Sunday, July 1, 2012

A Question of Unity

I wrote this post while in Burkina, I just never felt ready to share it. Today I decided it was time to open up the discussion:

If we stop to think for a second, I mean really stop to reflect, do you think we could answer the question: what's wrong with mankind? Do you think if we give thought to our actions, our choices, our principles, we can find the truth about why we have suffering in this world? Why we have inequality? Why humanity is so divided?

Do you think that there is good within each of us, or does that skip a generation from time to time? Do you believe every child comes into this world with innocence in their hearts? Or, do some have a mission, given by fate, for evil?

Do we always try, at least try, to be good people? To see the good in others? Is it easier to commit immoral acts? Or, does good trump evil in the battle for our amusement?

Irrespective of religion or credo; what unites us? What divides us? Inclusive of religion or credo; what unites us? What divides us?

Who initially decided to divide and conquer the world? Who initially decided to mend it?

Do you believe in equality? Between men and women? Between different races? If we truly believe everyone should have equal opportunity, why don't we? Does our ego get in the way of unity?

I don't know the answers to most of these questions. I wish I did.




Sunday, June 17, 2012

So this is reverse culture shock...

56 days have passed since I touched back down in Canada. Seems almost like I never left. Seems as though I didn't experience what I experienced. I didn't see what I saw. I didn't live that life halfway across the globe.

Reverse culture shock, for me, was (is) a bizarre thing. I didn't have nightmares or flashbacks of my time in Burkina. I didn't accidentally start bartering with vendors in Canada, as is accustom to do in Burkina markets. I fell right back into routine, right back into Canadian culture. What got me was the reference library that now sits in my brain and that constantly floods my thoughts. Often when a conversation topic comes up - complaining about wait times in hospitals, for example - I can't help but think of my experience. I want to mention that Yako had (has) one doctor. That there are 6 doctors for every 100,000 people in the country - imagine the wait time to see a doctor there. When people talk about kids, it almost always triggers an image of a little girl selling me peanuts  on a tray atop her head in the marketplace. Or I think of the kids in our courtyard playing in the dust until their feet are stained with a reddish hue - where will these kids be in 10 years?

I'm caught in between two ways of living - and I can't surrender to either side. I can't give up my Burkinabè experience, nor will I ever be able to forget my 'maternal culture'. I am also cautious of how I use my reference library. Often when discussions come up, I want to add my point of view, but my perspective is so limited. I have experienced but two cultures - that doesn't really qualify me to understand much.

I have been questioned countless times of how my trip was. I have a standard answer now: it was a good experience. I really don't know how my trip was, I don't think I have fully grasped its importance on my life - but my standard answer satisfies the curiosity of most. I appreciate when people want to know more, but few have sat in the corridors of my library and studied my newly published perspectives. Perhaps they are scared of what they will find - perhaps I have not completely opened it to my friends and family.

What is clear is that Burkina Faso changed me. From the outside perhaps I have hidden its affect, but internally I still search for clarity. Why tell you this? Life is full of experiences. I've lived my fair share, but nothing has been as impacting as Burkina. I have had my first hit of the drug that is life with all its new cultures, new shocks, new perspectives, new sadnesses, new joys, new hopes, new cynicisms. Being trapped in the bubble of routine shields us from life's abundant diversity. Being afraid of life's painful realities scares us into the corner where we do anything to escape this truth. This experience was a reminder that it is best to step out from our corner of fear and feel something different. Feel something that may hurt, or that may do just the opposite. Life is best lived with passion, and this passion is fueled by the experiences that life presents.


Thursday, March 15, 2012

Une Journée Quotidienne

I lent my camera to Adama one morning and he came back with the pictures you see below. Well actually, he came back with 99 pictures, but due to internet constraints I had to cut the number I posted down to nine. I have no context to give in respect to these pictures, this is simply one portrayal of life in Yako, Burkina Faso from the perspective of a fourteen year old kid with a camera.

Enjoy.









