In Village

July 12th, 2009

I dip my cup in the warm water, filling it to the brim before dumping it over my head. The warm water feels good in the chill of the morning. It rained last night and sun is not yet high enough in the sky to start baking us again. I look up at the blue sky. It feels like it has been months since I have seen a sky this big and this blue, even with the multitudes of fluffy white clouds crossing the sky. I make a mental note to come to village more often.

I’m here visiting the GEE trainees of our group. Once or twice a week they make the thirty minute bike ride to Ouahigouya so this weekend we decided to come see them. The trainees are spread out over three different villages, none of which are larger than a few hundred people. Right now we are in Pagouya Z (sp?) at Jon’s host family’s house where the guys of the group spent the night. Half of us slept outside, despite the rain. Luckily the rain only lasted for a couple minutes, long enough to cool things down, but not long enough to soak us through.

I look out over the short clay wall and am once again surprised to see green. There are so many trees here and a green felt covers much of the ground - the beginnings of grass in some places, crops in others. In several places a cow is lead by two or three teenage boys, plowing rows into the dark brown dirt. The plows are heavy sticks, with a rusty, misshaped wheel in the front and a cutting instrument in the back. I wonder how long they have been plowing.

The rainy season here is supposed to drop between 700 and 800 cm of rain in a several month period. We have had a late start and so far we have had about 100 cm. Some people are a bit worried that there will be a drought. It is too soon to tell, but when the rain falls is just as important as how much rain falls.
John’s house is in the middle of a mini-city of sorts. There are a dozen or so mud buildings tightly clustered together, creating a small maze. The walls themselves are made of a brick/mud/concrete mixture that seems to be slowly disintegrating. I’d told they need to rebuild them every so often. I wonder how much concrete here costs.

I finish my bucket bath and towel off before rejoining my fellow staigiers, they are finishing up the usual breakfast of tea and bread. Coleman has found a mango somewhere and is meticulously carving out slices with his Leatherman. It looks good.