A little collection of events in a new village

Well, I have now been to my site! I arrived back in Ougadougou after an 8 hour trek on Sunday afternoon.  High lights of my site visit:

-I met the prefet of the district (some one that does something important in terms of law and justice and all that, though I'm not exactly sure what), who immediately tumbled some mix of jargled sounds at our first meeting at a little cafe in the bus station.  So, I asked, about this tumble, a very rational question--what language are you speaking? Logical, as I had been navigating through four all morning (French, English, Jula, and Buamu, another regional dialect).  He said, in perfect French, "No, no, that's my name." Of course all the other official people were present too, perfectly placed to join in the eruption of belly laughs that ensued.

-My arrival to my village was not greeted by drums like I expected but rather by a smiling, rather-pale-for West-Africa-gentleman with a balaphone, an instrument in appearance like a homemade xylophone, replete with gourds, hemp string, and sticks for banging.  For some reason, it sounded out of tune to me though, a little too low, creating a weirdly macabre interlacing of rhythms.  I could imagine dancing skeletons, like Dia de los Muertos in Africa.  Weird, but still cool.

-The road, all four hours of it on the way to my village, in the Peace Corps car, was most adequately described as hundreds of miles of washboard.  The car rattled, I rattled, the bags rattled, it all rattled.  At one point I wondered if perhaps the car would rattle itself to pieces while still actually moving forward, like a comic version of Newton's Laws of Motion (the first to be specific).

-My site is more of a "city" than my village in Mali was.  And by city, I mean that there are several boutiques, little restaurants, a niiicce bus station, quite a few people (couple thousand for sure), and a variety of religions represented, including Islam, Christianity, and Animism.  Not to imply there is anything to crazy, like electricity or some such nonsense.

-I found myself at a major soccer tounament, like the biggest one of the year and the biggest one in the district I'm sure, on Saturday afternoon.  I strolled with my new friend of 24 hours, Monique, across town, past kapok and mango trees, and by all her friends (she's 23 and in school), to the field, pouring sweat from every inch of me, but keeping the corners of my mouth tucked upwards as much as possible in a permanent grin.  Odd looks ensued as soon as we reached the crowd, further enhanced by surprise after I spoke a little Jula.  We walked right over to an important looking tent, still mostly empty.  It soon filled with all the officials I met the day before, including the mayor, cozy as can be on plushy recliner, and, of course, the prefet, by whom I had made a fool of myself.  Then, the announcers set up shop, right in front of Monique and I.  And the cameras started to pan their way, my way.  And I realized just what a funny white spot I must look like in this big black crowd.  Being a weirdo for hours is exhausting, turns out, and I slept like a big white rock that night.

-I am working with a women's association that makes goodies like shea butter, leaf mixes for sauce, and diollo, a vinaigre-y, warm, millet beer served out of a calabash (like a gourd half) that most defintely Not grown on me yet, much to the associations amusement at pinched face upon drinking it. 

So, it was good.  I'm happy and I think I'll be happy.  It's not Mali, but it's neat and I'm excited to try it out.

Wish me luck!

Two more weeks in Ouga till I go back.

Bye for now--