The Harmattan is coming…

Early morning:

Oh no…I can feel a little cold coming on.  My nose is running and I’ve woken up these past two days with stuffed nose.  Thank God Bev has packed, what seems to be 300 rolls of toilet paper; without Kleenex this experience would quickly erode.  The cold that I have acquired is not unlike the experience at home when someone introduces their child to daycare or school. With so many children, those environments, like this one, are petri dishes full of germ and bacteria. It’s just a matter of time before you pick something up.

The mornings are perfect. It feels like it’s going to rain but Basul (the guard) assures me it’s impossible.  I still can’t fathom a climate that goes from October to June without drop of rain.  I think I’m having trouble connecting the desperate need for rain with the impossibility.  Where once I could not imagine a cloud in the sky, I now can’t see a blue patch.  There’s a morning wind, that is curling leaves upward in the near by trees.  To my grandfather, this was a sure sign of rain.  This and cows laying in a pasture.  When he’d try and show me the “curling leaves”, I’d just nod my head and say “Yes I see it”.  To be honest, as I young boy, they just looked like leaves blowing in the wind.  The wind here lifts the sand from the ground and creates a persistent haze.  You can almost stare directly into the morning sun without lifting a hand to guard your eyes.  The Harmattan is coming….

I know I’ll never be able to accurately relay to people the juxtaposition between yesterday and 2000 years ago that is Yako’s reality; the motorbikes, cell phones and fashion trends of the 90’s with the donkeys, sand and straw. The TV’s using rabbit ears for antenna with the wood stove baked bread.  The nascent 18kps internet connections and the fetish stalls of the market.  I’m really glad I’m keeping a journal because I know my memory of this place will fall short of doing this entire experience justice.  I know the blog and my detailed accounts that I’ll try and share, when I get home, will in so many respects remain mine and mine alone.  Nothing new there I suppose but it’s a shame.  It makes me think of a quote from Jon Krakauer’s book Into the Wild, “HAPPINESS [is] ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”.

Last night I bolted out of bed, from underneath my mosquito net, to the sound of what I thought was someone trying to open my door.  With flashlight in hand, I searched that side of the room.  There was something in the ceiling; a mouse I suppose or a gecko….they always seem bigger when you hear them like this.  I realized that this was the same sound I had heard a few days earlier in my closet.  Crawling back under my net, I laughed as I reflected on how cautious I have become when reaching into the back of that closet for my stash of “bonbons” to hand out to the kids. 

It occurs to me that the routine and observations I make may have all become very dull for most, but I’m enjoying the chance to squeeze every ounce of genuine and authentic reflection out of familiar experiences replaying in new and refreshing setting.  People say “Bonjour ca va?” or “Windega Ki Beri” more often to me and I respond “Lafi”.  It gets a quick smile.  I don’t know if it’s the novelty of the Nasarah simply trying or improving his pronunciation.

Mid-day

This morning’s training session went very well, but I implored the ladies and Richard to use my remaining time here to review any other areas of interest within Excel.  I told them the only advantage I had was that I was curious and I typically get curious about something before I actually need it. I told them that alongside of trying to acquire a skill, I also search out multiple places to use the skill.  Again before I actually need the skill.  This is so important.  Learning like most things is most effective with out constraints; without deadlines and predetermined outcomes.

As I make my way to the bi-weekly market (technically the market comes through town every three days), it’s clear that the morning wind has persisted into the warm afternoon.  More and more people are wearing mask and handkerchiefs to cover their faces and block the consumption of road.  The Harmattan is coming.  Making my way through the market, I stop at a fetish stall.  You can buy a small portion of Python skin, goat skin or locks of hair.  I don’t know where the hair comes from.   Beside the fetish merchant’s stall is a large woman sitting on the ground selling oranges.  The oranges are actually a yellowing brown color here.  As she looks up at me, I can hear her cackling under the burka as her entire body is shaking.  Oh she’s having a good laugh but at what I have no idea. It’s an eerie feeling but not troubling.

Sali has dropped by; her Ipod needs recharging.  She has also handed me the earbuds.  One of the ear pieces is broken.  I hand them back to her and tell her there is nothing I can do with this.  I feel bad but there’s nothing I can do with broken earbuds..even at home.

I scored a very cold bottle of water this morning.  It’s amazing how long a warm bottle will last compared to a cold one.  I remarked to myself the other day what a pleasant feeling it is to return to your room and find an inch or two of water still in your bottle.  I’ve learned to sip water here, but this cold bottle has me right back to the North American habitat of gulping it all down. A bottle can disappear pretty quickly…and then its gone. 

I’ve resigned to the fact that there is no water after 8:30 in the morning and I’ve realized that there is a big difference between a little water and no water at all.  It’s like when we lose electricity at home.  You slowly start to discover all the different places you need it.  In Yako, there is no bank or “guichet” (ATM) as well so there is big difference between having a little money or none at all.  You need to watch you don’t run out of money either or it means a 2hr bus ride back into Ouagadougou to replenish your funds.

Please consider joining me in Yako, Burkina Faso. Click here.

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band….

It’s hard to keep track of the date here, but I suppose that happens at home too.  I do know it’s Wednesday though. Clementine is expected to visit SEMUS from Ouagadougou (can you all say this name now?).  I’m a bit nervous, as this will be the moment where I learn if my efforts are aligned with the formal part of my mandate and I am meeting the expectations of Uniterra.  But I’m also excited to share with Simon an unexpected gift.

I was sitting in the “salle de reunion”, my usual place of work, when I stepped outside to get something.  A bright white 4x4 drove into the courtyard; It was Simon, with his big smile, Clementine and one other person.   During the introductions I learned that this 3rd person was a Burkinabe national who was going to be assuming an 8 months  volunteer mandate in the coming weeks.  After introductions, I signalled to Simon that I wanted to meet him at the 4x4.  Sarah had given me an Ipod, filled with Beatles songs, for Simon.  I had also purchased a cigarette lighter charger, ear pieces and cassette adapter so he could use this in his vehicle.

Just a note on this Ipod.  This Ipod was very precious to me, because I had lost it for several days in my luggage.   As you can imagine, if you know me, Bev actually packed my bags.  Upon arriving in Ouagadougou I tore my suitcase apart several times trying to find this Ipod.  After being assigned my room in Yako, I again proceeded to search every crevice of those suitcases trying to locate this Ipod.  I had finally resigned to my self that I must have removed it just before leaving or even worse it had been stolen in transit.  At Bev’s suggestion I looked one more time.  Wouldn’t you know it, it was lodged in the pocket of one of my pants.

As I took Simon aside in the 4x4, I and proceeded to plug in the cassette adapter and Ipod.  There was a beautiful correlation between my increasing of the volume and the precious smile on this big guys face.  In between him repeating “Merci Sarah” and “Merci Dan”, Simon began to sing along to the Beatles song that was now filling the vehicle.  Quite a scene, because you see, the guy speaks french and Mooré (not a drop of English), but here I’m watching him as he sings “Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band” while tapping his feet on the floor of the car and clapping with his hands.  Pure and utter happiness.  Thank you Sarah for letting me be part of this moment.

I returned to the “salle de reunion” where Clementine, the Waterloo university students and several heads of departments were in a meeting.  It seems that Clementine was also here to get an update on their projects in addition to the introduction of the new volunteer.  I quietly took my place in the back of the room and continued working.  Thankfully Kevin gave me heads up (under his breath) that they were about to ask me for an update on my progress.

To my amazement, TAHO interjected and began to extol upon the group, that I was the first volunteer that was able to understand his real needs and begin to formulate an effective strategy.  He praised my independence and added that regrettably he was a not available to spend more time with me on account of his mission’s over the past 2 weeks to Ouahigouya.  From his perspective, within a few short meetings, I had discerned the need and proposed viable solutions including an approach to sustain the change.  Clementine appeared a little surprised and said something like, [“….and your not a stranger to volunteers being assigned to the accounting department”.].  At this point, I noticed Maurice (#2 leader at SEMUS) holding his shaking head in his hands staring at the floor saying something to the effect [“…It has not been easy to please TAHO, with volunteers”]. Ceasing the moment, with only a hint of trepidation that this might be a cultural “faux pas” that could bring this entire mission to a halt,  I gestured to TAHO across the large room, with a fist full of money, suggesting an appreciation for such a great review.  The room erupted with laughter.  Clementine then asked if I had anything to add and I tried my best to describe the approach I had taken and “mon plan de travail”.  They all nodded their heads and complimented me on the progress and novel approach.  I’m quite sure, many of colleagues back home would have approached things the very same way, but I’ll take the affirmation any day.  Clementine concluded with a compliment regarding the improvement she noted in my french since first arriving two and half weeks ago.