Thursday, March 1, 2012

Le Paludisme


Yesterday
It hit me like a sack of potatoes. Today was, by far, the most uncomfortable day in my memory. Waves of body aches rushed over me as my core temperature climbed to what I’m sure was a new personal record. Every action, every movement, made me feel weak. Nausea made sure that any consumption of food was unpleasant. The lower back pain made almost every position uncomfortable, thus making it impossible to nap despite my exhaustion. The local hospital is open for consultations every morning at 7am. You best believe I will be there tomorrow. 
Today
To my pleasant surprise, I got some sleep last night. I woke up multiple times within my 5 hours of rest, but nonetheless I found pockets of tranquility as I cruised off to dream land. When I rolled over to see the clock at 5am, I doubted for a second that I was alive. Seems silly (or irrational perhaps), but when you go from what I was feeling yesterday, to only minor discomfort (the fever had passed), it makes you stop and think. Since the nausea was gone, I didn’t care what time it was, I jumped on the occasion to eat. Although it was still a struggle because my appetite was no where to be found, I was able to eat a loaf of local bread with some coke. I went back to bed to rest for another hour before I went to the hospital.

Ousmane, the gentleman that lives in our courtyard, has a motorbike and took me this morning. The wait wasn’t too long and the process was easy enough: Step 1: register; Step 2: give your blood sample; Step 3: pay; and, Step 4: get the results four hours later. 

At 11:50am this morning, test results came back positive for malaria. 
This is not an experience I wish upon anyone, but unfortunately I don’t have much power over that. While lying in bed yesterday, in the midst of my fever, I couldn’t help but think of those suffering along side me. Those experiencing the same overpowering discomfort. Those who perhaps can’t afford the medication to get better, like I can.

I payed 500 CFA ($1.02 CAD) for the malaria test, then 3900 CFA ($7.94 CAD) for the medication. Doesn’t seem like a whole lot in order to kill this malicious parasite, but some people still can’t afford it.

I must admit, before I got it, I had not thought a lot about malaria. I take the anti-malarial medication every morning and I sleep under a mosquito net every night, but even these things have become nothing more than habit. I forgot about the real risk it poses.

I have not had a fever since last night, so I am feeling much better today. The medication takes three days to kill the parasite. I will be fine. I pray those other folks suffering, will be fine as well.

Tomorrow
It seems so useless that something like malaria kills. Obviously it is a complex parasite, and various strands brings about various levels of severity, but for the strands that can be treated, the medication should be available to everyone. That fever was horrible, but it would have been worse knowing I didn’t have the means to take care of the illness. I am not really sure what International Development entails completely, but it seems obvious that making sure people don’t die of things like malaria should be a part of it. 

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Through The Eyes Of Someone Else

Clarisse with her children
Everyone has a story. Where they came from, where they are, where they wish to go. Life is an endless library of experience that we, the authors, the readers, the critics, and the protagonists continually fill. 

To be frank, it’s not realistic to recount an entire story in one short blog post, but what follows will be my attempt. I will give you a glimpse into the life of SALOU Kientega Kiswendsida Clarisse; one of the women that lives in our courtyard. Sunday night, sitting at the foot of a dusty gazebo and surrounded by children curious about my computer, I asked Clarisse some questions about her life.


Four dates will help organize this story, the first of which being August 10th, 1982. Born in Yako, the story began as Clarisse became part of a family where she would eventually have fifteen brothers and sisters, two mothers, and a father who would pass away when she was six years old. She tells me she never knew her father because she spent her early childhood living with her Uncle and his family.
SALOU Nomwendé Ingred Djamiilatou Rosen
(Photo taken by Marie Warkentin)
She did return to live with her mother in Yako, and at that time began schooling. She continued her studies until just before completing the BAC (an exam that takes place at the end of high school). She was forced to put schooling on hold when she became pregnant in 2006. She met her husband, SALOU Adama, in 2005 and became his second wife. She brought her first child into this world, a daughter, on January 22nd, 2007 at 1:45pm: SALOU Nomwendé Ingred Djamiilatou Rosen (She tells me she can remember the delivery like it was yesterday. Trying to be witty, I tell her I am lucky to be a man. Her contagious laugh fills the air. She agrees and assures me that giving birth is not an easy thing).

In 2008, Clarisse was still living with her mother. Because of this, she was able to go to night school while leaving Rosen at home. Regrettably though, on November 22nd, 2009, her mother passed away and she was again unable to finish the BAC. Given her situation, she moved in with her husband and his first wife in the courtyard where she currently resides with us. The most recent turing point came on August 13th, 2010 at 5:44am when she gave birth to her son, SALOU Abdala.


