A little over a year has escaped since I last sent word of my travels and, with its flight, have disappeared thirteen of the most blessed, trying, reflective, and fulfilling months I’ve ever encountered. I can’t explain how I allowed such time to go so unshared nor can I apologize enough for having done so. I can only pray that your interest in Africa, the Peace Corps, and the intersection between the two, have remained as alive as they were before silence deadened our exchange. In the event that they have, I’ve included a selection of comical (and not-so-comical) tales, describing varying aspects of my life and of my service as they’ve evolved over the last year. I hope that they sate your interests with at least a fraction of the abundance that the last thirteen months have sated mine.

So, on to the first tale…



Ambushed

Over the last year gone by, I’ve gotten quite skilled at fighting off the army of bacteria seeking to destroy my GI system. Although many an assault has been launched, and many a battle lost, the predictability of this foe has made him increasingly easy to defend against. Staying away from street food, from children’s handshakes, and from any unidentifiable pieces of meat, have been enough to get me through these last few months with relatively little misery suffered. Even in times when these precautions weren’t completely effective, I eventually won each combat with an arsenal of medications in hand and an armor of Depends tucked where needed.

But where the vigor of one adversary (stomach ailment) has begun to wane, the larger enemy of general disease/ illness has found the most creative of ways to wreak havoc. Around last August, I started noticing some spots of discoloration on my cheeks. Over the next few weeks, the area spread and became more pronounced. Beginning to worry that I was on the brink of some Michael-Jackson-like skin catastrophe, I started speaking to other volunteers to see if they were experiencing similar symptoms. It turned out that one girl was. A Health PCV in a village not to far from my city, had recently reported experiencing some facial discoloration to our doctors here. After testing some water samples that she sent in, the doctors found that all the water pumps in her village had dangerously high levels of arsenic in them and, furthermore, that the arsenic was at the source of her skin problems.

Not 15 minutes after hearing this, I had already started pondering my exit from Burkina. They somehow left the possibility of arsenic poisoning off the brochure that I received before coming. Not cool! Mid-way through my panic, I made an appointment with the doctors to have my spots looked at. I traveled to the capital city and hurried to our Peace Corps Bureau, where the doctor’s office is located. I didn’t have to wait long. The nurse called me into her office and immediately began an investigation of my spots. Since my skin had lightened, not darkened, she immediately ruled out arsenic as the culprit. Yippee!!! She then opened a medical book on skin disorders and began flipping through. After about 5 minutes, she was certain she’d found our offender. Its name is Tinea Versicolor and it’s…a fungus. A fungus that thrives in humid regions, is contracted by methods unknown, is highly unresponsive to medication, disappears on its own, but reappears over indefinite spans of time. What a fun-guy!

Although I was initially ashamed to admit that there was a fungus among us, I’m ecstatic that the condition wasn’t more severe. Like the bat that lives in the hole of my latrine, that often makes its exit while I (or a guest) is squatting over it, Burkina is full of not-so-pleasant surprises. Today, my skin is fungus free but, tomorrow, who knows what terrors will come my way. Whatever ones do though, I’ll take them in stride and in the comfort of knowing that I only have 5 ½ months of unpleasant Burkinabé surprises left.



Somebody Leaked Victoria’s Secret

As an initiative to increase our visibility in the community and to thank our members for 26 years of dedication, my credit union launched a 9-week project titled “Girls Entrepreneurship Camp” on April 12th of this year. The camp, geared towards teaching high-school aged girls principles of marketing and accounting, would allow its participants to cultivate a set of competencies that could aid in strengthening their family’s businesses and in bettering their livelihoods. Ideally, the camp would’ve been offered uniquely to men and women business owners, but since my grasp of the local language, Mooré, remains limited (and most small business owners don’t speak French) and the funds secured to run the camp were earmarked specifically for women’s development projects, the original idea of hosting a mixed-sex “Entrepreneur’s Seminar” evolved into the reality of hosting the “Girl’s Entrepreneurship Camp.” To select the girls, we encouraged members to add the names of their daughters to a lottery, if they had completed Freshman year of high-school, were involved in the family’s business or a business of their own, and were interested in receiving business training. 12 girls were then drawn and invited to take part in what could be an exciting opportunity for them.