The morning meeting ended and Clementine asked for a recommendation on where to eat.  I suggested “La Chateau Bleu”.  This is by no means a “Chateau” in fact that isn’t even the real name but she laughed and proceeded to take the new volunteer there.  She invited me to join them for lunch (I think) but I had an engagement with a fellow on Ouahigouya road.   I picked up the first of my newly crafted e-reader covers. I was very pleased with the simple design.

Bev and I spent a good part of the day messaging back and forth, in the now vacant “salle de reunion”, while I prepared for tomorrow’s training session.  I have split the group into two different levels; fundamentals ( a polite way of saying “basic”) and the advanced.  On a quick exchange, with a colleagues back at work, I asked them if they thought I should begin preparing a lesson plan?  After all, I was about to deliver a training session in french to a group that i didn’t really know in a context that I have only occasionally allowed my self to think i understand.  She advised “Nah…Wing it…your good at that.”  I reflected that the job I have done in sizing the deliverable and holding to the strategy was solid.   It’s a balance between “what is needed” and “what can be done”.   A fairly good definition of Quality from my perspective.  If not Quality, then at least value.  There’s a big difference between being “Active” and being “Productive”.  By leaving things open, or some might argue “unstructured”,  you create a much wider vista, a broader canvas for creativity and return.  Creative solutions are the ones that “glow”.  Some people don’t get that. But to get truly “EXTRAordinary” results and experiences you can’t approach things in an “ordinary” structured way.  You can’t simply slap the word “extra” on to the front of the word “ordinary” to simply describe the outcome you are looking for.  You need to let it “live” in the approach as well….and that takes courage.

As the white 4x4 rolled out of the compound with the new volunteer, Simon and Clementine, I stopped them for a minute and warned Clementine that she better like the Beatles, because I’ve now heard Simon sing and he’s quite good.  She laughed and said she LOVED the Beatles.  The stereo was cranked and I could hear the “The Yellow Submarine” playing, as I watched their heads bobbing back and forth.  The white 4x4 rolled out of the courtyard and on to our little sand swept road passed the donkey, goats, “la Chateau Bleu” and the proudly displayed Burkina Faso flag that still celebrates Burkina’s successful qualification in the African Nation Cup. 

Could it get any more real and magical than that?

 

Welcome to Barter Town…

So this is my morning…every morning. I go around back and fill my “boulliere” with water from a sand covered hose, plug it in (oh no…. my pen has died again…it’s my 3rd pen) and run down to the “boulangerie” to grab a couple of baguettes.  When I get back, I assume that the water has boiled long enough and I throw a scoop of Tim Horton’s coffee into my coffee filter and sit at this table.  It’s the same “EAMUS” truck and broken down station wagon (neither has moved since I got here) day after day.  As you can see, my lodging and porch is back away from the road, so I can’t see the building momentum of the town, as the motorbikes begin to whiz by. There are roosters, donkey’s, pigs, birds and the occasional dog that call out to let you know another day is beginning.  The bread here is carried in black plastic bags and unfortunately these bags litter the entire area.  In every direction, you can see these black bags blowing in the wind.  I think they contribute to my reflection on the environment as one of “scorched earth”.  I have a photo of a tree, just down the road, that has “feuille plastic”. It’s unfortunate, but again I suppose there are other priorities that are simply higher here.   I love the smell released when I open my tin of Tim Horton’s coffee.  This morning I shared a cup with Basul(i still don’t really know how to say his name correctly), the guard here at the SEMUS compound.  He was surprised i didn’t have sugar.

As Bev and the kids can attest, I spend allot of my time here at this table.  This is the place we most often Skype from.  This is where, occasionally other patrons of the hostel stop to revel at the magic of technology delivered through Skype and the internet  They sometimes take their turn sitting and talking with Bev and the kids.  Fortunately (and some back home would disagree) the severe cold snap that has engulfed Ottawa these past few days is a bonus creating that classic situation where people of warmer climates just can not believe you can have a life in sub zero temperatures (-42c with the wind chill is pretty cold) for anyone.  This often invokes a physical reaction where the person has to stand up and stagger away from the laptop laughing.  I can hear them talking about it, as they past through the courtyard and out on to the street. I don’t have a translation for “wind chill” and I’m not sure the concept wouldn’t even resonate with them here, so like any good Canadian I just leave that part out.  To be honest, come to think it, I’m not sure the concept even resonates with me.  As soon as you say “but it feels like…” who really cares what it doesn’t feel like?  People back home have asked me how hot is it here.  I don’t really know.  People here don’t focus on this…it’s just hot.  The other day Maurice asked me if I was hot.  I said “I’m always hot here” he replied ok good because “I thought it was just him and I was getting sick”.

Something you can not see, in this picture, is the ereader cover I fashioned (the night before I left) out of a Gabe’s Pizza box, duct tape and an old boot lace.  I find it fits in well here in Yako.  Bev and the kids were not too impressed, but that just makes me like it even more.  Not-with-standing my attachment to this cover, I promised Bev I would see if I could get one made over here.  On the weekend, a young fellow by the name of Ousmane stopped by and took me zipping through the streets of Yako on the back of a motorbike.  He knew two people that could make such a cover for me.   In the end I commissioned two different people to create the leather cover for my e-reader (one for Bev).  Pretty big swings in the prices. Unfortunately the first was 11000cfa (with an advance of 5000cfa) and the second was 3000.  The more expensive one is being created by an “artisant” and the less expensive is by a…”couture” on the main street.  Fortunately the second will be done first, so at least I can pass by the “artisant” and let him know the level of quality will be established by the first.  I stopped by the first guy’s place last night to pick it up, as he said originally it would only take a day.  A one eyed boy attending to the stall told me that the man I was looking for was currently at the mosque praying.  I returned 20 minutes later to learn that my piece was not yet finished.  I had a chance to see the incomplete work and it looked good.  “Pas de probleme”….I’ll stop by again today.

Out strolling today, I met up with a gentleman we’ll call “Ali”.  They have fairly long and tough to pronounce names, so I usually listen for the ending and ask if I can simply call them what ever I hear.   At the end of our chat, he asked for my cell number.  It’s an odd thing here, I must have given my cell number out 25 times here already.  I have one guy, Sourabie.  He’s called me 3 or 4 times from different cities.  I have no idea what he wants, as I can barely understand him.  We chat for a few minutes and then…well we stop and I say “Ok bon…au revoir”.  This young fellow is one of those hostel patrons that sat and talked with Bev and the kids during a Skype conversation.  He’s called me from both Ouahigouya and Ouagadougou.  After chatting with Ali on the road, I was walking past a group of young men sitting under a straw covered shelter.  They called me over and offered me a chair.  Two of them were attending University in Ouagadogou and were home for the weekend.  One was studying electrical engineering and the other  agriculture.  They wanted to know everything about life in Canada.

We discussed the Canadian “System Sociale”.  More specifically the universal healthcare and education.  I attempted to share with them that I thought our healthcare system had a huge impact on our culture.  I used the example where we supposed my son had become very ill, and I need money to pay for treatment.   This might be the one time where I would consider stealing from a neighbour to pay for the treatment.  With our universal healthcare safety net, we keep more people from having to make such a drastic choice. I know I’m simplifying things here but I’ve got a pretty limited vocabulary to make a comprehensible point.

The boys were also amazed to learn how much tuition I would be paying in September, when both my kids would be attending university.  To be honest I was a little shocked too.  They could not imagine spending that much on anything.  They shared with me that unemployment was a big problem and plagued their generations future.  I told them that what i had observed, there the only resource this country e was its people and that some how someone would have to find away to leverage this.  I added that Burkina Faso also had a fair bit of sun.  To this the young man responded exactly…we need to harness solar energy. Good luck.  They also shared that political campaign promises were often dismissed shortly after elections.  I told them, while I didn’t want to set our two nations problems on the same level, there were some common elements to the “misery” people perceive.  People are never entirely happy with their own circumstances.  I took my leave of the boys and one of them offered his motorbike when I ever I wanted it. I’ll be back.