SALOU Abdala
(Photo taken by Marie Warkentin)
I ask her about her husband. She tells me that she worries about him. He used to sell shoes, but the market was not good, so he decided to go work in the mines - mining for gold. She speaks softly when she says there are many deaths at the mines from either collapses or the oxygen tanks running out with the workers inside. She says that if her husband was able to find a better job, he would be able to help her more. Presently, he is only able to come home 4 or 5 times a month.

I ask: What do you want from this life? She responds gracefully: Everyday, I pray to God that I will get a job. I pray that I can take care of my children. I pray also that one day, when I grow old, my children will be able to take care of me. Right now though, I hope for a job.

She has been searching for work for the last seven years. She tells me of a situation last year where she was almost hired as a primary school teacher. She had passed the oral and written exams, but when it came to the sports section, she had a cramp during the test and failed. With a hint of despair in her voice, she tells me: I feel like it was my last chance in this life to find a job.

She has also applied at other organizations. They have come back and told her that she needs computer literacy. With this knowledge, she can be hired. She has not yet been able to find a computer training opportunity.



I ask her what she thinks the problem is; why has finding a job been so hard? Time, she responds. She works all day in the courtyard either preparing meals, doing laundry, taking care of kids or any other task that consumes her day. When she is finally free in the late evening, she is too tired. 

When the informal interview ends, the group of women and children that have gathered to watch the excitement start chatting in Mooré. Before I head back inside, I ask what they were talking about. Adama, the oldest boy in the courtyard, laughs and says that they were saying how white people always take pictures and show them to people back home. 

I don’t know why I did this interview. I thought it would be enlightening for folks elsewhere to read the story of a local Burkinabé woman. But when they said this, it made me question my motives. There is a fine line between inquisitiveness and exploitation I suppose. I just hope I’m not offside. 

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Taking A Step Back

Frustration.
The word of the week unfortunately. Frustration that I still don't have any work to do (we are waiting on money from the donor organization before we can launch the program). Frustration that I haven't really done anything to benefit the community, nor do I really know what I can do. Frustration that there is in fact too much to do, but no marked starting point. As my understanding of the situation here grows, the opposite effect is applied to my confidence in what to do.

Visiting a local school. Seen here with Mustafa and the
Director of the school. Picture taken by Sarah.
For me, development is suppose to be about providing opportunities; it's suppose to be about empowerment. But does that really matter when you can't put food in your child's swollen belly, or can't pay for their malaria medication when they get sick. In Burkina I feel like it needs to start with the basics - health care, education, nutrition. When I grew up, these things were provided to me by the government (nutrition was perhaps provided by my parents, but we lived in a country abundant with nutritious food). This begs the question: what happens when the government is unable to provide these things?

Enter the idea of charity. Obviously these issues come down to a lack of resources (well money, basically) and the resources, when not provided by the government, come from charities (or NGOs - Non-Governmental Organizations). In Canada though, and I'm sure across the globe, I see people suffering from donor fatigue (a lessening of public willingness to respond generously to charitable appeals, resulting from the frequency of such appeals). We have been howled for years to give. Shown fly-ridden images of starving children, and from the pit of our stomachs we felt empathy and gave. But for how long can we look at these images and feel guilt?

Les enfants d'aujourd'hui seront les adultes de demain.
If we look deeper at the core issue though, we will uncover a truth that has been buried beneath layers of doubt and denial. We are facing a problem of unity. When we view the world through the lens of 'us' and 'them', we miss our commonality. When we forget that we are created equal, that leaves only room for intolerance and animosity. The way I see it, for as long as we don't look at our world as a shared space between us all, there will be no real progress. I see no other solution.

