My two housemates and I poked around the market this morning and were pleasantly surprised by the experience, sans the usual excessive shouting from vendors, “Hello nice lady! You come to my shop!” Most shopkeepers said hello, offered once for us to come into the shop, but let it go at that, as opposed to following us down the street or running out of the shop with 15 necklaces dangling from their arms, ensuring us a good bargain. We bought a few items after much deliberation and negotiating, my favorite of which was a huge 70-cm diameter circular Bobo mask, “Le Soleil”. I got home to discover that I had grossly overestimated the size of my suitcase, as there was not a chance that the mask would fit in it for the trip home to Seattle. So, I decided to be happy to have a nice piece of art to hang on the wall of my new abode when I return to Burkina in September.
After exhausting our desire to shop (which didn’t take long in the 39C heat of the day), one of my housemates and I sought respite from the heat at a hotel with a pool. We had lunch and swam, which made for a very relaxing afternoon after working practically nonstop on our studies during the week. We felt a bit outrageous splurging on a meal that cost 12 times what we had been spending for lunch out with local coworkers (about $12 versus a dollar and a quarter), but let it go and decided it was well worth taking a break and recharging our batteries. Just as we were finishing swimming some laps in the water and thinking it would have been perfect to have an inner tube or something to float on, a family with kids showed up with a huge inflatable crocodile. I said to my housemate, “Now that’s what we need!” I can foresee many afternoons in the future spent lounging in that pool on an inflatable raft of some sort … if only we can find it in Bobo.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The Joy of Two Wheels
Yesterday morning there were already 4 passengers in the taxi that pulled over for me, so one of the guys in back jumped into the front seat (so they were sitting two in the front passenger seat) and gave me his spot in the backseat. What a gentleman! While Dakar has it’s fair share of newer taxis and most of Bobo’s taxis have seen better days, the shared taxi protocol is much more entertaining.
We are starting our training for field workers/data collectors tomorrow and I feel that there are so many preparations that need to be completed before we can start, but I’m trying to be flexible while also trying to set a high standard of the quality of our research methods … finding that balance in a foreign setting is tricky. Katie left for Banfora for the week with her team to work in a lab there, and she left me her bike and bike helmet to use while she is away - it was really fun to ride around on it today, and to commute by bike again. Although the rice and sauce I’ve grown accustomed to eating is fine, I can’t eat it every day. I know, I’m too American, but I just can’t. So, I rode to a Lebanese restaurant for lunch today that had stage 17 of the Tour de France on the tube. It was a really nice break to clear my head and veg out while watching Lance Armstrong climb the Col de Romme as I ate hummus and pita.
We are starting our training for field workers/data collectors tomorrow and I feel that there are so many preparations that need to be completed before we can start, but I’m trying to be flexible while also trying to set a high standard of the quality of our research methods … finding that balance in a foreign setting is tricky. Katie left for Banfora for the week with her team to work in a lab there, and she left me her bike and bike helmet to use while she is away - it was really fun to ride around on it today, and to commute by bike again. Although the rice and sauce I’ve grown accustomed to eating is fine, I can’t eat it every day. I know, I’m too American, but I just can’t. So, I rode to a Lebanese restaurant for lunch today that had stage 17 of the Tour de France on the tube. It was a really nice break to clear my head and veg out while watching Lance Armstrong climb the Col de Romme as I ate hummus and pita.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Our Local Starbucks
As one might imagine, coming from the US, what a town called Bobo lacks in some aspects of urbanization, in makes up for in charm. I turned into somewhat of a coffee snob in Seattle (actually, that’s not true, I think I’ve always been keen on strong coffee) and have splurged on good coffee in Dakar rather than Nescafe instant coffee. However, Nescafe with sweetened condensed milk is a whole other discussion. There are two women who sell coffee across the street from the research institute and they have successfully changed my opinion of instant Nescafe. The first day, they poured two heaping spoonfuls of sweetened consdensed milk in a glass, added a tiny half a spoonful of Nescafe, and then filled the glass with hot water. It was, well, sweet, but for 100 CFA I wasn’t about to complain.
