[misc.headlines.unitex] <2/2> A day in the life of Catherine Bana

unitex@rubbs.fidonet.org (unitex) (09/12/89)

     a good 16 hours on the trot every day of the week.

     Twice a week, trips to market break the monotony of Catherine
     Bana's life. Like other women in her village, she goes to market
     to barter or sell the jugs and pots she somehow finds time to
     make so as to be able to afford one or two little luxuries, pay
     the healer or by some medicine.  Sometimes she goes all the way
     to Ouagadougou, 15 kilometres away.  About twice a year she buys
     cheap second-hand clothes for the family. On market day the
     menfolk get a chance to meet for protracted discussions well
     lubricated by dolo.  "There's no better way of forgetting one's
     problems and whiling the time away," says chief Tapsoba.  True,
     but some husbands, when they run out of drink money, make
     serious inroads into their wives' meagre savings.  "If we
     refuse, they beat us", says Catherine with an embarrassed
     smile.

     When all goes well, market day is a pretext for people to enjoy
     themselves and have a bit of a feast.  This can involve jazzing
     up the universal diet of to with pieces of meat and chicken.
     Such a luxury is rare in the Bana family: "My husband doesn't
     work," says Catherine.  "I don't ask for that sort of thing so
     as not to embarrass him."

     From time to time -- "when he's in a good mood" -- her husband
     kills one of the chickens she has reared.  If they find they are
     short of money (because of an illness in the family, or some
     unexpected purchase), they sell one of the sheep or goats which
     the children look after.

     Catherine's husband needed to sell only two animals to be able to
     buy a luxury contraption that distinguishes him from other
     villagers: a second-hand bicycle.  Otherwise heads of families
     live from day to day without really knowing how much they earn.
     They just leave it to God -- or rather to their womenfolk.

     Poverty is rife in Balkoui.  Yet the village is gradually
     emerging from centuries of underdevelopment, which 60 years of
     colonisation (by the French) and 30 years of independence
     (interspersed by a succession of military coups) changed in
     almost no way despite its being so close to the capital.

     In the last few years, the government has at last begun to do
     something about modernising Balkoui.  The villagers had almost
     given up hope when they suddenly got, in quick succession, water
     (five pumps and a small dam), a school with three teachers, a
     maternity clinic and even a grain-milling machine donated by the
     United Nations Children's Fund (UNICEF).

     Vaccination "commandos" were sent in, and 50 or so women,
     including Catherine Bana, managed to find time to attend reading
     and writing lessons.  Lastly, the only manifestation of the
     central government's presence in the area, a compulsory
     flat-rate tax, has been abolished.

     True, the dam often dries up.  Only a minority of children go to
     school, even though there are 100 pupils to each class.  The
     maternity clinic, which was built ten years ago, got a
     professional midwife only last year and is still waiting for
     running water.

     But when one listens to chief Tapsoba and old Ma Tenga, a
     matronly woman with tattooed cheeks, talking about how things
     used to be, and when one looks at national and international
     socio-economic indicators, it is easy to gauge the extent of the
     changes that have been made and to see that Balkoui does not
     come absolutely bottom on the poverty scale.

     Not so long ago, the village was regularly ravaged by fatal
     outbreaks of measles and whooping cough.  Women had to walk
     kilometres to have their babies, to draw water ("Over there,
     towards the hills"), to get vaccinated or be treated by a
     doctor.  Only the chief knew how to read and owned a radio set.
     That recent past, which is fast becoming no more than a memory
     in Balkoui, is still quite common in Burkina-Faso: in the
     neighbouring village of Kossovo, "there's almost nothing -- no
     school, no maternity clinic, just two water pumps," says Ma
     Tenga.  Elsewhere the situation is often even worse.

     In Burkina-Faso, the international standards of what passes for
     development are still virtually impossible to achieve in almost
     all areas:  infant mortality and the number of mothers who die
     in childbirth are among the highest in the world; half the
     population has no access at all to health care; a third of all
     children suffer from malnutrition; only a third go to primary
     school; the adult literacy rate is under 20 per cent; average
     life expectancy is about 40 years; per capita income is one of
     the lowest in the world.

     The fact that some people are even worse off than Catherine Bana
     does not really make life any easier for her.  But after giving
     birth to six children, at least she is still alive, as are her
     children.  Three of them are already going to school, and she
     herself has learned to read.  The maternity clinic is round the
     corner, and there water more or less on her doorstep.

     So if, on top of that, the rains are good, if foreign generosity
     does not let up (20 per cent of Burkina-Faso's budget comes from
     development aid), and if the latest military government succeeds
     in turning its revolutionary promises into genuine progress for
     people like Catherine Bana and her fellow villages, there are
     surely grounds for hope.

 * Origin: UNITEX --> Toward a United Species (1:107/501)

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