Atacora Bike Tour

1/31/12

Back from bike tour as of this morning.  We all took a taxi from Kouandé to Pehunco, then people split off to go back to their posts.  Since there were 13 of us, we rented out the whole car and squished in for the hour long ride with 13 bikes strapped onto the roof of the car.  I was home by 10 or so, swept my very dusty house, pet Roe (my kitten) who looks like she survived 4 days living outside pretty well, made lunch, and then took an extended, multi-hour nap.  Four days of biking 30-40 k, doing sensibilisations (trainings), dealing with hoards of swarming kids, and sleeping outside on concrete caught up to me.  It was a great bike tour though - fun, challenging, effective, and meaningful.  The group of volunteers was great and everyone was positive, flexible, and enthusiastic the whole time.  We had two Beninese high school boys with us to translate and they really made the tour.  One of them started every sensibilisation with a song about eating well (the theme of the tour) and they were both animated and eager to help. 

Here is the basic plan of each sensibilisation.  We arrive in the village and stop in the market area, generally in the center of town and a place where people gather to eat, buy, and sell things.  Generally we had a pretty good crowd together by the time everyone got to the village (we didn’t enforce a same pace policy, so it was go as fast as you like) by the sheer power of our white-ness.  We’d hang up our banner which said ‘Roulons pour la bonne santé et le Moringa, Corps de la Paix’ (we ride for good health and moringa, Peace Corps) and find a good place to do the session.  Like I said, one of the translators, Jacob, would start a song and get the crowd to join in.  Then we’d start things off with a skit.  First, we had the healthy family.  I was the mom and another volunteer was the dad, and we pulled kids from the crowd to act as our children.  One of the translators would walk up and ask how the family was, and I’d respond oh we’re all in very good health, everyone is happy and has a lot of energy, the kids are all in school and papa works hard in the fields all day.  The translator would then ask what we ate.  The volunteer playing the dad would say we ate bouillie with peanuts this morning, pate with soy cheese, and then igname pilée with meat for dinner.  Then we had the sick family, again with volunteers as the mom and dad and kids from the crowd (there were always plenty) as the children.  The mom and dad were coughing and bent over or sitting on the ground, and when the translator asked how they were doing they replied that the whole family is sick and doesn’t have energy, and that the kids can’t go to school and papa can’t work because they don’t have any energy.  When asked what they ate the mom said pate (corn flour cooked in water, a staple here) morning, noon, and night.  Then I’d get up in front of the group and ask which family is in good health and why, looking for the answer that the first family is because they ate a balanced and varied diet.  We got a correct answer in every village.  Next we’d go through the three major food groups as they are here – energy foods (carbs), constructor foods (proteins), and protector foods (fruits and vegetables).  Following that we would introduce the moringa tree, which someone could identify in every village, though generally by its Bariba name, lagalagagandi (and yes it is fun to say).  We explained that the leaves are protein and vitamin rich and that they can be used fresh or powdered and then added to sauce or bouillie.  Because some people have the habit of boiling the leaves and then throwing out the water or adding the leaves at the beginning of the sauce preparation, both practices that essentially zap all the vitamins, we explained not to do either of these.  Finally, volunteers explained how to plant a moringa seed in a plastic bag and transplant it, pulling two adults from the crowd to act as volunteers and demonstrate how to do this.  In conclusion, we answered questions and then I asked questions on topics covered in the presentation and gave out little baggies of moringa powder for correct answers.  The whole thing took about 45 minutes. 

