Last 10 Days in Village

I'm sitting here in the Bobo office about to go catch a bush taxi to my village for the last time and trying to think of other times in my life where I faced that wall and had to climb it.

During high school soccer tryouts we had to run 2 miles in 13 minutes in order to qualify.  Tryouts lasted 3-4 days and you had to keep attempting the run every day until you made it.  The earlier you made it, the easier it would be otherwise.  I would hit 14:15 maybe on the first day.  Mid 13's on the 2nd or 3rd.  I think I made it every year.  I'm not entirely sure because it was a soft requirement to make the team.  I remember lying in bed at 5:15am, knowing what I had to do and, especially the first day, how unlikely it would be to get the time.  There's always been that moment where something inside warms up and I just got out of bed and went.  It's always the hardest part of the experience.  Running isn't even that bad.

Seeing all my village friends won't be that bad.  Even knowing it's the last time, I'll still enjoy tea and conversation when I'm there.  After I leave I'll be sad but the last bus ride out won't actually hurt.  I'll listen to music and try not to step on the goats tied up on the bottom of the bush taxi.  I'll go to Ouagadougou and say bye to all the PC staff.  I'll finish up my preparations for teaching certification in Texas.  I'll get my Peace Corps pin and, on August 9th, I'll get on a train for Abidjan and head back towards the US.

But right now I'm still in bed before tryouts.  I'm thinking about the cold air, the wet grass and coach Jenkins with his stopwatch yelling times at us as we cross the line.  There's no way I ran enough over the summer to get 13 minutes, and there's no way I'm going to hold it together when I drink my last tea, eat my last Attieke and wave goodbye to my neighbors.  I'm strong enough to do this but it's warmer in bed, and I'm scared.

These people were my life for 2 years.  They taught me how to cook, clean, eat and speak and they just ate up every single thing I said about the outside world.  Now I have to leave them behind.  Hopefully not forever.

Well here goes.

My Last Rainy Season

The rains have come again and it's time to plant.  My neighbor is around 70 but still always up and about.  The kids plow the fields with dabas fitted like shovels and then she sows the seeds.

                                                                                                                                                                   

Awa can do hectares of this in a morning.  You just go on down the row and scoop out to make the seed beds.  I did one 100 foot long row and had to lie down for a while.  You can fit many different metal endings to the end of the daba tool.  I plan to bring a few back with spade attachments for weeding or whatever gardening I do.  I won't be needing the shovel/plowing attachment.

Not many people have the means to use a donkey pulled plow, so its all by hand.

The majority of my neighbors' corn field.  They also have rice and yam fields.

She carries a cane that she smacks into the ground to make a hole for the seeds and then she drops them in.  When you get used to the process it can go pretty fast.  I love the square sombrero.  It's about 9am and maybe 90 degrees in this picture, but ole grandma Ouattara isn't phased by such things as heat.