The dentist was a beautiful woman with a Parisian accent. It's not good when the dentist is beautiful, you start to worry about all the flying spray from your mouth. I thought I'd learn some good French vocab from her. I understood vas-y since it's the same thing I yell at the kids sitting on my front porch every morning before school. It means Go. Her assistant's name was Suzy, so it rhymed: vas-y Suzy. I have no cavities.
These kids I'm working with this summer are a bit different than what I'm used to in village. A student pulled out a new iPod last week, and I asked her if it was the iPhone. She said, No, the iPhone is for a man. If I want to go out and put it in my pocket, I can't. No, I like having them separate. I'm filling in the next two days for a prof who is in Ghana. The new experience'll be fun. I don't want to work with kids the rest of my life (please, please, no), but this has been a good thing getting up in front of people and testing my cliches and confidence over and over again.
I'm going to Eurotex, the fabric store, tomorrow to buy some materials to have pants made for Paris. It's only a month away. I'm thinking black pants and one other color. As far as French goes, here is my level: yesterday Zach had trouble ordering food over the phone. Finally he came up to me and said, here, Clay, talk to them, I can't understand him. Okay:
I want three plates of spaghetti, two steak sandwiches, three fries, and three steak plates. No, not three more steak sandwiches, three steak plates. Steak plates? Yeah, the plate I usually order. It comes not on bread but on a plate with a sauce. Steak sandwich? No, well yes, two of them. But then three additional steak plates where there is no bread, just steak. The pieces of meat are directly on the plate. Instead of the sandwiches? No. In addition to? Yes. I'm still not getting it. Umm. Wait, steak simple? What is simple steak? The stuff on the sandwich but without the bread. Yes, that is what I want, three of them. Did you change the name of it or something? Never mind. Okay, see you in thirty minutes.
We should have a grand time as long as Matt doesn't want a steak plate/steak simple.
I've been watching the Olympics on the TV at the embassy. I haven't seen much since Friday, but we should be winning every sport we enter into. We are such a huge country it's a loss if we don't win everything. Now that I'm kind of thinking about it, I did see some equestrian events. Let the others have them.
I saw Iron Man and The Hulk last week. Both of them are great. I liked The Hulk more, but I can see how people could prefer Iron Man. It's faster-paced and flashy. And The Dude is the villain.
I've been sick this week. I think it's all the smog from living here. Sometimes at a traffic light I'm surrounded by dozens of motos. It could be worse though. I read somewhere that living in Cairo is the same as smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, the pollution is so bad. I also read that the doctor in House has a Burger King gold card and can eat at any Burger King in the world for free. What do I have to do to get one.
Okay, time to do some work. Hope everyone is good. Clay
P.S. Happy Early Birthday Katie
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Early August
Ouaga, I'll say once more, is great. I took Mac out today for his birthday. He had a pizza. I ordered a ham and cheese sandwich, creamed spinach, and potatoes. Last night we made mexican food with actual chips and salsa, guacamole, and tortillas. I have hot water, electricity, fans, a mattress, and a computer. I've been able to find out the meanings of epicanthic, sirocco, geodesy, and chthonian. Dictionary.com has failed me on desuperpollicate and quincunial, but I have a month to find them elsewhere. I found a journal of poems in my box at the house that must have been there for months. One such says: Hemingway, why do I stay up nights, finding your sadness sweet, while Nabokov, the genius, puts me straight to sleep? John Mayer has new music out; if you don't find the song Say inspirational, i don't know what to tell you. Thanks to friends and family (and the modern postal system) I have 7 bags of coffee on the shelf. Tonight I sat outside and drank coffee while watching the sun steal down into pink rainbruised clouds. At least I did until the mosquitoes found me. The weather here has been gorgeous, I think it's actually hotter in Austin. Adlai, one of my best buds here, is also teaching English this month. It's good seeing him. His girlfriend is from Dublin and has a deadly accent. She and her mates and lads have a good time going to the pub and getting pissed. When it's too bloody hot they sit inside with the air con. Last night I stayed up pretty late with Mac and everyone. Someone built a three story castle of Uno cards, and I was able to place my empty Dr Pepper can on top, a true feat for Clay Shaky Hands LaPoint. On my birthday we were prepping for class, and all of the other Burkinabe teachers sang happy birthday when they found out. A nice way to spend it. Next year I'll either be in Morocco or Austin, TX. If I'm home by then, I hope Mom's not too busy to make poundcake, and Dad not too much to play Butler International. Maggie can drive me around in her car, and Katie....well, I'm leaning on Katie to support me until Maggie is old enough to, so that's enough of a present already. I'll be here until September 1st, and then I'll go back to village for ten days before heading back here to go to Paris for a week with my cousin Matt. Vraiment la vie est chouette. Truly life is...I think chouette means sweet, cool, neato, that type of thing. One time a Belgian girl picked me up on the side of the road and took me to the bus station, and she said ahhh c'est chouette when I was telling her about working in a village. Chouette is a chouette word. I read another McCarthy called Blood Meridian or the Evening Redness in the West (I think that was the title). That guy builds scenes better than almost anyone. It's like a clinic when he gets started. I have to go to the dentist this week for our mid service medical. Not the biggest fan of going to the dentist, I'm pegging my survival rate at 50/50 right now. Alright, that's all for now. Hope you're well, love, Clay
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Late July
It's been so long since my last time at the internet that I can't think of anything to say. It's overwhelming. I'm sitting here picking at my fingernails and can't think of what to say or any sites I'd like to visit. I stared at the US govt homepage for half a dozen minutes before opening my email.