There were, as always, interesting cultural exchanges.  In one village, someone made a fuss when I started handing out powder at the end and the translator told me it was because they were upset that I hadn’t tasted it before I gave it to them.  In Benin, it is taboo to pour someone a drink or open their drink out of their sight because by doing so the opportunity exists for you to poison it.  Same goes with food, apparently.  The crowd wanted me to taste the moringa powder in front of them to prove it wasn’t poison, which of course I did.  Now I’ve added moringa powder to food and you generally can’t taste it very much at all.  Turns out though, eating it straight is very honestly disgusting.  It tastes like alfalfa, but it’s powder so its very dry and, well, I was trying very hard to not make a face less they take it as a sign that the powder was indeed poisoned.  I unintentionally offended the king or chief of another village by not asking his permission before we started our session.  He was having none of our intrusiveness so he just walked in front of us after we’d already started and demanded he be asked for permission.  I did, he was happy, and we continued on with it.  We slept, in order, in a hospital, Catholic mission, elementary school, and another Catholic mission.  The night in the elementary school was probably my favorite.  It was in a small village and was therefore pretty much our only option.  One of the teachers opened his classroom to let us sleep in, but most of us just put our mats outside.  There were little thatch shower stalls outside, a pump, and latrines so we were all set.  When we pulled up to this village, Dambouti, I went to see the délégué (political representative, like a lesser version of a mayor) to let him know we’d arrived.   He told me he wanted to see the whole group so I dutifully brought back the rest of the volunteers a few minutes later.  Someone pulled out chairs and we sat in a circle just kind of staring at him.  I assumed he called the whole group over because he wanted to greet us, welcome us, or give some kind of little speech or something.  I was wrong.  We sat there for probably 10 minutes, him never saying a word, and then abruptly he says ok, you can start your sensibilisation now.  Us just sitting there showed him honor I guess.

Before the tour I wondered if it would be one of those all to frequent well-intentioned but not really influential or productive activities.  As in, it is really going to be worth all this effort and will we actually help anyone?  But I think it was, and I think we did.  It felt so good to be able to tell some maman who throws away the water she boils moringa in to stop doing it because she’s throwing out all the vitamins, and to have her nod in comprehension and say she won’t do that anymore.  To tell people they can add moringa powder to their morning bouillie and have them applaud in excitement and appreciation at learning this.  Atacora bike tour 2012 – success.  

Christmas presents

Happy holidays!  I am writing this in Parakou, the first stop on my trip down to Cotonou to pick up Casey and Matt (my sister and brother in law).  I am so excited to see them and show them around my African home.  We have a circuit of Benin planned, with visits to my village, Pehunco, Parakou, Natitingou, and finally Parc Pendjari to see elephants and lions.  I can't wait to introduce them to Beninese food, tissu clothes, crazy taxis, Bariba, and my Beninese friends.  For them and for me, I know this will be a Christmas to remember. 

I have been keeping busy and enjoying the cool season (harmattan).  It is now COLD (well ok, maybe in the high 60s?) at night, and comfortable during the day.  A few weeks ago my postmate Dave and I did a trial run of the route we will use for our bike tour at the end of January.  We checked out the route, stopped in all of the villages we'll stop in, and found places to stay and people who will cook for us.  During the four day tour, a group of volunteers will bike from village to village giving sensibilisations (training sessions) at each stop on proper nutrition and Moringa, a drought tolerant tree with nutrient rich leaves that can be used in sauces.  We're really excited about it and had a ton of volunteers sign up, so many that we had to turn a few people down.  Outside of that, I have been getting an English club started, applying for Peace Corps funding for a shower-water drainage project, and watching Lost (having electricity has made TV shows and movies a bigger part of my life).    

I am primarily writing this because I have a few BIG thank yous to send out.  I recently got some early Christmas packages (even if they were sent in August and just got here, I’m counting them as Christmas presents) and was thrilled!  Unfortunately my lack of self-control led me to open them before Christmas day, but I think it’s fair to be a little lax on that rule while I’m in Benin.  Thank you so much, merci beaucoup, and na siara to my Aunt Kathy in Kentucky, my friends Mary and Charlie in Florida, and the HPAG/NCEA team in North Carolina! Also to all of my friends and family for the letters and emails that I love reading.  It was so exciting to get a text saying ‘you have a package in Parakou’ and then coming into three!  Your packages and letters are more than appreciated and I am so grateful for the support you have all continued to give me.  Peace Corps has been and continues to be a crazy adventure and one that I can confidently say I could not survive without all of you.  It's amazing how much a letter or a soup mix can do to fix a bad day.  I know it's difficult, not to mention expensive, to send packages all the way out here, and I wanted to make sure you know how much it means to me that you do.  I am now chock full of American goodies and couldn't be happier.  Thank you!!  I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas full of hot chocolate, cookies, family, and friends. 