The next day, I went with my housemate who has turned this into her local Starbucks. She asked for a coffee but then, Sally Albright style, ordered it with half the amount of milk and twice the amount of coffee. The lady behind the counter looked a bit perplexed but humored us and prepared the coffees as requested. Delish, this round… and she even let us take them “to go” – I just made sure to return the glasses before they close shop for the day.
The next day, I went with my housemate who has turned this into her local Starbucks. She asked for a coffee but then, Sally Albright style, ordered it with half the amount of milk and twice the amount of coffee. The lady behind the counter looked a bit perplexed but humored us and prepared the coffees as requested. Delish, this round… and she even let us take them “to go” – I just made sure to return the glasses before they close shop for the day.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Bobo
I can’t get over how green and leafy Bobo is, and how friendly the folks are at the research center. Bo seems like a really nice guy, with an easy laugh and eager to learn about nutrition and get the study moving forward. We work mostly in French but he knows enough English that I think we understood each other, and when push comes to shove, I can usually say a phrase in English and he’ll get the essence of it. People at the center actually work during the day, the lab benches and equipment are clean and appear to be maintained relatively well (and in use frequently), and the students and supervisory-types seem very engaged in learning and exchanging ideas. I hope I’m not too naïve, but so far, I’m quite impressed.
Katie and I went to lunch with two of the other fellows on the zinc studies and lunch for the 4 of us cost 2000 CFA - $5. Huge bowls of rice arrived on the table for each of us, accompanied by smaller – but still deep – bowls of of sauce arachide (peanut sauce – a combination of peanut butter, tomato sauce, oil, spices, sometimes a bit of salty fish floating in the sauce). I finished half of it and was ready for a nap afterwards; it was so heavy. We went back to the lab and continued working on study plans, making lists of materials to purchase, reviewing our questionnaire forms, talking through job roles for study staff to be hired.
Bobo has shared taxis and the flat rate is 300 CFA. I got into one this morning and said where I wanted to go, then a while later, we pulled over and someone else got in the back seat. I got dropped off first, since we reached my destination first, but I suppose other times it's more like a school bus route. It was kind of fun - the people were nice and it's kind of funny to chat with them. Amazingly enough, people obey stop signs (mostly – I’ve seen a few “California stops”) and traffic lights (they HAVE traffic lights!), and the drivers don’t seem as angry as many do in Dakar.
Some things would make a great photo, but the chances of getting such photos are slim. I walked by a sign today that read, "No urinating allowed here" and beneath the sign were two men doing just that; then saw a man riding a motorbike while carrying a sheep … on the bike with him. I later walked into the lab and saw 4 men chiseling off the door to the radioactive storage room. Apparently since no one could find the key to open the door, so the solution was to replace the door.
There’s an old Land Cruiser that has recently been “rehabilitated” with study funds (with rehabilitated in quotes because it has the tendency to break down frequently) that everyone seems to have a soft spot for. Apparently all Land Cruisers of this model in Burkina Faso are called Norbert Zongo after the former editor of a local newspaper, who was assassinated in such a car after investigating a high-profile murder. As the driver told me, “Norbert Zongo, il n’est pas presse, mais il faut arrive.” He’s not hurried, but he’ll get there eventually.
Katie and I went to lunch with two of the other fellows on the zinc studies and lunch for the 4 of us cost 2000 CFA - $5. Huge bowls of rice arrived on the table for each of us, accompanied by smaller – but still deep – bowls of of sauce arachide (peanut sauce – a combination of peanut butter, tomato sauce, oil, spices, sometimes a bit of salty fish floating in the sauce). I finished half of it and was ready for a nap afterwards; it was so heavy. We went back to the lab and continued working on study plans, making lists of materials to purchase, reviewing our questionnaire forms, talking through job roles for study staff to be hired.
Bobo has shared taxis and the flat rate is 300 CFA. I got into one this morning and said where I wanted to go, then a while later, we pulled over and someone else got in the back seat. I got dropped off first, since we reached my destination first, but I suppose other times it's more like a school bus route. It was kind of fun - the people were nice and it's kind of funny to chat with them. Amazingly enough, people obey stop signs (mostly – I’ve seen a few “California stops”) and traffic lights (they HAVE traffic lights!), and the drivers don’t seem as angry as many do in Dakar.
