So my roommate went to visit her Burkina Faso permanent site this morning, and I’m alone. This means that I can string laundry across the room . . . smoke leaning far out the window.
Tonight was the first evening and first week of Cocktail of the Week. It’s amazing that we PCTs can turn a regular Mojito into a cocktail using Coke or even Fanta Orange, if required to do so. Obviously mint, lime, and Sprite were our first choice. But there comes a time when one must improvise. Are we a resourceful group, or what? And Ali had to soak the mint in diluted bleach-water before use. Talk about conditions of hardship.
Want to know something about this county? Something that doesn’t involve me, me, me? The birds are incredibly colorful. Blues, greens, and reds that you wouldn’t believe. Itty-bitty tee-nine-sy birds. And we have giant tortoises at our school. You’d be surprised at how quickly they walk.
The people? The Burkinabe? The most friendly that I’ve encountered outside of Wales. One cannot simply say Good morning. One must inquire How’s it going? How’s the family? How’s the courtyard? Rusty & Becky, it’s like meeting Barbara Johnson . . . when one says, How are you, one really, really means it! How’s the courtyard? What kind of question is that?! Well let me tell you, it’s a genuine inquiry. Indeed, how is the courtyard? Who doesn't want to know the details of the courtyard. How IS that courtyard?
And here in Burkina Faso, we have tailors. I’m reminded of the line from The Sound Of Music: I may have the best couturier in Vienna . . . . These folks truly have personal tailors. Their work is gorgeous and quick. If you can draw or describe it, the tailors can create it. Move over, Project Runway.
Today another cultural difference was confirmed. In the U.S., if you break it, you buy it. Here, if you sniff it, you buy it. In other words, don’t be sniffin’ the food at the corner vendor. How rude! However, it's not that sniffin' isn't instinctual. Guess why! There are some odd (to say the least) scents. However, if you sniff it, you buy it. This is great if you’re a meatavore and visit what I’ve termed meat world, which is down the street from our school. Mmmm. Meat World . No, that’s not a euphemism. Meat World, next to the Madame Legume, is a gigantic grill filled with beef steak and grilled goat meat. They wrap it in brown paper with grilled onions and peppers. Enough said? However, have I eaten it yet? Non. There's not enough time in the day.
Okay, I know, I know. You want to know what happened at Cocktail-of-the-Week happy hour. We played games. What else . . . games, right? You knew that. And for my pals who are old, like me, we played something called Chuck-‘Em, F—k-‘Em, Marry-‘Em. I’ll leave that to your imagination.
Then, we played Never In My Life . . . . OK, kids, I’ll walk you through this one. Hold up both hands, ten little fingers up. Make your statement, I’ve never in my life . . . been to the south pole. True? Keep all fingers up. False? Now you’re playin’ with nine little fingers. But let’s get realistic. No, one mentioned the south pole. Rather, it was: No, I’ve never in my life done it on an airplane. Opps. One finger down. First one with no fingers loses, or wins, depending on your point of view . . . I can’t remember. Great game. Guess you had to be there.
Again, I must state: My darling, adorable roomie is gone. I’m here alone. iPod blaring!. No, it doesn’t mean that I can dance on the beds, or in front of the windows. But now can I really whistle Vivaldi Quatre Saisons, or Counting Crows. Go-Gos? Our Lips Are Sealed (and indeed, they are).What happens at Cocktail-of-the-Weeks stays there! How much is privacy cherished in this land? We can only speculate.
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