Trip to Koudougou - Part 2

After about three-quarters of an hour on the Ouaga-Bobo road, heading towards the Koudougou turnoff, Aristide asked me to pull over. We were passing through the village of Kokologho and he wanted to buy some chickens for us to eat for lunch after we got to Hotel Photoluxe. I was surprised! I thought we’d be buying our meals in the hotel restaurant or at one of the several roadside eateries that were sure to be nearby. But when I asked, Aristide informed me that the hotel had a kitchen and he was planning on giving the chickens to the cook to prepare for us. I’d never heard of doing this at a hotel before (even in Burkina), but figured that since his family runs the place, he must have special privileges.

The women stayed by the minibus with the children while we men wandered into the Kokologho market in search of chickens. After a good chunk of time walking and looking, we finally found the poultry part of the market. The guys began joking that they shouldn’t have taken me along with them. Having someone with white skin at their side would surely result in a hefty increase in prices! Haha, this may have indeed turned out to be the case because Aristide didn’t think the chickens that were being offered for sale were worth the price being asked for them! He determined to look elsewhere along our route. But before leaving the area, we noticed piles of guinea fowl eggs for sale on the ground. Aristide asked me if we liked eggs. When I said yes, he bought two dozen or so to give to the hotel cook for our breakfast on Sunday morning.

As we started back to the minibus, a guy rode by on a bicycle with several larger roosters hanging by their legs from the handlebars. “Now those look like the kind of chickens I want,” exclaimed Aristide. “At least they have some meat on them!” Stopping the man, he negotiated a favourable price and purchased two roosters, after which we walked the rest of the way back to the minibus.

Throwing them in the back of the bus with the baggage, we all then climbed back into the vehicle and continued on our way to Koudougou. I drove a little faster than before. I wanted to get to Koudougou before those chickens decided it was time for a bathroom break!

Trip to Koudougou - Part 1

This weekend, we did something very different. We went on a weekend outing with Burkinabè friends. My friend, Aristide, invited us to take a trip up to Koudougou, a town about two hours drive west of Ouaga. His family owned a hotel there that we could stay at, Hotel Photoluxe. At first, it sounded like it would be just Aristide and his wife, and Kathy and I going. But things like this tend to be social affairs, so I soon discovered that a few other friends of Aristide would also be coming along for the ride, literally, since I would be providing the transportation. Neither Aristide nor his friends have anything but motos.

We can only fit a total of 5 people in our truck (Kathy & I included), so to be able to take the two additional couples that he indicated were coming along, I was obliged to rent one of our SIL Centre vehicles, a Toyota minibus. It can seat up to 15 people. Kathy & I would end up paying the mileage on the thing, but I figured the adventure was worth it. And besides, the thing is a hoot to drive :)

Aristide wanted us to leave the city early enough to avoid some of the traffic and get to Koudougou in decent time to do some other activities if we so desired. So Kathy & I got up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 on a Saturday morning! This was supposed to give us sufficient time to shower, have a coffee, get to the Centre to pick up the minibus, and head over to Aristide’s place at the west end of the city by 7 a.m. It didn’t quite work out that way.

For a combination of reasons, we didn’t end up leaving the SIL Centre until 7 o’clock. Then we ran into all that construction work on the main road at the west end of the city, which forced us to take a number of detour routes. And on top of it all, I got stuck behind a heavily loaded, slow-moving tractor trailer that was negotiating the same detours as we were. It was nearly 7:45 by the time I got to Aristide’s place. And even then, I drove right past it!

We were coming up to a ninety degree turn in the detour road when I mentioned to Kathy that this looked very familiar. I was sure I had been to this point once before when Aristide, his wife, and I went to grab a bite to eat at a nearby outdoor restaurant after he’d finishing videotaping a wedding. But we had gone past his place to get there. Right at that moment, my cell phone began ringing. It was Aristide.

“Hey,” he said, “you just drove right past our place!”

“I just realized that,” I replied sheepishly. “I’m turning around. We’ll be right there.”

Five minutes later, we pulled up in front of his place. Waiting for us, along with all their baggage, were Aristide, his wife, his two twin girls and infant son, another couple and their infant son, and a single guy. Ha! This was going to be an interesting weekend alright! We were expecting a couples’ event and it had turned into a family event! But that was okay. Having small children along would provide certain challenges, but on the other hand, they would also provide a welcome distraction when we ran out of conversation. After all, Kathy & I did not know the other folks at all!

Stay tuned for the next instalment...

A Day Off

A cool and rainy day in Ouagadougou. Kathy & I decided earlier this week that we would take today off. We’ve been going flat out for months and have a busy weekend coming up, so we told the day guard to not come on Friday. We wanted the place all to ourselves for a change.

