I didn't want the month to end without me doing some name-dropping/bragging/gloating. So, this is where I casually mention that I was in PARIS this month.

See?

I was there for reals, taking in the culture and whatnot!

Of course, I wasn't just there on a whim, satisfying my need to feel stylish and cool. I was actually on a mission: the renewal of Sev's USA passport.
This was not a thing lightly undertaken, believe me.

This process used to be a piece of cake back when we lived in Ouagadougou (it sort of helped that the US Ambassador there sang soprano with me in a little choral group....) But, sadly, I do not know the US Ambassador to France. I don't even know if Mr. Charles Rivkin likes to sing. (He kind of looks like a tenor, though. JMHO)

So....we had to play by the rules here- and they are crazy!
First of all, the passport can only be renewed in Paris.
Secondly, as Sev is under age 16, he has to be physically present at the embassy in order to get his new passport.
And thirdly, BOTH parents must be present with the child.

You may think that sounds insane, but the best is yet to come: this passport can only be obtained from Monday through Friday from 10 am until 10:30am.

As Dave Barry would say: I am not making this up.

You carefully make your appointment online weeks ahead of time so that your name goes on the list that will get you inside the front gate. Then you wait outside the door of the security checkpoint. Once inside, they will mercilessly confiscate your cellphone, ipod and your brand new tube of Lancome Color Fever lip gloss.
While I may not personally know Mr. Rivken, I just can't think that Charlie could have any objection to me having lusciously glossy lips.
But just try explaining that to those crabby old guards...

But it all turned out well - Sev got his passport and we had a nice two-day stay in my favorite city!

The Fourth of July/US Independance Day holiday was always kind of a big deal in Ouaga. We were always invited to the US Ambassador's house for a pot-luck picnic.


It doesn't seem to be the same here in France. The US Ambassador in Paris didn't invite me to his party, for some reason.

Despite being left out by the big-shots, we managed to make our own fun.

Severin, being the Man of Da House these days, was in charge of the grill:

A bit later, a few of Valentine's friends arrived for a slightly early birthday celebration. The big day is really on Monday, but Saturday seemed like a better day for a party.

I made her a cake, of course:

The guests are still here, playing a board game...It's 10pm and I'm not exactly sure how long this is going to last...

Severin is home this morning after an all-night party with the youth group from church. They were celebrating the end of a 30 hour fast. The idea was that they get an inkling of how it feels not to eat – which is a not-uncommon problem here in Burkina- and they would raise funds by asking for sponsors to pay them for completing the 30 hours. All the money will be used to buy sacks of rice for needy families. As rice prices are at an all-time high, it will be an especially welcome help for many families.

Of course, this well-nourished bunch of teenagers didn’t even get all that hungry. So, Severin and I did discuss the difference between a wealthy person going without food for a couple of days (and being allowed all the orange juice they want!) and someone who suffers chronic underfeeding because they can’t afford enough food. Big diff. But it was a great gesture and the kids raised a good amount of money that will ALL be spent on direct aid to very needy people.

Tonight is the “Town Hall Meeting” at the US Ambassador’s residence. I have to admit that, even though I am a Warden for the Embassy, I have never been to one of the meetings. Between one thing and another, it just never worked out. But I’ll be going tonight and hoping that it is interesting enough to get at least one blog post out of it! I figure that this is my last chance to go to one of these things. I doubt I’ll have much contact with the US Embassy in Paris. I doubt they’ll be inviting me to parties, anyway.

Tomorrow the twins will spend the day with nuns. Yes, Mally and Aly will be at the convent of the Sisters of Our Lady of the Consolation (see photo above) as a preparation for their First Holy Communion, which is coming up next month.