The camp runs twice weekly, Wednesday and Sunday evenings, and is lead by myself, with weekly assistance on Sundays by a Health PCV, Heather, and occasional aid on Wednesdays from two of my colleagues at the credit union, Fiacre and Boly. Our Sundays meetings are mostly theoretical: I prepare a lesson, work through a case study with the girls, and answer any questions they might have. The Wednesdays are much more interesting. The girls were divided into two groups and each given 75 dollars to start a small business. The 75 dollar loan eventually needs to be returned to the credit union, but any profit the girls make is theirs to keep. On Wednesdays, we analyze the businesses’ performance over the past week and see how the girls can increase their profitability in the upcoming week.

At first, the girls weren’t even mildly enthused about putting their new-learned business principles to practice. But three weeks into the camp something changed. Perhaps the girls had more time to focus on their businesses (since the school year was nearly finished) or perhaps they were just now more confident in their abilities but, for whatever reason, the girls shared their proposals with me that third Wednesday with assertion and with the intent of being successful.

So what activities had the girls chosen? One group decided to produce and sell mango jam. Excellent idea! Its mango season, so, production costs are low, while the demand for mango products remains high. The other group…well…their idea was a little less “conventional.” They decided to sell…panties. And their rationale for doing so: “During the hot season, girls need to change their panties more frequently.” I had to check my pants to make sure I didn’t wet myself after laughing so hard! Needless to say, Heather and I were a little skeptical of their proposal. But after hearing them speak of their strategy, we were completely won over by their level of motivation: “We’re going to take those panties to school and we’re going to sell them. We’re not embarrassed. And when the school year ends, we’ll go door to door.” So they were given the stamp of approval and, as of that third week, two new businesses were born in the town of Kongoussi.

Now six weeks into the camp, both groups have profitable businesses and are looking at continuing their activities long after the camp has finished. The mango jam group has produced an incredible product and counts myself amongst its loyal customers. They’ve, since, expanded their product line and now sell chocolate biscuits too. The panties group has done surprisingly well also. They were right to be confident; the underwear sales as if it were plated in gold! This group has also increased its product offers—they now sell women’s tank tops and shoes in addition to the panties—and is looking for ways to further diversify their brand. As my time with the girls quickly approaches its end, I already regard working with them and with their panties as one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had here, lol. I’m wowed by what they’ve managed to do with the limited resources they were given, and will always wonder what risqué ideas they would’ve dreamt up of if given more.



Fishing for Trouble


In most villages and cities across Burkina, the World Food Program is present to aid in the fight against malnutrition. Pregnant women, breastfeeding mothers, and young children are routinely weighed in town health clinics and, if below an acceptable weight, are provided with free meals until their weight falls within the suitable range. So how have Burkinabé women responded to such aid? Many, by starving themselves, and even worse their children, enough to ensure that their gratuitous food rations aren’t suspended. Has the WFP’s assistance saved lives in Burkina? Without a doubt. But has it significantly reduced the incidence of malnutrition amongst the groups receiving aid? I wouldn’t believe the data if it said that it has.

The World Food Program, like most international development agencies, is awash with perverse and misaligned incentives. At their best, these agencies can considerably contribute to a people’s economic advancement. On average though, they leave these people in a situation that’s comparable to, if not noticeably worse than, their original. The following story illustrates just how harmful international “aid” can be:


As you may remember from my last correspondence, some of the work I do here is focused on creating and maintaining women’s savings and credit clubs (SCCs). These clubs of 6-12 members meet weekly to deposit money into a wooden saving’s box and to extend loans to members in need. Recently, I spoke with members in one club and determined that, in addition to helping with their savings and lending activities, they would appreciate receiving some training on disease prevention, animal raising methods, and refined agricultural techniques. Well, as luck had it, I just received word that some funds had been made available for interested volunteers to hire an agricultural specialist to come into their town/ village to lead a three-day seminar. So I typed a brief proposal and, a week later, was notified that my request had been granted. Great! I rushed to the SCC to share the good news.

When I encountered the group, I could hardly contain my excitement. I gave them all the information I had about the seminar, suggested dates, and awaited any questions they had. There was only one: “What’s the trainer going to give us?” I was sure that they had just misheard something I said, so I repeated, “Oh you didn’t understand me? The trainer’s going to give you a three-day agricultural seminar, on whatever topics you choose, free of charge.” Their next response left me absolutely dumbfounded: “You mean (s)he’s not going to give us any money or gifts? We won’t just leave the fields for three days for nothing. We’re not interested.” Not interested?! After picking my jaw off the floor and making sure I didn’t loose any teeth, I didn’t know what to say. The president of the association of which the members of the SCC belong, Cissé, filled the silence: “I’m sorry but the women are just used to getting things when they attend a seminar. It’s just the way things are here.” Just the way things are?!