Aunt Edie and Uncle Gordon, thanks for the package. I finished a book a while ago that I loved called The Intuitionist, and it was said to be an allegory on par with one you sent me. I'll read it and get back to you soon.
****Pretend this is a nice collection of photos of Norman. The security guard just called and is kicking me out. I'll put some up tomorrow or this weekend.****
I was in Niger last week for a short vacation before my English teaching program in Ouaga with the American Language Center. I'll be here until the beginning of September. Being in Ouaga, and knowing I'll be here for more than three or four days, is insane. I can't get over it. On the way home yesterday I was daydreaming about what Adlai and I could go out and do. I thought, hmmm, should we do happy hour half price White Russians at Showbiz, or go to the Blue Marlin for the steak plate and garlic fries, or should I stay in, make some real coffee, and write, or should we go to the Paradisio for pints and cheeseburgers....The very idea of having options, it's nice. Hopefully Grant and I'll be able to get some more of our comic book done with the amount of time I'll be at the computer.
Nanny, I opened your package today. Thanks for the twinkies, and good call with putting them in a jar. Also thanks for the shorts, I feel like one of my favorite journalists, Hunter S. Thompson, in them. They were also a reminder to get to the tailor and have nice pants made for Paris. And the shirts are the softest I've worn in a year.
Mom, when you said I'd know for sure what it was you put in my package, did you mean the saffron rice or the Dr. Pepper? Thanks for the packages Mom and Dad.
Aunt Edie and Uncle Gordon, thanks for the package. I finished a book a while ago that I loved called The Intuitionist, and it was said to be an allegory on par with one you sent me. I'll read it and get back to you soon.
If you sent me something recently and I haven't thanked you, I'll be here for another month and I'll try to say thanks. I'm sorry. These pictures are taking forever and I want to post a few.
Here are some pictures of giraffes I saw in Niger.
The picture of me trying to smile is pretty painful. That was by far the hottest day I've ever experienced. The sun bouncing off the hot sand was terrible and beautiful. The beautiful is dependent upon the number of litres of bottled water in your bag. My camera must have mixed a few of the pictures in with Venice. I'm glad it did. Our hotel in Venice looks pretty sweet from that angle.
Here is my cat, Norman H. LaPoint. He's a great cat. I only get half my pillow now because he takes up the other half, but other than that he's a great roommate.
****Pretend this is a nice collection of photos of Norman. The security guard just called and is kicking me out. I'll put some up tomorrow or this weekend.****
Here is outside the hacienda. I made a flowerbed, and the corn in the field out front has just started growing. I was gone one weekend about a month ago, and when I came back my neighbors had found and planted all the flowers for me. La vie est bonne avec les voisins, life is good with neighbors.
I bought a copy of Le Monde yesterday and read the translation of Obama's speech in Germany. It's the first campaign research I've done. Have the Olympics started? I'd feel a bit out of the loop except that I'm so outside of the loop I've forgotten about the loop. I'm loopless.
Sorry I never got around to posting my one year anniversary blog entry. I can't say if I've learned anything or not this last year. Even if I have it is too soon to write about it, even on a blog.
Adlai and I joined the American Rec Center here in Ouaga for the month of August. I've never been a member of a country club before, and I've got to say the confidence boost alone is worth the 10,000 francs.
Okay, I'd update you more, but I'm getting kicked out. It's my fault though, I spent most of my time looking at vocabulary words I can't get in my dictionary from village, and looking up Henry Miller quotes.
All my best, Clay
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Early June
Howdy y'all, no huge anniversary post today. This morning I repacked my backpack to put in some Newsweeks a car washer here likes. He doesn't actually wash all that many cars and likes to practice his English in between jobs. It was early in the morning and I forgot to repack what I had written. Sorry. I'm going to Ouaga this Sunday, and I'll make amends.
