The Appaloosa

Last Sunday evening, we finally found a restaurant for which we’ve been looking for some time now. Nobody we’ve talked to here has ever heard of it before, so we didn’t get much in the way of help. Unfortunately, it turns out that we were looking in slightly the wrong area :/

Ever since we first saw the advertisement for the Appaloosa restaurant in a little book featuring restaurants, hotels, and attractions in Burkina that I bought from a downtown street vendor, we’ve wanted to go there. In the pictures it looked classy and it offered Tex-Mex dishes. The latter was a pretty strong drawing point for us because we’re always looking for food with different flavours here.

We were not disappointed. We went early on a Sunday evening and were the only customers in the place. The large dining area was extensively decorated to look like a western-style restaurant in the States. In fact, except for the fact that the waiter spoke French, we could have sworn we WERE in a restaurant somewhere in the south- or mid-western United States! Drawings of Indian chiefs decorated several walls. Western rifles and Mexican sombreros hung beside our table. Lights hung on wagon wheels suspended from the ceiling. License plates from a number of US states were plastered haphazardly on the walls. And virtually all the lights in the place were western-style kerosene lamps with light bulbs in them.

Of course, all that ambiance comes at a price. At 1,500 FCFA, the soft drinks (from a very extensive drink list) are by far the most expensive ones we’ve ever had here in Burkina. And the average plate costs 5,000 – 6,000 FCFA. The menu features American, Tex-Mex, and Lebanese dishes, as well as the usual Ouaga ones. There are also 20 different kinds of pizza. And as far as we know, it’s the only restaurant in Ouaga that serves a Greek salad.

To be honest, it was hard to choose our order! We finally decided to split a Greek salad and a plate of enchiladas. The Greek salad, with big chunks of real feta cheese, was to die for! The enchiladas weren’t as good as the ones Kathy makes herself at home, but they were good enough. It’s a good thing we didn’t order too much in the way of main dishes because the dishes of peanuts and popcorn, and the basket of fresh rolls with real butter were replenished as fast as we could eat them :)

In the end, we were reluctant to leave the place. For an hour or so, we’d stepped into a completely different world that in many ways reminded us of home. Then it was back out the door to reality. But that’s okay. It’s the contrast that makes us appreciate things like this, things that we would normally take pretty much for granted back home. In fact, if they ever got one here in Ouaga, going to McDonalds would be a special event!

Missed It

I missed an opportunity the other day. But by the time I recognized it, the moment had passed and I’ve been regretting it ever since.

We were on a trip to visit several languages projects in the south-western part of Burkina and had stopped for a quick breakfast at a well-known rest stop in Boromo on our way back to Ouaga. We sat on metal chairs at a metal table under an open-sided hangar with a thatched roof to keep off the sun. As we were waiting for our cafe au lait and baguette with jam, I spotted a ten or eleven year old girl at the entrance gate. She was watching us, either because we were so strange-looking or more likely because she was wondering if we’d be interested in buying some of the sesame snacks she carried in a basket on top of head.

Then the coffee came and I forgot all about her until I heard a voice at my elbow. “Monsieur?” I turned to look. It was the little girl. In her hand, she held a bunch of coins to show me. They turned out to be euro coins of 5, 10, and 20 cents. She wanted to know if I would exchange them for her.

I often get young men trying to do the same thing whenever I go to the airport here in Ouaga to pick up or deliver passengers coming to our Centre. Since I have no immediate use for these coins, and don’t know the correct exchange rate anyway, I always brush them off with a repeated “No thanks.” By now it was such a habit with me that I did the same thing with the little girl.

She went around to the other people sitting at the table and got the same reaction. So she left.

Afterwards, as we were getting ready to get back into our vehicle, she appeared again in an attempt to sell me the coins. Once again I reacted out of habit and refused. But I did buy a little package of sesame snacks to at least encourage her in a small way.