Some things would make a great photo, but the chances of getting such photos are slim. I walked by a sign today that read, "No urinating allowed here" and beneath the sign were two men doing just that; then saw a man riding a motorbike while carrying a sheep … on the bike with him. I later walked into the lab and saw 4 men chiseling off the door to the radioactive storage room. Apparently since no one could find the key to open the door, so the solution was to replace the door.
There’s an old Land Cruiser that has recently been “rehabilitated” with study funds (with rehabilitated in quotes because it has the tendency to break down frequently) that everyone seems to have a soft spot for. Apparently all Land Cruisers of this model in Burkina Faso are called Norbert Zongo after the former editor of a local newspaper, who was assassinated in such a car after investigating a high-profile murder. As the driver told me, “Norbert Zongo, il n’est pas presse, mais il faut arrive.” He’s not hurried, but he’ll get there eventually.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Burkina Faso
I think it’s fair to say that the names of towns and cities in Burkina Faso are the most fun to say. Ouagadougou. Bobo-Dioulasso. Banakeledaga. Orodara. Souroukoudougou.
All places I’ll be visiting and working here. Seriously, how awesome?
Bobo is so green! That's what stands out first. Trees everywhere, and leafy, lining the streets and provided much-needed shade. There was a downpour for about two hours after my flight landed this morning, then it cleared up this afternoon. It's cooled off somewhat but the heat hasn’t let up much. Perhaps it’s just because I’ve seen many people riding bicycles that I think this, but the air seems a bit clearer here than in Dakar ... unless you’re riding a bike or walking along the road when a moped passes, trailing exhaust, and then it’s just like any other urban center with lots of traffic.
Our flight from Dakar to Ouagadougou was delayed 4 hours so another co-worker (who was traveling with me, and brought about 20kg of study supplies for us in her checked luggage) and I arrived at "Le Splendid Hotel" at 3:30 am ... and proceeded to take a 2-hour nap before the car picked us up at 6:30 am. The hotel was far from splendid, but fine for a hot shower and a bed.
My flight this morning was uneventful, fortunately, and just a quick 40 minute flight from Ouaga to Bobo. When I landed, Bo, the student with whom I'm working these next 2-3 weeks, and a driver from the research center picked me up, and I’ve been warmly welcomed. I’m here to help facilitate and supervise a nutrition study where we’ll assess the acceptability of a peanut butter-like supplementary food, which is added to children’s foods to provide extra energy and essential nutrients. It’s very similar in methodology to the study that I first worked on in Dakar, and again we’ll be recruiting mother/infant pairs to taste the product and tell us what they think of the product and how they feed it to their child (easier said than done in an environment where women, especially in rural areas, aren’t frequently asked for their opinion).
The house that we’re renting for the visiting study staff is funky - very open and spacious, with wrought-iron fencing and swirl-design iron window coverings painted bright green. There are 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a dining/living room area, a kitchen with a fridge and gas oven/stove, and another room that we’ll convert to an office or spare bedroom. Eventually, there will be 5 study coordinators from the university working and living in Bobo, and we expect to have visiting scientists and students staying there from time to time. The garden is the finest part - outside there is a big palm tree, bougainvillea crawling up the side of the walls, tiny yellow flowers bursting from tall green stalks, a mango tree and a citrus tree.
I took a nap on the couch this afternoon and did a little bit of work on the laptop, but mostly took time to get my stuff sorted out and to recover from the long air travel. I hung up the mosquito net in my room that my housemate Katie, another research coordinator from the US, had bought for me, and unpacked my bags.
All places I’ll be visiting and working here. Seriously, how awesome?
Bobo is so green! That's what stands out first. Trees everywhere, and leafy, lining the streets and provided much-needed shade. There was a downpour for about two hours after my flight landed this morning, then it cleared up this afternoon. It's cooled off somewhat but the heat hasn’t let up much. Perhaps it’s just because I’ve seen many people riding bicycles that I think this, but the air seems a bit clearer here than in Dakar ... unless you’re riding a bike or walking along the road when a moped passes, trailing exhaust, and then it’s just like any other urban center with lots of traffic.