Mom's led me to believe that anyone reading this thinks I hate my mother. Well, I don't hate my mother. In addition to being my mother, she is pretty funny, and one of the most thoroughly decent human beings I know. The only reason I didn't say Happy Mother's Day was because I thought I'd be at the computer the day of. The only reason I didn't say thanks for the plane ticket home was because I made all the plans with Dad, so he was in my mind when I said a quick thank you. I know it's your money too, don't turn into Chief Sitting Bull (One time the Wendy's people forgot to put a spoon in the bag with her frosty. She was not pleased. I don't know whether it was Dad or Katie who used CSB, but she was not pleased. Reading that I put this on here, I assume she will not be pleased.).
Another thank you. I just got a package from Grant, Britt, and Chris two days ago. It had a dozen comics, No Country For Old Men, a nice note, and a book by Karl Pilkington, the genius behind the Ricky Gervais Show. It also had some Dora the Explorer gummy candy that was gone in less than four seconds, and a used Chapstick that is on my nightstand. That was just a convenient term, I don't have a nightstand. I have a sudoku book, Ha Jin's War Trash, and Catch 22 stacked up next to my bed. It's on top of those. The book is probably the funniest thing I've read in a long time (not Cormac's novel - that would be kinda sick). Every night when I can't sleep (that is every night) I listen to the Ricky Gervais radio shows on my iPod. I don't have all the shows though, so it was hilarious reading all their conversations; by now I've listened to them so often that I know their accents and pauses, so I was reading with their voices and not my own. Also, No Country For Old Men is great. The pacing is so self-assured and the dialogue is probably the most realistic dialogue I've ever read. It is like Frost's dialogue in his poetry: back and forth, not too long, and revealing. I stayed up last night until 3 reading it start to finish. It makes you think about what kind of writer you want to be, and maybe even can be. I'm glad to see one of my personal favorites is back. The Hulk. In an entire productline of superheroes, he's the only one that is without a doubt a danger when he uses his powers. Everyone else tries to stabilize society, but he just smashes things. Good fodder for a story. And I like seeing (fictional) things get smashed.
As far as things being smashed, I also got a package two days ago from the bank. Now Christine is just as big a Lost fan as I am, so I'm kind of thinking there were hints about last season inside. The reason I'm leaning this way is because inside the box were: Reese's pieces (melted into a solid pound brick), a note in either Japanese, Korean, or Mandarin, and an instruction manual for what I think might be a security camera. It has to be the strangest package ever to sit on my stoop. Still though, thank you.
Also a thank you to Rashid, my neighbor. He helped me build my hangar this last week, and we put the finishing touches on it yesterday. Finding wood was kind of a nuisance, and he had to climb into the tops of many a tree with a machete to cut the branches. The branches were still living, and as such pretty full of water inside, so I had to climb up with him and hang on the branches as he cut them. My weight would bend them down until I was on the ground. I always say, If you can't think of a smart idea, just risk your life. But it was a pretty good experience. And now I have a shady place to sit outside.
Right on Mom, the goat picture last blog does include the morengas, in all their pre-pubescent, startersack glory. It also has two baby mammoth sunflowers that I'm hoping will rock my neighbors' worlds. I miss eating sunflower seeds, so I'm going to try to bake some and see how it works out. Note to anyone that might send a package soon. I miss eating sunflower seeds. And reading poetry.
I had the craziest dream last night. It was cold back in Pflugerville, and I was out on the backporch. I felt the cold in my lungs and my throat, and I felt the way it's cold under your feet against the concrete. Standing there I even felt the hems of my jeans and the long unkempt strands that were messy without being run down, like a missed haircut during summer. I looked through the window. Mom was making potato soap, Dad and Mags were playing Stratego, and Katie was camped out on one of her pallets ontop of the hunter green carpet, probably watching a movie about whales. I opened the door to go inside the same time I woke up this morning, and for half a second I could smell our house at Christmastime. I woke up at 6am to my phone ringing. It was Mom telling me that it seemed like I left only yesterday.
Work is good. A volunteer is going to be placed only 15k from me (a neighbor!), and right now I'm just figuring out ways to keep busy this summer. I'm planning a trip to Niger this July to go on a mini-giraffe safari. Hmm I guess that's a little ambiguous. I don't mean miniature giraffes like shetland ponies, I mean that the sightseeing will be only a day or two.
Okay, I think that's about all today. The place next door has egg sandwiches, which I've just got to take advantage of.