"The feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to change or achieve something." The dictionary is rather successful at putting my feelings into words this week. But like always, resting in frustration or pity or guilt does nothing. One must channel these feelings into something that will make this world a better place. A place that weeds out injustice, inequality and inferiority. A place that flourishes on kindness, selflessness and oneness. Optimism is seen as futile to some (certainly to me from time to time), but in this moment, the way I see it: the future needs hopeful seeds to be planted today in order for us to thrive tomorrow.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Nasarra





Photo credit goes to Marie for the pictures this week.
I have never noticed race as much as I have here. Perhaps a better way of putting it: I have never felt so white. And along with my whitewashed complexion comes a type of celebrity status here. In Yako, if you are white it's a dead give-a-way that you don't originate from here, thus people notice you, talk to you, children want to grab a second of your attention; all because of the pigmentation.
Some benefits of the celebrity status:

I get lots of greetings everyday. While biking or walking the streets, if I make eye contact with anyone, they are likely looking right back at me, so I will say: "Bonjour" or "Bonsoir" and reciprocally I will receive the same. I am working on my salutations in the local language. I know what they are, but I always get a laugh when I try and pronounce them.




The children in Yako are always very excited to see a nasarra (which means 'white' in the local language of Mooré; or sometimes I am called le blanc in french). Some kids will only ask for candy, but others will give me a beaming smile, say "hi" and be content with a shake of my hand. The kids in the courtyard are also very amazed by the feel of my hair since it's much different then theirs.


Some downfalls to being the white man:
The sun is out to get me. Thank-you SPF 50 for saving me thus far.  

I lost my birth name (sorry mom and dad). I liked Kevin, it was a solid name, but in the streets: Je m'appelle Nasarra.

Going to the market is not always the most fun experience. Because I am white, the vendors will sometimes yell out "Nasarra!" to grab my attention. Not necessarily a bad thing, it's just that I'm not a fan of 'pressure-shopping'.

White - Nasarra - Le Blanc. They are just words. I know that here I am easily noticed, but once people get to know me and what I am doing, I reclaim my birth name and become just another person in their life. The racial difference dissipates quickly. This isn't meant to be a profound reflection on racial difference, it's just hard to deny the fact that I am one of only a handful of white people in Yako, and that makes life a little different for me. 

Sunday, January 29, 2012

The little things you miss...

Just under one month. Long enough to understand what life will be like here. Every once and a while I am surprised again by something new, but basically I know now what to expect.

I was reflecting today on some small things that I miss about life back in Canada. With that, I also thought of some things I was content with being rid of.

The little things...
The first thing I miss is not little at all, in fact it is the biggest part of my life. Leaving family and friends behind is never a pleasant decision, but I needed to do just that in order to find this experience. I have a  family here, but I of course think of those back home, and I miss them.

I never knew of my addiction to internet, but a reliable and fast connection is something I need my fix of from time to time. I like the fact that I have reduced the things I do online to some basics (e-mail, banking, facebook and this blog), because it leaves more time for other things (catching chickens, for example). But it would be nice to do my online banking in less than 30 minutes.

Warm showers. Who knew that showers would be so cold when the temperature outside is peaking over 30 degrees Celsius? I look forward to a heated shower upon my return in April.

The other things...
Because it is the African Cup of Nations soccer tournament, I have watched a few games on the television. Other than that, it has been untouched. It is something I have found easy to live without.

In Yako, I can walk wherever I need to go. I don't miss the dependency to cars and busses I have in Canada. My legs and my bike (which I am actually borrowing from my roommate Liz - thanks Liz ;) work just fine.

The Burkinabé in Yako do not exude stress, and that it something I can live with. People are often 'go-go-go' back in Canada, but it's nice to be in a more relaxed atmosphere. Things still get done here, just at a more human pace.

I should apologize for the lack of pictures. I am not very good at remembering my camera, and even if I do, I prefer to experience the moment than capture it. I will try to have some for next week though. I know that pictures will help paint a fuller picture of the story I am trying to tell.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Winging It

Me, Ali and the notorious chicken.
Adama after capturing the chicken.
Yesterday, my roommates and I were given a chicken. I find that normalizing to a new culture is quite the experience. I must admit it's not always easy, but moments like this make it worth the adventure.

Let me explain the chicken. At work, Eric, Liz and Marie are involved in doing an impact assessment of a project that finished in December. Thus, this week we visited four villages to see if the project was in fact successful and to gather feedback. I tagged along as an observer. The village we visited yesterday presented us with this chicken in appreciation and so that we may have the vitamins and energy to help them. And if you were wondering: yes, it was still alive.




