The first name of my homologue (counterpart) is Yaya. He plays an integral role at my association, Ga MoWigna, which is pronounced GahMoeWayAh. I’ve been told what those words mean, but I’ve forgotten. I’ve also been told what Yaya does, but I’ve forgotten that, too. Mostly what he does is demonstrate the utmost patience enduring my French and Kassim. We sit in his office that overlooks the beautiful courtyard through metal-slatted shutters. Yaya sits behind his laptop doing something of which I’m not aware. I sit with my notebooks reviewing things that should be supremely important to my service . . . one day. Ga Mo Wiga specializes in agro-forestry and environmental issues. Fun, huh? Seriously, I could not have hand-selected a position for which I’m better suited and have more interest. We plant trees. And one day we’re going to alter this country by planting bamboo. Put an end to deforestation . . . all that nice environmental and biodiversity stuff. But for the moment, I’m working on a small garden inside Ga Mo Wigna’s courtyard.

Yesterday there was a meeting at Ga Mo Wigna. The association works with about 40 villages up to 70km away from Po. A representative from almost every village attended the meeting held under the tin roof of our large, colorfully-painted pavilion. A table was set-up for the staff at Ga Mo Wigna, with benches for the attendees. I counted about 35 men and women. I sat in the back, under the large painted mural of our globe. Yaya sat beside me to translate from Kassim into French. Right. Like I’m going to understand French terms about agro-forestry and farming issues . . . particularly since Yaya is whispering as if we’re sharing secrets.

Then I hear that word. The n-word. The village members are saying nazarra and the Ga Mo Wigna representatives at the table are repeating it with a word that I also recognize: Katerine. Oh no. This is it. I know what comes next. This is the part where I’m about to be called to the front to say a few words. And I can do this . . . hopefully. I know the appropriate greetings in Kassim. I can say my name. And they won’t ask me any questions . . . right? Wrong. So the conversation went something like this (again, I spell phonetically). I say:

Dinley! [Hey there, how’s it going?]
Dim paga [good morning]
N’zong kogara? [how are you?]
Songo tina yurani? [how’s the family/the household?]
Ah tee-tunga yeetay? [how is your work?]

Now the fun part, which I know without even thinking:

Ahm yuri ye Katerine [my name is Katerine]. Ahm noog Amerique [I’m from the U.S.]. Ahm yee volunteer [I’m the new volunteer].

Now the response from the group to each of these statements is either Kogara or KoBone-ah. And that’s the one easy part about Kassim. No matter what anyone says to you, you can always respond with Kogara. I think it’s like saying ça va in French. And speaking of French, as long as I’m up there, I repeat the entire monologue in French.

Now comes the scary part. Yaya and the leaders of Ga Mo Wigna ask me, in French, if I have any comments or observations. Good Lord! They’ve secretly planned this, obviously, and they’re proud of their new nazarra. I’ve barely understood a word (save and except nazarra and Katerine), and now they want my opinion. Someone tell me this isn’t happening. So I’ll spare you the dialogue, but I say a few words in French about so many of the folks having similar problems. I tell them that I’m excited about the Fete des Jardins and want to see their villages. Way wrong thing to say.

I sit down and the meeting eventually concludes in the early afternoon. Yaya speaks to the group and explains what’s going on in the courtyard with Katerine’s new garden of typiquee Americain vegetables. Not only are the vegetables and fruits typically American, so too are some of my gardening methods. The irrigation system (just an upside down water bottle stuck in the dirt), the method of staking the green peas. Nothing complicated. So roughly 40 people now want me to explain myself and my garden. OK, this is fun. In French, I explain how and why it is really just a small experiment.

So how long does it take to view a small garden and discuss the grafting of a mango tree? Evidently, it takes awhile. Like an hour. This is so much fun. I begin to ask “what’s your name”: Mu year-ee eBay? [this one’s easy because it ends with eBay]. I couldn’t tell you the name of a single person I met. My brain was spinning. Finally, the crowd disbursed and I hopped on the Barbie bike to head for home, t-totally overwhelmed.

Then it occurred to me. While in mode-Kassim, I should stop and chat with the ladies at the shea butter association, Wematou. And so I did. And we laughed and laughed at my Kassim. With my friend, Alima, I had no qualms about taking out my notebook and reading my phrases. This really caused some laughter and she telephoned her husband to come laugh at me, too. I love this. I really, really do.

And today another day dawned in Africa. I’m at the bureau before 8:00 weeding the garden. After all, I’ve got a reputation to uphold . . . and agro-forestry, here I come. Yaya arrives soon and asks whether I’m ready to go visit the villages, as evidently I agreed to do yesterday during the meeting! Well, hmmm, in a word: non! We PCVs are not allowed on motorbikes, even small Vespa-types . . . not without a great deal of bureaucracy. So I’m left weeding the garden while Yaya departs on his moto. Then Yaya reappears with an announcement . . . evidently some forgotten secret. The villagers are anxious to see what becomes of my garden – they want to sell exotic zucchini, cantaloupe, and green peas in the capital of Ouagadougou. Golly, this garden better work. More importantly, the seeds from these plants had better be sustainable.

Does Burpee™ engineer their seeds so that gardeners must return to the company source year after year? How else would they stay in business? Can’t you plant a cantaloupe seed and get a new melon plant? Was I so overwhelmed yesterday that I turned down a meeting with the mayor of Po . . . that didn’t really happen, did it?! And, my-oh-my, what else did I agree to yesterday? We can only speculate.