As always, all my best, Clay
Mom's led me to believe that anyone reading this thinks I hate my mother. Well, I don't hate my mother. In addition to being my mother, she is pretty funny, and one of the most thoroughly decent human beings I know. The only reason I didn't say Happy Mother's Day was because I thought I'd be at the computer the day of. The only reason I didn't say thanks for the plane ticket home was because I made all the plans with Dad, so he was in my mind when I said a quick thank you. I know it's your money too, don't turn into Chief Sitting Bull (One time the Wendy's people forgot to put a spoon in the bag with her frosty. She was not pleased. I don't know whether it was Dad or Katie who used CSB, but she was not pleased. Reading that I put this on here, I assume she will not be pleased.).
Another thank you. I just got a package from Grant, Britt, and Chris two days ago. It had a dozen comics, No Country For Old Men, a nice note, and a book by Karl Pilkington, the genius behind the Ricky Gervais Show. It also had some Dora the Explorer gummy candy that was gone in less than four seconds, and a used Chapstick that is on my nightstand. That was just a convenient term, I don't have a nightstand. I have a sudoku book, Ha Jin's War Trash, and Catch 22 stacked up next to my bed. It's on top of those. The book is probably the funniest thing I've read in a long time (not Cormac's novel - that would be kinda sick). Every night when I can't sleep (that is every night) I listen to the Ricky Gervais radio shows on my iPod. I don't have all the shows though, so it was hilarious reading all their conversations; by now I've listened to them so often that I know their accents and pauses, so I was reading with their voices and not my own. Also, No Country For Old Men is great. The pacing is so self-assured and the dialogue is probably the most realistic dialogue I've ever read. It is like Frost's dialogue in his poetry: back and forth, not too long, and revealing. I stayed up last night until 3 reading it start to finish. It makes you think about what kind of writer you want to be, and maybe even can be. I'm glad to see one of my personal favorites is back. The Hulk. In an entire productline of superheroes, he's the only one that is without a doubt a danger when he uses his powers. Everyone else tries to stabilize society, but he just smashes things. Good fodder for a story. And I like seeing (fictional) things get smashed.
As far as things being smashed, I also got a package two days ago from the bank. Now Christine is just as big a Lost fan as I am, so I'm kind of thinking there were hints about last season inside. The reason I'm leaning this way is because inside the box were: Reese's pieces (melted into a solid pound brick), a note in either Japanese, Korean, or Mandarin, and an instruction manual for what I think might be a security camera. It has to be the strangest package ever to sit on my stoop. Still though, thank you.
Also a thank you to Rashid, my neighbor. He helped me build my hangar this last week, and we put the finishing touches on it yesterday. Finding wood was kind of a nuisance, and he had to climb into the tops of many a tree with a machete to cut the branches. The branches were still living, and as such pretty full of water inside, so I had to climb up with him and hang on the branches as he cut them. My weight would bend them down until I was on the ground. I always say, If you can't think of a smart idea, just risk your life. But it was a pretty good experience. And now I have a shady place to sit outside.
Right on Mom, the goat picture last blog does include the morengas, in all their pre-pubescent, startersack glory. It also has two baby mammoth sunflowers that I'm hoping will rock my neighbors' worlds. I miss eating sunflower seeds, so I'm going to try to bake some and see how it works out. Note to anyone that might send a package soon. I miss eating sunflower seeds. And reading poetry.
I had the craziest dream last night. It was cold back in Pflugerville, and I was out on the backporch. I felt the cold in my lungs and my throat, and I felt the way it's cold under your feet against the concrete. Standing there I even felt the hems of my jeans and the long unkempt strands that were messy without being run down, like a missed haircut during summer. I looked through the window. Mom was making potato soap, Dad and Mags were playing Stratego, and Katie was camped out on one of her pallets ontop of the hunter green carpet, probably watching a movie about whales. I opened the door to go inside the same time I woke up this morning, and for half a second I could smell our house at Christmastime. I woke up at 6am to my phone ringing. It was Mom telling me that it seemed like I left only yesterday.
Work is good. A volunteer is going to be placed only 15k from me (a neighbor!), and right now I'm just figuring out ways to keep busy this summer. I'm planning a trip to Niger this July to go on a mini-giraffe safari. Hmm I guess that's a little ambiguous. I don't mean miniature giraffes like shetland ponies, I mean that the sightseeing will be only a day or two.
Okay, I think that's about all today. The place next door has egg sandwiches, which I've just got to take advantage of.
As always, all my best, Clay
Sunday, May 25, 2008
5-25-08
Hope everyone's well. I don't have anything planned to write today, and this air conditioning is making me sleepy, but I wanted to post some pictures of my kids writing letters to their new penpals back in Tejas. Also there's a picture of two goats standing in the shade of my outdoor kitchen.