It seems like its been more than 16 days. I am starting to get used to life in Yako. I have adapted to the weather; it now feels chilly when the temperature hits 20°C (sorry to all those in the midst of winter elsewhere). I have adapted to the food. In fact, I am slightly addicted to the restaurant beside our work that serves an excellent and filling plate of rice and tomato sauce ($400 fCFA or $0.80 CAD). Finally, being watched by people, mainly children, is not as uncomfortable. I am an outsider, there is no use in trying to hide that, but the longer I stay, the less detached I think I will feel. 



One of mothers with her children.
Making the sauce. Adama was the
photographer for the evening.





I spent yesterday evening with the women and child from the compound. As you can see, we had a photo shoot for about an hour. I then asked the women if we could prepare the chicken together. Step 1: An entertaining run around our compound with the kids ended with the picture above of Adama who caught the chicken. I was told it is the man’s job to catch the animal and finish the next step. Step 2: My vegetarian friends would not approve of what happened next, thus a description will not be provided. Step 3: The ladies prepared a sauce with the chicken in it to accompany the Tô (a staple diet for the locals made of corn flour and water). It was an excellent meal in taste and sentiment. The chicken was a generous gift from the Zougoungou village and these women not only prepare the meal, but also kindly explained each step to me along the way. An insightful evening. 

Group Shot. Still not everyone in
the compound though.
Work is advancing along as well. I will be attending a training session all next week for the project that I will be working on. I am quite excited about it. It’s a type of micro-finance with adaptations for rural villages and is made up of women’s groups. I look forward to seeing how it works in the real world, because on paper it sounds fantastic. I also visited the local orphanage earlier this week. The lovely woman that runs the place said that they could use some help with study sessions on weeknights. I will try to make it there a few times a week. I miss working with kids; they truly have a contagious and uplifting spirit. 




Life will continue to be eventful, I’m sure, and I will let you know what happens next. For now, I will direct you to a blog post that I revisit from time to time. It talks of the importance of encouraging others, and I think it’s a lesson we all need to be reminded of from time to time: http://zenhabits.net/why-you-should-think-about-encouraging-others-to-be-brilliant/



Until next time. Stay kind. Stay sharp. Stay classy.





Monday, January 16, 2012

So this is culture shock...

I wrote four different posts last week, but hesitated to share each because it has been such a roller costar of emotion and experience. I decided to take these thoughts and condense them into one. This was a week of new beginnings, harsh realities, quiet escapes and guilty pleasures. This one week shook the foundation of nearly everything I thought I knew. I was an idealist - but that ideology clashed with reality. I was an optimist - but this week, my guilt overshadowed the flower of hope. I was confident in my beliefs - but now I’m not sure what I stand for. 

New beginnings: This was my first week in Yako; the first of 52. For those who don’t know, I am here for the next four months because I had a free semester at school. Afterwards, I will be back to Canada for 4 months to finish my last academic term at Waterloo this summer, then I will likely be returning to Yako for another 8-month placement (this second placement will not be confirmed till the end of the month). All of this to say, this is just the beginning. This will be my lifestyle for the next 365 days - 31 536 000 seconds... 31 535 999... 31 535 998...

Harsh realities: Unless you have experienced it, I don’t think you can understand what it is like here. I say this because I thought I had an idea coming in. I read websites, blog posts, Lonely Planet; any piece of information to prepare me for life in Burkina. Nothing could have prepared me for this. Nothing could have prepared me for the first time I encountered a beggar along the dusty streets of Ouaga, or for the donkeys and roosters who call out to greet the morning. Nothing could have prepared me for the fact that my skin colour is the first thing people see here, and along with that colour comes preconceived notions. It has been a harsh reality because I wasn’t exactly prepared for this, but more so because when I look outside my front door, I encounter the poverty that I have read so many statistics about and I don’t yet know what to do about it.

Quiet escapes: Those places I go to forget about the harsh realities. I find solace within the walls of our house. We live in a bubble here, and with my roommates I can forget, at least temporarily, about what is outside. Music is becoming a closer friend here also. Either I listen to a beautiful song and I feel at peace, or I am inspired to express this experience in lyrical proses myself. The greatest escape that I have though, is where I rest my head at night. Dreams transport me to a place where I don’t feel in the wrong for eating vegetables at every meal.

