Village Life and les choses comme ça

Life has been a lot less hectic since the end of training, swearing in, and moving to a tiny village in the far east of Burkina Faso. Swear-in, I believe, was a good time had by all. The ambassador came and gave a speech, and several volunteers gave speeches in the local languages of their various regions, and there was really good food and music. Contrary to popular belief, I was allowed to swear in, and then in turn move to village, and let me tell you village life is quite different than living in Ouahigouya and having class in America land. It is still the rainy season, so all of the villagers are still out in the fields cultivating, and none of the other secondary school teachers have come to village yet. Most of them live in Ouaga when school is not in session. I now am the only American in my village of Matiakouali,(which I am not really sure how to spell because on every sign and map it is spelled differently) which forces me to speak french which for me is both a good and a bad thing. The fact that I am forced to practice is what is good about it, but man do I miss the english language. The other day I met the English teacher at the primary school in Mati and spoke English with him for some time and it was great. Without that conversation, I think that for the first week I probably would have spoken for a total of 5 minutes. Be that as it may, everyday I talk a walk around the village and at least say hello to people in French, but the only problem is that most of the people, at least most of the older villagers, do not speak French, they speak Gulmancema. Since I was so low in my French level I only had two hours worth of class in the local language, so I am stuck with French. They just smile and laugh at me, and then say something back to me in Gulmancema and I respond with the one word that I know, which is rarely every correct. Peace Corps has an awesome program where they will pay for tutoring in the local language or french, so I am going to try to find a tutor in the local language pretty soon and probably also in french.

On one of my walks in the village the other day, I met one of the few old women in the village that spoke french. I am going to refer to her as old woman because several times when she told me her name she said it was la vieille, which in french just translates to the old woman. I guess, at least in this woman's case, once a person reaches a certain age they lose their name and are just refered to as being old. Anyway, I had gotten lost in the fields of corn and milet that are riddled throughout the village, and she was going to help me find my way home. She was a very nice old lady and couldnt believe that I had come to the east and couldnt speak Gulmancema. Instead of taking me back to my house, she ended up taking me back to hers where I met her entire family. It was very interesting to meet them and discover that anly the kids from about 10-16 spoke french. I stayed there for a time and taught the old lady english words for things and she taught me Gulmancema for the same things.

Yet another disclamer: The following story involves bodily functions so if you are offended by these actions do not read on.

The other day I had an every orifice day. For those of you questioning it is basically what it sounds like. Lets start with a mad lib and you can decide what it was.... While I was vomiting, I also __(verb)__ ed and __(verb)__ed and ruined my one and only pair of jeans. Now I know that this sounds like a pretty awesome day and it should be accompanied by balloons, people shouting "Happy every orifice day!", and perhaps even a clown, but this is not the case. Every orifice day is a sad occasion that, at least for me, was followed not by cake, but by me feeling like I was going to die for the rest of the day. I feel fine now though.

There is supposed to be dial up internet in my village somewhere, but I have yet to find it. When I do find it, I will porobably start to post more, but this is probably going to be the last post for a month or so. However, I am still alive unless you hear otherwise.