vegetables and fruits or using them to prepare other foods is a great way for women to earn extra money. Without money and in poor health, education is not a priority. And, if education is not a priority, it is the education of little girls, who can help their mommies with the housework and will eventually get married, that gets sacrificed first.

Additionally, the wealth and education is pretty much split along religious and ethnic lines. The people who are sent to Gorgadji due to government work are better educated, have more money and, to a certain extent, look down on the villagers who do not speak French and whose lives and well-being are tied to their crops and the Earth. Because of this, I do a lot of gear-shifting. There are different ways to address these varied groups and to gain their trust and confidence. I have to maintain many faces within one community. Walking from one part of town to the other, I conduct conversations and greetings in up to three languages and on a range of different topics, as concern the varied groups of people I connect with.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am learning and absorbing so much. Everyday, I think to myself, "well, damn... where else would I have had this experience? How else would I be seeing all this? When in my life would I have the time to give to this oportunity? ". I grow so much everyday - God, sometimes, I think my bones ache. Life can be so overwhelming sometimes I just have to sit in my little courtyard and stare at the interweaving pattern of my thatch hangar. I think of all the things I've left behind: family, friends, weight (hahaha...) and oh, yummy food and glamorous things! I've asked everyone in my life, everyone who loves to take a deep breath, suspend their disbelief and send me care packages.

Right now, it's a little difficult to see what it's worth... The first three months, we are expected just to observe. Take notes, assess needs and gain some sort of orientation. To the American work ethic, this feels like I'm accomplishing nothing. rien. nada. grr... I have nothing to look over at the end of the day and feel accomplished about. I feel like the community must think that their American does nothing but chat with people, sit in on classes and consultations at the clinic and eat. I can't help feeling like I should be doing something for these people already!

But, if I look back over several weeks, I can see smalls steps emerging. When I walk down the street, people - villagers and other parts of the community - call out to me, to greet me, to chat. The women around my house who don't speak French know me by my Burkinabe name, so as I walk back to my house from the market, I hear "Reina! Reinatou!" and my whole being lights up to try a conversation with them in Fulfulde, as we go through the long pattern of salutations. I chat with government workers as we eat and exchange vocabulary in French, English and Moore. I've had informative and open conversations with people on sensitive topics such as HIV/AIDS, condom use, excision, etc... I would not be privilege to these discussions if my everyday greetings, conversations and mere presence didn't slowly build their trust. And, it goes both ways, there are people who genuinely lift my spirit when I am having a bad day, friends I can confide in and collegues I can chat with about my work and ask for feedback on my ideas.

It's all about baby steps. I am learning so much about myself... about patience, new ways of measuring success, friendship and wisdom. So, I also have to take a few deep breaths and wait. I have yet to meet my darkest day here in Burkina or to give life to something that actually resembles an accomplishment. But, after six months, I am still feeling solid and brave enough to continue... Now that my observation period is over, I am really looking forward to implementing some ideas and try out a few projects. We'll see.

I guess in my next entry, I'll try to let you all know a little bit more about what it is that I actually do, from day-to-day and in the larger scheme of things. I am slowly understanding what "Girls Education & Empowerment" means and what kind of work such a goal attempts. Also, another interesting topic I must share with you is diversity. Diversity in the Peace Corps and Burkina Faso. Also, my own special experience with identity in this country. Never would I have imagined that I would come to Sub-Saharan Africa and continue to play the racial/ethnic guessing game that people like to engage in with me in the US... So, those are future entries to look forward. Keep sending your emails and love!

Before I forget I have to give a special thank you. I really appreciate all the letters and packages I've been receiving. Your postal love reminds me of the hilarious, brilliant, interesting and creative people that I've left behind and miss so much! But, I must say that two people get a extra-special shout out for sending me packages: my Peace Corps recruiter and my dentist (yes, my dentist!). I was the envy of my friends for getting a package from my recruiter because some of them could barely get info out of theirs during the application process - what about M&Ms and magazines during service?! Caroline, you rock! Because of Dr. Miah, my dentist, my friends are pretty sure that I must have some sort of bewitching power over people to get them to send me things internationally. I'm just lucky to know such generous people! (well, I guess, maybe, that does make me a pretty cool cat... hehehe)

Ok, kiddies, it's very late here now and I have to catch a 7am bus back to Dori, so I will conclude here. Thanks so much for all your love and support. I miss you all terribly and think of you so often. Keep emailing/mailing/sending your love telepathically. Your encouragement and love are the shoes I walk in. And, believe me, I've very far from home...