It was as we were driving away that I realized what an opportunity I had blown. What I should have done was been a little kinder to a little kid trying to make a few pennies instead of brushing her off as a nuisance I didn’t want to be bothered with. Unlike many such vendors, especially older ones, she wasn’t irritating or annoying or trying to rip me off by having me pay some exorbitant amount for a trinket. I should have at least asked her name, and paid the few hundred francs it would have cost me to exchange her small handful of euro coins. They were certainly of more use to me than they ever would be to her! I could always use them the next time we’re passing through the Paris airport and need to buy a bag of potato chips or a drink for $5 :)

Someone has said that we learn best from our mistakes. I sure hope that I’ll recognize the next opportunity when it comes along!

Trouble In The Hood

Our night guard showed up at the Centre one day last week to see me at work. This was unusual. So was his request: he wanted the rest of the week off! Wow, that’s pretty short notice! But when I heard the reason, I understood why.

It seems that some people suspected of kidnapping children had been spotted in his neighbourhood. His family was scared and did not want to be alone at night when such kidnappings could more easily occur.

A bit of research revealed that trafficking in children is big business in this part of the world. In one town near the Ghanaian border, I remember seeing billboards warning the citizens of Burkina of this evil. Just a few days ago, a vehicle carrying a number of young, teenage boys was stopped near the Burkina – Ivory Coast border. The policeman who stopped the vehicle was suspicious and it’s a good thing he was! The boys were destined as cheap labour on coco plantations in Ivory Coast. They had apparently been lured away from their homes and villages by promises of high-paying work in this neighbouring country. But once they arrived there, they would be kept in slavery conditions and forced to work long days for little more than a daily meal.

Sometimes babies and younger children are kidnapped and sold to people and agencies in neighbouring countries and even Europe who are looking to supply the demand for adoption. Scary, eh? I gave our guard the rest of the week off and scrambled to look for a replacement for the next few nights.

Trying to Make Ends Meet

An employee (let’s call him Elie) came into my office the other day to outline a problem he was facing. As in most cases, it concerned money. It seems that some time back, Elie’s older brother from the village called him to say that he was sending Elie his son. He wanted Elie (as the boy’s uncle) to look after him and put him in school in Ouaga. This is a fairly common request from people in the villages to their relatives in the big city, not only because educational opportunities in the villages are limited, but because relatives living in the city are assumed to be better off than their village brethren.

Unfortunately, this is rarely the case. The cost of living in the city is considerably higher than in the village, and most people, like our employee, are barely scraping by. However, a request like this from a parent or older brother cannot be refused. So the boy came to Ouaga to live with Elie and his family, and Elie managed to scrape up enough money to get the boy started in school here. But now another payment was due, 40,000 francs to be exact (about $80), which is easily more than half a month’s net wage for him.

Elie was now between a rock and a hard place. He did not have the money. But if he did not manage to keep the boy in school, his older brother and family back in the village would accuse him of discrimination, of not having made an effort to keep his nephew in school because he wasn’t Elie’s own son. What in the world was he going to do?

So he asked his supervisor if he could have the upcoming month of February off for his annual paid vacation time. That way, he could collect his salary at the beginning of the month (rather than having to wait for it at the end of the month) and use that money to pay his nephew’s next instalment of school fees. But his supervisor said no. February was scheduled to be an extremely busy month for meetings, workshops, and conferences on our Centre, and Elie was needed to help keep things functioning properly. He would have to take another, less busy month as his holiday time.

So Elie came to my office to explain his situation, and to ask me to overrule his supervisor’s decision. However, his supervisor was right. February was and extremely busy month and we could not arrange the operation of our entire Centre just to help resolve one employee’s financial problem. Instead, with the help of my Burkinabè colleague in the Services department, I began to explore other possibilities for resolving the issue.

