March has been busy...and promises to get even busier.
On Saturday, I took Valentine to sign up at the fine arts school in Annemasse. It's her "Plan B" school if things don't work out for the school in Avignon.
I'm sure it will all work out, but it's good to have a backup plan, right?

That afternoon, our pal Max, Alexa and I went to Geneva to do a bit of shopping. I ended up finding an amazing pair of shoes on sale for 60% off! But mostly we wandered around the flea market at Plainpalais. They have one there every Wednesday and Saturday.

Plainpalais is a neighbourhood in central Geneva and here's and interesting fact about it: Historically, it was an area outside the densely populated city of Geneva where they brought the sick to avoid contagion and an epidemic.
Everybody looked pretty healthy there on Saturday, though- so that's good.....
It's such a drag to contract the plague. Amirite?
Something for everyone!

It was a bit cold and windly, so we stopped in a nearby Starbucks for a shockingly overpriced snack. But it was so good!!!!

A few posts back, I mentioned that my twins (along with their whole class, of course) were going to be on French television.
Well, the show was finally aired today on the national one o'clock news on TF1 (the most popular channel, if you recall)

JP and I were at home and saw it on our big screen TV. When it finally got to the classroom scene, it was all I could do not to get all Mrs. Bennet and shriek "I was sure she could not be so beautiful for nothing!".
I only just restrained myself, but when you watch the video for yourself, you will notice that the camera person seemed to like Alexa's looks, as did the editor of the piece. She gets a close-up early on in the school scene and then again at the very end of the program.

Besides seeing both of my adorable younger daughters, you'll also get a look at the region where I live. It's even prettier than it looks in the show.

The segment (which you can see here. After the advertisement is over , click the "chapitres" button if you don't want to watch the whole 30 minute program. Go to chapters 11-19. Then click on the third picture from the end. it's a little photo of the girls' class. Can't miss it. ) is part of a series that TF1 is doing this week about the 150th anniversary of the annexation of the Savoy into France.

Today's installment was about the regional dialect of the area. And as my girls are in a Savoyard class in school, they got to be on the news.

Septic Tank news: We are still ankle-deep in foul liquids. The septic tank is supposed to be emptied tomorrow morning at 9am, but I'm not getting my hopes up. I'll believe it when I see it.

Medical news: Alexa's new cardiologist is very impressive and I'm hoping we can get some real help there. Once again this morning, she was pretty unwell and couldn't go to school., so help is sorely needed.
She'll get a holter monitor Saturday morning and spend 24 hours with that on, measuring her heart function. After that, we'll see about changing meds. The doc said her heart is still too small to try surgery again.

Political news: McCain is a complete psycho. Did you know that? Of course you did.
You won't vote for him, right?

I'm still living in Sewageland and things are bleak.

On Monday morning, the septic tank guy arrived finally at about 11am. I was so happy to see him that I could have kissed him- except I would have gotten impaled on his many facial piercings. I have to say that it was a bit disconcerting to have the septic tank guy turn out to be a twenty-something with metal bits poked into his face.

And he had a little goat beard. It was kind of like Aslan the Wonder Goat's, but less attractive.

But I was in no mood to be picky. I showed him straight to the Garage of Horrors, which is the origin of the disaster.

"So, where's the septic tank?" he asked.

"Well, it's right there. The big cement thing against the wall."

"That can't be it" he said incredulously.

"Yes, it is." I countered

"No, it's not."

And so it went for several long, f'rustrating minutes.

He refused to even look at the thing. He was convinced (possibly by messages from aliens communicating with him through his piercings) that the septic tank couldn't be in the garage, but must be out in the garden somewhere.

To goat-beard boy, I was nothing but a mildly retarded foreign dimwit female.

He climbed back into his truck, obviously in a huff to be called out for no good reason by some idiot who couldn't even locate her own septic tank.

He told me to hunt around for it by poking a metal rod into the ground.

I'd rather have stuck a sharp metal pole into him.

He further informed me that I really needed a plumber, not a septic tank person, anyway.

OK.

I went back into the house and mopped up the latest infiltrations, using plenty of bleach. (I am all about bleach these days, you better believe it.) Then I called up the local plumber, piteously begging him to come as quickly as ever he could.

He showed up right after lunch. He looked at the big cement block in the garage.

"Well, there's the septic tank..."

You don't say...

But according to him, the problem was not actually the septic tank, but rather the "overflow" tank right beside it. "That's not watertight anymore. I can't fix that. You need a mason."

