OK, we all know the best-seller, and here in Burkina Faso I’ve got the second two down pat. Pray. I prayed that the food placed in front of me by my kind host family could at least be observed (meaning stared-at without nausea . . . ‘cause you know it ain’t gonna be eaten) for the 30 minutes that had to be spent with the family. It was God’s way of getting even for all those meals at which I forgot to pray and give thanks. These days my prayers are more simple, please, God, let my mobile phone find its way back to me.

Then there’s Love. I’m in love with everyone. For the most part, despite some first-week-at-site-set-backs, I’m obviously back in the PC honeymoon phase. There’s David, my new friend at the post office – I stop in just to say hello. He thinks it’s funny that his name is David and that my last name is Davis. I don’t get it, and I wonder what his real name is; but I do love David. Plus, he does not charge any fees for items that we PCVs must always pay for at the Poste. Good friend to love, right?

Then there’s Bibatta at the marche. I’ve got my own personal shopper. No joke. A personal shopper . . . and this gal’s a dream! After two days here in Po, she took me by the hand as if to say, You stupid American woman. Just tell me what you want and I’ll walk you through the grand marche and collect your items at the best prices. My own personal shopper. So I love Bibatta. And I’m still in love with my stage and the PCVFs. No surprise there. I also love exploring Po. I love laughing with my host country nationals. If I manage to speak French well, they hit me with Kassim, just to see how I do at their local language. Gotta love that.

But how about Eat? Haven’t mastered this one yet. I’m turning yellow from Daniel’s Magical Mystery Curry Mix . . . or maybe it’s Hep A. Oh, come on now . . . of course it’s not Hep A, though I wouldn’t be the first in my stage to contract with the virus.

And so, a few words on food . . . or, rather, cooking here in Burkina Faso. My Po kitchen may not see much action. Meat, or any source of protein, is definitely an issue. It’s still frightening to me, so I avoid it . . . both the meat and the issue of protein. But the produce? It’s fine, albeit not at Central Market standards (not by a long shot). All produce must be washed several times then soaked in bleach water. Yeah. It’s true.

So what’s available? What is my personal shopper finding for me? Onions, peppers (all sorts), tomatoes (learning to love ‘em, sans seeds and pulp, etc., which doesn’t leave a lot of meat on the fruit), eggplant, chives, cucumbers (still not a favorite), cabbage (great in a stir-fry). And all of these veggies are fabulous with Daniel’s Magical Mix. I could eat this daily. Wait! I do eat this daily. And it’s yummy, but in no way constitutes a balanced diet. So Eat has yet to be perfected. And I’d be excited about potential weight loss, but it comes with a price: loss of muscle and loss of hair. Great googly moogly!

And then there’s the problem with the produce. It goes bad within a day or two, and it’s not even hot season, when I’m told that produce goes bad within hours. There’s also the little matter of dishwashing. Imagine cooking your best recipe, and when it’s time to clean-up, you’ve got no sink. No water. No dish soap. No scrubber. Certainly no dishwasher; and even the PC elves draw the line at magically washing your dishes while you sleep. Of course, who’s going to leave any dirty dish or morsel of food in a home with a gnawing creature roaming about. Rather places a damper on preparing a yummy feast, wouldn’t you say?

But let’s stop the complaining and get down to the recipes. Here we go:  Onions, peppers, well-cleaned/seeded tomato flesh, chives, sauteed in oil with Daniel’s curry and a squeeze of lime. Oh, God. I could lick the bowl. In fact, I should lick the bowl. This would solve the dishwashing problem. This same concoction can be spooned atop bruschetta slices sauteed until crisp in heart-stopping palm oil. What could be better?

Variation on the above theme. Omit curry, add tomato paste, and serve over fried eggplant slices browned in oil with breadcrumbs (which Rob later announced weren’t bread crumbs . . . let’s go no further). Chopped cabbage can also be added to either recipe. Then there’s tabbouleh. I got couscous in Ouaga, and menthe is plentiful but must be used within about two hours. What’s up with that? It’s menthe . . . you can’t kill it in Texas.

Today I bought four little eggs. Real hen eggs. Heretofore I’ve only eaten guinea fowl eggs with my host family. Did you know that the female guinea fowl isn’t really a domesticated hen. She won’t sit on her eggs. Thus, after a hit-and-run mating, she’ll roam away from the male and from her eggs. Bitch! So her eggs must be collected and secretly placed under a sitting chicken. Remember the Leave It To Beaver episode when Beaver touched the bunnies and the mother rabbit wouldn’t nurse? Gus put vanilla on the nose of the mother rabbit. Well, with guinea eggs and chickens, it’s something like that. But on with the story. Tomorrow for breakfast I’m making toad-in-the-hole . . . with my lovely loaf of Ghana bread (Google it, you’ll see why we think it’s so lovely), two eggs, and some delicious American hot sauce that I also bought in Ouaga. I can’t wait.

Then there’s the little tricks to eating, which vary greatly depending on the day. For instance, Saturday I was after a pineapple. I was craving pineapple, a squeeze of lime, with a final tiny dip in the hot sauce. But alas, no pineapple today. Are they out of season? Did the truck break-down? Did the pineapple ladies have a hangover and fail to get to the market? How does this culture work? So I made-do with bananas . . . also with lime and hot sauce, and a dab of sugar. Should have flambeed ‘em. Why not, right? Who doesn’t love bananas flambe? As Brie would say, I don’t know a person!


All this doesn’t sound too bad, does it? And if you’re not craving something now, I’m surprised. So the obvious question – does cocktail of the week continue? Absolutely. And in preparation for the BikeAThon beginning here in Po, I actually have cooked and entertained. In fact, back in Ouaga I made simple snack-type meals for some of the PCVFs, and these guys looked as if they’d never before been fed. Must have been the Belgian endive or the pita and feta. So you see, when one controls one own ingredient-destiny, Burkinabe cuisine is, in fact, oh-so doable.

Will I finally overcome my fear of the local flour (bugs, you know), make dough, and try to recreate magical Daniel’s egg rolls with Thai peanut dipping sauce? Did I really use the monogrammed linen cocktail napkins for entertaining? When will I next have an opportunity to wow someone with a simple snack? I’m under the standard three-month lock-down when we new PCVs aren’t allowed to leave site. Will I abide . . . or is Marina Market just too alluring? We can only speculate.