A day in the life of DIALLO Amsatou

Before the end of the village adoption ceremony, we were given local names. The decision to name us occurred in Moore, so it took me a minute to figure out what was going on when a crowd started to gather around me cheering DIALLO Amsatou in my face. In Burkina, people generally identify themselves by their family name first and then their first name. Family names indicate ethnicity, language, and to some extent family relationships (however, there are many many DIALLO Mamadous (my host father's name). I thoroughly enjoy the reactions I get when I introduce myself with the Burkina name. Generally people break out in huge grins and joyfully shake my hand, shocked that a white girl is introducing herself in their language. The pleasant surprises on the faces of others when I speak their language is the biggest motivator to improve my language skills faster.

anyways, here is a glimpse of my life during training J

5:00 AM
I start to wake up to the soothing sound of prayers and readings from the Koran accompanied by the piercing cries of the roosters (ps. It is a myth that roosters only cry at sun rise… at my house they cry throughout the night) and the obnoxious bleeting of the goats. I peer out of my mosquito net tent and look at the goats through my thatched porch. I pretend to ignore the animals and try to sleep a bit longer before someone wakes me up to get ready for the day

6:00AM
Someone from my host family decides I have slept too late for their liking and wakes me up. Generally it's Mariam, my 14 year old host sister. I don't really blame her, most of the family, especially the women have been up working for an hour or more. I pour a couple gallons of water into a bucket and go to the mud-walled shower to bathe. As I pour cups of water over myself, I look over the wall, down the hill and across the horizon at the trees and large hills in the horizon. It's a beautiful, inspiring view to see every morning. Many days it still seems surreal that I am living in a village in West Africa, yet at the same time, my life in the states feels so far away.

I drink Nescafe and eat semi-stale bread, get dressed and pack my stuff for my bike ride. I walk around my compound and attempt to greet everyone in Fulfulde. There is a whole series of greetings and questions and generally a "Jamm Ni, et an le? (only peace, and you?) will get me through the conversation when I'm completely lost

700AM
I strap on my helmet and bike to my friend Liz's house for our 10k bike ride to a neighboring village or into Ouahigouya for class. About once a week everyone comes to our village. We bike past hordes of kids screaming "nasara" "le blanc" (white person). The little kids are so cute and thrilled to see the odd white curiosity pass them on the street. The shouts from the older kids are not generally as nice, but when the little kids scream nasara as I pass by, I feel as if they are cheering me on as I bike in the Tour du Faso (the Burkina equivalent of the Tour de France). Towards the end of the ride to class, I truly need that encouragement.

8:00AM
We begin 8 hours of classes with up to six of those hours being intense study of Fulfulde. Other classes are health related, security related, technical training, and general courses on how to live in Burkina. The Peace Corps staff are pretty punctual, but outside PC, Burkina runs on West African International Time (aka WAIT, which is eerily similar to KAIT J…I apologize in advance, I'm sure I will be even less punctual once I return to the states than I am now.

Many days I feel like a sponge that is full of info and can't absorb any more knowledge. This is especially true on days where we have many language sessions. I love to learn, but I forgot how tiring it can be to sit in class for 8 hours a day. In general I'm very impressed with the Peace Corps staff. They are among the coolest, brightest, hardest working Burkinabes. I learn a lot from them and enjoy chatting in between or after class.

The classes in village occur in the primary school, but when they are held in Komsilga (where I live) I lobby to hold them in the mango grove. The shadiest spot (and therefore coolest) in Special K as it is affectionately known is under the mango trees. It is generally about 10-15 degrees cooler (however you have to battle biting ants…some days you will do almost anything for a cool breeze)

5:15PM
I meet up with Liz and we ride back to our village, often chatting to briefly greet the village chief (or Naba) on the way. I arrive home, greet my host family by walking to each hut and shaking hands individually and asking about the day, their health, the sheep, etc.

I try to play with the babies for a bit as they are my biggest stress reliever. The younger one, Souleymane, is 8 months old and is the only baby in Burkina who has never feared the strange white person. He is such a happy baby and giggles, grins, and lets me put him on my back. Belko is the other baby, he is about 1.5-2 years. Initially he was a little scared of me, but he has adjusted. Our favorite game is chase, I start scurrying up behind him and say "mi na wara" which means I am coming and he runs away grinning. After a while, he will become bored and resort back to his favorite past time: picking up sticks and hitting the animals. I guess he is practicing to be a herder already.

I try to squeeze in a bucket bath before it becomes dark at 7:00PM and then lounge on the mat and look at the stars and chat with Mariam my host sister until dinner is ready. I eat with the women around the bowl of to (millet porridge--think cream of wheat that has been left out too long) and slimy sauce. After I eat to for a few minutes everyone grins and gives me the meal they have prepared for me (noodles, rice, or potatoes with oil)

830PM
If I'm feeling up for it, I'll go hang out with the young men studying the Koran and someone will generally start making tea (this whole process takes about 2-3 hours for th 3 rounds of tea). Other nights Mariam's friends come over and quiz me on Fulfulde, try to learn English, or just want to talk. Oddly enough, in my compound, I interact with more women in French than men. From what I hear, Peuhls place less emphasis on education and men are definitely more privileged than women. I was very surprised that in my compound more of the girls have gone to school than the boys (who generally grew up in the fields with the animals). I have no how this compares with the rest of Burkina. When I sit with the young men, I try to speak Fulfulde and my contributions to the conversation generally go like " stars many, stars good" "I have 2 brothers. One is Adam. One is Aric." my attempts are rewarded with new vocab words. The nights I don't sit up for tea I usually go to bed by 9 (it has been dark for 2 hours at this point)

Mariam helps me set up my mosquito net tent so I can sleep outside where it is cooler and I go to sleep to the sound of Koranic readings, rowdy sheep, or scratchy Hindi songs on the radio..