Long time no blog,
I have certainly been slacking of late with regards to this blog. I can’t say that I have any good reason for my absence. I’ve simply been busy. I moved to Ouagadougo, Burkina Faso a week and a half ago, and I have moved in with my French professor and his family, Gaetano Deleonibus, who have been here for the past month. It is the first time I have been in a “family situation” since I came to Africa. It can be a rewarding and consuming experience. Gaetano and Gina have twin girls nearing the age of 10 named sophie and Elena. They are quite the handful, particularly when you add in the Goat and the two chicks who have joined the family here in Burkina Faso. (I have wanted a goat since I came here, but with the constant bleating and pooping all over the place, I think my future backyard could do without it.) Living in a family again and sharing stimulating conversations with Gaetano and Gina has been a real blessing, and I have used this past week as an opportunity to take a breather as I finished up 2 months of irregular, but constant travel. Now, coffee table covered in Burkinabe French theology texts and each day set aside for interviews, I am back in action. Ouagadougo certainly isn’t the type of city that you fall in love with at first sight, but the people here continue to impress me with their openness and friendliness. Course, often if you encouter these sentiments in the street, then it typically has some sort of price tag attached. I think my favorite cry from the merchants is “C’est gratuit à voir”, which translates to, It’s free to look! I also enjoy the hawkers who try and stop me with niceties and small talk to look at their hand carried wares. I typically invite them to walk with me and ask them how their family, wife, kid, house and goat are. After a few blocks, they typically get the idea that I’m not in the market. I tell them right away, but it typically takes some time for them to get the picture.

I had a very humorous “cross cultural” experience the other day. Jumping from country to country, culture to culture, even being sensitive to local customs, one can make a wrong move. I had gone to mass at a church where a waiter I had met a few days earlier was a member of the choir. After the service, we went to his house, where I of course met his mother, grand niece, sister, brother’s wife, and his wife. We were sitting down and his wife came to me with a gourd bowl with water in it. I just stuck out my right hand and set it in the water to start washing it. This is a typical move in Ghana for when one eats. I noticed right away an odd look on their faces, and it was then that I realized that they were offering me water to drink, not to wash my hands with! Here, I can’t stop apologizing through