With Peuhl girls at a whipping fete near Gnemasson

The Magic School Bus

A few days ago I met with two women at the CPF (Center for the Promotion of Women) to discuss the living fence we (ok, I) want to build around their property.  A living fence is constructed by planting two parallel lines of trees in a staggered pattern, leaving 40 cm between each tree and 40 cm between the two rows.  The idea is to plant trees that are thorny, bushy, and unappetizing to goats so that the trees aren’t eaten before a permanent barrier is formed (after a year and a half or so).  The women planted sesame last year but had problems with goats eating a lot of it so they were looking for a solution.  I’m really excited about this project because it’s going to be relatively cheap and, in theory at least, sustainable, because after I buy the trees and they’re planted the only maintenance needed is in the form of human labor.  They won’t need to buy special tools or machinery and there isn’t really anything that can break and need to be fixed. Read – they should have no excuse for not doing the upkeep on the fence (trimming and watering).  The plan is to plant in May just before the rainy season so that the trees only need to be watered for a few weeks before the rain starts and takes care of the watering for them.  I told the women we could plant now but that that would mean someone would have to water every single day, and since we’re talking about more than 1,000 trees they were understandable hesitant.  I had researched some possible tree species to use and made a list that I showed to my supervisor who has a tree nursery.  Yeah, sounds cool, but his “tree nursery” currently only has one type of tree in it.  Anyway he told me which trees he would be able to order and we decided on Campecher and Acacia which both work well for living fences.  By the way, in French a living fence is called a haie vive.  So I brought my tree selection to the women and got a kind of lukewarm response.  Turns out they want to use this other tree that they heard one time might be used in the future to make biofuel or jet fuel.  Mm hmm, ok.  Quoi?!  I explained that while I’ve never heard of that it could very well be true, but in that case they would need fields and fields of it to actually make any, uh, jet fuel.  Their response? Well, whatever, but we still want to use that tree. I left it at that.  I’m filling out the funding application now in hopes that by May everything will be taken care of and we can start planting.

            After our biofuel discussion, we started talking about my family’s visit in December.  I told them when they were getting in, where we were going, and we laughed about how they will have to try to speak English because not everyone in my family speaks French.  One of the women then wanted to know how long it would take for my family to get here from là-bas.  I started explaining the seven-hour flight to Paris, which prompted the question “Paris…that’s where? In France?” (to be fair I was once asked the same question by a woman about to draw my blood for donation).  I told her it’s another six or seven-hour flight to get to Cotonou, plus buses and taxis to get up to Pehunco.  She looked surprised and a little confounded by this mention of 10+ hours in a plane and seemed to be working it all out in her head.  After a minute she turns to me and says, wow, you couldn’t even do that trip in a bus could you?  I mean it would just take too long, days. Confort Lines (a bus company here) wouldn’t even do that trip.  I started to say something about the whole Atlantic Ocean issue but stopped myself and replied as solemnly as possible, oui c’est vrai.  

A Day in the Life

A fair and common, if not easy, question I am asked is what a typical day is like for me as a Peace Corps volunteer in Benin.  Here is a description of one of mine, but first a few caveats:

            1. Peace Corps service is different in every country

            2. There really is no typical day, honestly

            3. This particular day was busier than normal

4. Be prepared that this will probably be fairly lengthy due to necessary explanations, translations, etc.

Ok, on y va.

Today I got up around 7:30, made coffee, and ate a Luna bar for breakfast (no these are not sold in Benin, I have a generous family).  I had agreed the day before to go to the house of a teacher I know who lives near me to talk about the English club he approached me about starting together.  I’d never been to his house before but lives in my quartier (neighborhood) pretty close by. I know him from Tonri since he teaches both there and in Pehunco.  I walked over to his house but he wasn’t there, so I went back home and did laundry for an hour or so while I listened to a podcast.  I tried again and he was home, so we sat and talked and settled on the days and times for English club (we’re going to try two separate times for older and younger students), and how the club would run.  I applied for and just picked up from the post office in Parakou a free box of books from an NGO from Connecticut that included easy reading and kids’ science books in English.  So, my suggestion was to review concepts the students are learning in class during the first half of the club session and to do more fun activities and practice reading during the second half (well ok so honestly probably more like looking at the pictures).  He agreed.  So then the teacher told me about an ONG (NGO in French) he’s starting to promote education and encourage parents to send their kids to school (elementary school is free but parents often don’t send their kids to school so that they can work in the fields or because they don’t see the value of education).  He has a friend at the mayor’s office that he says has an education related promotional video, in Bariba, that we can use.  His idea was to show that video in Tonri as it’s the beginning of the school year and because CEG Tonri still needs more students to enroll.  I was totally for it – a movie in Tonri, a village without electricity (we’d use a generator), would definitely attract people, and if they happen to be swayed even a little that’d be great. 