And today? Right. I need to : buy plane tickets for France. Find about about bringing our two cats to France. Order contact lenses to replace the ones I managed to rip in half. Go to Papiers du Sahel to pick up the materials for making the First Communion invitations. Buy additional fabric for dance recital costumes. Go to the Hospital pharmacy to get Alexa’s meds. Rent three tables for the ISO Jumble sale. And if I have time, go rent the next Star Trek film!! Though it probably won’t measure up to ST IV, which we watched last weekend. I know some people think that the Star Trek film franchise jumped the shark with this one. But I thought it was a GREAT family film - just as funny and enjoyable as when I first saw it back in 1986.

And here’s some good news (and thanks to all of you who were so kind as to email me and ask how it was going): Yes, my French/European Union passport has come!!! I am SO pleased that you can’t imagine. It was stolen about four years ago and it has taken this long to get it replaced, so it really does seem miraculous to get it.

A final note: If you are reading this blog and you are moving to or currently living in Burkina, you may be interested to know that we are selling most of our furniture, and all of our appliances and kitchen goods. And our car.

It turns out that a large 40 foot container is WAY too expensive for our moving budget, so we’re going with a 20 footer. That means we have to cut way down.

So, please email me (go to my profile for the address) and tell me what you are looking for. I have one blog friend already who is interested, but as we are a family of six, we have LOTS of stuff.

Once again, I blog to you from a cybercafé in (way too) sunny downtown Ouagadougou. The power cut out in our neighborhood at about 7am this morning and who knows when it will be back on... My technique is to spend the maximum amount of time out running errands in cool places like banks and supermarkets. My car (repaired now!) is also a nice place to be, as the air-con works really well. Nothing else does, mind you, but the air-con is fine.
I am just hoping that we're not headed for a long, hot, electricity-less wekend.
Curse you, Sonabel!

My mailbox today contained an invitation from the US Ambassador to attend the groundbreaking for the new compound that they will be building over in the über-chic neighbourhood of Ouaga 2000. It’s on April 1^st. I’ve thought about going, just so that I can have the experience (and blog about it, of course!). But it says that “office attire” should be worn. Office attire??? I guess I could stick post-it notes all over a t-shirt and have my girls make me some nice accessories out of paper clips… And heck, even if I did own such strange things as a skirted suit and heels, I wouldn’t put them on and stand around outside in the 110° F heat.

So, it looks like I won’t be reporting on the groundbreaking ceremony, but I’m sure that some other interesting (if not frankly bizarre) thing will happen to me, providing plenty of blog-fodder. I just hope it’s nothing bad - nothing like the horrible and mysterious guinea-pig plague that swept through our pet population on Wednesday.

That day we lost three one-day old babies (who had seemed quite healthy for several hours) and also the mom pig Patches. The post-mortem c-section that the vet’s assistant and I did revealed three more dead pups, so we lost seven in total.

I have been involved in two c-sections for human friends since I have been in Burkina. I only had to pay for them- I didn’t have to assist the surgeon (How thankful am I for that? Very.) Of course, they cost a lot more- about 100 dollars. I paid about 80 cents US for the one at the vet’s office.

I’m very happy to report that the human cases both had much happier outcomes. Live babies and moms. Not that the average Burkinabe maternity clinic is a walk in the park- it’s not even a short stroll somewhere vaguely pleasant. In general, to give birth, you lay on a cement slab in a stifling room (you’re lucky if there’s a fan) while overworked nurses bark orders at you and even insult you. I’m not saying this always happens, but I’ve talked to lots of women and spent many hours in maternity wards… (Plus, JP’s research team has done research on the topic! Fascinating stuff!)

If you are lucky enough to get out of that alive, (which is quite a trick-1000 mothers in 100,000 die in childbirth. 36 babies in each 1000 dies as a neonate) you get a cracked vinyl mattress in a hot, dirty ward jammed with women and babies. Plus, each woman has a female friend/family member staying with her at all times- even sleeping at night on the floor next to her mattress, on a bit of cloth or a plastic mat. You have to have this help because there is no help at all for you in the ward. You have to be up washing diapers in a bucket, heating bath water over a fire, etc…there’s lots of hard physical work that need to be done. Plus, there is no food at the hospital- at all. There's no food service, no cafeteria, not even an old lady going around with a pot of rice to sell. Nothing. Someone has to cook for you there (over a wood fire) or bring food in. If you are a woman on her own, you have no help and no food.

