Why We're Here - In Photos

Here's a look at some of the things we're doing here with Mennonite Central Committee Burkina Faso...

A few weeks ago we went to visit one of the projects we work with that among other great things, sends kids to school and makes sure they have awesome backpacks to carry their stuff. 

 

Abdou

With no warning, Adam was called up to present certificates to all the participants. Of course this included pronouncing all their names on the spot. I almost died laughing (and so did the kids)...

...until it was my turn to call out their names and give them their backpacks. Clearly I messed up with this sweet girl.

Oumoune

They also get sacks of rice, which they have to help their mothers carry home. (Adjaratou and her mom.)

And help their mothers tie them to bicycles. (Proof adolescent boys, the world over, give their mothers attitude.)

Ani put her sunglasses on for a close-up, then this cherub stepped in.

We also work with farmers outside the city...

Souleymane

Me in a field, with head-to-toe sun protection. Pretty sure this was the moment Adam chose to tell me my SPF hat actually looks like a pith helmet. Risk melanoma for cultural sensitivity? Jury's still out.

This farmer, Gnini, is showing the difference between the sorghum planted from seeds MCC helped them get and their local seeds. (MCC seeds win.) He planted the fields with his 6 children over their school break. Since it was a thousand degrees outside, I asked him how his kids felt about helping. He said, "Well of course they grumble the whole time, but they have no choice if they want to go back to school."

Bigger and better beans than ever before.

These ladies really seemed to be having a fun gossip session in the fields. It almost made me wish I was part of it. Then Adam reminded me natural selection would have done me in generations ago. The gossip I can do, but hot, hard work in the sun? Carrying heavy loads on my head? These women are amazing. 

There's nothing quite like a community meeting under a tree.

Lamoussa

Next up, moringa! Remember ages ago when Jill posted about the magic of moringa? It's here in Burkina too. I think this might be the next super food to sweep the western world. This stuff is incredible.

Leontine tending the moringa wonder-plant.

These tiny leaves have 7 times the Vitamin C of oranges, 4 times the Vitamin A of carrots, 4 times the calcium of milk, 3 times the potassium of bananas, and 2 times the protein of yogurt. (And even more than that in their dried form, which is how many eat it here.)

Sorghum, almost ready for harvest.

Adam loved this farmer, Rassmane, and thus begins his photo session...

 

I mean, c'mon. That smile.

'Twas a good year for beans.

Tinga told us how he started off only being able to afford this sorry excuse for a bicycle to take his harvest to the market to sell.

The next year, his crops were a success and he bought a motorcycle to go back and forth.

Now he's upgraded to this moto-cart to help with farm production. He can afford to pay tuition for all of his - wait for it - 16 children to go to school.

That's a lot of hard work.

And lastly, when we start to grumble about the heat, the dust, the patisseries on every corner. Well, we remember we're here working for people like this guy who started a project to help boys sentenced to prison.

When boys are convicted of petty crimes (bicycle theft, purse snatching) and sentenced to prison with more serious adult offenders, Pegue (above right) convinces the judicial system to let the boys serve part of their time with him. He matches them up with apprenticeships so they can learn a trade and make a living.

Pascal and his carpentry apprenticeship. (Contrary to the photo, he's also learned safety skills.)

Shameless plug: Are you or someone you know between the ages of 18 and 20-something? Do you know anything about welding, carpentry, auto-repair, plumbing, masonry, or something else you could teach these boys? Come work with us and Pegue and these kids! 

(More info here: MCC/SALT position.)


There you have it. That's just a few of our partners who keep us busy. It's great work, but somebody's gotta do it.

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Back-to-School (Back to Blogging)

Hello Mama Congo readers. We know. It's been a while. Who knew switching careers and countries would take up so much of our time? Funny that.

Jill and I would like to mark our semi-settlement in our new lives with a comparative look at back-to-school in New York City and in the New York City of Africa - Ouagadougou. (Ha!)

Our back to school journey in Ouaga began by translating and deciphering the school supply list. (Not all that different from the girls' crazy supply list in Congo. Remember that?) Here in Ouaga we just handed it over to the neighborhood Papeterie guy and he picked everything out for us.

Feigning excitement over pink notebook protectors. 

Les listes.

No need to go behind the counter. Mr. Papeterie is full service. 