So, he climbed into his truck and drove off. I again cleaned out the livingroom and then left a message for the local mason..

Well, the mason showed up today at lunchtime. He said that I didn't need a mason. (Are you sensing a pattern here?) What I needed was the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom re-routed and the septic tank needed emptying.

Mmmm...

The next thing I did was phone up the septic tank company and give them a piece of my mind. In my best, most politely insulting French, I told them just what I thought of the Goat Beard Boy who has walked away without even looking at the overflowing tank.

"I'd better not be seeing any bill for his "deplacement"" I warned. "He completely screwed up."

I didn't venture to tell the secretary this, but my suspicion is that while he was at septic tank school he had little time for studying. Getting piercings and keeping that beard trimmed to a point were pretty much a full time job for him.

My time, of course, is mostly occupied with keeping the mess under control and keeping the household running.

Also, Alexa's health hasn't been that great lately. She had to come home from school early today. Luckily, our appointment with a nearby cardiologist is tomorrow afternoon.

When I lost my spiffy site counter with the tiny flags, I decided to find another way to keep track of who checks out my blog. For a little project designed to keep my parents, grandad and a few select friends up-to-date on my doings in a foreign land, it draws a good amount of interest from people all over the world. By "a good amount", I mean about 30 visitors a day from places like New Caledonia and India. How do I know this? By using one of the many entertaining blog traffic tracking tools out there. I use BlogPatrol, mainly because of the satisfyingly military tone of the name- implying efficiency and vigilance. My blog is not monitored, it's patrolled!


So, when I finally got internet access again, after four days of being cut off, one of the first things I did was check my stats at BlogPatrol. And I got a big surprise- this blog registered over 100 visitors on last Thursday! For a blog that averages less than half that, it was quite a jump! This kind of an increase almost always means that some other blogs or sites have mentioned my work and linked to my blog. Very thrilling!
A quick search revealed that four different sites had linked to me within a very short period of time.


First of all, a freelance journalist living in the USA mentioned Burkinamom in her blog called " Global Wire".


The next day, journalist John Liebhardt published another entertaining Burkina blog round-up under the irresistable title "Burkina Faso: Level four culture shock". I'm now using the fact that he refers to me as "The ever-organized Burkina Mom" as part of my daily self-encouragement mantra. Sometimes it seems impossible that I will shortly have to get our family moved out of this house and all of our belongings on a boat to France. But hey- I'm 'ever-organized'! I can do it!
It is very kind of him to take time to encourage me, as he has his own moving worries. He and his family are off to the Republic of the Fiji Islands! So, I'd best not whinge too much about having to move to a place that only involves about 7 hours of air travel! On the other hand, Fiji looks gorgeous and I am a tiny bit jealous!
Best of luck to John and his family!


That same day, John's article was picked up by a site called Religion News Online.


And finally, I got listed on the short, selective blogroll of a cute expat blog from Hungary. Will wonders never cease? I know and admire a couple of the other blogs on the list, particularly this smart and entertaining expat in France blog.


So, that's the news on the blogging front.
As for RL adventures here in Ouagadougou... well, Mallory wormed her goats yesterday.
That was exciting.
And on Monday morning, I had both of our cats fitted with microchips so they can travel with us to France. Please believe me when I say it was not easy for anyone involved. First of all, it was nearly impossible to get the microchips! They are not sold in Burkina Faso, but are required if you want to import your pet to France. And in France, they are only available in veterinarians' offices. And guess what? When you send your sweet, elderly MIL to a French vet to buy one of the things, they won't sell her one to send to you. Yvette carefully explained the whole situation and he flat-out refused, saying we had to buy it here in Africa. I guess he imagines that Burkina is just like France, only with more black folks. He can't wrap his mind around a place where to power cuts out nearly every day, paved roads are rare and the vet's office is an empty cement-block hut decorated with faded posters for camel-worming medications. And this guy's unhelpful attitude is not rare. I have since talked to many French friends that had exactly the same experience! One person's take on it was that the vets are afraid that you will try to insert the device yourself or they fear that the vets here are incompetent.
Or maybe they are just plain mean???


Anyway, due to a series of very lucky events, our vet's assistant called me on Sunday night and told me that a few chips had miraculously been shipped in by DHL and I could reserve two if I wanted them. I wanted. They weren't cheap, but now we are sure that both cats will be coming along with us to live in France. Not too bad for two abandoned street cats!
We found Mr. Darcy in 2002 as a starved kitten living in our garden shed. Valentine fed him milk with a dropper and he quickly grew to his current form: a big burly tom cat that decapitate a Ouaga rat with a single blow.

