The PC’s slogan, or one of many, I should say, is: The Toughest Job You’ll Ever Love. I sometimes complain about how much of my life's savings I’ve spent in country. I could live on my PC allowance, but I choose to eat, drink, and live well. Along those lines, my frigo is finally repaired; so you’ll be spared that ongoing complaint.

For the most part, the personal savings that I’ve spent in country benefitted the wonderful and deserving people of Pô. I spend money on little things that tend to add-up. Photocopies, printing color photos for the kids, cooking and baking for my quartier. Indeed little things, but they do add-up.


Last Monday night was worth every penny of savings that I’ve spent. Nay, it would have been cheap at twice the price. Halloween in my quartier for my 30 kids. Since they understand that November 1 is All Saints’ Day, explaining all hallowed eve was relatively easy to explain. Last year I was honored to host four wonderful new PC trainees during demyst, and we had a marvelous time. I felt that last year’s party and talent show would be difficult to top. Not so much.

This year’s fête was mine-all-mine. Just me and my kids. The same kids who spread the word throughout Pô when they saw me get off the bus on Sunday. By the time I had biked 300 meters from the gare, my kids were screaming Bon soir, Katerine! By the time I reached my quartier, my kids were grabbing at my purse and luggage. They insisted that I get off the bike, hold their hands, and walk to my courtyard. I’m rarely allowed to carry anything. Do I ever wonder whether a child will steal-away with my purse, camera, laptop, bike, or anything? Never. Ever!

Although I hadn’t planned on a mask-making event, they insisted. I myself insisted that every tiny morsel of cut-up colored paper and string be placed in a trash bucket. And this they did with vigilance. Even little Victorine (she’s almost two) got a mask. Victorine has learned to say Katerine, and we take turns saying each other’s rhyming names as fast as we can.

The ring-toss game was a huge success. Adults came out to see their children squealing with delight. Little Sophie, about eight years old, has deadly aim . . . like all females in this country. Signs saying Halloween were all over my door, exterior walls, and on the posts that support my terrace roof. Some signs said Appy Allowine, which I love.

I had to come-up with 30 prizes, in addition to the chocolate/caramel bon-bons that were distributed. A packet of peel-off stickers is absolutely thrilling in this land. So imagine the delight of a yo-yo or a kazoo. A tennis ball was probably their favorite, though this afternoon in the daylight we’re going to play with the balloon-powered helicopters.

What’s up with the women of Burkina and their ability to hit any target with anything in their hands? Can you close you eyes and hear thirty little voices squealing treeek ooo treet? Does life get any better than this? We can only speculate.