I wanna burn out bright: 2011

It's been a LONG time since I wrote in here but finally found the time and felt up to it, so here it is again:

My time is coming to a close which is bringing a lot of different emotions and thoughts. I reached my 2 year mark in Burkina on June 12 but my service will finish in August.

Part of the reason why parting will be difficult is because of the amazing friendships I've formed and inspiring people I've met. I'd like to take the time just to mention a few of them and show their faces to you all and they've been irreplaceable in my experience here.

Mariam Tabadou, neighbor, tanti, constant listener and advise giver. Not a day goes by in which I'm not thankful for Mariam. She is this wonderful woman, about 45 and originally from a neighboring village, who works for an organization promoting sanitary initiatives in Bilanga and surrounding villages, like building latrines. She has one of the most heartbreaking stories I've heard, I know very few women who could've experienced what she has and still astonish me with her encouraging and positive demeanor.
Mariam and I have a relationship that I love. I borrow her broom, she feeds me, she gives me advice and tells me how to get things done in village when I'm completely clueless, tells me when it's going to rain, sweeps for me when I'm away, puts up with my obnoxious cat, keeps me company, constantly, and lets me complain about the heat endlessly. In return, I run errands for her, send her phone credit when she's run out, unbraid her hair for her, provide her with ridiculous stories, listen to her worries about her children, share my cot on hot days, open her gas tank with my nifty pocket knife kit, and eat her leftovers.
Being neighborly is something I've learned from Mariam among many things, especially about being a strong women in Africa, and she provides me a daily source of companionship. We've even programed our sleeping hours to coordinate, both going to bed at the same hour and her radio as my wake up call in the morning. I'll never forget one night we sat on my porch, under the star-lit sky, telling each other ghost stories late into the night until I told her I was scared to sleep so she spent the next 15 minutes reassuring me that none of the demons could come in town, and then endlessly teased me about it the next day.

Nahomie, teacher, club co-ordinator, best friend. Out of all my Burkinabe friends I have, I would have to say Nahomie is my soul mate friend. We are so similar in some ways and so complimenting in others that I often feel our friendship was meant to be. She is a teacher at one of the primary schools here, 28, married with a 2 year old adorable boy. Nahomie was difficult to get to know at first. Last year she approached me and asked me to help start a girls group with here. Since then we got together occasionally for work but it took many visits to her house to show to her that I genuinely wanted her as a friend and for us to both get past our shyness.
This year, we are constantly together. She includes me in everything which is something hard to find. She comes across as completely shy and timid but in reality she is just kind and humble. Her quiet interactions with officials and the “vip” of the village always surprise me because later she'll make me dance around in her house and crack up to ridiculous stories about men. And then you put her in front of a group of students or young girls and wow, her ability to relate and connect to them, to get them involved and excited about whatever topic, amazes me.
Another aspect I love about Nahomie and our friendship, is the fact that we fight. Yes, that's right. Nahomie and I get in little bickers and arguments more than any of my other friends here. Part of that stems from our similar personality, but also to me, it shows our incredible closeness, both of us feel comfortable enough with the other to show our true selves, and to say to the other when they've done something that wasn't ok. Especially in the context of a cultural that avoids confrontation if at all possible. Nahomie has also opened up to me more than anyone else I know, and for that I feel incredibly privileged that she would choose me, an outsider, to be her confidante and that she trusts me enough to tell me her problems and dreams.

David: helper, listener, neighbor, brother. I find it slightly ironic and serendipitous that the boy who I would come to call my brother in Burkina shares the same name as my real brother back home. David is 22, a student at the high school, chief of his class, and my closest neighbor. His case/hut is at most 10 feet from my house, his uncle is the landlord but he kinda keeps charge of the property. David is one of the most honest and genuinely kind boys I've met here. Maybe I'm biased as we basically live together, but after interacting with many others, I've decided I was incredibly lucky, or blessed, to be paired up with him. His life is busy, as often is mine, so somedays our paths don't cross as much, but often at noon we both hunker under my hangar, avoiding the heat of the sun, and chat or feel comfortable just sitting around each other doing on our own thing. There have been many a times when I've felt overwhelmed by one thing or another and David shows up and sits by me and listens to whatever worry I have and always, always, gives me some encouraging words and reassures me that it will all be okay, and you know it, he's always right.
Another aspect I admire in David is his dedication to school. He is fairly old for his grade level but I found out it was due to the fact that his parents never enrolled him in school. At the age of 13 or 14 he decided himself that he really wanted to go to school so enrolled himself and since then has been working hard. He's unfortunately not the brightest of students, and because he started late, so it's a struggle. But incredibly honest, he doesn't aspire to cheating as he believes that even if he has to repeat a class multiple times, he wants to learn and master the material, for knowledge's sake. During the summer he cultivates a lot and earns enough money to pays for his school fees, materials, food for the year and is incredibly independent.
Because of David, I have a whole slew of “brothers”; his friends that come to hang out with him and they've been a constant source of laughter and companionship that I'm constantly grateful for, except when it's hot and I need some quiet moments.

