Tô: It's What's for Dinner.

Hello, Dear Readers! I am on a sort of vacation at the moment, in Burkina's capital city of Ouagadougou. My fellow trainees and I have been living it up for the past couple nights, as Ouaga has dozens of amazing restaurants: yesterday I had a hamburger, fries, and beer for dinner, and the night before that a group of us dined like royalty at a real Italian restaurant, gnoshing on gourmet pizzas (mine was goat cheese with capers and olives) and ice cream and sorbet. I also received my site assignment for when I finish training this summer... I will be moving out to a small village in the the south-east of the country, where I will then go about my work empowering the women and whatnot. This area is very near country borders with Ghana, Togo, Benin, and Niger - so the eventual vacations should prove interesting - and only several hours of bush taxi rides (don't even ask) from Ouaga for the occasional feast. Still, once I leave this city, I will need to get used to my usual diet here all over again, which for over the past month and a half has been spaghetti, beans... and tô. What is tô, you ask? Well, it's a little hard to explain, but the closest I can come to describing it is a hardened pudding made from millet (or occasionally corn). It's nigh tasteless, but it is The favorite national dish. Seriously, the Burkinabé love it. As for me, and the other Americans here, it's really hard to stomach, but we try to eat what we can of it and smile when it is offered to us -- which is all too often.

About a week ago, I wrote an article about tô for the Peace Corps trainee newsletter, Mana Wana, Nassara? (Mooré for "What's Up, Whitey?"), in the vein of my favorite satirical news source, The Onion. Although I don't think our training staff was that crazy about it, it got a pretty good response from the other trainees, so now I pass it onto you for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!

WEST AFRICAN FOOD CHAIN DESTROYING AMERICAN CULTURE

The popular Burkina Faso restaurant chain McTô has recently expanded its global empire to the United States, opening new locations in several large cities. McTô, a leader in the West African food industries, emphasizes a fast and affordable menu; the most popular item on it being tô, a staple diet of many Burkinabé. In the last few years, the McTô corporation has been plagued with accusations of price gouging and monopolistic practices, but this has not prevented its growth in international markets. Already, McTô's influence can be seen in several American cities, such as New York, where lines of customers stretched for several blocks outside of the ( different restaurant locations, waiting for them to open. Burkinabé cuisine has found an eager consumer in the American youth population... but at what cost? Formal, nutritional foods, such as hamburgers, french fries, and Coca-Cola, are being neglected, in favor of mass-produced foods like tô and bissap*. The new trend appears to be wreaking havoc on the long-honored American family structure, and is not stopping at merely changing dietary habits: traditional, cultural American clothing such as jeans and thongs are being tossed aside, as teenagers instead embrace the pagne and the boubou. Groups of concerned older Americans are clamoring for the government to intervene, but when asked to comment, President Bush merely replied, "Laafi."**


* Bissap is another culinary product of Burkina Faso, and - unlike tô - is quite delicious to Americans. It's a drink made from hibiscus leaves, water, and lots of sugar. Think along the lines of fruit punch.

** Mooré, meaning "There is health," or "It's all good."

The Lassie Method.

Now that I'm getting a little more accustomed to the incessant heat; the necessity of wearing mosquito spray, and the luxury of bucket baths, there is still one thing that never fails to drive me up the wall on a daily basis: language classes. My apologies to the Peace Corps for criticizing its program, but if I don't vent a little here, I'm liable to assault someone. (No volunteers or instructors were injured in the writing of this post.)

Almost every day, I attend Gulimancema class, taught in French. Somehow, when I first arrived in-country, I must have aced my initial French competency exam, because I was subsequently placed in a class where everyone is fluent in French. I am not fluent in French. Not even close. So there's that problem, right off the bat. I would like to preface what I have to say next with the fact that, personally, I like my teacher (or Language Competency Facilitator, or "LCF," because the Peace Corps lurves its acronyms); he's a great guy, very friendly and thoughtful. During Gulimancema class, however, he is The Enemy. He apparently believes that the best way to teach a foreign language is through charades: first, he says a word in Gulimancema, then he makes a gesture. Then, the fun begins! Obviously, at this point, nobody in the class has a clue what he is talking about, so he emphatically repeats the word and the same gesture, then again... and again. Finally, tentatively, one of us will call out a word in French, with the hope that somehow it will be the desired solution to the puzzle. But it isn't, and our LCF shakes his head; and again intones the word; and then everyone starts shouting out words; our guesses becoming more desperate and random. Eventually, one of us will speak the desired word -- the LCF will nod, announce "C'est ça" ("That's it"), and then immediately say another word in Gulimancema, followed by another gesture. And so my personal hell continues. Mind you, the man speaks perfect French, so if he really wanted to he could simply say the word in Gulimancema and then translate it into French. But instead, he subscribes to what I have decided to call "The Lassie Method of Teaching" (at one point, during one of our sessions, I guessed in frustration, "What, Timmy fell down the well?")

Who knows, maybe this obscene version of Pictionary is an intentional exercise in frustration, to help us develop patience. If I do eventually end up becoming fluent in Gulimancema through this maddening method, I will take back everything I have written here and whispered under my breath in class.

Dabbling Diva.

Those of you who have read my old blog knew that I had started dabbling in songwriting. Well, here is another, with original lyrics and music stolen from a very popular karaoke hit. A draft of this song was first composed by a group of us Peace Corps trainees during our orientation back at the beginning of June. About 2 weeks ago, I took the liberty of revising it...


I'M STILL ALIVE (sung to the tune of "I Will Survive")

First I got my shots, and was immunized.
Still uncertain how I'll live without wifi...
Spent my first few nights wondering how I'd get along,
If I'd grow strong,
So I went and wrote this song!

And now I'm here,
In this strange place,
Where the sun is beating down all day upon my face.
I'm learning to speak French:
"Je n' sais pas" and "C'est la vie,"
And now a man I hardly know has just tried holding hands with me!*

And so I do,
And it's okay.
And now the smile that's spreading on my face will never go away.
That is, unless I get the runs,
Which'll put a damper on my fun.
I might not thrive,
But I'm alive.
ça va aller!


* Although homosexuality is frowned on in Burkina Faso (and incredibly dangerous to engage in), it is not uncommon for 2 men or 2 women to be seen walking hand-in-hand in public, as an expression of their familiarity and friendship. Ironic, no?