First thing in the morning, we hopped onto the backs of two mobilettes (a term for the small motorcycles or scooters that everyone uses to get around here) and rode off into the unknown. We were traveling with two of the physical therapists that work at the Handicapped Center as they did their rounds of home visits. The farther we went, the smaller the roads got until we were driving on walking paths that were barely wide enough for people to walk single file. It's a good thing our drivers were local and knew the area because there are no such thing as road signs around here, just hundreds of small paths that criss-cross across the fields covering the countryside.
All of the homes we stopped at were rather similar. Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of them but I will try to briefly explain what they were like. The homes around here are small walled compounds. Generally, there are about 6-7 small huts, either round and constructed with adobe brick and thatched roofs or rectangular concrete walls and tin roofs. These huts are situated in a circle and walls connect them either made out of adobe brick or sticks woven together.
It was somewhat amazing to walk into these homes and realize that people still live in this way the same as they did several thousand years ago. Carrying water from a well, growing all their own food, and really just surviving off the land. It's a far cry from the situation I am used to living in.
As we entered the homes, we would be seated in the shade of a tree as the patient was located and bathed before the therapy. We were also offered water at several of the homes. This is a common form of greeting guests and saying, "Welcome" in Burkinabe culture. Needless to say, we could not refuse the water for fear of offending our hosts despite the fact that it was brown and had dirt and grain floating in it so we politely raised the bowl to our lips and feigned drinking while hoping that no one was watching too closely. I appreciated the welcome but figured they would not enjoy knowing that I got sick from their hospitality either.
It was neat to also observe the dynamic between the families and the therapists. When we arrived, the families were often summoned in from their work in the fields and would come sauntering in at the typical Burkina pace (it’s too hot to move any faster). Chair or small wooden stools would be summoned up from various places so that we could be seated and a mat would be laid out for the patient to sit on. Greetings would be given and if the patient was a child the therapist would play around with them for a minute or so before beginning.
Most of the patients had epilepsy (at least that was the diagnosis) and had limbs that needed to be massaged to restore the range of motion. As the therapists worked, they would chat with the adults in Gourma (one of the local languages) and Alex and I would sit and observe. It was all very relaxed and somewhat joyful. The patients were often in high spirits despite the sometimes painful stretching and the families were happy to see us. When we were done in one place, we would bid our farewells and head off to a new location which was an adventure in itself because my mobilette kept stalling and I would need to hop off the back and push it so the driver could pop the clutch to start it.
All told we visited 5 different patients before returning home. Throughout the year, these therapists travel thousands of miles across bumpy dusty paths and still would not be able to visit all of their clients as often as they would like.
Today Justin and Mike went out and tomorrow two more people will rotate in. Until then, Bonne nuit!
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