One of the friends I mentioned is paralysed due to childhood polio and gave birth to twins, so her case was very difficult and she was in the hospital quite a long time. I brought her her breakfast every morning and spent time visiting with her. This gave me lots of time to observe the goings-ons. It was a very eye-opening experience, to say the least.

There is lots of pressure on women here NOT to give birth at home with traditional mid-wives. Everyone is supposed to go to a hospital and be “modern”. But based on what I’ve seen, I certainly understand why many women resist. If I were given a choice between giving birth in a local maternity clinic and doing it in a mud hut- frankly, I’d choose the mud hut.

The invitation to Saturday's fête requested that guests come in the traditional garb of their home country, Chinese clothing or informal dress. The latter only seemed like an option for the profoundly uncreative. But what would the traditional clothing of the citizen of the USA be? Native American would be the most accurate, but probably politically incorrect, as I have no Indian ancestry whatsoever. Plus I would look like an idiot. But that leaves what? A sunbonnet and a calico dress? Levi’s and a t-shirt with a snarky remark printed across the chest? I had no clue. But then, a miracle occurred! I went to the Rec Center jumble sale and there was an American woman selling a red silk oriental-style outfit. In my size and very cheap! Amazing!

Ok, I had clothes. Which was very good. But what about my hair? That would require professional help, I knew. As I sat there in the swivel chair at the salon, I had an epiphany: My hair is evil. Not difficult, unruly or untameable. It’s evil. It took two people three and a half hours to make me look decent. No wonder I can't manage to make it look even marginally ok. The avaerage mortal has no chance against it. The primary obstacle to any degree of coolness is the front lock that swoops down into a sort of question mark over my forehead. It’s a look that worked for Ruby Keeler in 1937 (see photo above right), but is considerably less attractive in 2007. It’s a bit sad to have hair that would have been a hit 70 years ago- seems like a waste, really. But here I am in the 21^st century, trying to no avail to make it attractive. But at least now I know why I never succeed in this task. Just defeating the dreaded wayward front lock alone took two trained professionals a quarter of hour: one had to tug at it mercilessly with a huge brush while blowing super-heated air onto it , while the other simultaneously applied copious amounts of hairspray.
After the Herculean task of fixing my hair, I let the makeup specialist have a go. She did a nice job, very natural. And at about eight dollars, it was a good investment, considering that I don’t own any makeup, except for a tube of mascara and some lipstick.

JP and I got to the party at about 8pm. It was at the home of a Taiwanese businessman here in Ouaga. Why not at the Embassy? Well, lots of the guests wouldn’t be allowed to come if it was held at an official site, such as the embassy itself. The US Ambasador, for example, is forbidden by our government to even visit the home of any Taiwanese government employees.
It was a very impressive home in Ouaga 2000. Four stories, two pools, lovely landscaping and plenty of room for a stage outdoors plus tables for 300 people.

The first part of the evening involved standing around with a drink in hand, not knowing anyone. God, I hate parties. But then the US Ambassador and her husband showed up. We ended up sitting together and it made the evening much nicer. Despite the fact that the ambassadorial spouse kept asking JP about various digs and his opinion of the new archaeological museum at Oursi. He didn’t seem to understand the difference between an archaeologist (like me) and a cultural anthropologist (like JP). His wife was excruciatingly embarrassed and kept trying to clue him in, but it didn’t do much good.
The food was very depressing. No amazing Chinese cuisine in sight. Not a single bean sprout or mushroom. There was couscous, roast mutton, fried potatoes and fish in tomato sauce. Typical Burkina party fare. The only nice thing was the asparagus from the Taiwanese experimental farm, which was a treat. We don't get a wide variety of vegetable in Burkina.

Coming tomorrow: The end of the story. Really.

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.