Saturday, October 28, 2006

Fastin', Feastin', and Fete-in'

After a month of fasting before Ramadan, the Muslim's in my village feted it up right. When the moon reappeared, we all ate, danced, and lounged around until I got physicall ill from overindulgence.

The day went like this:
My friend Sarah had come in the night before to visit my village. We got up that morning, dressed in our longest skirts and headed to the imam's house. I had talked to the imam a few days before to ask permission to pray and he suggested we arrive at his house in the morning to walk in a procession with his wives to the praying tree. On the way there my muslim family stopped us and let us borrow headscarves which we tied in the traditional muslim way.

After hanging out for thirty minutes we walked in a procession like we did for the fete of Tabaski. As well walked through the town to the designated tree, people joined in from all sides. Finally we got to the main road where the three processions from each direction of the village met together, sited a prayer, and began shooting off guns. Then we all got to the prayer tree. Sara and I sat in the back with the women but during the middle of prayer the imam pointed out to the two whities and welcomed us. He told everyone our muslim names (mine is Sofiata and Sara's is Sarata.

After prayer finished we had our pictures taken by the village photographer and then headed to my second family's house. This is the family of Bregetou. We ate and hung out for a while. My friend Abdul stopped by. Then Sara and I decided to head to the house. Bregetou and I had to prepare something to take to her family's that night for the big dinner and Sara and I drank the tea that they make here (sort of like Arab tea). After reposing for a few hours we went back to the imam's. We hung out there, ate again and drank more tea. Then we passed by my friend Souley's house, ate, drank tea and bissap (hibiscus tea) and listened to music. It was getting dark then so we headed back to my family's house. We ate again and the two mom's decided I needed to paint my feet. For holidays here the Muslims dye their hands and feet in a hena like fashion only they use hair dye instead of hena. My mom painted stripes on my feet and then the other mom paint my toenails purple (I would have fit in really well at an LSU tailgate). Then there was a village dance afterward.

It was a good experience. For weeks after prefect strangers would come up to me because of my feet and say "You are muslim. How was the fete?" I enjoyed celebrating it with another American as well.

Right after the fete there was a huge festival in Ouaga. It was called SIAO and it happens every other year here in Burkina. Traditional Artisans from all over Africa come for two weeks during the festival. It is a huge deal which brings in lots of tourists. I went to visit it twice and now have no money!

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Fugitive from Justice

I hope everyone got a chance to look at the pictures I sent. There are many stories behind everyone I can assure you.

I am back in Ouaga again for four days. It is the time for my midservice (can any one believe I am at the midservice point?) medical exam. It is now that I will get the flatworm test whose results are so eagerly awaited.

Two weeks ago I was in Ouaga for the preparation of the new training. I will go back to village saturday with five new trainees. They are coming to visit my site for a few days on order to see how volunteers live. Then I will accompany them up north and spend a week at the training site leading sessions. Needless to say all last week was spent informing my village and preparing for the invasion. Actually I think it will be pretty fun. My daughter is going to make them to. Whenever I have told other volunteers this they always make a face a say, "The trainees have only been in country for three weeks. Do you think they are ready for to?" My daughter's to is the best in the world though, I will actually miss it when I leave, so I figure it is a good introduction for them.

Speaking of my daughter, a surreal experience (for me) happened to us the other day. We were going home after the Saturday night theater troupe meeting when we stopped for bread at the corner "store." The owner was at prayer as it is the month of Ramadan so we were waiting out front for him to return. It was dark and there was a lightening storm so the atmosphere was a little spooky. All of the sudden a truck filled with people in the back pulled up right outside the store. I thought it was odd as people don't usually travel at night but was not alarmed. My daughters started getting nervous and hissed at me to nonchalantly leave the area. I was confused.
Other people around us also started making a mad dash. She grabbed my flashlight and turned it off. After we turned the corner she sprinted into the corn field and together we hid. I asked what was going on and she replied that it was the police coming to make an arrest. As she is thirteen, I know that she is not personally guilty of anything. While we were hiding, my two brothers passed us. She alerted them of the police and they too hid themselves are their bikes.

It seemed sort of like a movie, having to run and hide from the people who are protecting you in the middle of west africa. Of course, I know these set of cops and they would never do anything bad or unjust but I found it very interesting that Bregetou's and other's first response was so violently opposed to them. Talk about a difference in culture.