I grew up in the city. I don’t know much about farming. Okay you got me...that was a lie: I know nothing about farming. Sometimes the kids ask me about what farming is like in Canada. I have to confess my lack of knowledge to them. I tell them not everyone farms in Canada and that I live in the city, that for a fun trip as a kid we used to visit a farm. When we get to this point in the conversation I feel like there isn’t full communication. That is because everyone farms here.
That is part of the reason why I wanted to spend some time working in the fields this year. I felt that in order to understand life in Burkina I should have some grasp for the way in which the Burkinabe provide for themselves. I cannot begin to suggest one or two days working in the fields begins to give me an idea what it is like to plant a field, work the field, and hope it provides you with enough for your family. However, I do believe I got a teeny tiny glimmer of the hard work that goes into work in the fields.
The ground in Burkina is dry and hard. That’s why it takes such long, hard rains to do anything for the crops- small rains just can’t soak into the grounds. It is also why digging, turning up soil and planting is so hard. The dabba is the toil of choice (by default I suppose?) for the men and women of Burkina. It’s a tool a little like a hand-held hoe. In order to use it you must be bent over at waist. After witnessing people cultivating I understand why I see so many elderly women unable to stand up straight- they spend their later years perpetually bowed towards the ground.
Our church had a church work day in which the women and men of the church came to work in the fields of our pastor. I joined in (except for the last two hours). Edouard and David stuck close by my side, cultivating the row next to mine. Every so often they would reach their dabba over and help me dig up my row (I was a teensy bit slower than them). Every so often I would lean over to one of them and whisper “Is this millet, or a weed?” he’d smile and tell me whether or not I should be digging it up or not. Mostly, we worked the ground and chatted. (The picture above is of some of the work in Pastor Valentin’s fields).
Sarah came for the work day also. We’d both told Pastor we would be there, early Thursday morning to work his field. When we said this, he didn’t say much. Perhaps he though we were using ‘on va’ (we will) in the general sense it is often used: referring to no one in particular and thus not really including us in the phrase ‘we will work in your fields’. Thursday Sarah, Edouard and I were the first ones to arrive, along with one other boy from our church. We started working and gradually more people joined in. When Pastor arrived (he’d been at work at SW- he wasn’t late) he laughed:
“You came?” he said.
“Of course we came!” I told him. “I said we’d be here.” Pastor smiled, a huge smile and let out a small chuckle.
“Well thanks for coming.” (big smile)
Later, when I told Pastor I was worried I'd killed some of his millet rather than helping him in the field he told me “The farmer kills the millet” meaning if you don't cultivate you don't have the opportunity to kill the millet. This made me feel a little bit better.
Several times one of the guys told me how good it was for me to be there. “Your presence is symbolic” they’d say. “It’s so encouraging.” I’d smile. I knew, of course, that I wasn’t really accomplishing work for them (they’ve been cultivating for years- they didn’t need me there) but I was pleased they appreciated that I’d come.
The Ghongin church work day, and the one I visited the next day in Raolo (Yolande’s village), were such a beautiful experience for me. It was, how I’d always imagined a farming community to be: many families coming together to help each other in their fields, some of the women stepping away to prepare the coffee and lunch. It was, perhaps, the sense of community that I loved. The above picture, is of some of the beautiful women from our congregation. They prepared our meal and then worked at planting where it was needed again.
When I was in Raolo, as I took some pictures of the work in the fields, the women told me I knew what I needed to do with the pictures: ‘Show people back home how we work here.’ (And of course, send them a copy of their photo )
Above is a young girl and her father plowing the field. They have the donkey pull the plow, one leads and the other follows.
I hope, with a couple pictures and a little description I've been able to do (half) of what I told the women of Raolo I would do.
(Picture by Ferdinand)
