First of all- hope you all had a nice day yesterday. Ours was great- we were at church in the morning, then had a nice meal with friends that night.

Now here it is- Easter Monday. The kids have the day off from school. And, as is typical on the weekends and holidays- my email is down. So, all messages for me today should be left for me on the comments section of the blog.

Now, how about a little more of the story of how I tried to pay our taxes here in Burkina? It was quite a challenge..
(If you just got here and missed it, go back to the March 19 post to begin the epic tale)

So, there I was, wandering around this huge building, without a clue as to what to do next. In my defence, I saw lots of Burkinabe folks in similar straits, looking just as miserable and confused as I did. So, it wasn’t just me being exceptionally clueless. It looked like no outsiders (also known as “taxpayers”) were being allowed any information that might actually help them to pay their taxes.

I randomly knocked on the door of an office. I played my role of the completely baffled foreigner to the hilt - a very sweet and vaguely stupid creature from a foreign land. Loosing your temper avails you nothing. Charm and calm carry the day. As a result, the fellow there took pity on me, left his mountain of dusty papers and actually guided me all the way to another big office and introduced me to the three people there.
I explained what I needed for the NINTH time.
They were very kind.
Of course, everyone until now had been kind- but they’d had no freaking clue how to really help me and had sent me all over town on a morning-long wild guinea fowl chase. (That's a wild goose chase, Burkina-style.)

But this crew seemed pretty convincing. They told me that Mme D- was no longer taking care of expat taxes (rats!) and that that function had been transferred to a building in Passpanga.

Right.

I went back down the stairs, alert for stray aliens carrying advanced weaponry (didn’t want to startle one and get accidentally disintegrated).

Back at the car, Mahama (our driver) had news: he’d gotten a phone call that said Valentine needed to be picked up at school right away. They’d been trying to contact me, but as I’d brilliantly left my cell phone at home, no one could get in touch with me. The message had just been to come and get my daughter. I had no idea if she was ill, injured , or perhaps expelled for excessive niceness, cuteness and brilliance. (She’s too wonderful to get expelled for any bad reason, of course!)

I couldn’t call easily or quickly, as Mahama had no calling credits in his phone.

Now, the strolling phone card vendors here in Ouaga are usually very present and very persistent. At almost every street corner they descend upon you en masse, waving their little wooden boards covered with the brightly-colored cards. Even after you have rejected the first one, and the second and the third, they keep coming- as though after rejecting five different vendors selling the exact same thing, you’d suddenly have some kind of streetside-shopping epiphany. As though the 20^th person to wave his cards in your face in the last two minutes would open your stingy little heart and you’d say: I know I just mercilessly and without hesitation rejected every one of your card-selling buddies, but I like your looks! I’m going to buy one from YOU!

Of course, now that I actually really did desperately need to buy a card, there was only a scattering of vendors in sight - none of them selling the brand I needed. I didn’t waste time hunting around - we took off for the school, back at the city center.

That's all I have time for now. I'll try to wrap this up tomorrow.
It has a happy ending! Really!

Joyeuses Pâques!

May your Easter Basket runneth over with good things.

Twas the night before Easter, when all through the house, things got pretty disturbing...

see more crazy cat pics

At 7am this Easter morning, I woke to the sound of Mallory’s urgent whisper : « Severin ! Severin! What’s a ….’Peep’???”
I heard his sleepy, patient reply: “It’s a small marshmallow candy, typically in the shape of a chick or bunny. Can I sleep now?”
The Easter Bunny passed by this morning, with help from my parents in the US, so there were a few exotic candies unknown to my younger kids. Mallory wasn't sure if Peeps were a food or brightly colored plastic toys. The candies were just left out on the dining room table, as we did all of our egg hunting yesterday at a US Embassy sponsored event. I had thought about opting out, as last year’s egg hunt had been decidedly miserable. The candies melted in the scorching heat, there was no coffee and the drinking water ran out early on. Imagine 40 young kids that have been eating jelly beans in 44°C heat with no water and tremble, my friends. I finally decided to risk going again this year, but wisely brought my own water supply, plus I had a coffee before I left home. And I was completely justified in my distrust. The only thing that saved them running out of water again this time was the cooler temperature. And there was no coffee. Because of the US Congress. It goes like this: The Congress slashes the State Department budget. The State Department takes it out of the Embassy operating budgets. The Embassy then gets a budget cut of 30% and has to figure out where to cut corners. The first things to get hit are the salaries of the local Burkinabé employees and the amenities of the little community events the Embassy hosts. Hence, no coffee and little water. Thanks Congress.

