On culture shock

First of all, a reminder of my contact info (if anyone has an urge to write a real letter or send any care packages – apparently air mail takes 3-4 weeks, surface mail 6-12 months)…

Laura Sauve

01 BP 1243

Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso

 

And my phone number is +226-76-12-61-61; we are 4 hours ahead of Eastern Daylight Time, 7 hours ahead of Pacific Daylight Time.  There are some cheap phone cards available in Canada and the US.

 

 

I just read a great book – “The Sex Lives of Cannibals: adrift in the Equatorial Pacific” (its actually a bit worrisome that I have already finished 2 of my 8 books and its only week 3!)… anyhow, this book is about an American couple who go and live in Kiribati, which is an isolated Pacific Island country.  The author progresses through the stages of acclimatizing to the Pacific and culture shock (including the difficulties of returning home) and his way of describing it is very funny – and I can relate.  Sitting here on the veranda, looking at the frangipani tree and other bushes in the yard, hearing roosters crowing and drums in the distance, I could imagine I was in the Pacific again… but then, the drumming fades and I can hear the muzein call the faithful to prayer at 1pm – definitely not the Pacific! Its funny how after the months that I spent in the French Pacific (about 11-12 months in total between the different trips), that part of the world seems so normal to me.  In time I will probably feel like that here.

 

Here in Burkina Faso I am still in the absolutely lost stage of culture shock.  I now know how to get by shared taxi – there’s always room for one more! – to the internet café, the post office and the market, as well as the tubab (foreigner) market (“Marina Market”) with expensive imported items from (where else) France.  But the social conventions, the fitting in part – not so much.  I am seen as enough of a new foreigner that all the neighborhood hawkers that hang out in front of Marina Market pounce on me whenever I walk by. Unfortunately for me, they hang out in front of a place I walk by fairly often.  At first I tried to be polite and just smile and say “no”… but somehow that seems to encourage them.  But if you ignore them completely, they chase after you and call you an ugly racist. Ugh. But I’ve noticed that they ignore the toubabs who have obviously been here for a while (I guess as a lost cause).

 

There are very many beggar children.  More than I’ve seen anywhere else before; I guess this shouldn’t be a surprise in the 3^rd poorest country in the world and I’ve mostly spent time in “middle-income” countries.  I can’t walk 10m without being accosted by another one.  Some are so thin, so dirty, so hungry. It breaks my heart.  But if you give anything to one, you get absolutely hounded for more.  And the money may not go to their own food but to a grown-up’s pocket anyhow.

 

I am hoping that once we get working, we will meet our colleagues in the hospitals and in the other NGOs.  Getting to know people and working should help us start to feel more established.  It will also help my conscience to start doing something to help the children of Burkina Faso.  The other pressing issue is that I need to start learning Djula.  That is the key to being able to talk with the women in the market, and in the taxis, etc.

 

I’ve acquired a funny friendship with one of the boys in town.  Mohammed sells postcards to tourists; on different days, he’s told me he’s saving for school fees, bike repairs and soccer shoes.  It doesn’t matter where I am downtown, Mohammed tracks me down.  Sometimes he unfortunately brings with him a crowd of bigger teenagers, which I hate.  But since the other day after his friends were harassing us and I finally swore at them and told them to take off – including Mohammed – he’s been less intrusive and has kept the bigger kids away.  He came with me to the market yesterday and “helped” me find things (though it was easier on my own) and then we went to the toubab market to get a few things, and he flagged down a taxi for me.  In fact, having a friend like that to help find things and to practice Djula with may be helpful down the road. I’ve already got quite a few of his postcards.

 

I mentioned in my last entry that my aunt was very ill; she passed away on Friday.  Please remember my dad & his family in your prayers as they pass through this difficult time.