This weekend was pretty sweet. I headed up North to visit Lauren. We were in her house, playing Boggle, and I looked at the shaded thermometer by the door: 107. And it wasn't a hot day. The mercury in the thermo was cheering me on, but Boggle is no Scrabble, and I lost over and over again.
Nanny sent me an electric toothbrush. I use it every morning and night, but only when my neighbors are playing music. I can't let them hear me revving up or else they start asking questions I can't answer. Why do you need an electric toothbrush? Actually, I don't know. Now leave me alone so I can finish my ablutions. I don't mind the company, just the staring.
The rain is still coming down in Kampti. Every night a group of frogs moves on to my patio and huddles in with the moringa trees. They sing songs that I like hearing.
Don't have any book reviews. Been writing a lot though. Grant just sent me his ideas for our idea.
Work is rewarding. This summer I'm going to help out at the medical center. Weighing babies, taking temperatures, etc, and learning a bit. Health and education go hand in hand. Unless you want to be a poor, dirtbag writer, you can't have one without the other.
Two weeks shy of a year in Africa. Maybe I'll do a huge one year anniversary blog when I'm in Ouaga next for Becca's birthday party(June 6thish). You're invited to her party.
Learning some Dioulla from my neighbors. Right now I can say Anye Sohoma and Nya. That's it. It doesn't matter what they mean, just say them and you'll agree with me that it's the most beautiful language.
Had a dream a few nights ago where I was a character in Kafka's short stories. It was a lot of sitting in cafes. Lauren had some Bukowski, forgot how good he could be.
Drinking a lot of bissap in village. It tastes and looks like cranberry juice, and you can buy it frozen so that it melts throughout the hot day.
Just watched The Office for the first time in almost a year. Remembered what I've been missing.
Thinking about a short summer vacation to Niamey for a few days to check out the last giraffes in West Africa. I only have a few days left, as Aunt Gail just got me tickets to Paris for a week, and Dad is bringing me home for Christmas. Can't thank them enough.
Just got an account at my local bank in village. It feels pretty cool, and they are nice to me and give me small bills instead of 10,000 franc notes that I can't break. Also, the census guy came by and marked me down for Kampti. He knocked on my door while I was eating dinner, so I gave him a bite of curried mac and cheese. The next day I saw him at the market, and he made me some tea. The world population is now over by one person, as I'm marked in Pflugerville and Kampti. Please alert the proper authorities.
Mary, for the penpal program, I'm going to give a few of the cards I have left to some kids that live in the North. I want your class to get a complete idea of Burkina, since it is such a crossroads of West Africa. A two hour drive away from my village looks a lot different than mine, and I want you to see and learn about as many areas as you're interested in. And the French practice will be great, for my kids and yours. And me too. Also, I talked to a computer guy who can help me put together a website, so now I just have to remember to take my camera around and take some photos to get it ready for next school year.
All my best, love, Clay
Friday, May 9, 2008
Quick note/Petit Mot/Noto rapido?
Calendar? Just got my etickets and I'll be home December 20ish thru January 4th. Can't wait to live like an American again.
And Mary, the village internet is too slow. I'm sorry. I'll be at the Peace Corps Bureau toward the end of the month and I'll be able to post the pictures. I'm also going to take pictures of the school and my house and such for a little show and tell, and this summer I'll go around the entire village and take pictures of various things, and maybe even make a little website if I ever figure out how to do it. There is an official program called something like the worldwide schools initiative that I think I can sign us up for; I'll look into it. Tell your kids hi for me and that they should get their letters soon(ish).
Okay, c'est tout. See you soon.(ish).
And Mary, the village internet is too slow. I'm sorry. I'll be at the Peace Corps Bureau toward the end of the month and I'll be able to post the pictures. I'm also going to take pictures of the school and my house and such for a little show and tell, and this summer I'll go around the entire village and take pictures of various things, and maybe even make a little website if I ever figure out how to do it. There is an official program called something like the worldwide schools initiative that I think I can sign us up for; I'll look into it. Tell your kids hi for me and that they should get their letters soon(ish).
Okay, c'est tout. See you soon.(ish).
Clay Reichenbach,
there must be a rogue reader out there, because I counted you as one of the three. Also I didn't have a title for this one so I went ahead and used your name. Hope you don't mind. For this one I tried to jot things down, on the bus, at my house, waiting for one of my clubs to start, so you could see a bit of what I do on a day to day basis. Unfortunately, I'm rereading it now and it's just more of the drivel I've been writing all along, with datemarks added, so sorry for the lack of insight.
