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.