“You have
family in West Africa.” This is what was said to me the evening I got on a bus
leaving Lomé, Togo en route to Ouagadougou. I had spent a glorious nine
days enjoying all of the sights, smells, and tastes of life in Lomé, along
with it’s neighboring cities in the south and into the middle of Togo. It was a
beautiful, lush place made even better by the beautiful apartment that was
graciously lent to Clayton and I for our visit… but I’ll get to this in a bit.
First, I need to describe the first portion of Clayton’s visit here: my
staycation, if you will.
Clayton arrived on a
Monday afternoon. It was a fairly hot, balmy day as is normal right now when
the rain is frequent. After an awkward hug (I am deprived of all human contact
and hugging is a big no-no here), we figured out where we were going to stay
those first couple days. We settled on a fairly nice auberge located about ten minutes by bike from the Peace Corps
transit house. For him it was threadbare. For me, I had a fan and an actual
bed, so I was pumped. We didn’t really do too much that first night. The jetlag
got to him a bit, and we knew the next night was going to be a long one, so we
turned in early after I exposed him to riz
sauce yassa (a Senegalese sauce) and a couple cold Brakinas. The next day
was the swear-in of the new group of volunteers. It was pretty great timing for
him to be here, since the night of swear-in is always pretty crazy. We went to
the Grand Marché of Ouaga and bought some cool pagnes, including a full roll so Clayton could get a full outfit
(hat included) tailored for him before leaving the country. Amazingly, he was
able to get a complet made in just
three days, which is basically unheard of. It is amazing the things you can get
done if you throw in an extra two dollars. Then we bought a bottle of Tequila…
debatable decision.
We had a couple beers
and ordered pizza while we waited for the new kids to show up at the transit
house and start the evening. I put on real clothing (Clayton brought me a pair
of jeans from Americaland) for the first time in almost a year. It was
fantastic. When they all showed up, we played some drinking games and what not
and I enjoyed getting to meet some of the new volunteers. It is really bizarre
to think of myself as one of the fairly volunteers that has been here for a
while. I can remember getting off the plane in Ouagadougou that very first day
and how strange the first few weeks were. I fast forward to today and how
things have stayed seemingly the same for me, but I’ve been here for 11 months.
I remember asking the volunteers that were in my same shoes questions about
their service and thinking they had all the answers and knew everything there
is to know. The truth is, at a year in country, you have adjusted to living
here and that makes it a little easier, but really, I’m not that much more at
home than I was in January, when I had just gotten to site. I can deal with
transport for however long (as you’ll read later) and can figure out how to get
basically anything here, but I’m just as clueless as to what it is that I am
supposed to be doing. Regardless, comfort makes a huge difference and once you
get over not living with the amazing amenities we have the states, it really
isn’t that bad. But I digress. Unfortunately, Burkina Faso runs on the French
system. This means the country shuts down in August. While the farmers spend
all of their time in the fields weeding and tending to crops, the government
employees all go to Ouaga, and the ex-pats who opened restaurants in Ouaga all
go on vacation. This means the Peace Corps hangouts were mostly closed. My
three favorite places in Ouagadougou (and basically the only ones I frequent)
were all closed.
Instead, we all went to Tip-Top, the
same bar I went to the second night I was in this country. I have forged quite
a few memories there, and this was no exception. Peace Corps is a community
like you could never really imagine without having experienced it. The
difficulties that we all face forge such tight bonds between volunteers that
these people, in rather rapid fashion, become like family to you. The judgments
we experience in the states are all but forgotten, and nowhere is this more
blatant than on the dance floor. In America, you’d either have to drag me or
get me to drink a copious amount of alcohol to convince me that going to a club
is a good idea. Here, while I still usually imbibe a bit before going, dancing
is such a good time, all the time. The incredible thing is that most of the time
it is us standing in a circle and more or less dancing alone, rather than
grinding on each other at all times. Don’t get me wrong, that happens, and
quite frequently, but imagine the last time you went to a bar and danced, in a
circle, for three hours. It just isn’t very common. Anyways, that’s what we did
that night. I had a blast. I’m sure Clayton had fun, but I made him stay out
significantly longer than he wanted to.
The next day we woke up, somehow feeling
all right, and got all of our crap ready to go on transport to my site. Then we
hit a nice snag. With the rainy season came some issues with my site. With the
Millennium Corporation Challenge paying to pave the road from Sabou to
Koudougou to Didyr and the onslaught of heavy rain, the road has become a mess of
detours and loose mud, a dangerous endeavor to say the least. On the day we
were leaving it had rained the two nights beforehand. So, for the first time
that year, they actually cancelled my bus. Seeing as only one company actually
goes past my site, we were up shit’s creek without a paddle. We managed to make
it to another bus station and take the bus to Koudougou, and then a bush taxi
to Reo to stay with Kelly for the night. Bad turned into good and Clayton got
to experience the difference between one site and another with a mere 30
kilometers in between. The stark contrast between how Clayton looked at things
and how I did was pretty incredible to experience. Everybody screaming nassara wasn’t insulting to him (not
here long enough for that one). Every time the bus went sideways at a very
uncomfortable angle he laughed, while I worried for our lives (I’ve seen some
terrible sites from bus accidents).