            Lunch time.  I made a tuna fish sandwich and ate that and bananas, then read for a while (Tortilla Flat by Steinbeck, it was ok).  Noon to 3:00 is repos (rest time), which means that Pehunco gets a slight ghost town feel and not much work is done.  At 3:00 I went to talk to my homologue about a latrine-building project he brought up recently and I happened to mention the Tonri movie idea.  Oh, he goes, well I have a projector that you could use.  Awesome! We talk for a little bit, but we were trying to find something online and his internet key wasn’t working, so he says ca te plait d’aller à Gnemasson? (would you like to go to Gnemasson?).  Ok, sure.  Gnemasson is a village 23 k from Pehunco on the road to Kerou (north of Pehunco).  He was going there with coworkers from Plan Benin (an NGO he works with) who were here from Nati and wanted to do a site visit and talk to some of the kids who have sponsors through Plan.  Plan is an international ONG that works to combat child trafficking and to promote children’s rights, etc, something like that.  As an added bonus, the guys from Nati came here in an air conditioned Plan SUV so we got to take that to Gnemasson.  There’s a new volunteer there this year who will be teaching English at the CEG, so I called him and he met up with us when we got there.  We went around to a few families and then drove back to Pehunco. 

            I biked home from my homologue’s office, took a shower (bucket), and then ate pate and soy cheese with my concession sister.  The family generally watches TV every night, assuming there’s electricity; I don’t always join them but I did tonight and it proved to be a good choice.  First we watched what seemed to be an African Christian channel (the family is Muslim) that was showing music videos.  They really liked this channel so we watched it for a while.  One of the songs got to me, and I don’t mean touched me deep down.  I had to try really hard to keep a straight face and not bust out laughing, which was doubly difficult because no one else was at all amused by the video.  Let me set the stage.  An African woman is lip-syncing to a religious song in French on a beach, spliced with shots of her standing on a staircase.  The camera zooms in so that the shot shows her mouth only and then out again, over and over, dizzyingly fast.  Every few seconds you see clips of what seems to be a 70s era religious movie with men wearing long robes and sandals, just sort of you know…thrown in there.  Then it was time for Shree, an Indian soap opera produced in English and dubbed over in French.  Man oh man, this one was intense.  There’s an evil woman that is trying to sabotage the family and fooling people by taking on the form of other people.  Devils and children with magic powers and Diwali all rolled into one 30 minute episode.  Lots of prolonged shots of characters’ faces contorted with emotion and dramatic music. Also, saris.   

            And then I went to bed.      

Housewarming

July 29, 2011

I’m wearing a sweatshirt, drinking hot chocolate, and wrapping myself in a pagne right now and it’s probably 75 degrees.  The rainy season has brought a mini cool wave, and it’s very welcome.  Oh and I’m doing all of this from my…new house in Pehunco! I moved! The switch happened last Saturday when a big truck (not like a pickup truck, more like what you’d fill with apples) pulled up to my concession in Tonri.  Two guys loaded everything, I jumped in the front seat with them, and we jumbled (big truck, bad road) the 10 kilometers to Pehunco blasting Bariba music on the radio.  They unloaded everything fairly quickly and then I got to unpacking.  The move was a long time coming but I pretty immediately felt like I had made the right decision.  I feel happier here, more comfortable, and more optimistic.  I really like the family whose concession I’m living in – the dad is the director of one of the ecole primaires in Pehunco and the mom always has a smile for me and speaks to me in Bariba even though she speaks French to teach me new words.  They have, I think, seven or eight kids, ranging from adult to the three year old, Mouba, who is incredibly cute and has sparkling, baby of the family eyes.  There are three teenage daughters who have all been welcoming and accepting of all my Batoure weirdness. 