First, for you almost new arrivals, I never got around to making a packing list, but one of my best friends here Becca has an excellent one on her blog, BeccaFaso.blogspot.com. I think that's the name, but if not just google words that are close and you'll find it. But I'll add one thing for those of you in the South: the lightest possible sweatpants you can find. The bugs are horrible here when it rains, and you need something to cover you up without getting too hot. Oh, and bring some money. The Peace Corps will give you some, a lot, actually, when you're in Philadelphia or wherever you go, but you might want a little extra to buy a cellphone during your training. It really helped me through. Only a month to go!
4-30-08
Rain accompanies the bus back to Kampti. I'm sitting halfway back in a blue seat, they are all blue seats. I always sit at least this far back, persuaded by a story I heard involving a bus and a cow. When the two met the force was strong enough to break the legs of everyone in the first ten rows. I have a few manners, I don't know how the cow managed. So here I am: lucky number eleven. Lye, for my womens association, is stowed away above my head, and I can't help but think what will happen if this bus leaks. In my lap is The Intuitionist and in the bag below my seat are The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Chabon, The Lost Steps by Carpentier, Islands in the Stream by Hemingway, and (for good measure) Black Rose by Nora Roberts and an LSAT study guide. Black Rose is the middle sister in the trilogy and I doubt I'll read either of her siblings. Then again, according to averages I've got a few years left and I should Never say Never. The sprinkling on the windshield, no more smothering than a motheaten blanket, is backed up by a sheet spread against the glass to shade the driver, and my companions and I, for the bus is completely full, look like we're mermaids in a velveteen aquarium. In my pocket is a handkerchief I got in Venice and some Kleenex. This morning I hit my head against a window shutter. Nothing serious, but with Dad's thin blood and Mom's thin skin I knew it would bleed in the heat and I didn't want to stain my souvenir from the cloth shop in the corner of St. Mark's plaza near where the gondoliers smoke and make jokes and when Mom and I found it we'd walked all the way across Venice toward the hotel in which I felt out of place, on the way stopping to share a dessert neither of us can name, and I summoned my courage and asked the woman for a ristretto with the proper pronunciation, and now for the rest of my life I can say I've had my favorite coffee in Venice. Even if I stained or lost the kandkerchief I wouldn't lose the memory, but you want to be careful with such things. It was a good thing I bought some tissues in any case because I had to run to catch the bus and three different times had to wipe my forehead. The bus now is going slow and safe; it just passed Boromo, the village with the elephants. If you borrow a dotted line from a blueprint and run it straight down from my nose, you'll hit the floorboards. This is a nice bus. The other option is a cheaper, faster bus, but there are holes in the floor and you'll get motionsickness looking at the pavement beneath you. Also in my lap is an article on ground-coupled heat exchangers for something I mentioned months ago about air conditioners. Mac, Becca, Lauren, each are texting me: It's raining here! It's raining down here too! I text back. It's raining everywhere in Burkina. My friends and I will sleep well tonight. Last night I went bowling with Adlai and two volunteers from Niger. Before bowling we went out to a bar in Ouaga and I had one of those moments I have here sometimes, and I looked around to take it all in and make sure that even a bit of it was real. If the cigarettes weren't the candy variety, the TV not taken from a model home, the tables and cars not pieces crafted for a movie set. There Adlai and I were, Americans in Burkina talking to Americans in Niger, helping them arrange guides into Mali. The whole thing was so incredibly international that I felt like going out and celebrating, but the only people worth celebrating with were a few volunteers in their villages and everyone back home. And Adlai and I technically were celebrating already. Here on the bus the air is cool with the rain and we're listening to African music that I can't understand a word of. I can't translate it, I can't even parse one word from another: the volume is up so loud everything is mashed into the pulp you find at the bottom of the carton if you don't shake often enough. In the left windows I can see huge clouds dominating the skyline, so big they seem to be disappointed in the smallness of the red dirt, trees, and bus below and are waiting for something else to arrive. I think of Poorhouse Fair, Updike's first novel that he wrote in his twenties, and how the character Hook looked up and into "the mammoth sky." You don't see phrases like that everyday, or the skies.
5-1-08
Riding my bike today I ended up in one of those clusters you want to avoid on the highway. This time it was a dirtpath, bicycles only, and four Lobi each with a rifle slung over the shoulder. I immediately felt underaccessorized.
5-2-08
I read the line, "Every woman has the heart of a policeman" toward the end of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, and I used it in my English club. Most everyone thought it meant something like, "she will always find out," but I thought that'd be more like a detective than a policeman, and offered, "every woman is used to living with disappointment." No one got that, including me, so we conjugated irregular verbs and called it a day.
