At the end of 1999, I was posted to Burkina Faso. Bringing along my husband and child, I headed to the strange "dark continent." After passing through Paris, we had a brief stopover in Niamey, the capital of Niger. I almost burst into tears at the sight of their international airport terminal, which looked more like a shack. Before me lay a vast lifeless stretch of yellow, the terrifying Sahara desert that I had read about in geography textbooks when I was a child. Only now it wasn't just a name, but was a real place, right under my feet. How could one not feel a rising sense of panic?!

My destination was a country whose name in Chinese already looks odd just because it takes so many characters to write it out-Burkina Faso. Located in West Africa, with an area about seven times the size of Taiwan and a population around 11 million, it is one of the world's ten poorest nations. It is not only a landlocked country, far removed from the sea air, but has few rivers or lakes. As far as the eye can see there are withered trees and yellow sand, a far cry from any landscape I had ever known before.

The country briefing said that the rainy season falls from June to August every year. At first glance, there was nothing in that to cause apprehension. It was only later that I gradually realized that except for the rainy season, you shouldn't even bother imagining that there could be a drop of rain. And when the rainy season does come, the storms are as intense as the typhoons back in Taiwan. In a good year, the heavy rains fill up all the reservoirs and pools, and then all you can do, no matter how hot it gets, is to hang on until the next rainy season.

Into Africa

A lot of people imagine that diplomats have very glamorous and exciting lives, but that stereotype doesn't fit Africa, and particularly a dry, hot, landlocked country like Burkina Faso. This is especially so for family members accompanying diplomats. They have to first overcome major psychological obstacles, because after all they are not volunteers. The adjustment begins even before the start of the journey: You must get inoculations against diseases like meningitis and yellow fever, and also try to ease your parents' worries. Then after you get there, there are problems of adaptation to the climate and water, inconveniences in daily life, the threat of illness (especially malaria and AIDS), and schooling for children. It's relentlessly stressful.

But since there was no getting around it, the only thing to do was to face up to it, and rethink my plans for that stage of my life. And our spouses as well absolutely could not become a burden to anyone, so they had to start defining their own roles-learning, adapting, solving problems as they came, seeing the "dark continent" as the "new world" instead, turning themselves into "cacti" capable of thriving in the desert, building up abilities and stretching out and showing what they could do.

The southern part of Ouagadougou, the capital of Burkina Faso, is known as the Bois de Boulogne. It is an area of elegant homes where the local elite and foreigners reside, reminiscent of the concession districts in pre-war Shanghai. That is where you will find the ROC embassy and its six staff members.

In the early morning, expensive sedans appear one after another. Usually the first stop is to send the kids to the local American school or French school, after which the adults head off to work, leaving the wife and an empty house behind. Even though this is a large country, there are few places to go. Daytime temperatures can hit over 50°C, so people don't go out if they can help it. Sometimes I wondered how the three young women who accompanied their husbands to Burkina Faso-Ming-mei, Yu-li, and Juo-wen-got through the long, oppressively hot days.

The taste of home

One morning, the three of them arranged to meet to go to a traditional market to buy vegetables to make spring rolls. A distasteful odor, wafting from the meat market near the entrance, washed over them. Everywhere were vultures with their heads bowed, pecking away at spoiled meat. When the birds looked up, their direct stares showed that they have not the slightest fear of humans. A little beyond that were the vegetable sellers. Countless black flies as big as beans buzzed around tomatoes so overripe they had burst their skins. The first time you see such things it's a little startling, but after a while you get used to it, and just shoo away the flies with a wave of the hand.

When you buy from local people in the market, you have to haggle, haggle, haggle! When they see a foreigner coming the price instantly triples. That's why if they ask for 5000 West African francs, you can usually get whatever it is for 2000. But you might still get cheated, because none of the local people will let you in on the real price, that's how much they stick together.

It's not easy to be the wife of a diplomat. One of the basic requirements is that you have to be able to cook. But in Africa it's not always possible to get the right ingredients. If you want to make spring rolls, for instance, you have to make the dough yourself, and this was too much for the three young wives. So, when the ambassador and his wife left on vacation, they asked the ambassador's chef, Adama, to come and help out.

Adama had worked in a Chinese restaurant, and knew his way around a lot of Chinese dishes, like spring rolls, fried rice-noodles, steamed buns, stuffed rolls, and even New Year's sticky rice cake. Ming-mei, Yu-li, and Juo-wen watched with amazement and declarations of admiration as Adama expertly tossed around the dough in his hands and baked exquisite spring roll wrappings. They never expected they would be learning Chinese cooking from a Burkinabe!

The nightmare of malaria

Malaria is the worst nightmare of diplomats stationed in Burkina Faso. If you get it even once, it's a tremendous blow to your physical condition, as many colleagues and members of agricultural and medical aid teams know from first-hand experience. Thus, you worry for days every time you get bitten by a mosquito. Even after leaving Africa you have to be alert because the incubation period for malaria can be as long as two years.

Because malaria is so difficult to prevent, many doctors advise taking medication prophylactically. But others worry that the medication will accumulate in the liver and viscera and also can damage the eyes. So what is to be done? Protect yourself as much as possible and pray for good luck!

I remember how every day at dusk, Yu-li began lighting the mosquito repellent incense on the porch, at the door, in the hall.... This is an essential daily task, all to prevent malaria.

