Uncle B

I’ve written about Binot Troure, the guardian at the CSCOM before. He’s a very funny man, and I see him as kind of an adopted uncle to me. He is the head mason of our well repair project, and though some days he can be very motivated and do great work, other days he’ll scoff and blow us off. “I’m not doing ANYTHING today!” So tempermental! I can always tease him about it, if we are supposed to go to a certain village and he decides he’d rather not make the effort, I can rip on him because he’s my joking cousin. His response is that I don’t ever really work, I just do a lot of talking (which is true I suppose). Or that I’m too ugly, and he can’t even look at me today, so he can’t work with me. It makes me nervous though. If we want to fix 21 wells by rainy season and it took him 3 weeks to get around to finishing the first one, I am not really sure how this is going to work out.
But I find that if I am persistent enough, and that other people yell at him for me, he comes around. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll work today, I don’t want Aminata to be mad at me.” What time are we going to Koyan tomorrow? “6 am he says. I get up at 5 am every morning to sweep the CSCOM. We can leave at 6.”
So I came at 6, he wasn’t up. 6:30, nope. Finally at 7, I found him sweeping the leaves up under the center mango tree. I picked up a broom to help. “Are we going to Koyan today?” “Yes,” he says. “If Aminata says work, I’ll work.” Not always true, but nice to hear. I think he thinks he does a lot more than he really does. But really, I love the ole guy. And as we were sweeping the leaves my mind went to my father and the days we would rake up the leaves together on Hickory Lane. It was always a big job, but the satisfaction of completing it was so great. Dad, you never knew this, but I admired you so much simply for raking the leaves. Dedication is one of man’s greatest aptitudes, and every so often I get glimpses of this dedication from Binot. But he’s a Troure, so its rare.
“Sweeping the leaves reminds me of when I was a little girl. I used to sweep the leaves with my father.”
“So I have become your father?”
Though he doesn’t much remind me of my father, he has become a father figure to me in the village.
“No, you’re not my father, you don’t work.”
“Your father doesn’t have a guardian to sweep the leaves?”
“No! Why would my father have a guardian?”
“To sweep the leaves and watch the house. Why doesn’t he have a guardian?”
“He’s not a rich guy. He works really hard himself.” At this point, we are biking into the fields. It is a half hour ride to reach Koyan, where we are to take measurements on 3 wells. Normally a half hour, but as Binot’s chain falls off his rusty old bike every few hundred meters, it was quite a journey. I went on to tell him about my parents, how they each worked two jobs their whole lives so that my sister and I could go to college. He seemed a bit taken aback. People’s lives aren’t completely easy going in America. You gotta work. It inspired him I think. And to have this opportunity to work on some village wells and get a few extra bucks from the Peace Corps could really help his family. Work ethic. He has it, buried beneath the constraints his poverty, stirred by his family of four that he feeds with $30 a month. I believe in him, and know he has great talent in masonry to help the village. Work ethic. My father has it, my mother has it. And I begin to realize what an amazing childhood I had as a result. A comfortable neighborhood and home, a college education, and a chance to rake the leaves with my dad.
“Aminata. You were talking the other day about Easter in America.” he says. “It’s about the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Why”
“Let me get this straight. A large rabbit comes, in the middle of the night, and hides chicken eggs? And the kids go looking for the eggs?”
“Yup. And some eggs are plastic and people put candy and little toys inside.”
“And beans.” Those darn Troures.