Each day before school Mamadou (our house-helper extraordinaire) delivers the fresh, morning baguette. I consider my greatest accomplishment in Burkina thus far to be never trying the morning baguette.  I once tried stale, evening baguette, which confirmed my suspicion that one bite of fresh baguette would be my gateway drug to a habit of 5 whole loaves a day.

Best torn. Not sliced. 

Some time during breakfast, Anastasie, our new nanny arrives.

A note about Anastasie: Although she is our new "Mama" so to speak, mentions and memories of Mamicho and Mama Youyou bubble up each day. More often than not, those are accompanied by sentimental tears - on my part, but I run away and hide before anyone notices. Because the key to successful transitioning is hiding emotion, right?

After breakfast, the girls travel just a few blocks on a mostly washed out dirt road to maternelle.

Charlotte's teacher, who speaks beautiful French and makes fun of Adam's. Love her already.

This is the look of discovering we have bought the wrong-sized notebook. 1/2 inch too narrow.
Back to the Papeterie we go. 

After sorting the rejected school supplies from the approved ones, Adam and I waited around until the girls felt comfortable. They never got comfortable, so we left and they wailed. Charlotte tried to hold back her tears, but then made a last minute decision to run screaming for the door. Luckily her teacher clotheslined her and snatched her up. Good work teacher. It'll be a great year.

Per Loulou's request, a close-up of Char. (Taken before her tragic abandonment at school.) 

Stay tuned for a look at Jill's back-to-school routine in NYC. Which is sure to include better roads, but the jury's still out on their baguette.

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We're leaving Congo. Forever.

I hate change. No really, it messes me up. When my favorite websites get a "new look" it takes me a while to forgive them and visit again. When I commute, I have to take the same route every day or I'll be totally off. I do not use an alarm clock. My eyelids just know when to open. I'm the type of person who marries a routine. And never cheats.

But for some reason changing countries always feels exciting. I moved to Egypt and then Congo without visiting either place. And without knowing a soul. When everything changes it's far easier than just one thing being different.

So here we go again. We're leaving Congo after six of the best years of our lives. In June we'll take our last flight from the place we started our family. The only home our children have known. As Mama Youyou has told us over and over, "No one is happy about this." It's true. It's horribly sad and I will probably self-medicate to make it through all the goodbyes.

In fact, last week I wrote about leaving Congo on World Moms Blog and Adam gave me a hard time for writing such a depressing post. Check it out here. I'll be referring to the supportive comments folks left there from now until our departure. (Thank you, World Moms!)

Photo credit: Jill Humphrey

But as a dear friend said when she left us doubled over in sadness upon her exit from Congo:

This was never meant to be permanent.

And so we can't stay here forever. The time feels right to move on.

After our usual visit to the States this summer, we'll pack up and head to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. And since we're switching countries, we may as well change our careers while we're at it. Adam and I will be the Country Representatives for Mennonite Central Committee, and our children will go to work charming the locals so we can make friends. They can already pronounce the words "Ouagadougou" and "Burkina Faso" so that's one hurdle crossed.

We've seen pictures of our future house, we have a nanny lined up (sigh), and all four of us will visit Ouaga in a few weeks. In some ways, it feels like we've already transitioned. It is truly a weird time in our lives.

I don't know much about Burkina Faso. But unlike the other places I've moved, I have been there before. Strangely, about 12 years ago I passed through Ouagadougou with friends on the way to Mali. And I kid you not, I had a dream about coming back there to live with Adam. Unfortunately I didn't take my premonition seriously enough to size up the place for its functionality of moving there with two children.

Luckily, many expats in Congo have also lived in Burkina. So we've been mining them for information. When we mention our move the most common words we hear are:

• integrity
• hot
• friendly
• motorcycles
• strawberries

 Let's compare that to the most common words we hear when we tell people we live in Congo:

• dangerous 
• humid
• potholes
• Ebola
• why?

Clearly, we love Congo despite its reputation. But Burkina sure sounds like a great place too.

I know you're wondering...yes Jill and her family are leaving Congo too. She'll write about their change in due time. And no, we don't know about the future of Mama Congo, which feels like another one of our best friends here. Dear readers: Do you have any suggestions? 

But let's get to the most important part of this post - Do we have any readers in Burkina Faso? If so, will you be my friend?

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