5-5-08
I watched Becca sew my flip flop once and I copied as best I could later on to make a pillowcase. I did a terrible job but the fabric stays together alright. I used it for a couple days until I changed it for my tourist shirt from Busua Beach, Ghana. The shirt is too small to wear now that I've gained some weight back, and I slipped it over the pillow if just to see it and be reminded of the vacation. It's a yellow shirt on the lime green cot I use for a bed, and I feel as if I'm a miscast, blenched actor in the Hooray!Beer commercials. It's very tropical. I just started twenty more moringa seeds in the plastic bags used before you put them in the ground. I'd wanted to work earlier but decided on writing another letter to send off since it was nice and cool this morning, and I like to write when I'm not sweating on the page and the ink stays together. I stopped at twenty because the heat today is something fierce and I could see on the ground all around me that I was losing more water than I could possibly drink. It's 11:30 and for lunch I'll make spaghetti and read some Rilke, who writes about the cold so well, even when he doesn't mention it, that you can feel it stay with you after you've finished reading. It's a palliative I'm happy to take.
5-6-08
Last night after the heat came the strongest storm of the year. I picked up the lye off the ground and closed the window closest to my books and letters, and placed my cot next to the table so I'd have some light to read by. I read like this for awhile, with the light coming in over my left shoulder and not a shadow on the page if I held the book a certain way, until the wind blew hard into the house. Two calendars, an X-Men poster, and the tin I use to wash my clothes fell and started up a symphony soundcheck with the concrete floor, and my lantern was blown out. I'd misplaced my flashlight and so got up, found the matches with my hands near the stove, and walked around the cot to the table. In the pitchblack I then had the misfortune to step on a jellyfish. It was the ziplock bag variety, but a jellyfish all the same when I wasn't expecting it. It felt just like one, or a man-of-war, even though I've never touched either save vicariously through books, movies, and relatives. I know Burkina is landlocked, but it took my heart longer than my head to recover from the jellyfish in my living room.
5-7-08
Today we're making soap. There isn't much to say about it, we'll see how it looks in a couple days. I texted Adlai to find out what he used to shape his, and he texted back: That's the problem dude, it's just lying on a plastic bag. Me and this 80 year old lady are rolling it into balls. It stormed yesterday.
Alright, that's all for the next couple of weeks. All my best, Clay
First, for you almost new arrivals, I never got around to making a packing list, but one of my best friends here Becca has an excellent one on her blog, BeccaFaso.blogspot.com. I think that's the name, but if not just google words that are close and you'll find it. But I'll add one thing for those of you in the South: the lightest possible sweatpants you can find. The bugs are horrible here when it rains, and you need something to cover you up without getting too hot. Oh, and bring some money. The Peace Corps will give you some, a lot, actually, when you're in Philadelphia or wherever you go, but you might want a little extra to buy a cellphone during your training. It really helped me through. Only a month to go!
4-30-08
Rain accompanies the bus back to Kampti. I'm sitting halfway back in a blue seat, they are all blue seats. I always sit at least this far back, persuaded by a story I heard involving a bus and a cow. When the two met the force was strong enough to break the legs of everyone in the first ten rows. I have a few manners, I don't know how the cow managed. So here I am: lucky number eleven. Lye, for my womens association, is stowed away above my head, and I can't help but think what will happen if this bus leaks. In my lap is The Intuitionist and in the bag below my seat are The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Chabon, The Lost Steps by Carpentier, Islands in the Stream by Hemingway, and (for good measure) Black Rose by Nora Roberts and an LSAT study guide. Black Rose is the middle sister in the trilogy and I doubt I'll read either of her siblings. Then again, according to averages I've got a few years left and I should Never say Never. The sprinkling on the windshield, no more smothering than a motheaten blanket, is backed up by a sheet spread against the glass to shade the driver, and my companions and I, for the bus is completely full, look like we're mermaids in a velveteen aquarium. In my pocket is a handkerchief I got in Venice and some Kleenex. This morning I hit my head against a window shutter. Nothing serious, but with Dad's thin blood and Mom's thin skin I knew it would bleed in the heat and I didn't want to stain my souvenir from the cloth shop in the corner of St. Mark's plaza near where the gondoliers smoke and make jokes and when Mom and I found it we'd walked all the way across Venice toward the hotel in which I felt out of place, on the way stopping to share a dessert neither of us can name, and I summoned my courage and asked the woman for a ristretto with the proper pronunciation, and now for the rest of my life I can say I've had my favorite coffee in Venice. Even if I stained or lost the kandkerchief I wouldn't lose the memory, but you want to be careful with such things. It was a good thing I bought some tissues in any case because I had to run to catch the bus and three different times had to wipe