Guilty pleasures: I have been comparing many things this past week. Not only the currency exchange rates and time differences, but also lifestyles and standards of living. I compare the life of the locals here (which is just my observation at this point) against the life I live here and the life I lived back in Canada. Here, I am so privileged - consistent electricity, running water, nutritious food, and Miriam, who cleans and does the laundry for us. Then I move to the lifestyle I lived back in Canada, even more lavish, and try to compare that to the locals. It’s a futile task. It’s incomparable.

This has sounded like a pretty negative post I suppose. I do not mean to present the idea that this place is unpleasant - not at all. The people are incredibly welcoming and kind. A simple example: every morning it is very important to greet everyone you know with a salutation, a shake of the hand, and an inquiry to how they are doing. This action shows great courtesy; more so than I often see back in Canada. This post has not been about the locals, it has been about me. It was a reflection on the differences between here and the world I am used to. Culture shock, I guess. But for me, it feels like only half of the picture of the real world was painted during the past two years of study, and now it's up to me to finish. The statistics have come to life and are drowning my conscience. What I need to do is funnel that haunting guilt into something productive. 

Monday, January 9, 2012

Bonne arrivée!


My First Plane (Toronto - Brussels with Jet Airways)
They had a great Indian dish for dinner!
It is currently 23h29 on Sunday January 8th as I write this post. The temperature is 25 degrees Celsius, 80 degrees Fahrenheit - perfect. It seems crazy that just over 48 hours ago I was breathing in cold Canadian air, and now, here I sit feeling the warm breeze blow in the window in Yako, Burkina Faso.

The flights to get here were not as bad as imagined. I only thought about dying a handful of times, and the turbulence wasn't bad until we started landing in Ouagadogou (From now on, I will refer to the capital as Ouaga). I landed and waited for just over an hour to get through customs and get my baggage, where I then met up with Eric.

The view from my second flight (Brussels - Ouagadougou
with Brussels Airlines)
Emergency exit seat with lots of leg room!
We stayed at a nice hotel in Ouaga: "Pavillon en vert", I think it was called, that costs $17 CAD a night. We ate brunch, with two lizard friends scampering around, which consisted of guava juice (amazing stuff) and an omelet that had tomatoes, pieces of potato and french fries in it. Looked strange - tasted great.

We took a bus up to Yako - a coach bus that had TVs in it. We lucked out. It got a bit cramped as we picked up more and more people along the way, but nothing to much crazier than a plane seat. We arrived at around 15h30 and made our way to my new home. We went out for dinner tonight (we were the only folks there) and surrounded by 3 cats, ready to eat out meat discards, we had spaghetti and chicken. It was a good meal by my standards, but my roommates tell me it gets better - Yako is known for their chicken.

The hotel in Ouaga.
I now have a cell phone, courtesy of Eric's friend and our landlord. I will pick up some credit soon and be up and running. In Africa though, Eric tells me, you can always receive texts and calls, even if you don't have any credit on the phone. Beat that Canadian phone companies that start with a 'R' and a 'B'.

It has been a great start to this new life. Warm climate, great roommates and soon to be a good job (hopefully).

For now, that's all I have. I will talk a little bit later about the poverty that I have encountered thus far and the small things to get used to in regards to being a white man in Burkina Faso.

À la prochaine!

Friday, January 6, 2012

We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments for take-off...

Departure day is here.

1st flight (Toronto - Brussels): 7h20m
+
3h40m layover
+
2nd flight (Brussels - Ouagadougou): 6h
= 15h20m of flying + 3h40m of waiting + 5h are lost due to time zone changes                            
24 hours stands between me and this new life. 

I unthinkingly booked a flight that leaves at 18h25, meaning I have all day to get excited and anticipate the rush of take off. The rush and the fear. I detest flying. Every bump, every turn, every second in that pressurized tube makes my heart skip a beat. I am counting on those in-cabin movies to distract me.

I will be meeting my friend Eric at the Airport in Ouagadougou at 16h25 tomorrow.  We will either stay in the capital for the night, or grab a bus back to Yako. From there... je n'ai aucune idée. It will only feel like 11h25 my current time when I arrive - I will let you know how the jet leg goes.

As the sun sets on this chapter of my life, I am comforted by the thought of my time spent with family and friends these past 4 months. I am also comforted knowing I will be returning to this life in 4 months to see you all again.

That's all for now. See you on the other side.