Unfortunately, I find I spend a disproportionate amount of time trying to establish an internet connection here. I have two options. The Wi-Fi network of the Cyber cafe (located in front of the hostel) or use the cellular broadband stick I purchased in Ouagadougou. I’m beginning to think that my efforts are a waste of time. It reminds me very much of the old days when the internet was first starting to become mainstream. My buddy Slick and I would toil at the kitchen table for hours trying to figure out what sequence of configurations, commands and settings actually allowed us to connect; trumpet this…., winsock that…, finger this….Every once and a while it would connect and we would pull our hands away from the computer and say…”Ok don’t touch anything I think we are in” and then “Do you know what we did that time?”. That was more than 20yrs ago. I’m starting to concede to some advice I was given, when I first arrived in Burkina Faso, “…when the internet goes down…it goes down for the whole country”. But I continue with my “ipconfig /renew” and “ipconfig /release” cycles and “predict network actions on or off”. Every once and awhile you fool yourself into thinking that one of these cryptic commands has helped. But in the end, I think success is just playing with me, like a kitten rolls a small ball back and forth between it’s paws; just doing this to pass the time until something more interesting comes up.

 

Chuck Norris in Ouagadougou….

I’m sitting on the bus travelling out of Yako and back into Ouagadougou.  Last night at the “chicken ceremony” (of course it wasn’t a ceremony; it was a good old fashioned pioneer living experience).  We found a friend of Kevin’s at the market who was willing to properly end Henrietta’s life and a lady in Kevin’s court yard showed us how to prepare the bird for soup.   It’s amazing how quickly this bird began to look just like a bird back home.  But as we began to remove all the parts you don’t eat, or at least the parts Burkinabé people don’t eat, it became obvious that the meat available on this bird was much less than we are accustom to.  We ended up making a soup out of “Henrietta” the chicken.  With the soup simmering, I had a chance to mash dried fish parts with a large wooden post in a bowl….real pioneer like.  Kevin had heard that this was a good compliment to the millet that usually makes up the remaining chickens diet.  Millet also makes up a large part of the Burkinabé diet as well.  With respect to the remaining chickens still pacing in the coop, it was curious to see how quiet the others got as Henrietta went through her transformation from fowl to feast.  I imagined that the others were quietly cooing to each other…”ok, does anyone remember what Henrietta said just before the Nasarah grabbed her?….Because I’m not going to get caught saying that.”  While we were eating dinner the town was consumed with the second qualifying match of the African Nations cup.  Burkina Faso was playing Ethiopia and we heard the town erupt 4 times in celebration as Burkina Faso defeated their opponent 4-0. After dinner, I learned that Kevin and Jeanette were heading into Ouaga tomorrow for supplies and a refreshing seat at a cafe called “Cappuccino” with a solid internet connection.

Back on the bus, we have been stopped by the military.  Both Kevin and Jeanette suggest that the ride will be much longer now, if there are many check points like this.  The military checkpoints are presumed to be related to the Malian crisis just to the north.  An officer has entered the bus and is checking passports and papers.  By the time he gets to us he isn’t much interested in what he is doing anymore or “Les blanc” are pretty far down there on the suspect list.  We are soon on our way again.  As we pull away, I can hear the dudes in the back mention “Al-Qaeda”. In this environment it has a different impression on me.  Kevin also mentioned at this point that “Monsieur le President” (leader of SEMUS) had asked for a list of expats currently assigned to SEMUS. I told him that I also was asked to write my name and phone number on that list.  Kevin explained that this was in case an evacuation was required.  We laughed when I told him …”Oh I thought I was being invited to the “President’s son’s wedding next week”.  I really did think that.  That shows you how fragile my comprehension of french and Mooré is at times.

As we made our way back into Ouagadougou, I remarked how much greener things seemed to me compared to my original trip in to Yako two weeks ago.  Everything is relative to what you become accustom to. 

We quickly grabbed a taxi from the bus station and proceeded into the heart of the city.  Our first stop was Cappuccinos.  Indeed stepping into this place was like stepping through a time gate.  There were displays of pastries, everyone clean and several Plasma TV’s hanging on all the walls.  The Malian crisis was playing on the news reports and I reflected on just how similar the images appeared to look like Yako; the same road signs, decaying courtyard walls and the color of the sand and stone.  After Cappuccinos, we went to a few grocery stores where Kevin, Jeanette and now Katelyn began to stock up on supplies.  We ended our outing to Ouagadougou by visiting the “Grande Marché”. 

This is a large and very busy Bazar where you can buy just about anything.  Kevin explained that if you showed any interest in anything, and acknowledged one of the vendors you would have a friend for your entire market experience.   I was prepared, as this seemed quite similar to our family experience in the Chinese markets of Shanghai and Beijing.  I had not stepped 3 feet into the market when all of a sudden I saw this young guy come pushing through the crowd pointing a finger at me shouting, “Hey Chuck Norris!!…Hey Chuck Norris Ca va?”.  This was too funny.  Not only was it the first thing I could actually understand but it was also a confirmation of sorts.  In 2005, on trip to San Diego, I had a Egyptian classmate suggest that I looked like Chuck Norris.  At that time I thought “Ok… I guess so”.  Fast forward to 2011, while grabbing some beers and chicken wings at the Clock Tower in Ottawa, I had some colleagues from work remark the exact same thing.  Again I thought “Ok…I guess”.  When I shared this with Bev and the kids, Becky reaffirmed that a few of her friends at university also concurred.  Again not a bad thing when you have a daughter attending 1st year university (tends to keep the boys in line).  But now, in the “Grande Marché” of Ouagadougou, a million miles away from home, I’ve got this guy coming at me calling out “Chuck Norris…Oui?”.  He is standing in front of me, blocking my path, holding a classic Kung Fu pose and a wonderfully huge grin on his face.  Well I thought, that was pretty cool because, as everyone knows…if you Google “Chuck Norris” you’ll find…”No one messes with Chuck Norris”.

 

So I got arrested today….

Friday morning and it’s my first morning on my own.  Last night I shared with Sali that I wanted to return to the “vrais experience de voyageur”.  For the past week, Sali has been bringing me my breakfast, lunch and dinner.  This arrives at the same time each day.  While this can be a sense of security for many, I was starting to feel like it was constraining me; having to return to the my auberge everyday at the same time.  It limited my interactions with the locals and I wasn’t able to try some of the other culinary opportunities.  In addition, to be honest, I often found that Sali was bringing more food than I usually eat.  Also, Bev had prepared me a pretty bountiful care package of granola bars, porridge, and protein shake mix so I feel I have things covered.  It wasn’t easy to have this conversation but in the end I feel that it was the right thing for me. 

There’s also a “boulangerie” just down the road that bakes bread in a stone wood oven.  It’s pretty easy for me to walk down there each morning and grab a loaf for breakfast.  There are also plenty of vendors that sell bananas, oranges and deep fried dough (tim bits).  My only concern is the health issue.  This simply is not a place where you can assume sanitary practices.  The biggest problem is access to clean water to wash your hands..and the bananas, oranges, tomatoes etc.   The water is really only good for washing the visible side of the germs, virus and who knows what else you pick up as you walk along your route.

There are water stations through out the town.  People gather here to collect their water to take back to their homes.  They collect the water in all sorts of containers; plastic jugs and 45 gallon drums.  This is often the work of children, as they guide their donkey and cart to the water station for a fill up.

To be honest, I can’t remember where I’m remembering this from but I’m going to go with M*A*S*H.  I seem to recall an episode where a soldier wondered, as he lay in triage, whether you actually heard the bullet that would finally get you.  I’m constantly thinking this.  When I become sick, I won’t know if it was shaking the hand of the little boy with a runny nose, the little girl that has run over to greet you after defecating on the side of the road, the baguette I just bought, water that didn’t quite boil long enough or simply taking a shower.  You just don’t know.

So after finishing my baguette, I started out for a morning stroll.  I wanted to head back to the “Naba"’s” place again.  It can be quite hard to re-trace your steps sometimes because all the streets look the same, but I eventually made my way back.  I ended  up chatting with a few children…one of them it turns out was the Naba’s son.   This is the same boy that invited me to enter the hut after the “chicken” ceremony.  We had a great chat for sometime.  At one point they began to talk about some guy named “Baden Powell”; a “blanc” who died in 1941.  After a minute I realized that they were talking about “Lord Baden Powell”.  This is the guy that started scouts and guides.  How cool is that?