The first thing we did was sleep in. This wasn’t hard to do. Neither one of us seem to be morning people anymore. When we finally woke up, it was to cloudy skies and cooler temperatures. Yes! Things were looking good already! We threw open the windows to take advantage of the natural air conditioning while we could. Next on the list: a good cup of coffee.

We were sitting in our IKEA Poäng chairs in the living room, drinking a heavenly blend of Starbucks Sumatra and President’s Choice French Vanilla, and watching the world go by outside out window, when the wind came up. This was a sure sign of rain to come, but first we had to run around and close all the windows to prevent the dust and dirt from coming into the house. Once the rain started, however, we could throw most of them open again.

In the end, it rained most of the day. Harder at first, and then slow & steady for the rest of the time. Kind of like a spring or fall day back home in Canada. The kind where you just want to curl up in a comfy chair, have a hot drink close at hand, and read a good book or magazine. Which is exactly what we did :)

But then life caught up with us again: there was a toaster to fix, laundry to do, and dishes to wash... Is it siesta time yet?

Jellyfish

Last night, following a long day of meetings and other activities, Kathy & I decided to go out to see a movie. The French Cultural Centre in downtown Ouaga has a decent air-conditioned cinema where they show a variety of films from time to time. No blockbusters. Mostly foreign films, the kind you have to pay extra for in the foreign film section of Blockbuster or other video rental places back home. Here, however, for a couple of bucks, we can sit in plush theatre chairs in air-conditioned comfort and watch some interesting movies on a big screen. Sure beats the little TV screen we watch videos on at home!

What we neglected to take into account was the fact that last night was also the occasion of a World Cup soccer match. My first clue was the sound of people shouting in my neighbourhood when I arrived home after work. “Soccer match?” I asked our night guard. “Yup,” he replied. And went back to glue his ear to his radio.

The second clue was the crowds of people we saw gathered around the TV set of every little outdoor café and eatery along the road as we headed off. When we finally got to the cinema, there was not another soul in sight apart from the parking guard. I wondered if I’d made a mistake in the date. But the lobby doors were open and there was a lady sitting in the ticket seller’s booth.

Purchasing two tickets, we headed for the theatre entrance. “Hang on,” said the lady. “It’s not open yet.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing quickly at my watch. “It’s show-time.”

“Yes, but the soccer match isn’t over yet,” replied the lady, turning back to read her newspaper.

Great, I thought. I should have known better. Soccer is a national obsession here in Burkina. What I hadn’t fully realized is how much of a priority it took over everything else. I couldn’t help but wondering if they would even delay flights at the airport so air traffic controllers, baggage handlers, police, and immigration and customs officers could finish watching the game!  (“Ground control to Air France 359, ground control to Air France 359, please be advised that... GO, GO, GO! KICK IT! KICK THE BALL!!! Um, please be advised that we’re still experiencing technical difficulties here... Please keep circling...)

We took seats outside and waited. Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long. I was just beginning to consider asking for our money back and heading home to watch an episode of “24” instead when someone arrived to open the door. Within seconds, few more movie-goers showed up from the nearby restaurant to purchase tickets for the show.

In the end, there were only about a dozen of us in the cinema. The movie? An Israeli film called “Jellyfish”. It’s a drama about several inhabitants of a beachside community in Israel trying to deal with the differences between expectation and reality in their lives. Most of the time, they are like jellyfish, pushed and pulled along by the current, by circumstances beyond their control. Hey, wait a minute... this sounds kind of familiar...

La Fourchette Parisienne

Earlier this week, we decided to try a restaurant we’d never been to before. It’s located in a part of town that was and still is populated by the families of diplomats and embassy officials, so we were afraid it would be a bit expensive. The fact that it claimed to serve French cuisine also added fuel to this feeling. However, it was Canada Day, so we thought if there ever was a day to live a little, this was it.

La Fourchette Parisienne, offering “la gastronomie française”, is a converted villa with both indoor and outdoor dining. We chose indoor because it was the rainy season and we wanted to avoid the humidity and mosquitoes that are part of the outdoor dining experience at this time of the year. We succeeded in terms of the humidity because the dining room has air-conditioning and we sat right in its airstream. But we didn’t do so well with the mosquitoes because the staff left the doors wide open.

The large dining room walls are painted with scenes from Paris, including the Eiffel Tower, the glass pyramid at the Louvre, la Défense, and more. These are not professionally done, but are good enough to definitely contribute to the ambience of the place. Avoid, however, sitting where you have to look at their attempt at the Mona Lisa. She looks more like a long-faced, mournful hound dog than a Renaissance woman with a mysterious smile!

The menu was significantly more limited than most restaurants, and even more so when the waitress told us that several of the dishes on the menu were unavailable that evening. We chose to split a salad and then each ordered a filet au poivre vert. This last is a pretty common dish in Ouaga, but we figured that this being a French restaurant, they might offer something that was a little higher quality. Well, the salad was nothing special, and our filets were a thick little piece of meat that was pretty mushy in the centre despite our request that it be well cooked.

