Dounan yan kili ka bo, a tiyeri ké

This morning I have LOTS of energy.

Once again I’m back from diarrhea land. Serious diarrhea, the kind of attack that gives you high fever and that kills kids 5 years old or less. It’s time I learn something about hygiene here.

I am more and more surprised by my inability to find what it is I’m doing that locals don’t or vice versa and that gives me the shits. I bathe twice a day at least. Morning and evening. With cold water, a bucket, and a bar of ever so wonderful Shea soap. Don’t cringe: cold water feels good when it’s hot out. I wash my hands before eating (with them). I also select the places I go to for dinner out. But as a friend told me, “dounan yan kili ka bo, a tiyeri ké”. The stranger has his eyes wide open, but he cannot see.

When making unknown mistakes is about getting a sore stomach, that’s fine. But I feel this blindness of mine isn’t limited to hygiene. What about my cultural fit into the neighborhood I live in. How many people have I offended that wouldn’t dare tell me.

What about at work? How much does my status (white male) prevent me from learning the real stuff? How much am I given the power of making decisions without having the knowledge or experience that would make me deserve it?

I think, a lot.

In my experience, there has been a pronounced unearned deference towards what seems to be my wealthy background. Coming from Canada or France, those countries where no one is poor – “What do you mean, people beg for money in the subway? White people?” – is taken as a guarantee to know best. I have to admit, this position of privilege is tempting. It’s so much easier to make myself believe that I have the answers, since people readily listen to what I say, and even ask for answers. Power is delicious. And giving answers makes one feel pretty good about oneself. But it’s a slippery slope, and the mistakes don’t make their author sick, but someone else.

So for now I repeat to myself, dounan yan kili ka bo, a tiyeri ké… and I try to keep my eyes peeled and my ears open. Not that I don’t do anything, but I try to make a clear choice as to whether what’s on my plate corresponds to my abilities. I also try to forget about my (undeserved) power and to learn as if I had none. That requires a proactive refusal of tasks that are above my head, an avoidance of easy answers to hard questions, and a constant asking of ridiculous questions, like please tell me what it is that gives me diarrhea.

Dounan yan kili ka bo, a tiyeri ké…

Meanwhile, I’m healty again, and I’m planning to stay that way. For one, I’ve noticed that Burkinabés my age are in a much better shape than I am. I think their fitness allows them to withstand attacks that put me to bed for days. So Alanna and I got up a little earlier for the past week (5:45) to add a 25 min. jogging to our day. I’ve felt the effects immediately, hence the first sentence of this entry. That will now be a necessary habit.

For those in Canada I hope you enjoy the red leaves I miss so much. I wish you to find ways to stay healthy for the coming winter months.