After leaving the boys I proceeded on to “main street”.  I had paused to take a photo of a Burkina Faso flag blowing in the wind.  From off to my right I heard a man call out “Hey le blanc…hey”.  At this point my spidey senses started tingling and I decided to begin moving in the opposite direction.  The call out continued “Le blanc…hey Nasarah”. The cat call didn’t have the same melodic ring to it that I had become accustom too and I felt it was best to just keep moving away.  I then found my path blocked by a police officer.  The police here can look a little more like Militia to an outsider.  It was only after checking the medal pinned to his beret that I deduced he was a police officer.  He instructed me to come with him.  At first I said “No thanks, I’m good…It’s ok”, but he insisted I follow him back to the station.  Oh boy I thought.  We entered the station and he pulled out a handkerchief to dust off a seat for me.  I said I was good to stand but he insisted I take a seat.  He said that I would have to wait for the commissioner to arrive.  At this point, I allowed myself to quickly reflect on the movie “Midnight Express” where Billy Hayes was detained, in a Turkish prison, for trafficking drugs, but then I decided  to remain cool and just see what happens.  A few minutes later a large man entered the station and it was clear he was the “commmisionaire”.  He explained that it is forbidden to take any pictures of any state facilities, including the flag that flew outside the police station. I said “Je n’ai pas aucun idée de c’est loi”.  He said that every state facility was a representation of everything in the capital Ouagadougou and that photos were strictly forbidden.  I was directed to erase the picture of the flag and we proceeded to validate that I had not taken any other state facility photos.  I then had to right my name and phone number, profession and place of work(SEMUS) on a sheet of paper.  After this, I proceeded to take a chance to lighten things up, by asking him if he could guess how cold it was back home in Ottawa today.  When I told him –42 (with the windchill) he almost fell over.  He and the officer asked each other, if they could imagine a life in such a cold environment.  They asked “What do you do when it gets that cold”.  I replied “Well personally I come to Africa”.  We laughed for a while and then he told me I was free to go.  I came real close to asking if I could grab a picture of him and the “arresting officer” handcuffing me…but I decided not to push my luck. Once outside the police station, I’m guessing everyone up and down the street were wondering…”what’s with the big smile on the Nasarah’s face”.

When I got back to my room, I emailed Bev at work with the simple message “I got arrested today”.  Now this is why I love her so much; she replied “You’re in jail…. for 2 or 3 days?”    Honestly could a man be any luckier.  I let it sit for a few minutes and then the second email came…”Hello…you’re starting to worry me..what’s going on.”  I replied “Oh you’ll have to read about it the blog honey…but don’t worry ….all is good LOL”.

About an hour later, I was resting in my room when I received a txt on my phone “I’m going to kill a chicken in my courtyard and prepare it with some people.  Are you interested?”…Can you imagine…I replied “Sure, who is this?”.  I got a response a few minutes later “Kevin (tall white anglophone)”; one of the Waterloo university students.  

Not a bad way to end a Friday night eh?

 

I guess I’m settling in…

Every morning I wake up and after my shower, I sit on my porch and update my journal.  I’ve developed a little relationship with a mosquito that visits me each day.  We have an agreement.  He comes around and buzzes in my ear reminding me to take my Malarone pill (to “reduce” the chance of malaria) and for my part I don’t kill him.  There’s one more condition to this agreement.  He’ll come back tomorrow and remind me again.   There are a fair number of bats here so I can’t promise it’s the same mosquito but I like to think it is.  This is evidenced by me whispering out loud “Merci”.  Like I said, if I fall sick, I just won’t know if it’s the food, the water, the handshakes or the mosquitos.  BTW: there’s nothing like listening to a band like The Tragically Hip (Ahead by a Century) in  a place like this.

I didn’t do much today, or yesterday for that matter, by way of exploring or discovery.  I took the same walk but found that everything seemed to be the same; uneventful. This had me thinking that perhaps I and my blog might be turning a corner.  In coaching,I have learned that coaching engagements often fall into 3 spheres; Activity, Thinking and Being.  Activity is when the coachee presents a problem or circumstance where they are looking for support in “what to do”.  Thinking is when a coachee is looking for support in developing a perspective, “How should I look at this?”.  The final level, which should be regarded as precious is, Being; “Who am I?”  Like my blog, the events of the past few days, have provided me with enough fodder to share with you what I’ve been doing…and occasionally I’ve touched on my perspective.   If things don’t pick up around here…I’m afraid we just might delve into the “Being; Who am I?”.  I mean,  I’m not looking to recreate that scene in Gerry McGuire where Tom Cruise open’s the movie with a manifesto of his thoughts on how he thinks the Sports agency business model should evolve.  But I’ve made bigger mistakes. It’s quite a gift to really know someone; not an every day occurrence. It’s an entirely different gift to know yourself.

Today on lunch hour walk I came across 3 young guys crouched down in their vendor stall sharing a bowl of rice.  They welcomed me over and through laughter encouraged me to try their “Riz D’Arab”(Arabic rice).  Did I mention they were eating with their hands?  I said “Non Merci”, but one of them continued to beckon me to try it.  It was a jovial season and after a few minutes I told the guy in french….”you know while you’ve been talking to me trying to get me try your rice your buddy behind you is stealing your portion.”.  Well you can’t get anymore confirmation that some has understood you than watching him turn around and start slapping his buddy, as everyone around started to laugh.  It was a good time and they all wished me a good day.

Around 4:00 I went looking for someone to confirm compatibility between the excel tool I was building and the desktop configuration found on most machines here at SEMUS.  The last thing you need in a limited resource environment is to have one of those “Gotch ya’s”.  I’ve had enough experience;where a developer says “well it’s working on mine computer”.  These computers are tricky little things…Only the paranoid survive.  As I entered the hall way it seemed a little darker and as i called out “Hello….” I received no reply.  The place was cleared out.  I guess tomorrow is “Mouloud” (the prophet’s birthday and no one told the “Nasarah”  Just like home, everyone enjoys an early start to a long weekend.

I also connected today with my MD team back home.  A few days before leaving for Africa, our head office had a fire, displacing about 800 people.  This has forced the organization to adopt a work from home mode.  To support this, virtual meeting rooms have sprouted up with chat and video capabilities.  With everyone gone here, I was able to secure a stable and fairly solid connection.  So I walked right out the gate and allowed them to see the activity on the street just outside the office;  including the donkey across the street.  I had a few locals come up and shake hands while my colleagues looked on.  It was a good time for all.

C’est moi, l’homme d’hier….

I began my “petit sondage avec l’équipe de comtable” to find out what their current level of understanding was with excel and learn just how consistent practices were amongst the accounting team.  I found fairly good consistency among the group and my findings were able to break the group up into two groups;basic and advanced.  With the basic group we would cover off file management, formatting and basic formula creation and with the advanced we would cover off  design options, DSUM and Pivot Tables.  While meeting with Richard, i had the pleasure of having someone pull their chair in close and ask…”so how long will you be here?.”  A good feeling He expressed that this was the “vrais capitâle” that he needed.  This in relation to his ability to easily create summaries and formulate recommendations.  I took a chance and said this is the “penga” of excel for mangers.  I understand “penga” to be the Mooré word for force or power.  I took this from the Mooré expression “Wend Penga” (God’s Power).  I think it went well as Maurice, one of the leaders at SEMUS looked over the bridge of his glasses and nodded with agreement, as a large smile grew upon his face.  As I was meeting with Richard, I realized that I was using patterns of conversation as I communicated with him.  You see when people get excited, and when they afford me far too much credit in my level of comprehension, they begin to speak more animated and more quickly.  To maintain momentum you are forced to rely on some pattern recognition and to only try to focus on the areas that you think are critical.  He’s telling me something about the past…He’s giving an example of the past, he’s reflecting on a negative experience, he’s reflecting on a positive experience, he’s reaffirming that what I am proposing will create value.  I may be right or I may be wrong on my intuition but that’s all I’ve got.  But then again, I’ve sat in plenty of meetings where everyone speaks the same language, in fact they’ve got a pretty good command of the English language, and they’re still talking about two different things…even though they agree.