In the end, we suggested that he try talking with the school administration to see if they would accept payment for this next instalment in the form of three smaller instalments. We gave him a small advance on his February salary for the first of these. In the middle of February, he could take another small advance. And at the end of February, he could make the final payment from what was left of his salary.

So what would he have left to live on for the month of March? His salary for that month. It’ll be his month off.

An Evening at a Neighbourhood Diner

Darkness had just fallen when the call came from the guard at the SIL Centre gate that my friend, Aristide, was at the gate. He’d called me earlier in the day to say that he had a friend that was planning on going to Canada. Could he bring him by to talk to me? No problem.

Shutting down my computer and locking the office, I headed out to meet them. We decided that it would be best to go somewhere for something to drink and a bite to eat while we talked. Since there was a place just a short distance from our centre (which I’d been wanting to try for some time now anyway), we walked there and grabbed one of the many tables that had been set up along the side of the road. A waitress came by and took our drink orders. Vehicles and motos driving past kicked up clouds of dust and exhaust, but fortunately the breeze was blowing it mostly away from us.

Hundreds of such places spring up like mushrooms every evening all over Ouagadougou. During the day, most of them are empty space. But as darkness falls, cheap plastic or metal tables and chairs are set up to welcome clients getting off work or going out for the evening and looking for a place to socialize with friends and acquaintances. Most just serve drinks. But some have fast food vendors associated with them.

In our case, a young man was grilling small 100 franc (about 20 cents) shish kebabs nearby. These turned out to be beef and onion ones, for which I was very thankful. Many such grillers often include what I would consider less savoury animal parts in their kebabs. My Burkinabè friends seem to like them well enough, but I’ve just never gotten used to chewing on bits of intestine, stomach, and who knows what else!

We ordered 2,000 francs worth, and after a short while a pile of kebabs arrived on a platter, along with a couple of dabs of mayonnaise and a couple of piles of a spicy & salty powder in which to dip the meat to give it a bit of a bite. The light from the multicoloured bulbs used to decorate the area did not illuminate much where we sat, so I had to pull out my cell phone and use the flashlight on it to see what I was eating and where to dip it. I have to admit that the kebabs were good, good enough for a return visit sometime.

In the meantime, I was quizzed about how to go about applying for a visa to go to Canada. I had to admit that apart from advising my friend’s friend to go and make some inquiries at the Canadian embassy, I had no idea of what the correct procedure was. After all, this was not something I was ever required to do! I also emphasized that I didn’t know anyone at the embassy personally. I’ve sometimes had people ask me to help them get a visa by intervening with someone at the embassy. This is not something I want to get involved in!

In the end, I don’t think I was much help. But it was a great opportunity to spend time with a friend and unwind after a long week at the office. And much to my surprise, I didn’t even have to pay for the drinks and kebabs!

Another Traffic Ticket

Kathy was not a happy camper when she called me on the phone: “Where are the papers for the truck?!!!”

“They should be in the glove compartment like they always are,” I replied. “Why?”

“Because I’m stopped here on the Route Circulaire near the Pô Road interchange at a police checkpoint and I can’t find the vehicle ownership, the technical safety certificate, and the proof of insurance papers! They’re going to give me a ticket for failing to produce those documents!”

My mind racing, I tried to think of what could have become of those papers. Then I remembered that I had recently put in new proof of insurance papers and taken the old ones out to put in the garbage. Maybe I’d taken all those documents out by mistake (I usually keep them all together inside the insurance papers) and burned them! I grabbed a group vehicle and drove back to our home as quickly as I could. But a quick check there revealed nothing.

Frantically, I went over the events of the past couple of days in my mind, searching for some occasion when I or someone else may have taken out those papers. Then I remembered that a bunch of us had gone on a trip to Pô on Monday. And one of our party had taken the truck to taken another person to the Ghanaian border. I quickly got on my cell phone and called the other driver.

“Did you run into a police stop on the road on Monday?” I asked her. “Did you at any time take the vehicle papers out of the glove compartment?”