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| Us walking to our first experience hitch hiking |
The night at Kelly’s was a pretty
standard affair for the two of us, with Clayton included. We ate meat
brochettes and drank beer and hung out with François, Kelly’s work mate. The
next day we got up early and went to the bus station in Réo to try and catch a
truck to get to my site. The only time that buses come through is between 2:00
and 4:00 (all depends how quickly its moving that day) and we wanted to get
there early, so hitch hiking seemed like the only logical thing. We had three
people, three bikes, and we didn’t want to die. This meant a huge truck with
the back open wide and death being rather a certainty was not a feasible
option. Now, Kelly and I have talked about doing this time and time again.
Every time we bike anywhere we always say we will just flag down a car driving
by and hitch a ride. When push comes to shove, we never had the guts to
actually follow through with this. This time, we knew it was our only possible
way to get to my site, so we swallowed our fear and as a logistically plausible
option truck went by after about an hour, I waved my arms like a crazy person
until they stopped. I asked them where they were going, which conveniently was
about 5 km from my site. I asked if we could hitch a ride and they said yes.
This opened up a whole new world of transportation opportunities for me that
I’m sure my mother is appalled to read about right now.
Well, we made it safely to Pouni, hopped on our bikes, and pedaled 5 km through some muddy wasteland, dismounting form time to time where the muck was just too thick. Finally we arrived at my house at about 11:00. We screwed around for a bit and then left for the Baobab “forest” near my house, and then on to Didyr. Naturally, in true Peace Corps fashion, my stupid bike broke in the middle of the bush in the midday sun with no cover. Just our luck. We finagled our way into Didyr where we did the usual: dolo den visit, beer, and lunch. On the way back we stopped and I showed Kelly and Clayton the beautiful view that I recently discovered… after eight months of living there.
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| Clayton underneath what I think to be the biggest Baobab |
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| Kelly and I trying to fix my bike... to no avail |
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| Clayton's "enjoying" his first experience with dolo. |
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| The view of the sunset with Kelly, Clayton, and I |
When we got back it was basically dark.
Pima, my counterpart, came into the house with a chicken that was gifted to
Clayton in true Burkinabé fashion. I made him kill it stating that if you can
eat it, you can kill it. He struggled to quickly cut it’s throat and that poor
thing was bleeding for a good 45 seconds before it actually died.
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| Clayton struggling to put it out of it's misery |
We have the
whole thing on video but Burkina’s Internet is way too slow to actually upload
it… maybe in the future. With that we made some delicious burritos! I have been
steadily craving Chipotle for a solid 11 months so this was something nice to
tie me over until the next time, because it could be another year before I have
another one. When we were done eating Pima told us to come outside where a
solid 75 people were waiting. They all had to get a glimpse of the
nassara that was visiting the one who
already lived there. It was actually really cool but I was wondering where this
reception party was when I arrived. They drummed on
calabashes, or large bowls that are made from squash left in the
ground until it gets far oversized and hardens, and made us all dance. It was a
very enjoyable night, though they refused to let us go to bed. Eventually we
weaseled our way out of there and went to bed, only to wake up an hour later
when the heaven’s opened up and there was a pretty intense storm. I wish it had
happened earlier because I wanted Clayton to fully experience what pouring rain
on a tin roof sounds like instead of being basically passed out through the
whole thing. Let’s just say it is
extremely
loud.
The next day we got up nice and early to
go and catch the bus into Koudougou. Nature threw us for a loop and sure
enough, my bus was cancelled again. We waited for four hours before François
and his friend showed up in a car and picked us up and brought us to Réo. It
cost 16 mille between the three of us ($32), which is ridiculous considering it
usually costs three mille a person, but we paid for the gas to and from, so it
wasn’t a big deal considering we got out of there before nightfall. Kelly
departed to work and Clayton and I caught another horribly dangerous, one of
the worst I’ve ever been on, bush taxi into Koudougou. We immediately got on
another one that took us to Sabou, which took an hour and a half longer than it
should have because the same aforementioned road work. Our taxi actually broke
down in the middle of a water crossing and somehow the driver got it fixed
before we were swept away… it was interesting. Anyways, we got to Sabou and met
up with another volunteer named Lindsay who lives there. She took us to see the
crocodiles that live there. They have been there for a very, very long time and are used to people. While the people say they are sacred and do not kill people,
sure enough every few years a child is killed. Regardless, you can grab them by the tail and even sit on them as long as the guide is distracting it with some meat. They also had a monkey that we played with and fed some rice. They told us it was vaccinated… I wonder if that’s true.