This morning I went to the centre de santé in Pehunco and helped with the free infant vaccinations they do every Friday.  For some reason coming to the health center to get your baby vaccinated is an occasion to dress to the nines, babies included.  Mamas wear fancy modèles (top and skirt in matching tissu), excessive jewelry (rings on every finger), and the snazziest shoes they own.  Babies who won’t walk for another year wear socks and shoes to complement their ruffled dresses and denim outfits.  I had gone with Dave before so I generally knew what was going on.  First, the women drop off their carnet de santé (health booklet), and then I help match the carnet to their health record sheet.  After this is done I go over to where all the mamas are and hang out and eat while we wait for the vaccines to be counted and prepared.  The food at the centre de santé is another draw.  To start with there are gateaux – not cake, but fried sweet dough balls – and pâté – fried dough balls that taste like bialys.  Then bissap and citron juice.  Pâte rouge with jus (tomatoes and onions).  Also something that looks a lot like yogurt and is served with crushed ice, sugar, and sweetened condensed milk.  I was really excited the first time I had it, thinking I was eating something that was at least a little good for me and getting some calcium and protein. I couldn’t quell my curiosity about where this dairy was coming from so the second time I had it I asked the mama.  I wish I hadn’t.  It comes from corn.

When everything is ready I help read off names and give the women back their carnets so they can get in line to have their baby stuck.  Reading names is a fun game.  First, I live in Baribaland so most names are on the lines of Barikissou, Fousseina, and Hawaou.  Second, there’s the handwriting to decipher.  And lastly, this name reading is being done in a small room crowded with women and crying babies.  Today the vaccinations ended around 1 pm, just as the rain was starting.  I jumped on my bike, picked up bread on the way home (I can eat this every day if I want to now), and went home to make a PB & J sandwich and watch the Wire on my computer.  Not a bad afternoon.  I’ve been hanging out in my concession in the evenings; I usually bring a book out and read or talk to whoever’s there.  Tonight after pâte (with good sauce and meat!), we watched a DVD of a DJ Arafat concert.  Pretty entertaining even though we watched the exact same thing last night.  Catching myself falling asleep, I said my bonne nuits and that was the day.   

Below are pictures of my new house!

Living room, front door to the right

Back shower/kitchen area

Living room, hallway leads to bedrooms and back area

       

One year down/to go!

July 11, 2011

One year in.

We got to Benin on July 17^th (?) 2010, which was just about one year ago.  I guess what comes next is something like…I can’t believe I’ve already been here a year! The time has flown, it feels like I was just in training and I can’t believe how far I’ve come and how much I’ve changed.  But actually, I CAN believe I’ve been here a year.  I feel every day of it, and I don’t mean that in a depressing I hate Benin kind of way.  What I mean is that I am acutely aware of my time here and the progression of my two years.  There was an abrupt jump recently for me from two years, oh my god, I’m living here for two whole years?! to whoa I only have a year left and there’s so many projects I want to do and haven’t done yet and places I want to visit and eek.  I understand now why a volunteer service of one year just wouldn’t work, or rather why it would not be nearly as effective.  Taking a whole year “just” to meet people, get to know your surroundings, and learn to understand (culturally and linguistically) people around you might seem ridiculous, or even horrible. It is tough, and often not very warm and fuzzy, but also necessary and, eventually, beneficial. 

So, what have I done this year?

1.     Read a lot of books – I’d recommend What is the What, The Glass Castle, and The Elegance of the Hedgehog

2.     Learned (a tad bit of) Bariba – meaning I can tell people my name and where I’m from, where I’m going, and how much bouillie I want to buy

3.     Contracted intestinal parasites, and then again, and then another time

4.     Participated in a bike tour of 10 villages on the subject of family planning      

5.     Learned that having a baby pee on you is considered good luck! (I am very lucky.)

6.     Gotten a little more used to….being called batoure, having to saluer every single person I pass lest I be considered rude, participating in conversations with lots of (awkward) pauses, people balking at the notion that having multiple wives is illegal in the U.S., being asked repeatedly to provide express passage to Beninese people to the U.S., not eating vegetables, eating rice and beans for breakfast (if I’m lucky), eating with my hands, getting sunburned after 10 minutes of sun, and never having my own seat in a car (or even my own half seat…), the smile that having a whole village of children know your name (Ma-yee) brings

I’ve been biking to Pehunco probably three times a week lately, which is nice because there’s people, electricity, and food there and also because it’s pretty good exercise.  Peace Corps gives us pretty nice bikes (they’re Trek mountain bikes), especially compared to the bikes most Beninese have, but riding 10 k on sandy, hilly roads is a workout.  It’s been cooler lately though so I don’t arrive dripping in sweat like I did during chaleur (well actually I mostly zem’d during chaleur).  The rainy season is supposed to have started depuis longtemps but so far we’ve only had one intense, thunder and lightning storm and then a few heavy sprinkles.  The lack of rain is the talk of the town and inevitably comes up in conversation – “cette année, la pluie, vraiment on ne sait pas…”.  I biked in to Pehunco this morning, and I’m waiting around because I’m apparently early for an 8 am meeting (it is 9:30) to discuss finding a new work partner for me.  I wrote up project plans for two projects that I want to get started on - the production and sale of moringa powder and building and using compost piles in gardens.  I’m hoping that after today I will have a designated and interested person that will help me start and implement these.  Having a go-between who can translate, who is already a known face, and who is Beninese helps immensely.

