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The following is another excerpt from the story of our travels to Burkina Faso. Read along as we brave the Metro in Paris, become red with African Dust in Burkina Faso, and climb rickety ladders to reach rooftops. Our intent? To learn more about Earth Roofs in the Sahel and to see for ourselves the life-changing effect of this program. If you’re reading for the first time, you can see the other entries here.

In the morning, the jeep is out in the alley, waiting. Originally, because our backpacks aren’t that big, we just bring them out for the overnight trip. When we see how many people are ready to get into the car we wordlessly return to our rooms and re-emerge with a small grocery sized bag each. Of course I have the camera and computer, too.

Moctar, our translator, and Djeliba sit in the back. Cindy, Jessie, Zalissa and I sit in the middle, and the driver and Séri are in front. It is a bumpy, friendly, raucous ride. Everyone laughs and jokes, and sometimes Djeliba sings. Our skin and our eyelashes and hair slowly turn red, from the dust. Zalissa, beside me, takes out a bit of scarf and deftly wraps it around her head, in seconds making herself look like a queen.

I love feeling like a child, like this. At this moment, we have no idea where we are going. We don’t know when we will get there, what we will eat, when we next have to get gas. We are just along for the ride. And a fun one it is.

*

I said, in my previous post, that we were tourists. And in most aspects of the word, we were. We were touring the villages that had VN method buildings in them. But it slowly began to sink into all of us, how privileged we were, to be introduced to the people of the villages as friends of Séri, the co-founder of AVN. And to be with the Djeliba, a much respected guest, especially in these far out villages where he probably does not travel very often. It was not at all the normal tourist experience. It was the experience of a lifetime.

*

We drive on and on. The trees are covered with the red dust, just like we are. Zalissa is studying her French/English dictionary, which appears to be very old, the pages barely holding together. We leave the paved road and are tossed around like luggage. The trees are very close together and begin to reach in and slap us around a bit. They are not just trees, but thorn trees, with wicked long thorns, so we try to avoid them. It is far too hot to close the windows.

After a very long time, we reach a village. Jessie and Cindy and I look around blankly for a minute-we’ve been driving for so long-until Moctar says simply, “Get out.” It becomes a sort of tradition. “Get out.” We are only following instructions.

Djeliba begins to sing and play on the talking drum and we walk through small houses made of mud bricks to a larger house in the center. The song is a song of arrival, and becomes the announcement at the beginning of each visit. We are here to see Zati, one of the Voûte Nubienne entrepreneurs. As we approach his house, the kids gawk at us and the toddlers cry. We try not to look at them too much.

Chairs are rustled up in the shade, and we all sit. In the AVN program, becoming a mason is one step towards financial abundance for the people of Burkina Faso. Another is the possibility of becoming an entrepreneur in their own right–a builder contracting the homes to be built and hiring the masons to do so. Zati is one of these.

When Jessie asks him about the benefits of working with the Earth Roofs in the Sahel program, he says, simply, “My house is a house of poverty. By being an entrepreneur for AVN, I have been able to alleviate our poverty and provide for my children.”

Zati’s village, Tcheriba, is not close to any city center. The opportunity he has here, to actually build up a business and expand it, is not to be understated. It’s like he said, his house, his lineage, is one of poverty, and by building beautiful, strong homes for people who need them, he is putting an end to his poverty and that of the masons he hires. It is threefold. The builder, the masons, and the families who no longer need to live in deplorable conditions, and can enjoy their new earth home.

Zati invites us in, to see his home. We walk through, and I shoot a couple of photos of a pencil drawing of Zati, which is hanging on the wall. He sees me taking photographs of it and asks me to take a photo of the drawing of his late father. It is one of his treasured possessions, done by a traveling artist years ago, and he is worried about its safety. I will send him the photograph, so the drawing can be doubly safe.

Before we leave, Zati also asks us to take a photo of his blind, elderly mother. She is gently led out of the room that she is in, and as she stands, weak and wavering a little, she blesses us, our days and our travels. The blessing goes on for a long time, and the children sit and listen, Zati stands with love emanating from him, and Djeliba joins her occasionally, agreeing or emphasizing her words. We are honored in Zati’s house, no longer a house of poverty.