Edouard

I’d like for you to meet Edouard.

Edouard is wise, funny and tender hearted. He studies very hard and achieves good grades in school.

Edouard used to pipe up in conversation with the most interesting stories and useful information. When the children found and killed a snake that had made it’s way into the courtyard Edouard told us stories from the village about where villagers had found snakes in their huts. He also told us Burkinabé legends about which snakes it’s okay to kill and which snakes you shouldn’t kill.
Because of his honesty and general knowledge of all things Burkina I used to double check some ideas with Edouard. When one of the boys promised to catch me a margouillat (gecko) for us to eat together I was excited because I knew gecko was consumed in the village and wanted the cullinary experience. Edouard though, gently told me it wasn’t in my best interest to eat geckos caught in Yako. The villagers usually go out into the bush to catch geckos, because it’s unhealthy to eat ones that have been around humans & human waste. I was very grateful that he was willing to tell me straight up what was okay and what wasn’t.
He was an ever-patient teacher when it came to Mooré. Every so often after lunch we would sit at the table, under the tree, and talk. He would teach me a few Mooré words and I would listen hard. When I spoke he would gently correct my pronunciation and explain to me the context of the words he was teaching me. Some afternoons he would ask questions about Canada and what life is like there. On those days I would talk more and he would pipe in with questions.

Above: Edouard hugging Augustine. (I love this picture of both of them.)

A few nights before I left Edouard and I were practicing English. He tore a piece of paper from his notebook and wrote “You going to missed mine”. In understanding french reflexive verbs I figured he was writing “I am going to miss you.” I knew I was about to cry so in an attempt to avoid it I asked him to tell me in french what he was writing and then coached him through writing out the phrase in English with correct grammar. When we reached ‘you’ I let a few tears slip from my brimming eyes. He told me promptly that I wasn’t allowed to cry, because crying is contagious (and although he didn’t mention the cultural inappropriateness of crying I knew I shouldn’t). I wiped the tears away, stole the pen from him, wrote “me too” on the paper and smiled. I told him that tears meant that he’d had an impact on my life.

And he has. I can surely learn a lot from Edouard. He is strong in the face of inexplicable sadness and he acts with love and gentleness towards others despite the fact that life has not treated him in a way I would think fair.