Maurice joined the conversation near the end and we talked about how important starting off with a strong base was.  That it was the design of the information up front that would dictate the potential of any system.  This to me was a very good conversation.  In the end it is turning out that others at SEMUS would like to attend the training of the “Nasarah”. :)

As has become my daily routine, I headed out for my lunch hour walk; actually it’s a 3 hour walk.  I’ve been focusing on an area outside of town towards the south (I think). Out there  a man riding a bicycle wearing a blue robe and white cap began to approach from the direction I was heading.  Just as he passed me he called out “C’est moi, l’homme d’hier”.  Just before that moment, I had recognized him as the man I encountered yesterday.  A very stern looking dude who was building a new home (brick unit) for his family.  I stopped in to observe this fellow’s construction efforts and asked if I could take a picture of him working on his home.  It was damn hot and I was very impressed how he was working so hard; making the bricks(banga) and constructing the building. As I passed by his home on the return of my walk, I snapped an additional picture.  I got the feeling from the intonation of his call out to me that he wasn’t very happy with the me snapping another shot.  It was a great relief to see today that I had misread what he had said…or at least he didn’t keep a grudge.  Even before this happened, I’d like to run out there one afternoon and hand him a nice cold “Coca”  (Coca Cola) as he toiled in the mud and sun.

It’s cool to be recognized here now by the locals.  There’s another guy that I ran into way out on the other side of town.  I could see him racing across an empty section towards me on his motorbike, as I was chatting with some small children.  At first you are kind of like “Oh boy what have I done” or “what’s this guy going to try and pull”.  But when he pulled up beside me, the hand came out and he just had that look on his face of recognition.  A few minutes later I discerned that he was part of the plethora of poeple I met on my first day at SEMUS.  Each time this happens, I think I’m developing more and more “street cred”.

Burkina Faso ties the game….

It’s a cool Monday morning, so I’m wearing my Baja hoodie to start the day.  A it is Monday, there is the weekly general meeting for SEMUS.  The heads of each department gather in the the “salle de reunion”, for an overview of the projects and their status.  Today will also be the first time I get to meet with TAHO, as he has returned from his meetings in Ouahigouya (a city to the north of Yako, closer to the Mali border).  It will be the first time that I am able to confirm with TAHO that my perception of the value I might create is on track. If I’m wrong it will be a real drag and the waste of an entire week.  I will also learn how committed TAHO is to my project and efforts.  A frequent experience of volunteers is that by the time a volunteer has arrived, so much has changed that the intent around the original mandate can change so much, that it is often hard to reintegrate the volunteer’s presence and contribution into the current priorities.  Who is to say that I have arrived at a time when the team is still focused and available to work through my assignment.

Three hours later, we finished the general meeting and my 1:1 with TAHO.  My interpretation of the organization’s need and the approach I have suggested is exactly what he is looking for.  Great news!  I suggested that I would build a tool in Excel that would allow them a simple way to consolidate expenditures and provide a “Récapulatif” of these expenditures by category, month, and business unit (Bric-a-Brac, Pharmacie, Centre D’Accueil, etc). Initially this will support the creation of more infomred annual budgets.  In addition to saving time from the manual effort of creating a summary of expense, on an ad-hoc basis, we will empower managers to use the newly found gift of time to analyse the results and formulate recommendations….to think, rather than simply reacting to newly crafted totals and results.  In my mind this puts SEMUS in a better position to execute strategy and establish stronger credibility with donors and the rest of their ecosystem.   But what was most important to me was that I could train his team to create, modify and apply the techniques employed in the creation of this tool.  enabling them to extend these techniques into other areas of the business.  An over-arching objective in the Leave for Change program is to build capacity.  Taking the approach, along the adage of “give a man a fish and you feed him for a day.  Teach him to fish and you feed him for life” is certainly the opportunity before me and aligns well with my perspective to empower people…to liberate them.  For those that know me (and there are so few you of you),  I’m all about the long run and lose a disproportionate amount interest in short term gains.  I recognize this as a personal handicap.  If I can find a model where I have faith that sustainability is the goal,  I’m all in.  If I suspect that the goal is short term reward (even for me) or change for the sake of change, frankly I think you can get just about anybody to dig that hole.   For those of you that are all about the business and wondering “what the heck is he doing over there anywhere?” my “Plan de travail” is as follows:

1. Establish the context and objective
2. Select the appropriate techniques to be employed
3. Perform a learning needs analysis for the accounting team
4. Develop and deliver training
5. Follow up with support 

I was delighted to have TAHO also suggest that he would lead his team, through this program, by establishing a few goals to be pursued following the training.   For example they would retrofit their 2012 accounts, using the new tool. An excellent reinforcement for learning and practice and change. It also, to my delight reaffirmed that he really was interested in the outcome and what it would do for him and his team.

If I can just pause here to share with you that personally this was quite gratifying and reaffirming.   With the limited information, as a result of the minimum time I spent with TAHO this past week(~1 hour) and the language barrier, I was able to establish an appropriate objective, gain trust and propose a manageable outcome. It’s not an optimal solution but one informed by experience.  You have to be flexible enough to not have things perfect but get things to a level that might be nurturable and organic.  It has reminded me of a time when I had the title of “Vision Engineer”. I was trusted to scope out, not only the problem but the appropriate solution.  As John Klaas (a prince of guy that I used to work for) once said to me during my days of running a “skunk works”, “…you just throw things up on the wall Dan and we’ll go with the goo that sticks to the wall”.  I often described my organisation’s business model’s greatest strength as, “if we liberate people to do the right thing…they usually will”.

I concluded my meeting with TAHO explaining to him that I felt the only advantage I had over his team was that I had learning resource available to me, that allowed me to research and learn on my own.  To take examples of solutions and apply them to problems that I was trying to solve.  He explained that he felt their was a cultural gap in his environment that did not support the idea of self-training; of self-learning and development.  I told him things were much much easier where I came from and yet this challenge plagued many people back home.  People assume that their needs are so unique that the possibility of finding resources that would allow them to solve (identify a solution) was next to impossible.  The truth of the matter, from my perspective, is that there are a limited number of problem patterns out there and that when you are faced with a challenge you can adopt a perspective where you can begin to say “oh it’s one of those” or that solution or technique can be used in these 5 or 6 challenges.  Adaptability and flexibility are two of the key strengths that I feel allowed me to be the successful Leave for Change candidate this year.  I can often be criticized for not planning as much as others, but in the end my resistance is deeply lodged in the perspective that if you formulate a plan too early, you have already begun to constrain the possibilities, you have already begun to limit the potential and prescribe the outcome.  You have to remain open enough to seize the moment and pull the trigger just at the right time.  For me, creative solutions are the ones that “glow”.  They are the ones that least rely on patterns.  Some people see the glow earlier than others and some only see the magic once the solution is complete.  There is nothing like having someone believe that what you see exists…even if they don’t see it yet.  That is truly engaging.

At the end of the day, I went for a walk through town with a noticeable bounce in my stride, and began to notice many of the kiosks and vendors had their establishments draped in the Burkina Faso flag.  The African Cup football tournament is under way and Burkina Faso is playing its first game against Algeria.  As the evening began to unfold, many TV sets were making their way outside and benches were being set up along my route for people to watch.  I believe that Burkina Faso is considered the underdog, but I may have just established this to over embellish the romantic aspect of my experience.  Later that evening, as I sat outside my room, the entire town erupted in a celebration.  It was quite clear to me, not even watching the game, that Burkina Faso had scored.  This experience would be the equivalent of a huge campground watching the Stanely Cup and having the home team score.  What I hadn’t realized was that this goal had tied the game, and had occurred with less than two minutes to go in the game.  Many people were excited late into the night.  I’m not a huge sports fan, but there’s nothing like a crowd that’s excited and rallying around a team.

The least of my brothers…

When I was a young, we used to go to mass EVERY Sunday and we rarely attended service at our local parish in Orleans.  We would drive all the way from Queenswood Heights into Our Lady of Mount Carmal near St. Laurent and Montreal road.  I believe we did this because my parents preferred the stern messaging of Father O’Rourke and I think him being Irish didn’t hurt either.  He was one of those priests, that seemed to me at the time, to be well over 6ft tall, broad shouldered and always opting for the daunting black robes. I’m glad my encounters with Father O’Rourke were restrict only to Sunday mass.  In the context of us all being “God’s little soldiers” he was certainly, in my mind ,cast in the light of General Patton or even Sgt. Fury.  From a young boy’s perspective, the only benefit of attending Father O’Rourke’s service was that if Terry (my younger brother) and I were good in mass, there was a chance that we could stop at the Red Barn (just down the road) for a burger on the way home from church.

