Well, here I am, back.
First and foremost, I apologize for not wrapping this up in any meaningful way. As of the end of May 2014 when I had written my last post in Burkina, I thought I had several weeks to start to ease into departure but while planning is indispensable, plans are useless. On June 16, 2014 a tornado went through my home town in southwest Wisconsin and took out the family business. I was home four days later. Quick to say the least. A testament to the Peace Corps and Peace Corps Burkina Faso for their understanding and massive effort it took to get me home in four days. The morning after I got home, a whopping 18 hours after my plane landed, I was helping the clean up effort. I “hit the ground running” in a clichéd fashion and never really stopped. I started milking cows again on the weekends, landed in a job at Prudential Retirement during the week, started studying for the GRE and tried to re-adapt to America. An explanation but not an excuse for my lack of an ending.
I received the news Tuesday afternoon while I was in my close of service medical exam. Lucky I was already in Ouaga after my first week as an PCVF, helping new volunteers adapt to Burkina. I connected with Ben Hubbard, then acting Country Director/Director of Management Operations/Administrative Officer/All-Around Good Guy, (Ben did a lot). I was able to call home and talk to Pete and Justin and get a feel for the situation. I decided, and it was agreed, that I would COS that Friday with Ashley, Lindsay and Natalya instead of 6 weeks later at the beginning of August. That meant a fly-in trip to Pama, packing, saying good-byes, and back to Ouaga in 24 hours. Wednesday at noon, Luis, a Peace Corps driver, and I jumped into a Peace Corps Toyota 4×4 and headed to Pama. Ouaga to Pama in 5 hours flat, best time I ever made. I called Mr. Lompo, he came over and I explained what had happened. I had some pictures downloaded from Facebook to help clarify. To my surprise, he knew what a tornado was. He then went to talk to the President of the APE and break the news of my early departure. I packed, kids gathered. I talked to my host family, broke the news. Hurriedly, I shoved things I wanted to take with me into my two suitcases that had been sitting idle for two years. I went to Chez VS and had one last meal, said good-byes. Yaara had sent me a cigar and I kept it for 18 months, saying on my last night in site I would enjoy it with a glass of whiskey, I did. It rained. I like to think Pama cried; it was sad to see me go too. I slept inside that night and fell right to sleep, just like I was home, because I was. I remember the first few sleepless nights after arriving at site. Times had changed. I woke to the routine morning sounds of Beba making tô. Thud, thud, thud as the wooden spoon hit the bottom of the cast iron pot. I steadied myself, exited my house and met the President of the APE and a contingent of community members. They were shocked to see me leave early but they understood. It was 7 am, we went for a beer. About 8 Luis met me at my house, I put my things in the 4×4, took one last look, and left. Too simple. Too clean. An unremarkable ending to a glorious adventure. I spent a lot of time looking out the passenger window trying not to cry. As much as I complained about it, Pama was the site that I needed, if not the one that I wanted, and as I become more and more removed from Burkina, I realize I have fallen in love with that dusty, one-paved-road town in the south-east corner of a land-locked country in West Africa.
A lot of the transition back into the American lifestyle was glossed over as I was so busy. There were moments and occasionally still are where I find difficulties. A lot of them eased by connecting with another recently minted RPCV and south-west Wisconsinite, Kaila Wilson, who was in Zambia about the same time I was in Burkina. The biggest challenge was reintroducing myself to my family and friends. I was not the same person as when I left, not by a long shot, but I was treated the same. Over time, people began to see post-Peace Corps Joe for who I was and am. It was several months after returning home before someone finally said, “Well, that’s what the old Joe would have done.” Ah, finally! To describe the various and nuanced transformations would take a book. Even then I would not and could not find the exact words to detail how I have been reworked, reforged and then rewired. In September I went to Minnesota to see family I have not seen a some time. After a couple of days I was in my grandparent’s kitchen when my uncle Bobby said “As soon as you walked through that door, even before you had said anything, I knew you were different.” Changes so fundamental as to even change the way I walk.
As of late, I have found myself desperately wanting to reach out and reconnect in some way with Burkina and Pama. I was looking at pictures the other night while laying in bed. As I looked at them, I realized I can still hear the sound my chair made as I slide it across my concrete flood, I can still taste the fresh baked, market bread, I can feel the warm, dry breeze while swaying in my hammock, hear kids laughing, the way the metal, court yard doors banged open and woke me from a peaceful nap when the family came back from a day in the fields, and an ever present radio playing in the background. I hope, I wish in 50 years time I can still look at those pictures and be back in Pama.
It has only been seven months since I left but I wonder what Yentima, Beba, Numpoua, Amiee, Tomba, Christian, Gisel and the rest of Pama are doing now. One thing is for certain, if I wake tomorrow and hear the thud, thud, thud of a wooden spoon on the bottom a cast iron pot, I will know exact where I am.
peacecorpsjoe 