The good news? The mango rain came on Thursday, none too soon. For the week leading up to it, Ouaga had been suffering the most terrible dust storms ever. A yellow fog of grit covered the city, reducing visibility to just a couple of blocks, sometimes even less. It was very unpleasant. Even Goaty got sick. He was coughing. Have you ever heard a goat cough? Very disturbing. Also, he had a runny nose, which the twins lovingly kept clean with the better part of a box of Kleenex. That was also pretty strange. He’s better now, though. Which is good, as Goaty is getting married today. Yes, the twins found him a bride: Miss Midnight. She is dainty, with a glossy coat and she smells like a veritable rose. My girls were having such a good time with Goaty, that their friends’ mom was inspired to get her girls a goat as well, but she had the wisdom to opt for a female. So, as soon as Alexa has finished her homework, I have to drive over to pick up the stench-free Midnight and her lucky, lucky owners. The girls have been planning the wedding for a week. Once again, I am very, very sorry that my camera doesn’t work.

Last night, I drove to church with the car packed full. Ten people, plus hotdish casseroles for the supper afterwards. Severin’s two best friends were with us. I heard Daniel ask Valentine how old she is. “13, going on 14” she said.
Severin burst into song:
“You are thirteen going on fourteen
Baby, it's time to think
Better beware, be canny and careful
Baby, you're on the brink”, he sang in a very nice tenor.
He even knew the second verse!
”You are thirteen going on fourteen
Fellows will fall in line
Eager young lads and rogues and cads
Will offer you food and wine”
His friends just looked at him tolerantly. I was just grateful that they are both sweet MK’s (missionary kids, for those of you who don’t know the expat lingo). More typical 11 year old boys would no doubt be harsh on a pal that bursts into show tunes at the slightest provocation.

On the bright side, maybe we can get him to sing "One Hand, One Heart" from 'West Side Story' for the upcoming goat wedding.

Perhaps the Easter Bunny left goodies in your basket, or the Bells of Rome dropped a pound of chocolates on your head, or maybe you just slept late and no supernatural events whatsoever occurred in your life ---- whatever went on yesterday for you, I hope it was good.
We here had an interesting day. It started with a service at the International Church of Ouagadougou. It’s an “interdenominational” church, but it is just like a very lively Baptist church in Missouri inexplicably transported to Ouagadougou. HIGHLY entertaining and GREAT music. The kids loved it. This may have been partially due to the fact that everybody got a free Coke and snacks after the service.
Our activity afterward was somewhat less fun- an Easter “picnic” out on a farm. Outside. In April. In Burkina. At 2pm. It was really not one of the more comfortable dining concepts ever dreamed up. We sat under straw mats in what was until recently (to judge by the feathers) the chicken coop. The cows watched us with a very puzzled air. I think they were wondering what happened to the chickens. But we got through it with only sub-clinical signs of heatstroke, so it turned out all right.

Today was the Easter Egg hunt for the US citizens here. The kids had a nice time running around looking for plastic eggs. By 9:30 the eggs were all filled with foil-festooned puddles of melted chocolate, so they were only safe to open after a long stay in the fridge at home. But that’s only to be expected when Easter falls at the hottest period of the year.

By the way, we ended up with considerably fewer than 89 kittens, so I’ll have to abandon my “kittens as door-prizes” scheme. There are only three, which will make it much easier to think up names for them. I’m thinking Patty, Maxene and LaVerne (after the Andrews Sisters). They already kind of squeak in three-part harmony, so it might work.
They were born two nights ago. Cleo (the mother cat) seems very tired. I hand fed her chicken at lunchtime. I think I’m projecting a little, remembering my own post-partum exhaustion.