Our verdict? Lots of promise, but little deliverance on the goods. We’ll give them to the end of the year before they’re out of business.

Why the Monkey Lives in the Trees

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a book of traditional Burkinabè fables, the kind parents in the villages tell their children to teach them lessons that will prove useful in life. The first one is a good one that I thought I’d share with you. It’s entitled “Why The Monkey Lives In The Trees”. Here it is:

One day, a mother crocodile fell ill and it was evident that her days were numbered. A traditional healer said that he could heal her, but required the heart of a monkey to do it. “How in the world am I going to get the heart of a monkey?” thought the mother crocodile’s son. He decided to at least go to the edge of the river to see what he could do. Once there, he spotted a monkey in a tree.

“What are you doing up in that tree?” he asked the monkey.

“Looking for karité fruit,” replied the monkey.

“I know where you can find lots of them,” said the crocodile. “Big ones too! If you like, I can take you there.”

The monkey quickly descended the tree, climbed on the crocodile’s back, and off they went. However, once in the middle of the river, the crocodile began to cry.

“Why are you crying?” asked the monkey.

“My mother is very sick and I need the heart of a monkey to help her get better,” explained the crocodile.

The monkey laughed out loud and exclaimed, “Hey, I can help you! I can give you mine! However, I left it back there in that tree because we monkeys never go anywhere with our hearts for fear of losing them. Just take me back to the shore and I’ll go and get it for you.”

Once back on shore, the monkey quickly climbed back up into the tree and stayed there. Since then, monkeys always live in trees for fear that a crocodile will catch them and take away their heart. End of story.

I don’t know about you, but I thought that was a pretty cool story! I loved the monkey’s reaction to the difficult situation he found himself in. He did the completely unexpected: He laughed! And then proceeded to dupe the crocodile like the crocodile had duped him with the result that he was able to get himself out of a seemingly impossible situation and save his life. There’s a life lesson in that alright :) Now, if only I could think that fast!

My Friend, Desiré

I just spent a pleasant hour or so with my friend, Desiré. I first got to know him in the days before digital cameras. He was one of the many guys downtown selling rolls of film, and whenever I needed another roll or two for my camera, he’s the person I bought from. Unlike many of the street vendors who were either downright annoying or constantly looking to take advantage of you (or both!), Desiré turned out to be a decent gu,y and our relationship as buyer and seller eventually became one of friends.

He’s helped me out numerous times when I’ve needed information or haven’t been able to find some item that I needed. He knows the downtown and its denizens on a level that I never could. Usually we’d get together whenever I had to run an errand or two in his part of the world. Lately, however, my current administrative responsibilities have not allowed me to get away so easily. It’s been four months or more since I last saw him. So today, he borrowed someone’s moto and came to my place instead.

We sat on my veranda, shelling and crunching on peanuts, and catching up on each other’s lives. It had rained in the morning, so the day was refreshingly nice and cool for a change. Unfortunately, the rain also brings out the mosquitoes and, despite my best efforts, some of the little beggars got me on my bare arms. I know, I know, I should have got up and put on mosquito repellent, but I was too lazy :)

Desiré lives with his wife and son in a row of cheap, crowded apartments where everyone shares a common courtyard and water tap. He still makes his living selling rolls of film as he is able (not many people use film anymore), but also takes photographs of people and events on demand. Not a very reliable way to make a living, though. There are weeks when there isn’t much call for his services. I’ve never heard him complain, but I know he runs short sometimes and stuff a bill in his shirt pocket quick and walk away before he has time to stop me.

Quite a difference from the young man that accosted me as I was leaving a graduation ceremony at a local church this morning and on my way to the reception. He asked if he could catch a ride with me. I remember seeing him in the crowd at the ceremony, so agreed. On the way, he told me that he was going through a difficult time and could use a little help. Knowing that many churches here have a ministry to respond to such needs (and not convinced he was telling me the truth), I asked him which church he attended. He indicated the one we were just driving away from. I continued and asked if he’d approached them for help. He said yes, that they’d given him some food a couple of months ago and he was ashamed to ask again. I said I’d think about his request at the reception.

Once there, I found the pastor of the church and asked him to confirm the young man’s story. He didn’t know the young man, but made some phone calls, including one to the person in charge of helping people in need. All yielded negative results.

After the reception, I took the young man back to the church to find the person in charge of helping people in need. He wasn’t there, but a friend of mine was. He didn’t recognize the young man. Neither did the pastor and his wife when they showed up a little while later. Frankly, this was beginning to look like a scam to me.

I finally decided to give the fellow a coin that would buy him supper and told him come to church the next morning (Sunday) and ask for help there. If he’s not genuine, he either won’t come, or the church folks will figure him out. When it comes to scam artists, us expats are generally a pretty easy target. But it’s hard to fool the locals :)