Maternity, Tabaski & Dogs

For the most part I’ve established a routine.  Class, English club, and the normal social aspects of life. I’ve gotten used to sitting under a tree for a couple hours everyday and saying close to nothing. I watch the way the children interact with the other children, adults with other adults, children with adults, women with men, the lobi people and the others. To say the least…I find it incredibly interesting. Silence is something I’ve learned to enjoy and something that’s growing inside me. A good silence, a comfortable silence that makes me feel full of life. I’m learning new phrases in the local language everyday and find that every time I greet old women in lobiri or dioula they scream with joy. I can say all the greetings  now and am learning to ask for things, for example, I would like some rice. I find myself much more interested in the local languages than I am in French because of the tonal sounds they make.

I recently started working at the Maternity every Tuesday and feel communication challenged, until Anges—the aid—translates it into French for me.  At the maternity my duties include weighing women in kilos, measure their height in meters, and am learning to take their blood pressure. The women all think I’m a doctor and it makes me think maybe I should become one. After I finish with the easy stuff Anges, gives them  a physical exam and the other women take blood.  They send the blood to Gaoua for testing of all sorts of diseases, most importantly AIDS.  Down here in the south we have a larger HIV/AIDS population than in the north but its very hush hush. No one speaks of it,  but I keep pressing. I will begin a sensiblization with some students from the school on World’s AIDS Day and after we will paint a mural to help sensiblize (raise awareness) in the community. My first day at the Maternity was one of those fascinating days I will never forget… I showed up early around 6:45 and the only person there was the cleaning lady. We chatted a bit, just small talk, and then I sat down to wait on the concrete bench just inside the door. All government  buildings here are constructed out of concrete with open ‘windows’, they always seem cold—not temperature cold but cold. I could see the sun shining through the trees outside and it was a mystical feeling. All of a sudden two women approached the entrance hunched over something, (I later found out it was her baby she delivered aside the road) They walk past me to the back without saying a word, in America that would have been acceptable but here salutations are imbedded in their culture,  after them, a man follows, he looks like he’s seen a ghost but he stops and  says good morning, how are you, your family, your health all in lobiri,  with his hands moving from his head to his hips and back again. There was a young woman who was paced up and down the halls waiting to give birth, I recognized her from the market and I offered my support and assistance as best I could.  Many times during the day I went to check on them.  Mothers and babies are all well.  It was a great day, a special day, one that will stay with me for the rest of my life!

A couple weeks ago was Tabaski, a Muslim holiday but enjoyed by all. I went to a friend’s house, we took tea and chatted for hours. I went to masque for the second time and found it just as thrilling. Not understanding a word of Arabic it feels more like yoga or meditation

than a religion. I then helped the women prepare the very large meal of rice with peanut sauce. As I went to stir the sauce I  didn’t realize the men had brought over a very large corpse of the lamb (sacrifice for Allah) and hung it from the tree.  I ran directly into it…boy what a surprise!

Dogs: If you get a chance to look at  the  picture you’ll see I have two dogs. Taco and Fajita, they are a handful but will be good protectors of my home and me.

I Love the Holm Family newsletter from the reunion, I would like one of those each week. 

Thanks for all the love and support--Ash