Coming up in the next few weeks I have-

Benin's Independence Day Fete - August 1st in Nati

Girls Camp - August 9-13th in Nati

Stage training - early September

Miss everyone, hope you're all doing well.

CEG Tonri

June

The following are excerpts from my journal…for the most part.

6/1/11

Aliou broke my heart a little today because he was the last one to finish his cloture (fence) that the director made all the kids build around their trees and they were all complaining about being hungry and he’s so little and has such a spark.  So I helped him finish up by tying strips of flexible, orange bark to tree branches and Sabi came over and helped him too.  Today is Benin’s Arbor Day.  I brought moringa seeds to the school and the kids planted them in sachets (plastic bags).  I made a “Journee Nationale de l’Arbre” sign on khaki paper and had the kids hold it up while I took a picture.  Oh how they love love love pictures – as long as you show it to them afterwards.  They also installed the C.E.G. Tonri sign today, exciting stuff.  I sat with the director for a while and chatted, mostly about how the school has no money because people in Tonri won’t pay (the idea is for every adult to pay a small contribution to the school regardless of weather or not they have kids that go there).  He knew about the tornadoes that hit recently in the U.S.  Then the professor who lives in Tonri commandéd (ordered, as in he sent one of the girl students to go get it) what I thought would be normal millet (pink) bouillie, but was actually something very close to barf in consistency.  It was kind of like normal bouillie with slightly chunky milk in it and, just for fun, small brown chunks (yes chunks) of something slightly spicy with the consistency of chewy beef jerky.  I was of course given a big bowl of it and everyone dug right in.  I was going strong until the last third or so that I had to sort of talk myself up to (honestly the taste was better than I’m sure it sounds, but the texture really got to me).  For a few minutes I was legitimately worried that I would spontaneously projectile vomit and embarrass/offend the teachers, but I held strong.  Little cautious of offers of free food now though.

6/14/11

When do you know you’re not in America anymore?  When you have to wake up the mayor (at 4 pm, at his own house) in order to have a meeting with him.   Salomon (my APCD) stopped by on his way from Kerou and we, along with the premier adjoint (the mayor’s second in command, she’s (well duh) a woman and pretty awesome) pretty much camped out outside the mayor’s house for an hour or so until he woke up.  Eventually he came stumbling out, buttoning his shirt as he walked up to greet us.  Salomon was pretty persistent and said multiple times, well I was here two months ago and you (my supervisor) said you would talk to the mayor the next week.  Didn’t happen of course.  (This is in regard to me moving to Pehunco, the commune head, which I’ve been trying to do for a while.  Both my Beninese supervisor and Peace Corps are supportive of me moving the 10k from Tonri to Pehunco, but the hold up has been who will pay for my housing.)  By the end of the conversation though they were discussing potential houses for me so…progress!   The mairie (mayor’s office) agreed to pay for my housing.  I still have to get the house approved by Peace Corps but it’s a step forward.  I biked in and on the way out of Tonri the woman with a lazy eye who does hair and makes gateaux stopped me and asked me to buy her a kilo of sugar in Pehunco, which I gladly did.  I flipped out on some kids on the ride back home.  I had bad timing and happened to be passing the elementary school in Soassararou which is on the main road right as school was letting out.  I made the mistake of stopping to say ‘i ne madame!’ (‘call me madame’ in Bariba) aka quit screaming batoure (white person) you hellions, and I got swarmed.  If I can I try to stop when kids yell batoure at me and say hey, my name is Molly or ‘il faut dire madame’ (both of which I can say in Bariba so they’re usually understood) or something, because it’s so much more pleasant to hear 30 kids yelling your name or madame than it is to hear them yelling BATOURE BATOURE.  So anyway some of the older kids laughed at my Bariba and then chased after my bike when I left, so I stopped and screamed at them in…well mostly English.  I thought it was totally called for, but the couple adults standing around just stared at me.