Yu-li, who grew up in Paris, and studied architecture there, returned with her husband to Taiwan after getting married, where she worked continuously as an architect. Ten years flashed by, and she said that she had had enough of corporate culture and office politics. In Burkina Faso, although the days were hot and the life monotonous, watching her 11-year-old son practice his Chinese characters and her four-year-old daughter paint, she accepted the conditions willingly, enjoying this quiet lifestyle to the fullest.

Ming-mei, who majored in French in college and lived in Paris for many years after graduating, was in her element in Burkina Faso, where French is the language of government. You could find her at many international women's activities.

One morning, after the two children were happily sent off to nursery school, she began taking out presents to be delivered to a local orphanage: rice, vegetables, fruit, candy, cookies.... wrapping up individual bags for each child.

The orphanage was located in the suburbs of Ouagadougou. The yellow mud building, of a very simple and basic design, held 20-30 resident children. Ming-mei visited about once a month to deliver basic necessities. Because she went often, she came to know many of the kids by name. Driving home from the orphanage, she told me that she had recently found out that the head of the institution had four wives, and most of the "orphans" were his own children.

Based on the customs of Muslim people, if the story about the orphanage were really true, it wouldn't be all that astonishing. All we could say is that maybe this is what happens when people are really poor. But even after finding out the truth, Ming-mei did not hesitate to show concern and generosity to the children, which really impressed me deeply.

Teacher becomes a student

Juo-wen had been an elementary school music teacher in Taiwan. She and her husband, newly assigned to his post, came to Burkina Faso shortly after being married. Everything happened so quickly, they didn't really have a handle on what was happening, and there she was in a totally strange world. This teacher became an unabashed student after coming here, studying French, cooking, and everything about life.

Although French is the official language of government, most ordinary people communicate in African languages (the most common being Mossi). Literacy is less than 20%, and even among those who speak French there are significant differences from standard French in terms of intonation and word usage, so it is no easy feat to find a French teacher. Fortunately, Juo-wen's landlady turned out to be a retired local French teacher, so that Juo-wen, who has a knack for languages, quickly acquired command over a lot of the language needed day-to-day.

At the supermarket, she always made it a point to write the French names of products and foods; with her independent personality, Juo-wen didn't want to be a burden to her husband.

The cook in Juo-wen's house was named Andre, a Burkinabe and a devout Catholic. Though rather bland and expressionless, Andre was an excellent cook, and had previously served as chef to three other Taiwanese diplomats. His specialty was French cuisine, and he particularly excelled at pastries. Juo-wen once asked Andre to teach her how to make Quiche Lorraine. She brought samples, fresh from the oven, around to our houses, leaving everyone lauding her culinary arts.

Juo-wen became pregnant while living in Ouagadougou, and this "made in Burkina Faso" baby brought a lot of joy into everyone's life. It was a fortunate coincidence, given the limitations of the local health care system, that the local ROC medical aid team had an obstetrician at that time, though this meant that Juo-wen had to travel more than 100 kilometers for check-ups.

First thing in the morning, Juo-wen and her husband would get in their 4-by-4 and head for Goudougou, where the medical aid team was posted. The road was scarred and potholed, and cattle, sheep, chickens, pigs, and dogs criss-crossed all the time, so drivers had to be constantly on the alert, or would end up turning over trying to avoid hitting an animal.

The ROC medical aid team generally consists of three doctors and a nurse. Dr. Wang, the obstetrician, was an overseas Chinese from Hong Kong, and spoke Mandarin with a heavy Cantonese accent. To break the ice, Dr. Wang told the prospective Mom a funny story: The fourth wife of the owner of a nearby farm, hearing that the Taiwan doctors are highly skilled, came to see them about her infertility problem-she had given birth to "only" four children.

Waiting for the rainy season

I remember one day in particular... After nine months of being baked, and seeing roadside mules and lambs reduced to eating grass so dry and hard it could cut your throat, the continuing clear skies have become virtually intolerable. Day after day, all people can think about is when the rainy season will arrive. I am told by some Muslim Burkinabes that if the rain doesn't come by May 15, they will hold a prayer for precipitation.

That afternoon, the sky suddenly turns black and a strong wind comes up, and raindrops the size of coins-seemingly racing to the ground-come crashing down on the corrugated steel roofs of buildings, raising a racket that shakes the very air. It is like an invading army, and I watch as the water fills the embassy compound, then begins to seep into my office, and soon is washing over my feet. (I must have made a comical sight.)

After less than two hours, the rain abruptly ceases, and the air temperature plunges ten degrees. As soon as the rain stops, our hardworking janitor brings his mops into my office and begins to assiduously sop up the water so that I can move around freely again.

Strolling around the embassy compound, I discover new greenery amidst the flowers and grass, so parched and brittle just a short time before. The green and sour mangoes on the trees have been transformed instantaneously, becoming lusciously red and ripe. I wonder if the cacti in the desert are not bursting out with glistening flowers, and find myself hailing this miraculous water from the skies for saving countless living things.

Do you remember the film Out of Africa? Robert Redford played a character who so loved hunting that he only returned home in the rainy season. Meryl Streep was his lover who waited longingly each year for his return. Wasn't it precisely this rain that she was waiting for?

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Ming-mei, Yu-li, and Juo-wen shopping in a traditional market. Foreigners normally have to haggle their way down to the local price.

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With their family members at school and at work, Ming-mei and Juo-wen didn't just hang around doing nothing-they made regular visits to a local orphanage.

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(opposite page) Juo-wen attentively follows the family cook Andrei as he instructs her in French cuisine. How many people ever expect to come to Africa to learn to cook!

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Juo-wen's landlady, one of whose grandparents was French, doubled as her French language teacher.