Piment in Burkina Faso

Sunday, 25 July 2010

Wow!

I almost died today.

Died I tell you!!

Martine and I are making the family dinner tonight so we decided to make spaghetti - easy enough, right?

• 1000 onions
• 2 bundles of green onions / chives
• 3 green bell pepper-like things
• 8 cloves of garlic
• 2 small purple eggplants
• 1 itty bitty orange pepper / piment

So I'm cutting the onions and boy do they clear up the sinuses! I was sniffling and tearing up like never before...gosh. Onions. Diced. Done. Then I cut the green peppers. Diced. No Seeds. Done. Next I tackle the itty bitty pepper... I ask Martine if she knows how hot/spicy it is - she doesn't know - so I cut into it and try to smell it but can't smell a thing. So I cut it up like a spice and we're done preparing our veggies for dinner. I know not to touch my eyes because of the onion but I wipe my mouth and nose because of the onion making me shed some tears. Not 5 minutes later I'm RUNNING to splash water on my face!

My mouth and nose are

ON FIRE

I'm in so much pain I run outside to the spicket and splash water on my face - which makes it worse because I'm just spreading it all over ... so I RUN back inside and Martine is all sorts of worried and is trying to tell "splash water in your eyes!! Splash water in your eyes!!" I get soap and RUN back outside and start washing my hands and face - by this time my father is walking over to me to see what all the ruckus is - and he just looks so confused like: why's this crazy, non-French speaking American freaking out? And I turn off the water and just look at him and he just laughs and says okay - and I have no idea how to tell him that my face is on fire from a damn pepper!! I splash more water on my face and get a little in my eyes - so I'm thinking I'm gonna go blind now! Oh gosh - it was terrible. I rushed back inside to wipe my face and Martine is still trying to tell me to splash water in my eyes! I finally just give up and give into the burn. And boy - does it hurt. Martine finally is like: it's not toxic - it's just food, it'll go away. hah. It's still BURNING! But it's subsided a lot.

And that's my death, near death, experience.

Moral of the story - NEVER touch your face or body with the same hand that cut or touched piment in this damned hot country.

Never.

Where am I?

This is what was put in my journal the night I moved in with my host family:

28 Juin 2010

I feel terrible today. It's a continuation of the feeling from yesterday. Sick-Churning-Stomach-Weak (from not eating) and just tired.

I wasn't ready at all. I'm at my host family and I'm in bed. I just want to cry.

goodnight.

Yea - apparently I was not happy. What made it a little worse - other trainees had a marvelous time with their host family and were telling such amazing stories of how accommodating their family was - and how much they sat with their host mother and father and just discussed life - well, to their best ability.

It was brutal.

Life is Too Fast

Life is quite the trickster.

She doesn't care what you've planned.

She doesn't take into consideration what emotions you may have.

Life, she is not one to sympathize. She just deals you the cards, and expects you to sort them out accordingly. These cards are subject to change, delay, distortion and minimize or exceed one's care to deal with. Yet - they are there, and you must pick them up. You have to always keep in mind that Life is not here to give you an easy path. She wants you to learn. She wants you to hurt. She knows that without the hurt, there is no growth.

And this is what she has given my parents today: a bittersweet occurrence. She has laid out a new opportunity for them, in particularly my mom. They were overjoyed and wanted to celebrate. Life then decided to take away that joy. She twisted and turned the world - and into the cool water fell our dog. He fell into his death. Into a vast ocean of terror. What fright he must've felt as he struggled to paddle his way out of the harsh and unforgiving mass. With no one there but his sister. She panting there, whining with no opposable thumbs. No arms to hold him. To scoop him out of the cold grip. Just short minutes and he must've submitted to Life's twin brother. And into the liquid cage dove my father, to save his dog, save that life, his breath, was not there.

Questions stir through all of our heads. They come and go. They are quick, and yet they linger.

Life, she is cruel. She is short. She is fast. She is thoughtful - and unforgiving. Death comes quickly, and it's time that I come to terms with this. It's cruel, but it is there. It is beautiful and ugly. It is all the same, and yet, so vast a diverse.