I walked around Kongoussi the next few days in a mixed-state of rage and confusion. I tried to rationalize the situation but couldn’t. Each of these women’s principal occupation is market-gardening (growing vegetables such as onions, carrots, and tomatoes and selling them at the market). Additionally, they each are subsistence farmers (the staples they grow during rainy season—corn, millet, beans—are essentially all their families feed off of in the coming year). I just couldn’t imagine being one of these women, having a qualified technician approach me, understanding that (s)he’s offering to teach me skills to literally better feed my undernourished family (free of charge), and turning her away because she didn’t include a check in her offer. It’s just unfathomable! But, unfortunately, not surprising. Development agencies have so handicapped women (and men) like these that they’ve become incapable of grabbing on to decent opportunities when in view. The agencies have taught these men and women that the best things in life aren’t the only things that come freely and, consequentially, have erased any incentive for them to make a fist out of their open hand and fight for a better life.

As of today, the seminar has still yet to be performed, the money to lead it remains in my account, and my frustration over it remains as alive as ever. Some progress has been made though. I’ve gotten all the women to agree to attending for one day so, instead of doing a three-day seminar with all the women, we’ll do three (or two) one-day seminars in divided groups. The first group of women is scheduled for this Saturday—we’ll see how many attend.

Although it’s uncertain whether or not the upcoming seminar will be a success, one thing is definite: my skepticism and distrust of international development work will remain long after my interaction with these women is complete. With all its problems (and I alone could cite a book’s worth), the Peace Corps and its “teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime” approach to development, continues to be a lone hope in the struggle against global poverty. In the absence of it, and the few comparable agencies that exist, I’d just say, “Let’s call the whole thing off.”





Thanks everyone for reading. I’ll end by trying to answer a few questions that you may have. As always, feel free to e-mail if you have any specific questions, or if you just want to say hello.

How’s your French?

It’s finally gotten to a level where I can say it’s pretty decent. I’m still no Oxford French scholar but, nonetheless, I’m finally comfortable living and working in a francophone world.

What’s been your most memorable experience?

My mother’s visit this past February. Burkina Faso is certainly not the most luxurious of vacation destinations, but my mother braved its rough terrain with the courage of a lion and the calm of a dove. The 10 days we spent together in Kongoussi visiting friends, entertaining guests, walking (or more precisely biking) through my daily routine, watching DVDs, and enjoying each other’s company, are 10 that I’ll thank God for everyday until my dying day.

What projects are you working on at the credit union?

In April, I completed a customer service project in which I interviewed 90 of our members to gauge their perception of our products, services, fees, efficiency, and hospitality. Following the interviews, I drafted a report of my findings, led two staff-wide meetings on ways that we can better serve our clientele, and recommended some institution-wide changes that we should consider adopting to senior management.Currently, I’m conducting a feasibility study of three possible sites for opening up a new branch of the union. I just finished interviewing a sample of the population at one of the sites, and am now in the process of analyzing whether or not the acquired responses indicate a strong desire for our services.

How are you eating?

Much better! There’s still a lot of repetition—bread and honey in the morning, oatmeal at lunch (the local grocery store now carries Quaker!)—but come dinner time there’s a lot of variety. I vary between preparing things myself (e.g. tuna salad and pasta), buying a bean dish called samsa from local sellers, eating at one of the now three restaurants in town (when I moved here there was only one), and inviting myself over to friends’ homes to eat.

What other work do you keep yourself busy with?

In addition to my work at the caisse, with the savings clubs, and with the girl’s camp, I teach four weekly computer tech courses, participate in the French Literature Club (last month I facilitated a discussion about the Harlem Renaissance), and continue to frequent the town’s English Club (just last week I led the group in interpreting the lyrics to John Mayer’s “Belief”).

In June, I hope to launch the Kongoussi Development Club—a club focused on getting youth involved in the development of their town and country. The group will attempt to analyze the source of problems in the community, and then take actions to bring about lasting solutions.

What will you do when you return?

Pray! As I come close to crossing the 5-months-left barrier, I find myself getting more and more nostalgic about my experience here and increasingly nervous about life after its completion. I still have no idea where I’ll go from here, but I’m confident that wherever it is will lead me closer to where I’m suppose to be.



Ok, thanks again! I hope that all is well with you and I look forward to seeing you all upon my return!

Warm Regards,

James Justin