my forehead. The bus now is going slow and safe; it just passed Boromo, the village with the elephants. If you borrow a dotted line from a blueprint and run it straight down from my nose, you'll hit the floorboards. This is a nice bus. The other option is a cheaper, faster bus, but there are holes in the floor and you'll get motionsickness looking at the pavement beneath you. Also in my lap is an article on ground-coupled heat exchangers for something I mentioned months ago about air conditioners. Mac, Becca, Lauren, each are texting me: It's raining here! It's raining down here too! I text back. It's raining everywhere in Burkina. My friends and I will sleep well tonight. Last night I went bowling with Adlai and two volunteers from Niger. Before bowling we went out to a bar in Ouaga and I had one of those moments I have here sometimes, and I looked around to take it all in and make sure that even a bit of it was real. If the cigarettes weren't the candy variety, the TV not taken from a model home, the tables and cars not pieces crafted for a movie set. There Adlai and I were, Americans in Burkina talking to Americans in Niger, helping them arrange guides into Mali. The whole thing was so incredibly international that I felt like going out and celebrating, but the only people worth celebrating with were a few volunteers in their villages and everyone back home. And Adlai and I technically were celebrating already. Here on the bus the air is cool with the rain and we're listening to African music that I can't understand a word of. I can't translate it, I can't even parse one word from another: the volume is up so loud everything is mashed into the pulp you find at the bottom of the carton if you don't shake often enough. In the left windows I can see huge clouds dominating the skyline, so big they seem to be disappointed in the smallness of the red dirt, trees, and bus below and are waiting for something else to arrive. I think of Poorhouse Fair, Updike's first novel that he wrote in his twenties, and how the character Hook looked up and into "the mammoth sky." You don't see phrases like that everyday, or the skies.
5-1-08
Riding my bike today I ended up in one of those clusters you want to avoid on the highway. This time it was a dirtpath, bicycles only, and four Lobi each with a rifle slung over the shoulder. I immediately felt underaccessorized.
5-2-08
I read the line, "Every woman has the heart of a policeman" toward the end of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, and I used it in my English club. Most everyone thought it meant something like, "she will always find out," but I thought that'd be more like a detective than a policeman, and offered, "every woman is used to living with disappointment." No one got that, including me, so we conjugated irregular verbs and called it a day.
5-5-08
I watched Becca sew my flip flop once and I copied as best I could later on to make a pillowcase. I did a terrible job but the fabric stays together alright. I used it for a couple days until I changed it for my tourist shirt from Busua Beach, Ghana. The shirt is too small to wear now that I've gained some weight back, and I slipped it over the pillow if just to see it and be reminded of the vacation. It's a yellow shirt on the lime green cot I use for a bed, and I feel as if I'm a miscast, blenched actor in the Hooray!Beer commercials. It's very tropical. I just started twenty more moringa seeds in the plastic bags used before you put them in the ground. I'd wanted to work earlier but decided on writing another letter to send off since it was nice and cool this morning, and I like to write when I'm not sweating on the page and the ink stays together. I stopped at twenty because the heat today is something fierce and I could see on the ground all around me that I was losing more water than I could possibly drink. It's 11:30 and for lunch I'll make spaghetti and read some Rilke, who writes about the cold so well, even when he doesn't mention it, that you can feel it stay with you after you've finished reading. It's a palliative I'm happy to take.
5-6-08
Last night after the heat came the strongest storm of the year. I picked up the lye off the ground and closed the window closest to my books and letters, and placed my cot next to the table so I'd have some light to read by. I read like this for awhile, with the light coming in over my left shoulder and not a shadow on the page if I held the book a certain way, until the wind blew hard into the house. Two calendars, an X-Men poster, and the tin I use to wash my clothes fell and started up a symphony soundcheck with the concrete floor, and my lantern was blown out. I'd misplaced my flashlight and so got up, found the matches with my hands near the stove, and walked around the cot to the table. In the pitchblack I then had the misfortune to step on a jellyfish. It was the ziplock bag variety, but a jellyfish all the same when I wasn't expecting it. It felt just like one, or a man-of-war, even though I've never touched either save vicariously through books, movies, and relatives. I know Burkina is landlocked, but it took my heart longer than my head to recover from the jellyfish in my living room.
5-7-08
Today we're making soap. There isn't much to say about it, we'll see how it looks in a couple days. I texted Adlai to find out what he used to shape his, and he texted back: That's the problem dude, it's just lying on a plastic bag. Me and this 80 year old lady are rolling it into balls. It stormed yesterday.
Alright, that's all for the next couple of weeks. All my best, Clay
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