02 Février 2012
FN: 10
Vignettes of Ouaga life, in Drabbles
A drabble is a story in exactly 100 words. They’re not very long, but they can be surprisingly challenging to write. These are what I could come up with. Enjoy.
The force is strong with this one…
The current in the US is a nice, steady 120V, 60Hz. There, if you get zapped, it startles you, but unless you get a long jolt, there’s generally no harm done. Here, it’s a more robust 220V, 50Hz (it also comes in fits and surges that occasionally fry cords and chargers). In theory, the converter on my computer cord takes care of this problem, but that’s just the theory; in practice, every time my computer is plugged in, I get a nasty shock when I touch any metal parts or fittings. Including the chromed mouse button on my touchpad.
FML.
How did the PCV cross the street?
When you first start to drive a truck, you’re really nervous about changing lanes. You’re so big, and they’re so small…what if you hit someone? What if you kill them?
After six months, when you want to change lanes, you turn on the signal, count to three, and go. They’ll move.
Crossing the street in Ouaga is exactly the inverse. At first, you wait forever. What if they hit you? What if you die?
But after a few days, you just walk out there and weave your way across. They’ll slow down.
And if they don’t, hey – free trip home!
So what exactly is a “transit house”, anyway?
Peace Corps has a house in Ouaga for volunteers called the transit house. Not all Peace Corps countries have them – they’re a privilege, not a right – but many do. The external form changes from place to place, but they’re all the same in spirit: equal parts dorm, hostel, home, and frat house.
Ours here is a ~5000 sq ft house that has been converted to accommodate upwards of 30 residents at a time. It has 5 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, a kitchen, multiple couches and tables, laundry and cleaning service, and bike repair.
In short, it’s our home away from home.
Two Gentlemen of Burkina: A Tragedy in One Part
Chris: Good morrow, my friend. How well art thou this day?
Abe: Alas, I have been brought low by some cruel palsy. Mayhaps another day may bring relief from mine woes.
Chris: By Our Lady, I shall pray for thee.
Abe: Truly, you are a good man.
Chris: Thou art kind, but verily, I am not; it saddens me greatly, but I must disturb thy rest with most grievous news: we must abide another week.
Abe: Sayest thou what?
Chris: Thou hast heard me. We must abide.
Abe: Verily, I say FML.
Chris: Truer words thou hast never spoken. FML.
The best things in life are free
My good friend K has come to town somewhat unexpectedly – I say unexpectedly because she lives approximately 100 miles from nothing – and we’ve been passing the time jaunting around Ouaga, hanging out, and just generally doing the things that Peace Corps volunteers do when they’re in The Big City.
Including raiding her packages for Oreos.
In the States, I rarely eat Oreos. They’re delicious, but they’re also pure fat and they’re screamingly unhealthy for you. But here, you don’t care about calories; you never get enough, and you know it, so you indulge at will.
Boy, did we indulge. Mmm.
Ouaga is big for Burkina, but small for the US
Ouaga is far and away the largest city in Burkina. It easily covers 200 – 300 sq mil of seemingly random houses, huts, boutiques, alimentations, kiosks, stands, and dirt roads, occasionally interspersed with goudronnes and concrete buildings. When you first arrive, it is the quintessence of “unplanned third world agglomeration”, and you think you’ll never be able to find your way around. But after a few visits, you realize it’s just small city ringed by a huge amount of area you don’t need to know unless you live there. If you can learn Raleigh, you can learn Ouaga.
And I have.
Homesick
To date, I haven’t really had any problems with homesickness. I crave foods, and I miss friends and family, but I haven’t had that overwhelming need for home that sometimes made the first semester of college so hard.
Last night, however, I came close. While reading Cold Mountain and listening to OCMS and the Carolina Chocolate Drops, the song Wagon Wheel cycled up. The combination of the two was damn poignant. I’m not going to lie: reading a book about going home to North Carolina while simultaneously listening to a song about going home to Raleigh almost did me in.