My Mom had my brother and I convinced that it was the ultimate judgement of Father O'Rourke that would determined whether we were worthy of a post worship feast; a “Burger Blessing” if you will.  Leaving mass each Sunday, somehow as Father O'Rourke greeted the exiting parishioners, he would secretly send our Mom some kind of signal regarding the verdict.  As much as I would watch for it, I never really felt I had successfully decoded their secret communications; was it the wink?, tilt of the head to the left?, to the right, was it the nod?, the shake? Anyways, most times my brother and I didn’t have to ask if the “Burger Blessing of Father O’Rourke” was earned.  More often than not, we knew climbing into the back of the car, whether we had blown it or not.  But you know, sometimes that was ok. Because the only thing better than having an uncontrollable laugh (ESPECIALLY when you’re not suppose to be making a peep) is inducing one on a sibling.  Well worth the occasional burger and fries.

Of course the most effective means of self-managing your behaviour and upping the possibility of a post mass reward was to zone out completely; go some where in your mind and mentally entertain yourself  You could count church pews, ceiling fan rotations, evaluate the structural architecture of the roof, etc, etc etc. Unconsciously you’d go through the sit, kneel, stand cycles while maintaining a certain level of consciousness through personal audio cues.  These would give you a sense as to where you were in the mass and how much longer you’d need to maintain this “meditative” state; “….the gospel according to …”,”….this is my body…”, “…to the least of my brothers…”.  “The least of my brothers….”, this one always stood out for me. 

Marie, the cleaning lady, had shared with me that there was Catholic mass on Sunday a 6:00am in Mooré, so I decided to attend to see if I could recognize the different stages in the mass. I wanted to see how different it might be.  Well I didn’t make the 6:00am, but understood that there was also a french mass at 7:00am, so I started out towards the direction of the church.  You can hear the church bell ringing, so it was easy to find the church. Fairly quickly, I was following a large crowd all dressed up in their best Sunday clothes.  It was quite beautiful as the Burkinabé  women wear lots of bright colors.  Many were carrying benches and chairs to sit on.  As I got closer, the crowd grew larger and larger; collecting more and more people from all different directions.  Finally I decided to walk past the church, as I grew concerned that the presence might be too much of a spectacle.  I could see so many children and thought maybe the call of “Nasara” might not be appreciated by the adult congregation.

Now continuing away from the mass and further back into the village, I began to encounter more children coming up to me to shake hands.   I found myself again at the mosque that I had mentioned earlier (in the post Whoa…where did that come from).  A woman signalled to me that I could enter the courtyard of the mosque.  A few minutes later, a man and a boy welcomed me into the mosque.  It was empty, notwithstanding the prayer mats that lay on the floor.  The man explained that the women would stay behind the curtain, found at the rear of the mosque and the men would prayer in the open area in front.  To the left side, along the wall, was a pile of sheepskins and small “kettles”.  He explained that the sheepskins were available for those the did not have a prayer mat and the small “kettles” were used to wash your hands and feat for absolution before prayer.  I asked if he would take a picture of me praying on one of these mats.  It was a great experience and privilege.

I left the Mosque and continued my walk.  I came across a group, of maybe 20 people, sitting on the ground listening to a man wearing a green “bubu”(robe) and bright colored cap.  As the man was speaking a boy sat in the front holding a spear, pointed straight up to the sky.  I asked a boy, who was also standing back from the crowd , if this was a mass.  He said it was part of the celebration of the Naba; chief of the village.  All the while as the Naba spoke to the crowd, someone to his right was thumping on a drum and every once and a while some guy, to the right of the crowd, would begin blowing a wind instrument that sounded somewhat like a “gazoo”.  This guy had a hat and robe that definitely put him in the category of a monk.  In Mooré he is known as the “WIRÉ”. I moved in closer when 4 chickens were passed up through the crowd and handed to one of the Naba’s assistants.  From time to time, the women in the crowd would yell out, with a high pitch cheer that we have all heard, when watching documentaries.    Finally the Naba, and his three of assistants stood with the 4 chickens in hand and entered a stone hut that was adjacent to the crowd and connected to a courtyard.  The crowd sat quietly and awaited the Naba’s return.   A little while later, the Naba and his entourage returned with several bowls.  The bowls were passed through the crowd allowing each member to take a sip.  Now I know what you are thinking; I thought it too…. but it turns out the bowls were filled with water.

Again a boy standing in the crowd, signalled that I could pass through the hut and enter the courtyard of the Naba.  I cautiously approached the entrance to the hut, inspecting it from side to side with a fair bit of hesitation.  I still was not sure if I could actually do this or if the boy was just curious to see if the “Nasara” could take a punch…or a beating. LOL.  It was all good.  The Naba was quite welcoming and obliged me pictures; including the WIRÉ.

Leaving the Naba’s palace, I continued my stroll.  I’ve begun taking more pictures and have learned that the children actually treasure this as they get to see themselves immediately.  I think they enjoy this as much as the “bonbons”.  Most of them will not likely ever get to see a hardcopy photo of themselves.  Not far from the Naba’s palace (it seems this palace is just like every other courtyard) I snapped a picture of a woman (from a distance) filling a donkey cart with millet(grain).  I could hear her friends from across the road call out to her that the “Nasara” had taken a picture of her.  As I approached her, we began an exchange (without any real mutual understanding based on language) that I recognized from home.  She interrupted her gestures and laughter as “Now why would you snap a picture of me, while I’m wearing this old dirty skirt.”...I pointed to my pants and said “…and I looking any cleaner with these sand dyed pants.”  We laughed for a minute, as she looked at the picture and then I carried on my merry way.  To be honest, I don’t know if we actually connected the way I have described but again here is an example where I have my reality and she has her’s.

Returning to my humble abode at SEMUS,  I was quickly joined by the guard’s 2 little girls; Fatimata (9yrs) and Alimasatia (7yrs). I pulled out some crayons and colored paper and asked them to draw a picture for their father.  Watching the two little girls drawing, while listening to 3AM by Matchbox 20 as a very pleasant way to end the morning.

I spent the rest of my Sunday typing up my journal and talking with the locals.  The hostel is quite busy during the weekend so you get a chance to interact with more people.  Bev, the kids and I had an “amazing” internet connection which facilitated a higher quality Skype experience.  With this connection there was an irresistible temptation to have people join in.  We had all sorts of people taking turns chatting with Bev and the kids.  Bev’s french is much much better than mine so the conversations were cool.  As you can imagine, every one of these people could not comprehend how people could live in an environment where the temperature can drop so slow.  They would literally have physical reactions where they could not remain seated.  One guy was so taken a back by the Skype experience that he wanted my phone number both in Burkina Faso and in Canada.   <<Just to jump ahead, 2 days later while he was in Ouayigouya he called me…. just to say hello and see whether I was still going to be here when he returned to Yako….LOL.>>

So as you can see, I didn’t get to the Catholic mass in Mooré, as I had intended to do at the start of my day.  I didn’t get to see if I could identify the different stages of the mass, the different audio clues such as ….  “The least of my brothers….”.  I believe I am now walking amongst those that could be considered (from a privileged perspective) the least of my brothers. But they don’t act that way. They are making it work.  They smile, laugh, welcome you and deliver a certain sense of security within their community..including those that are simply visiting.  I was quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of so many welcoming invitations, from those that clearly have less than you and I.   Again, “the least of my brothers” in privilege not in value, potential and accomplishment.  The irony is not lost on me that I began my day heading out to one religious ceremony and ended up exploring two others.

Wish you were here…

Went for a long walk today after my shower .  Travelled a little further into a rural area.  As I was returning to my hostel,  I met the French family heading out.  It was a little sad to see them go.  They were fun to talk to.  The night before, I had shared with them that I had music.  It turns out they were desperate for a change in that area so they loaded up with my playlist.  I only had two french songs but they seemed to enjoy them.  “Dans ma petite ville, il y a juste quat mille…” does nothing to raise the French’s perspective on Canadian culture but what the heck. :)

Marie, the house cleaning lady at the hostel, asked her son Lucien to come by and take me for a tour.  As we began walking, a little girl joined us and Lucien introduced me to his sister Melanie.  Lucien is 19 and Melanie is 12.  We first stopped at their home.  When we entered their court yard, I asked if this courtyard was for just their family.  I was thinking perhaps an extended family grandparents, aunts and uncles but Lucien looked at me at said “non, non”.  I remember looking straight into his eyes, as I realized what I had asked. When we went into their home (think cinder block storage unit) Lucien immediately grabbed a chair and placed it for me to sit down.  A very humbling experience was unfolding. He then quickly disappeared behind a curtain.  He returned with a fist full of family photos and began pointing out who was who in the photos.  Marie has 6 children.  The photos included brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts, grandparents and friends of his parents. Note there are no new photos here. just a hand full of memories from another time.  “Mon pére n’est pas ici” and later “Mon fére etre a Cote D’Ivoire” (please do yourself a favor and look up fair trade chocolate and the Ivory Coast coco trade).  If you are familiar with this topic, you may have an idea of what I was feeling when I said “Oh trés bien”.