Our flight from Dakar to Ouagadougou was delayed 4 hours so another co-worker (who was traveling with me, and brought about 20kg of study supplies for us in her checked luggage) and I arrived at "Le Splendid Hotel" at 3:30 am ... and proceeded to take a 2-hour nap before the car picked us up at 6:30 am. The hotel was far from splendid, but fine for a hot shower and a bed.
My flight this morning was uneventful, fortunately, and just a quick 40 minute flight from Ouaga to Bobo. When I landed, Bo, the student with whom I'm working these next 2-3 weeks, and a driver from the research center picked me up, and I’ve been warmly welcomed. I’m here to help facilitate and supervise a nutrition study where we’ll assess the acceptability of a peanut butter-like supplementary food, which is added to children’s foods to provide extra energy and essential nutrients. It’s very similar in methodology to the study that I first worked on in Dakar, and again we’ll be recruiting mother/infant pairs to taste the product and tell us what they think of the product and how they feed it to their child (easier said than done in an environment where women, especially in rural areas, aren’t frequently asked for their opinion).
The house that we’re renting for the visiting study staff is funky - very open and spacious, with wrought-iron fencing and swirl-design iron window coverings painted bright green. There are 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a dining/living room area, a kitchen with a fridge and gas oven/stove, and another room that we’ll convert to an office or spare bedroom. Eventually, there will be 5 study coordinators from the university working and living in Bobo, and we expect to have visiting scientists and students staying there from time to time. The garden is the finest part - outside there is a big palm tree, bougainvillea crawling up the side of the walls, tiny yellow flowers bursting from tall green stalks, a mango tree and a citrus tree.
I took a nap on the couch this afternoon and did a little bit of work on the laptop, but mostly took time to get my stuff sorted out and to recover from the long air travel. I hung up the mosquito net in my room that my housemate Katie, another research coordinator from the US, had bought for me, and unpacked my bags.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Independence Day
The 4th of July was a memorable celebration in Dakar. I was invited to a poolside BBQ by the fellow who Jessica and I met on the boat to Goree (the one wearing the Red Sox hat, who gave me his business card) and celebrated the holiday with about a dozen Americans and a few non-Americans who were game to partake in a little Americana. I loved watching one Senegalese man listen intently to the recipe for constructing the perfect “hamburger Americain” and then trying his first burger, fresh off the grill. Most of the folks at the BBQ work together and the gathering also served as an office-warming party … which sounds weird until you see that the office could have been transported straight from Santa Barbara. It’s one level, a sprawling house-converted-to-office space (like many offices in Dakar) overlooking the ocean, with palm, mango and citrus trees, a pool, and an outdoor firepit that would look at home in a Sunset magazine shoot.
I brought a couple of salads and bread, the daughter of the fellow who hosted the party made a fruit salad and a pasta salad, and the guys grilled hamburgers, chicken, and ribs. After dinner, sitting around the table outside on the patio under a near-full moon, enjoying the warm but no longer hot evening and refreshing occasional breeze, someone popped open a laptop and found the Declaration of Independence online, so we all took turns reading aloud a section.
I would have been perfectly content to leave the party while it was good and mark that down as a terrific 4th of July, and go home. However, I had been invited by the gardener at the house where I’m dog-sitting to his neighborhood’s wrestling championship matches. I couldn’t pass up the chance to watch traditional Senegalese wrestling. We were instructed to arrive around 8 pm but arrived at 20 ‘til midnight, and yet our timing couldn’t have been better – the first match (of 7) was just underway.
We were led to a row of chairs and seated us in the third row, right in perfect view of the “lutteurs” (wrestlers) and the dancing that is part of each pre-match warm-up, and where the winners are presented with flags and envelopes of money. Although each match only takes 20 seconds, the pre-match psych-up goes on for 20 minutes with drumming, singing, and each wrestler and his team dancing together in a choreographed routine, with a few individuals doing free form or improv. The first rows of seats were couches and big, overstuffed armchairs, sitting in the sand. They were empty when we arrived but slowly began to fill up with people who looked very important, like parents, women wearing impeccable makeup and sparkly fabrics, men wearing boubous, and when the professional wrestling champions arrived, and the crowd went nuts.