We found little Cleo in 2006. Well, she found us. She showed up with a kitten in tow, both of them starved but very, very affectionate. It looked to me like they must have been abandoned by some expat family. Maybe they couldn't get a microchip for her!!!!
The Burkinabé, in general as a cultural thing, do NOT like cats. Cats are associated with death and witchcraft and many people are very, very frightened of them. It is the rare Burkinabé family that would have one as a family pet. Only a few brave, non-superstitious souls keep them to control the rats and mice.


BTW- I now have internet at home, but still NO access to my emails!

In an amazing last-minute development, Alexa's doctor managed to find a not-quite-expired, half empty box of Flecaine last night! As soon as I got the call, I rushed over to the clinic to pick it up, feeling that Whatever Higher Power May Be is much kinder to me than I probably deserve.

I am also very happy (not as happy as I am about the meds showing up , but still pretty darn) to report that my second article has been published! It can be found in an on-line parenting magazine called Hybrid Mom.

Thanks to everyone for all the encouragement and very kind comments on this blog. It was all the great feedback I've gotten here that finally gave me the confidence to start writing and submitting articles. I couldn't have done it without you!

As I tried to go into the center of Ouaga this morning, I came across hundreds of protesters near the University. They seemed peaceful, but had all of the big Blvd Charles de G. (the major East-West axis in our section of the city) blocked. I turned back and went in on a more roundabout route.
Everything seemed calm in the town center and no one seemed to know what was happening over by the University.
I went to the bank and then went to mail a small box at the post office. At the regular window, they wanted over $60 US to send a 3.5 pound package to London!
So, I went around back to where the large parcels are sent out. It seems to be completely separate from the main office and the prices were certainly better. They asked for a little over $20 dollars. (This reminds me: while I have always had good experiences at the post office here, some people don't. I just heard from a friend whose family sent her a birthday card while she lived here in Ouaga. Her parents just got the card returned to them- THREE years later! The address was ONE digit off- instead of PO box 34001, they'd written 34007. ANd that was enough to get it lost for three years and then sent back to the USA. Crazy!)

I went on to Marina Market, the biggest supermarket in all of Burkina. Don't be impressed- it's not all that big. And while the shelves seem a little less empty than over at their competition, The Scimas, there is still little variety. No cream, sour cream, or anything like that.
I also noticed that they'd put out a bunch of canned okra! I'm guessing that's something that has been languishing in the back storeroom for months (if not years) and they finally trotted it out to help fill the thinning shelves. And I bet the person that ordered it in the first place got in big trouble! Maybe we don't have many things here in Burkina, but fresh okra is cheap and plentiful. I'm guessing that the canned version, being very expensive, is going to be a very tough sell.
Shopping done (no canned okra for me, thanks), I headed back home. Near the US Embassy, I had to pull over at let a truckload of CRS agents zoom past me. They were in full riot gear, heading toward the University.
I wisely turned south and took the long way home. I would have liked to know what was going on, but I am under strict instructions from my mom to be careful. Srsly.
I tried to catch some news on the radio- which is possible, but unlikely. However, my radio chose this morning to go haywire.
So, when I got home, I asked my household helpers if they knew anything. They'd been listening to the local radio all morning and they'd heard nothing. Not a word.
But it did seem to be very low key. Maybe there's not much to report. On the other hand, why were the riot police rushing to the scene all hot and bothered?

I'll post again if I find out anything interesting, if I have time. I am sort of in full crisis management mode. For the last three years, Alexa has taken the same two heart medications. I have always bought them at the same pharmacy- one near our house. They have to order them for us, as they aren't that common here. So, every month I buy a box of each and then they order again. It was a good system... until now. When I went in last night to get a new box of Flecaine, they didn't have any. They had forgotten to re-order it! No other place in the whole country has any and it will take 6 days for some to arrive.

Why yes, I am the World's Worst Mother. Thank you for asking.
And yes, I DO feel stupid for not having a reserve box hidden away.

So, I am looking at how to fix this and Al's doctor is also trying to help.
That's my day so far.

I guess being a Published Author hasn't transformed my life into one of ease and glamour.
Rats.

Yesterday was yet another long, electricity-free day in our neighborhood. But Alexa and I spent the morning enjoying the air-conditioning over at the big medical clinic in Ouaga 2000. Yes, Al's heart problem is becoming an issue again. It seems to be more pronounced during the hot season.