After going through the pictures, they took me to the “Barrage” (dam).  To my amazement, I was standing on the edge of a Mango orchard.  This was quite a surprise because, until this moment, I had not seen any vegetation and would have come back telling you nothing but “sand and rock over there”.  Just ahead of me was a…very small lake..more like a depression with water in it.  But it also had crocodiles.  I think the kids found it a little funny how excited I was to see a crocodile.   Those things are pretty timid so I didn’t get too close before it slipped into the water. on the other side of the “barrage” I found a vegetable garden.  This garden supplies the daily market.

I enjoyed speaking with Lucien and Melanie.   I find they speak much clearer and slower than the adults.  As we walked along, they would ask me about things in Canada and I would do the same about Burkina Faso.  I explained to them that my French wasn’t very good and I appreciated them showing me around.  Lucien replied that my french was better than his mothers.  Marie’s native tongue is Mooré.  Lucien told me that we were now on our way to “une petit village”.  This was much smaller and we passed through the village easily.  I don’t recall hearing the “Nasara bonbon” call sign that i have become accustom to in Yako.  This was another hot day and we were quite a ways out there.  We eventually found ourselves at the Yako bus station where a small restaurant bar exists.  I suggested we go in for a drink (I was really thirsty).  I bought three pops and the kids wanted to know if we had “Fanta” back home. :)

We returned to my place and sat for a minute in the common area.  Melanie quickly focused her attention on the television that was available for her to watch.  No cartoons or anything, she was just happy to watch TV.  She then took interest in my laptop, so I let her flip through my library of photos.  I don’t think I have to share with you the thoughts that swam through my head as I watched this little girl review in wonder at the photos of everything we have.  Beginning with the smiles on our clean faces and ending with all the material stuff.  Can you imagine?  For instance, our family is a dog loving family.  We have more photos of that dog dressed up, lying on the couch and even sitting at the table than I care to share with you.  That’s our dogs life.  But again, not a spit of evidence in this little girls eyes that she was thinking anything but wonderment.  She laughed at the funny faces we all enjoy making for the camera. I hope Melanie remains this way in her innocence and perspective.  Melanie must have flipped through those pictures for about 2.5hrs and only conceded to her mother’s request to leave on the 2nd request.  I had told Marie that I was more than happy to spend time with Melanie but in the end they left.

I went for another walk later in the afternoon and met up with a parade.  Something to do with the “Naba” rulers of Yako.  This consists of two guys walking with spears, a dude on a donkey all decked out in his cap and “bubu” and three guys following each holding a chicken by the their feet.  I could hear folks along the route calling out and laughing “Look Nasara has joined the parade and has no idea why”.  As you can imagine, I am assuming every word here except “Nasara”.  And of course they were right.  Note:  This explains the gunfire we heard the other night.  Apparently there is a celebration of the Naba and each town has a 9 day celebration which includes visiting Nabas.  The local Naba rides a horse and visiting Naba ride a donkey.  So I’m in town, just at the right time.

Great Skype video with Bev and the kids tonight.  It was cool to listen to my son play Pink Floyd’s “Wish you were here” on his guitar while I sat outside and ate my dinner.  How cool is that!

The Universal…

Last night, as I was chatting with the French family, touring North Africa on bicycle, Sali came by.  The day before I had given her an IPod that my friend Sarah had asked me to give to her.   Sali had the IPod in hand and said it wasn’t working.  I looked at it and it said it had to be restored….it no longer worked.   She doesn’t have a laptop to recharge the IPod, but she had found someone who did and they charged it for her.  The Ipod was now not working.  I told her I would look at it tonight.  My concern was that, from my perspective, once an IPod is pooched…it’s pooched.  There are not a whole lot of options.

After my soirée with the French couple had finished, I proceeded to plug Sali’s IPod into my laptop.  ITunes recognized that the IPod needed restoring, so I pressed the restore button. A 4hr download began.   4hrs..I’ve never held an internet connection for 4hrs here.  Every time the connection was lost the download would start all over.  I felt terrible.  Needless to say it was a very frustrating and late night 

Getting up this morning was quite challenging due to the lack of sleep.  I felt terrible.  When Sali arrived to my astonishment she was singing, as she laid out this morning’s breakfast.  Here’s someone who had just received an IPod  and within 24hrs it had stopped working with little hope of getting it working again, and she was singing.  I told her that I would continue to try and get it working.  After breakfast I immediately began the download again.  A 15 minute download began where once it had been 4hrs.  Wooohooo.  But that’s what the internet connections are like….hit and miss.

Later that day, around lunch time,  Rebecca and I connected through Skype (with video!).  Aside from actually connecting and being able to use video, I walked straight outside the door of our compound and onto the street.  “Can you see the donkey Becky?”.  Yes she could.  What she couldn’t see was everyone on the street looking at me as I was talking to my laptop. They must have thought, “Nasara must be losing it and he’s only been here a couple of days”.

At the end of the day I had the chance to teach a few of the ladies in the office some English.  Of course, this is as challenging and fun to them, as it is for me to speak Mooré.  Being Friday, and recognizing a universal appreciation of the end of the week, I decided to have them all learn how to say “TGIF-Thank God It’s Friday”.  This was fun, but lost a little of its glow when, while leaving one girl said…”See you tomorrow”.  This is when i learned they work on Saturdays.   I’m glad that’s not a “universal”.

For dinner the Waterloo students invited me over for Crepe night.  That’s right these folks have become quite innovative and resourceful.  2 members of the US peace corps joined us as well.   During dinner we talked about the about fare trade chocolate and the reality of children from pace like Burkina Faso are taken to work in Coco plantations and the Malian crisis just to the north.  How some news reports had placed Yako in “the red zone”.  Shortly after this we heard gun fire off in the distance.  We laughed at the irony as we knew the gun fire was more than likely related to a festival related to a “festival of Nabon”(the local chief).  After dinner and chatting was over, I walked back to my hostel, with one of the Peace Corps members.  I had asked her about what she planned to do once her tour was over later this year.  She said that she didn’t know, but that someone could get quite cynical in an environment like this.  Where establishing a priority and working with people to keep them engaged can be quite frustrating.  Sound familiar?  I told this young person, who has not yet entered the working world (back home at least), that she should not be surprised that when she gets back home she would definitely encounter the same thing.  I said this was a “universal “ challenge and that the skills she was developing here in Burkina Faso, would put her in a very good place.  I told her that we never escape this and the it’s how we relate to the outside world that forms our reality. I suggested that the unique skills and experience she is acquiring will likely play to her advantage and that, what has developed inside of her was not a “universal”.  It will be the unique way that she leverages her experiences that will shine through and create value.  I hope I am as fortunate.

As I sit outside my room, I can always hear different sounds.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference between bleating goats and the sound of children.  Sometimes it’s the sound of bird.  Sometimes I just don’t know.  One sound had caught my ear and I curiously listened for sometime before I realized that it was the guy down the hall; the guy who had beat me to the water for a shower the other day…Snoring.  I could hear him all the way down the hall and outside my door. Another “universal” " 

The Call to Prayer…or When things are going my way

Yesterday I started my day with a walk around town. It’s very comfortable here in the morning as the sun rises. In fact, I’m able to wear my favourite Baja hoodie on my morning stroll. When I returned to my room to shower up and get ready for work, some guy down the hall was standing there with a big smile and a towel wrapped around his waist; he had just finished showering up. When I went to grab my shower…there was nothing…drip drip drip. I knew access to a reliable source of water was going to be an issue so I was prepared for this. It’s not going to happen everyday but I couldn’t get that guy's smile out of my mind. So I devised a plan.  