“Why I believe I did!” she answered. I had to take the papers out to show to the border guards and must have forgotten to put them back. I bet they’re in my bag. Let me check...”

Sure enough, that’s where they were! I raced back to the Centre, grabbed the documents from her, and sped down the Route Circulaire to find Kathy.

Once there, a policeman waved me over and I showed him the papers, explaining what had happened. “I’m sorry,” he said, but you’ll have to pay a fine for failing to produce the documents when we stopped the truck.”

“How much is that?” I asked. “25,000 francs (about $50)” he answered. “You can pay it here and I’ll give you a receipt for it.” He showed me the receipt book. I guess he’d learned that expatriates always want receipts for such things to ensure that the money did not just get slipped into someone’s pocket without any record of payment. This, however, was the highest price for a traffic fine that I’ve ever run across here, so I was somewhat suspicious. But how could I put off paying it on the spot? Then I remembered how little money I had in my belt pack. It was worth a try... So I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have that much money on me. You’ll have to give me the ticket and I’ll pay it later.” I knew our Services Department agent could negotiate a much more reasonable fine at the police station itself.

“How much do you have?” asked the policeman. Not thinking about where he was going with this, I said, “About 15,000 francs.” “Okay,” he said, “give me that, then.” Now I was beginning to get really suspicious...

Stalling for time, I walked over to where Kathy was sitting in the truck and recounted what had happened. She suggested that I point out to the policeman that this was not our personal vehicle. It was registered in the name of SIL, the organization we work for in Burkina. So I walked back across the road to the policeman.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t pay anything here,” I began. “This vehicle belongs to the organization I work for and they have to pay the bill. If I pay it now, they will not reimburse me. That’s company policy.”

The policeman was not happy. “Well,” he said, “it’ll cost you 25,000 francs if you go to pay this downtown. We can cut that fine in half right here.” Oh, really, I thought? You just told me to give you 15,000 francs, and now you’re telling me it’s only 12,500 francs? There’s something funny going on here for sure!

“Well, that’s their problem,” I replied. “Please give me the ticket.” It was with some reluctance that he wrote out the ticket and gave it to me.

Back at the Centre, I gave it to our Services Department agent. The following day, he went downtown and after a lengthy process of negotiation was able to bring the price of the fine down to a more reasonable level. It turned out that the default price was indeed 25,000 francs as the policeman had said. But with persistence and the help of a relative who was also a policeman, our agent negotiated a final payment of only 6,000 francs, something I could never have achieved. Thank God for our national colleagues who know how things work here and are able to help us out like this!

New Group Vehicle

When Kathy & I were driving around in town last weekend, I saw a cool vehicle parked in front of one of the stores. So I took a picture of it.

When I got back into the office again, a bright idea for a practical joke crossed my mind! Our organization was shopping around for a new group vehicle to replace our current, aging Mistubishi Pajero. We were looking for another one, preferably a pickup truck, that was suitable for rental by our members for personal use, and for use by our Centre Services department for hauling equipment and supplies. We had looked at Toyotas, Nissans, Mistubishis, and Fords, but no selection or decision had yet been made. So I sent the following message to all our personnel:

“Hello everyone!  As you know, we have been looking to replace our Pajero group vehicle with another vehicle. In addition to being able to transport passengers, our new vehicle also needs to be capable of carrying cargo so that we can transport furniture, fridges, and other materials as needed for the Centre, as well as get fuel for our generator. Adama and I have made the rounds of the various car dealerships here in Ouaga to look at pickup trucks, but have found them to be incredibly expensive. Therefore we have chosen another option that we believe will not only fulfill our vehicle requirements, but cost significantly less in terms of both the initial purchase price and ongoing maintenance.

I have attached a photo of the model of vehicle we have ordered and that is scheduled to arrive shortly. We hope you will find it both practical and enjoyable for use as our new group vehicle!”

Here’s the photo I sent with the message :)