She was pretty unwell yesterday, so instead of going to school, she had to go in for an EKG and a consult with the doctor. They increased the dose on one of her meds, so we're hoping that will help. The doctor also mentioned that the doctors in Paris might make another attempt to correct the problem surgically, which completely panics Alexa. In fact, she SO does not want to go into surgery again that she's been hiding incidents from me.
(For those of you new to the story, Alexa had heart surgery in Paris three years ago, but it was unsuccessful. Her heart was too small and it was too risky to go through with the planned procedure, so she came back out of surgery un-fixed. Now, we are just in a holding pattern, waiting for her heart to get bigger)

Anyway, it's all very stressful and made me very un-bloggy yesterday. But Al's back at school today, a little tired, but happy. Today was school photo day, so she didn't want to miss it!

As for the rest of the tax story... maybe you forgot about it? If you're interested, here's the end, finally. I wrote it a few days back, during a rare period when we had electricity. It's not that thrilling, but it has the 'closure' thing going for it.

Recap of the previous installments: Our heroine has just spent the entire morning being driven all over Ouaga in a vain search for someone that will let her pay her taxes. After many trials, she finally learns where she really needs to go, but first Valentine has to be rescued from...who knows what?

Mahama knows all the shortcuts. We passed through the “Petit Paris” neighbourhood, then passed by the Moro Naaba’s palace, after cutting across on a very bumpy road paved with rough bricks.

Arriving at the school, I was very relieved to see Valentine standing outside the gates, talking to a friend, not direly ill or injured. Many of her teachers were out on strike, so her day had been cut short.

She agreed to go on with me to what I hoped was the final step of paying our taxes. It wasn’t very far to the latest destination. It turned out to be a small group of low buildings hidden behind a popular restaurant in the center of the city..

We wandered around a while because, of course, there were absolutely no signs indicating where you should go. Completely by chance, we eventually walked into the right office! Amazing! At last! I sat down in front of the tax agent’s desk and got out my documentation, all ready to get started!

Sadly, they weren’t the right documents. And as she explained it all, it became clear that I could never manage to get all the papers I needed.

Our bank in France was demanding proof that we paid taxes somewhere in the world, but it looked like the Burkinabé government wasn’t going to let me be a taxpayer this year.

What did I do? I made friends, of course! Soon, the tax agent and her two colleagues in the office had shown me pictures of their kids and told me what they’d be doing for the Easter holiday. And when I mentioned that I had twin daughters, they proposed that our children marry. One gentleman offered me kola nuts, the traditional gift given to the parents of the bride. It was all in fun of course and when I left everyone was laughing uproariously. And I had been given a few clues about how to remedy my situation.

I went back again a few days later, the twins in tow, wearing adorable matching outfits. One of the tax agents took pictures of them with her cell phone. After some amiable chatting, my file was found, I presented my revised papers and the tax forms were filled out, the kindly tax agent taking everything in hand.

I wrote a check and that was it.

It was VERY unlike dealing with, say the IRS of the United States or even the French tax authorities.

I'm going to go on a walk in a few minutes. I try to get in some excercise each day, often at the gym. But today it is breezy and seems cooler than usual, relatively speaking. I just looked up the Ouaga weather update on Google. They report: "105°F, feels like 98° F". Well! No wonder I feel so frisky. 98°! What a treat!

A. got sent home from school yet again yesterday. She was so pale that it frightened me. But she felt better in the evening and looks/feels pretty good today. I've just been trying to hold out until her heart specialist appt on Monday evening. But NOW I've learned that the Maouloud holiday has been changed yet again and is now scheduled for tomorrow. And by law in Burkina, when a holiday falls on Sunday, the Monday after is a legal holiday. ("Our country is really screwed up, so let's have LOTS of paid holidays!" seems to be the government's philosophy) The actual day of Islamic holidays here are fixed by the appearance of the moon, as determined by the marabouts (muslim religious leaders). So, up until the last minute, rumors fly. "The Prophet's Birthday will be celebrated on Saturday." "No! I hear it is Sunday." "No! Friday!" But now it's been announced on the radio that it's on Sunday and Monday is "ferié", as we say around here. That means no appointment for A. And she'll have to wait another week, as the doctor only consults on Monday evenings. What that is all about, I don't know. We do have a golf course just south of Ouaga. Maybe the MD keeps busy on the brown, crispy "greens" out there.

I will do my best to somehow get a picture of Goaty and the chickens. (Note to self: form rock band and call it "Goaty and The Chickens") My camera is broken, but maybe I can borrow one from a friend....