I brought a couple of salads and bread, the daughter of the fellow who hosted the party made a fruit salad and a pasta salad, and the guys grilled hamburgers, chicken, and ribs. After dinner, sitting around the table outside on the patio under a near-full moon, enjoying the warm but no longer hot evening and refreshing occasional breeze, someone popped open a laptop and found the Declaration of Independence online, so we all took turns reading aloud a section.
I would have been perfectly content to leave the party while it was good and mark that down as a terrific 4th of July, and go home. However, I had been invited by the gardener at the house where I’m dog-sitting to his neighborhood’s wrestling championship matches. I couldn’t pass up the chance to watch traditional Senegalese wrestling. We were instructed to arrive around 8 pm but arrived at 20 ‘til midnight, and yet our timing couldn’t have been better – the first match (of 7) was just underway.
We were led to a row of chairs and seated us in the third row, right in perfect view of the “lutteurs” (wrestlers) and the dancing that is part of each pre-match warm-up, and where the winners are presented with flags and envelopes of money. Although each match only takes 20 seconds, the pre-match psych-up goes on for 20 minutes with drumming, singing, and each wrestler and his team dancing together in a choreographed routine, with a few individuals doing free form or improv. The first rows of seats were couches and big, overstuffed armchairs, sitting in the sand. They were empty when we arrived but slowly began to fill up with people who looked very important, like parents, women wearing impeccable makeup and sparkly fabrics, men wearing boubous, and when the professional wrestling champions arrived, and the crowd went nuts.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
RIP, MJ (PYT)
“ ‘Where were you when Michael Jackson died?’ is going to become THE question,” declared the woman sitting across from me at dinner. I was at a little tapas place overlooking the ocean, with a group of women who work in Dakar, where the only requirement for being on the list-serv is to “know a little bit of English”. I figured I’d give it a try – I hadn’t been to one since I had flown through Dakar for 2 days last September and I was keen to meet some new people.
I will, in fact, remember MJ’s death well. It was nearly 11 pm here, and I was getting ready to close up my laptop for the night after watching “Weeds” – which has replaced “The Closer” which I’ve (sadly) finished season 3 and will have to wait to get a new hook-up for the subsequent seasons – when a series of emails from close friends in Seattle appeared in my inbox. The first email was simply a link to the LA Times with “MJ hospitalized!” and then, sent 15 minutes later, “OMG! CNN said he died!” which was countered with, “So says AP!” I had to tear myself away from reading the news, but awoke to find his image everywhere online, and even heard the local radio stations broadcasting the news in French and Wolof.
Turns out that 5 of the 8 of us at dinner all know a friend of mine in the States, so it was yet another “small world” incident that I have been finding frequently lately. One mentioned that they were en route to a MJ Tribute Dance Party at a club downtown after dinner, then asked if I wanted to come (ahem, hello, rhetorical question!). It was a stitch: these little kids who didn’t look old enough to be in a club were moonwalking and doing full routines to Thriller and Bad. The DJ was turning MJ tunes all night and the place was packed; it was amazing.
I will, in fact, remember MJ’s death well. It was nearly 11 pm here, and I was getting ready to close up my laptop for the night after watching “Weeds” – which has replaced “The Closer” which I’ve (sadly) finished season 3 and will have to wait to get a new hook-up for the subsequent seasons – when a series of emails from close friends in Seattle appeared in my inbox. The first email was simply a link to the LA Times with “MJ hospitalized!” and then, sent 15 minutes later, “OMG! CNN said he died!” which was countered with, “So says AP!” I had to tear myself away from reading the news, but awoke to find his image everywhere online, and even heard the local radio stations broadcasting the news in French and Wolof.
Turns out that 5 of the 8 of us at dinner all know a friend of mine in the States, so it was yet another “small world” incident that I have been finding frequently lately. One mentioned that they were en route to a MJ Tribute Dance Party at a club downtown after dinner, then asked if I wanted to come (ahem, hello, rhetorical question!). It was a stitch: these little kids who didn’t look old enough to be in a club were moonwalking and doing full routines to Thriller and Bad. The DJ was turning MJ tunes all night and the place was packed; it was amazing.
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