15 Octobre 2010
It's been a long time since I really wrote: really sat down and put my thoughts into words that flow onto this paper (and now a computer screen) through my machine-made pen. A. Long. Time. And, well, honestly I don't know where to start. Perhaps my inspiration is missing. Possibly my thoughts are interrupted by the crying babies, clucking hens, moaning donkeys, pounding shea nuts... perhaps, it is possible that I'm distracted.
This could be a wonderful thing - because that distraction would and could only be from where I'm living. Which, could and more than likely does mean that I'm focused, ever so slightly on the present instead of the future. This is one of my goals. To stay focused on the now - not what's to come two years or even seven months from now. Now. It is the moment. And it is my job. But then there is a chance that my blocked thoughts are derived from the fact that I am either not interested or am not being mentally involved in the everyday occurrences that are Burkina Faso.
Maybe the holidays are getting to me?
Maybe I need a holiday from the real.
I could have sworn the baby I witnessed being born today was a still born. The umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby boy's neck and he was a shade of pale slate blue. I had to leave the room. It was the scariest sight I had ever come upon. To make matters worse - the woman struggled so much to push him out. It seemed like a very tough birth - and the woman looked very young and scared. But good news: it was alive and cried a bit after the cord was untangled and he was cleaned. Hopefully he will live through many many years.
I asked the mother who gave birth yesterday why she had said she was afraid of the infant when she was born. I didn't know if this would be intrusive, or inappropriate - but it came out anyway. She explained that the baby gave her much physical and emotional pain. She was scared because she claims she doesn't have the means to raise the child. It's her second one: her first is a little boy. Her husband is a teacher in the village where they live (7 km outside of the one I live in.) She doesn't work. So I guess she's right to say she's scared - but it's more of a scared she won't be able to provide everything the infant may want or need. But then why oh why do so many women have 8-9 children? She's stopping at 2! She asked me how many I want and I replied with 3 or 4. She gasped at this number. She was also very shocked when I said I was too young for children right now at the age of 22. She then tells me 15 and 16 year olds have children here. At that age I was just starting to date and be "boy crazy." Boy! Not MAN! And I was a mere GIRL. Not even close to being ready for a baby of my own. Add ten years to that figure and then we can talk.
I guess, no... I know it's an entirely different world.
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