As I mentioned, the Grand Mosque is just down the road. It provides a beautiful audio overlay to the Yako ambiance as the Iman’s call to prayer can easily be heard, even in my room, as I lay in bed.This morning at 4:35am as the call to prayer started, I jumped out of bed and straight into the shower.  I had water.  Now when I say, I jumped straight into the shower…no one in there right mind jumps into a shower that has only one lever (on and off).  There is no hot and cold….well I guess you could look at it like there’s a cold, but I prefer not to.  You tend to spend a little bit of time (especially at 4:35am) standing in front of the mirror asking yourself…”Okay, are you ready…are you going to do this?”. It’s just the get’n in part that’s a dog.

 

My second victory of the morning was finding a boulliere (electric kettle) to make my Tim Horton’s coffee.  That’s right, I brought myself a tin of Timmy’s and some filters.  Back home, I don’t actually drink Tim’s too often (expect when out on the motorcycle), but this was one luxury I afforded myself.  Goooood coffee.

My next pause for celebration was when Salimatra arrived with my breakfast.  I uncovered my plate and saw that she had prepared me an omelette.  This really was something that I had to close my eyes for as it filled my mouth with so much good flavour.  You’d think, by the way I had savoured every mouth full, that I had been here for 6 months ….I’ve only been here 4 days. LOL.  I think it’s because I had already mentally prepared myself to be eating a baguette and coffee every morning.  That’s not a bad thing, but this omelette was so good.

Finally, when I walked in to my office (a meeting room), there was Adjia, with her laptop plugged in and ready to work with me.  Come on….can anybody beat that morning?

After lunch, I headed out for my 2.5 hr daily walk through town, in the afternoon sun.  I hope this counts as good exercise.  The sun is strong, so I’m start’n to get why they take the “repose”.  I continued to make my way through as many roads and paths as I could.  To be quite honest, I haven’t been taking many photos at all.   I get lots of messages from back home saying “can’t wait to see the photos” and “take lots of photos”.   It’s tough to explain.  I don’t feel comfortable yet, snapping pictures of people, their homes, their struggles.  I know I’ll get there but I think I’d like to establish a bit of a rapport first, so that they at least see me first…and not the camera….and trust me they do see me “Nasaraaaaa….”  can be heard from every direction as I stroll down every road.  The “Nasara” or “Nasara Bonbon” doesn’t feel like a bad thing and it doesn’t bother me.  You should know that, EVERYBODY along the route greets you with a “Bonjour. Ça va?”.  Back to picture taking.  On the Myers Briggs Personality Type model(MBPT), I consistently, over the years, land as an INTP (Introvert,Intuitive, Thinking Perceiving).  People in this model typically prefer to listen more than talk, think about things longer and use Intuition and Perception more heavily.   We are heavy into the conceptual aspect of most things.  None of these are absolutes.  Non of these are strengths or weaknesses.  They simply demonstrate a preference over other MBPT combinations.   I think this is what’s at play here for me.  I’m wanting to establish a bit of context before I try communicating a reality.  Hey now there’s a concept….but maybe Marshall McLuhan has already nailed that one.

I spent some time at night chatting with the French couple.  A very pleasurable night.

Regrettably that’s all I have in my notes for Thursday….might have something to do with not respecting the insight of the repose.

Whoa…Where the hell did that come from?

Today was my first day on the job.  At the end of our meeting yesterday, TAHO began filling his bag with various  things on his desk.  I asked where he was going and he said he has going to “Ouahigouya”  for the rest of the week…okay…hmmm.  He told me that I should connect with the accountants to get more details. 
So this morning I started out going through the various spreadsheets he had given me on a usb key.  I think I was making pretty good sense of them but the time came where I felt I should ask for some assistance.  There were some underlying data that the spreadsheets were referring to that would provide more clarity.  I walked in to the office of two of the 5 accountants and began the introductions all over again.   The language barrier certainly contributes to the slow pace of understanding and trust.  At first I felt a pretty strong level of frustration and apprehension from a girl named Adjia.  Of course I don’t know her, so it could simply be my false-impression but that’s all I got out here.  She answered my questions and I returned to my office to continue working. 
They take a “repose” (siesta) here from 12:00 to 3:30 so I headed out on my first “tour-de-ville”.  Their is a communication tower close to the office, so it acts as a great landmark to ensure that you can find your way home.  Also the “Grande Mosque” is just down the road so you can see that quite well too.  I ventured out for lunch on my own for the first time.  I walked up to a little stall where the young owner greeted me.  He asked what I wanted and I pointed to a large bowl of white rice that sat on the table in front of the guy beside me. I thought I should keep things pretty simple until I adjusted.  He returned with a bowl of green beans covered with a stew and meat in it.  So it’s clear my french is worse than I thought. Okay…here we go.  It was very tasty.
After eating, I walked a fair bit away from the office twisting and turning through the town.  At one point, I saw in the distance, over the different walled courts and dwellings another mosque.  Taking the last turn that would put me directly in front of the mosque, I came across a scene that could only be described as real “Jesus-movie set-like”.  Donkeys neighing, goats bleating, sheep ba-ha-ha-ing kids playing, adults sitting and lying under straw covered shelters to escape the noon hour sun laughing and talking.  Within seconds, I got to experience that old movie cliché scene.  I could feel the gust of wind on my back (honest I felt it) as that proverbial door slammed shut on the ambiance; complete and utter silence.  Wait, actually I think I did hear a goat bleat out on behalf of the others present “Whoa…where the hell did that come from?”   Now, I’m not pretending these people haven’t seen a white guy before (it’s not like that here)…but that’s what happened.  A huge smile ripped across my face as I realized that I got to play the “that” in the phrase “Where the hell did that come from.”  I reached the Mosque and strolled right back past the goat and everyone else.
From the Mosque, I made my way to the market.  The market comes through town every 3 days, carrying produce, tools and just about everything else.
As I returned to the SEMUS courtyard, I met Salimatra.  A young girl that had been cooking for a friend of mine that had been to Yako last year on a similar mandate.  A bit of a relief of course for me, because while I can go days without eating (I really can)…the last thing I want happening, on this trip, is to get weak and fall ill for a few days; I’m only here for a month.  I would hate to spend any amount of this time laid up in bed or on the toilet.  I had already resigned myself to eatting TOH with my hands (in the dark) for the next month, so this was good news.
Returning to work I asked Adjia if she could join me in my office to confirm something.   As I walked back to my office, I noticed a french family pulling into the court on bicycles with young 3 kids.   They had taken a Sabatical and where travelling across North Africa.  Imagine.  What an experience for all involved.  Trés cool.  When Adjia arrived, I asked few more questions and then proceeded to give her a quick demo of what I thought might be a useful solution…”Microsoft Excel Pivot Tables”.  As I began to show her, she pulled her chair in close.  The door was starting to open…I was relieved.  After the quick demo, Adjia said (en francais), “Tomorrow, I will bring my laptop and spend the morning with you. You will show me how to do this”.  A friend of mine at work introduced me to Pivot tables, about 15 years ago.  “Neywaoogo(Welcome) Yako Adam”…part of you is now in Africa with me.  Woohoo, what a way to end the day.
It occurred to me that this is one way that we (people of privilege) can create value.  You see, at home, whenever I’m wondering how to do something, like you, I can just jump onto the internet and find all sorts of help; read an online article, watch a “how-to video on Youtube”.  Here, I wouldn’t dream of going to Youtube (slow internet).  From my perspective, these folks are just as “smart" and “intelligent” as we are.  Just as creative and innovative, as we are.  They just do not have access to the same resources to solve for solutions.  They don’t have the same privileges that we do.  Why do we have these privileges?  Most of us are just happy answering with “Well we just do”.
My daughter, a few years ago, as part of a high school project travelled to Mexico to do some volunteer work.  Rightfully so, she was quite proud of the fact that she and her young friends had helped build a house. She playfully was teasing me about the fact that my volunteer work was not going to include any manual labour. Before leaving, I knew my mandate would be serving the finance department in the area of budgeting and process.  I had guessed that some this work would naturally involve MS Excel. Both kids teased me with “ooooo Mr.  Excel….what a geek”.  We all had a pretty good laugh.  But this morning it occurred to me, places like Burkina Faso have plenty of muscle…and brain for that matter.   What they don’t have is the liberty and luxury of education and training.  We take the opportunity for professional development for granted.  Quite frankly I’m beginning to see there are simply higher priorities right now in places like this (like clean water).  For us this is almost at our leisure….a quick “Google” search and we are on our way.   So, if I can come in from the bottom and deliver a little support to move things forward.  Right on!   See Becky & Taylor Daddy is right again. LOL xoxoxo