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 
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.
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