Lompo (Jean): le mechant, teacher, friend, colloegue, supporter, constant source of laughter. Lompo is a teacher at the primary school where I do most of my work. About the same age as me, with wife and adorable 2 year old girl. His family comes from the east (I'm in the east) but he was raised in Ouagadougou (the capital). Last year and this year he's taught the CM2 class, (6th grade) which is the group of kids I work with the most and has allowed us to get to know each other and support each other in our work. Lompo is what we would call a bandit, kinda a trouble maker, but has a good heart. No one has encouraged me as much as he has with my work at the primary school, nor been as helpful in all my projects. Know throughout the area as “le mechant” or “the mean one” I was a little concerned and weary of him at first, but later found out it was a nickname given due to his ridiculous soccer skills (seriously best played I've seen in this country).
Despite the fact he would like to hit the kids more than I'm comfortable with, he is an incredible teacher, dynamic and makes the students love learning. It started last year with him giving me exercises to do with the girls I was working with and him encouraging me with the soccer clubs. This year he's helped me plant many trees, multiple times as many died, steward the school garden, paint a giant map or the world on the school house, accompany me in my girls soccer match, listen to my worries and ideas and offer suggestions and just provided constant encouraging words and support.
Not afraid to make fun of me and tell me exactly what he thinks, it's allowed for our friendship to grow. He's told me several times that he'd do anything to help me, and then lived up on this when I needed him. Lompo makes me feel a part of the school community and makes me, and the rest of us, laugh constantly. His childlike humor and genuine heart and turned him into a dear dear afriend, who I will greatly miss.

Adjima: mother, friend, constant inspiration and support. When I try to imagine my experience in Bilanga without Adjima and her family, I honestly can't imagine how I would've made it through. I'm with them daily and their home has become my second home. The friendship started with her husband, Dapouguidi, a tailor and teacher (of tailoring), approached me and asked me to play guitar with him. I was confused but grateful for someone to spend time with (people were scared to approach me at first) and soon after I was introduced to his wife, Adjima, who quickly became my closest friend in village. 36, mother to 3 beautiful girls, vegetable seller, local literacy teacher, and president of the school's mother association, she is one of the most hard working individuals I have ever met. I have to say I was a little scared of her at first because she is an incredibly proud and strong women, rare to find sometimes, and I couldn't figure our if she really genuinely was nice or if she was just faking it in order to gain power in the weird dynamics of village life. Then one day I saw her outside of the school moving several motorbikes into the shade, no one had told her to, nor did anyone care if she did, she just thought it was a nice thing to do. Since that day, we've been glued at the hip and I've only been consistently amazed with her kind soul that really does just want to serve people.
She takes care of me more than I would say anyone else, and because of my constant presence at their house, I've dubbed her and her husband my village mom and dad. I remember one time I really needed to travel into Fada, our regional capital, but was pretty sick. She tried to convince me to stay and relax but when I insisted on traveling, she grabbed my hand and brought me to the driver of the car and said, look, she's sick and might need you to pull over, can you make a spot for her behind you so you can hear her when she needs to get out. That's just one of many, many examples of her taking care of me. I know if I ever, ever, need anything, she will do all possible to help me.
I've had the joy of being here for the birth of her third and last beautiful child and witnessing the first several months of her life, as well as giving one of her 3 names, Hope, as she and her family gives me hope for this country. My two years here are full of memories shared with her, moments of laughter, genuine conversation, and even a few tears. Nights laying on her bed outside under the stars telling each other about our lives, walks to visit other women in the village, many a shared meals, and most recently a trip and training in Ouaga which resulted in her helping run sessions with my girls clubs. And I'll never forget how she and her family received my family when they came to visit, so excited to share their love for them, as previously been shared with me.

There are countless other names and stories I'd love to share with you all, but seeing how this has already gotten quite long, I'll end here. I guess I just wanted to introduce you all, my dear friends and family from home, to those who've been my friends and family in Burkina these past two years.