People say the best form of birth control in Burkina Faso is the mass introduction of mechanical farming equipment. Basically tractors equal less need for children. After the past week I have come to understand the exact meaning of this idea. Group farming in Burkina Faso is ridiculously fun and now I understand what it really means to farm by hand. The average family size in Burkina is about 5-8 children per mother, and with polygamy in almost all rural areas, that equals about 3 women per man… around 15-20 children per family. My nearest neighbor and host family has 17 children and 3 wives. Last week I was introduced to Ligi ligi, which means group farming in Jula. I had been cultivating before, but this was a whole new experience. I was told the day before that there might be dolo and beer, along with music. When I got to the field around 10 am the group was well on their way to having a “good time”. I made it there to work just enough for the blisters to form on my hands before the morning porridge break. After that we worked until 2pm and then had lunch with as much Dolo as anyone could handle. Pork was the meat of the day and everyone had their fill of To. Then we worked till around 5pm and my hands, back and neck were a mess. Throughout the entire day the ballafone only stopped for a mere 15 mins, and that was only for the musicians to eat. All and all we weeded about 3 hectares of millet.
Weeding massive fields with a two foot long hoe may seem like a pretty cavemanish idea, and yes I too had similar first impressions. But once you realize how tough and rocky the soil is here, you soon realize after centuries of evolution, it most definitely is the best way to unearth weeds growing in the fields. A longer handle would make sense if the soil was soft, allowing you to stand up right and work in a more relaxing position, but you would get no where and it would not nearly be as efficient. Once you get a new Daba, (Jula for hoe) in your hands and a few liters of dolo in you the work just seems to fly by. The field owners will organize basically a small party in their fields to attract as many able bodies in need of booze fix. They also will kill a goat, sheep or pig for the day. The wives will be busy the few days before preparing local millet beer and enough food to feed the masses, also hard alcohol is bought along with
beer depending on the means of the proprietor. Basically it amounts to a massive music filled festival in the fields, with dirt flying and dolo sloshing all day long. It was my first experience seeing this type of group farming and the results were pretty amazing. It motivates others to work harder and longer, while building community relations. The calluses on my hands are coming in nicely and all the villagers are in awe that the white guy CAN work with a Daba and keep up with the young folks… they are proud of their Toubabou (white guy).On a more serious note, now that the rainy/growing season in full swing, villagers spend most of their time in the fields with their children with them. This colder/wetter season provides a great environment for children to catch colds. This is often overlooked by the importance of completing field work in such a short growing season. The work has to be done, if not the villagers won’t eat next year, so often children are left unattended and not sufficiently protected from the cold.
I watched two kids die last Friday from Pneumonia. They were brought to our clinic after being sick for about a week. When they got there, there was little we could do to help them. Even with prescribed antibiotics and all the meds we could muster, we sat and watched their lungs fill with fluid. We tried to suction as much as we could with the simple tools we had, but in the end it was just an endless battle against time. It was again one of those experiences you really can’t explain. The hardest thing for me was after the children passed away, the mother just attached the child to her back as if it was still alive; the way most African women carry their children, and had to walk the 3 or 4 miles with her dead son on her back. It was a tough day.
Often it’s not appropriate to photograph the experiences that make the biggest difference on me here in Burkina. Most of these I would never want to… and I am sure you would not want to see them. This is not to say that I won’t try to explain them to the best of my abilities. It has been a tough few weeks, but an amazing few weeks. I am starting my second malnourishment program next week in a nearby village. I will explain later and hope to add more photos.Last night a good friend of mine (Erica) was bitten by a poisonous snake while walking home from dinner in Bobo. She had not seen it in the dark on the path and had stepped on its back. Ben and I killed the snake and brought it back to our office. Her foot swelled up and went numb as she felt the venom migrate up her leg. She was taken to a clinic and within in an hour or so an anti-venom IV was started with anti-biotics. She is fine now but it was a bit of a scare for us all. Never
a dull moment.
