patience is a virtue

After 14 months of taking bush taxis and busses that make Greyhound look like a luxury liner, I was stoked about taking an aeroplane. I didn't even mind that the ticket was Coach - I could still sleep a lot more comfortably in my seat than I ever could on transport between Ouagadougou and Djibo. No bumpy, unpaved roads, crying children, people talking loudly into my left ear in rapid Moore, chickens stowed under the seat squawking, and delays in getting to one's destination. Well, I take that last one back. One would think that leaving for a flight means that one will relatively be, oh, I don't know, on time. Observe the following interaction, translated into English for your convenience:

Ami

(overly optimistic for Dakar):

Good morning, I'd like to check in for the flight to Dakar that leaves in 2 hours.

Ticket Agent Lady

(peers over her glasses):

In a minute.

Ami
(notices that 10 minutes have passed, & that the queue behind has begun to snake into the waiting area; politely coughs)

Ticket Agent Lady
(continues doing work on the computer)

Ami
So, um, here is my ticket...and passport.

Ticket Agent Lady
(gives withering look):
Ok. Please be patient.

Ami
(waits another 10 minutes)
And, uh, I have only one bag to check in.

Ticket Agent Lady
Ah, bon.

Ami
(notices that plane is about to leave in less than an hour; peers over the counter to see what Ticket Agent Lady is doing on her computer)

(to self)
What the hell?! She's playing Solitaire?!

Nevertheless, I made it to Dakar, albeit a few delays on the plane. The Peace Corps vehicle escorted me to my hotel and there, I watched French game shows once I gave up on finding the English channel. I met up with the Regional Medical Officer this morning to have a consultation with the oral surgeon. I couldn't help but notice how impeccably dressed this doctor was & how much he resembled CNN's Anderson Cooper. This made me all the more self-conscious over my French, not to mention the fact that I wished I had gargled after breakfast when he & the oral surgeon both peered into my mouth to discuss what work needed to be done. When the oral surgeon (a Frenchman) asked if I was pregnant before taking the x-rays, I said "non, non" a little too hurriedly and laughed awkwardly as he inserted the camera into my mouth, causing me to slightly drool. (sigh) I would give my left arm for grace & charm.

perks of being a tool for the government

A few weeks ago, I noticed that my tooth hurt and gums swelled everytime I brushed. I tried to ignore it, but it turned into an ordeal that was like that annoying song Jenny From the Block. First it hurt a little then it hurt a lot. So after having the Peace Corps Medical Officer ship some painkillers to me, I caught transport to Ouagadougou and got it checked out by a dentist, who said she would call the PC office with the results.

The verdict?




(wait for it)

"You have swollen gums due to brushing."

Duh. The question is why are my gums swelling whenever I brush? A second opinion got in some x-rays and a phone call to Peace Corps Washington.

The second verdict?
Impacted upper wisdom teeth that need to be removed.

Which means?
A trip to Dakar, Senegal, to have said teeth removed, because there aren't facilities here in Burkina to do it.

So, I fly out tomorrow at noon and return sometime next week. I'm not exactly thrilled about having my teeth yanked out, but I do enjoy being able to brush my teeth without too many consequences. On top of that, I'm pretty stoked about seeing Dakar for a few days while staying in a nice hotel that has AC & a pool (you have no idea what a huge step up that is from my normal living situations). I'll post pictures of Dakar in my next post. Perhaps I'll be in them if my face isn't too grotesquely swollen.

the woes of technology

Friends, romans, countrymen...lend me your ears;
I come to bury Facebook, not to praise it.
The inanity that creators do in praise for them;
The good is oft interred with their updates;
So let it be with Facebook.

I wanted updates while living here in Africa. I just didn't really care to know that a long lost childhood friend wrote on his/her friend's wall and then the friend replied. Or that one of my PC friends (who I really didn't know before living in the Faso) has added John So-&-So as his/her friend. Who cares? Of course, once I publish this blog, my profile will update my status saying "Ami has added to her blog!!" Really...no one should care.

Maybe we should all cancel Facebook and start stalking each other in real life. Or maybe not.

my pet goat (or, the vegetarian who was rejected from PETA)

The pet camel, as we all know, was turning out to be an expensive pet. Not to mention the fact that it scared Hama, my neighbor, and kept spitting on Hama's laundry whenever it was put on the line to dry. In lieu of "Spitty Cent", there is now a white goat tied to a tree in my yard. The thing was cute at first (and like, 10 bucks), but geez, it's also annoyingly loud. All night it bleats and starts up again in the morning when the 4:45am azan sounds off. In just a few weeks, everyone will start a 30-day fast for Ramadan which will go from sunrise to sunset. I'm currently thinking of contributing it to the community for the Eid celebrations in October as an act of goodwill & good riddance.



Currently: Saying goodbye to fellow PCVs that have finished their service and going back to the States. Bon voyage et du courage =)