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| Clayton handling the croc like Steve Erwin, R.I.P. |
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| Just me and some buddies |
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| Cornmuffin eating rice from my hand |
We said our goodbyes to Lindsay and
headed back into Ouaga on yet another not so comfortable bush taxi. It was
another volunteer’s birthday (Katie Northcott), so we went out with the group for another
exhausting night. The next day I, big shocker here, felt like absolute garbage
and struggled to get through the day. We took it as easy as the next morning
was our departure down to Togo, and we had no idea how we were going to get
there. We woke up at 5:30, headed to the transit house, and waited for our taxi
driver to come get us. We went to gare de
l’est, or bus station of the east, and I got out of the car yelling Lomé.
Fortunately there was a bus that was on it’s way out of the bus station and we
hopped on just as it was leaving. 15 very uncomfortable hours later, we arrived
in Lomé, Togo with absolutely no idea what we were going to do. This
drastically changed as soon as we got off the bus.
I have a friend in America named Niki
Glazer, (I guess I’ll learn soon if she or her mom read this!) whom I dove with
and have known for a decade. Her mom, the great Judy Glazer, is a realtor and
through her I contacted a man she worked with in Maryland who happens to live
in Togo, which if you have no idea where it is, it is in between Benin to the East, Ghana to the West, and Burkina to the North. Anyways, they took us back to their
apartment complex and showed us the place that we weren’t expecting to stay in,
at least for that night. It was incredible. It was air-conditioned, there was a
living room, bedroom with a king size bed, full kitchen, and full bathroom. It
was unbelievable and for a volunteer who’s been living in lackluster conditions
for almost a year, it was insane. We put our stuff down and then they took us
out for burgers and beer. We finally got back to the complex at around 4:00 AM
and passed out until about noon the next day.
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| Clayton in our living room |
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| King size bed, boxers included for sizing... I guess |
We didn’t do much that first day. We
planned on going to the beach, but Mr. Amah, or Ferdinand, had other plans. We
had a chauffeur named Martin, who was awesome, who took us to the Ministry of
Tourism. We met Marco, who gave us the rundown of what we would be doing the
next few days. Confused, we shook our heads a lot and wondered what the hell
was happening. We left there and went around the city a bit with Jordan and
Martin; we went to the beach just to see it, and then back to the house.
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| Obligatory backflip on an African beach |
That
night Jordan took us to a place he and his friends frequent, which was pretty
expensive but had some delicious fish. When I see fish in Burkina, which is
very often, I am absolutely terrified. I live in a landlocked country where
refrigeration isn’t really a thing. I know when the fish gets to me it is at
least 24 hours out of the water, and the strange thing is, much of it comes
from Mali, which is also landlocked. This fish was delicious, as were the fries
that I devoured, talking to the kids about life in Togo as a teenager.
The next day we got up early and went to the ministry and picked up Marco. We first went to the slave house in Aneho about 20 minutes away, where the Brazilians, Americans, and wealthy Africans enslaved and sold people from the 2nd century well into the 19th and kept them in the worst conditions you could possibly imagine. They were treated like animals. Slaves weren’t allowed in the houses. Rather, they were forced to climb in through tiny holes from the outside and stay under the ground listening to the slave owners walk around above them. They were given buckets to do their business into, and could never stand all the way up because the ceiling (floor to the owners) was too low. We actually did the crawl from the hole in the ground that was opened to feed them to the outside entrance. It was a truly eye-opening experience. We learn about slavery in America, but to actually see the horrible conditions these people were under really makes you wonder how people could ever be so atrocious anywhere in the world. If you ever go to a country with slave houses, you really should go check them out for the perspective it gives you.
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| Note the holes on the bottom where the slaves entered and exited |
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| Us underneath the hatch they opened to feed the slaves |
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| Climbing the route that the slaves were forced to climb daily |
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| A diving board! I'd been here before as a baby |
After that we went to where Lake Togo
meets the Atlantic Ocean, which was absolutely beautiful. I had no idea the
water here could be so blue, and there was one of the lines in the water where
the salinity levels are different and the two bodies separate. A little ways
down the road we stopped at hotel called Hotel du Lac (Hotel of the Lake),
which was right on the lake. We walked in and I had serious déjà vu from when I
was a little boy
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| Pils Beer, 500 CFA |
living in Benin and visiting Togo with my family. Something
about the look of the place just triggered it and I almost knew I’d been there
before. Sure enough I talked to mom that night and we had stayed at that very
hotel when I was tiny. It was pretty amazing to have gotten it right from over
twenty years beforehand. We hung out and took pictures and then headed back
into Lomé for lunch. We didn’t do much for the rest of the day and called it an
early night after some ice-cold Pils beers
.
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| Beautiful blue water of the Atlantic |
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| Beach of Lake Togo |
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| First waterfall we saw |
Wednesday was another early day with a
lot packed into it. We journeyed far away to a town called
Kpalimé deep into
the mountains (that’s right, Togo has mountains! The link is a detailed map of Togo) and stopped en route to the
president’s former castle atop the mountain at a waterfall. It was beautiful
and there was a monkey up above, and another being held by the locals at the
foot of the waterfall. When we got out of the car a guy was looking up at
something with an expression of caution. Naturally we craned our heads up and
though we didn’t see the monkey, he certainly saw us. In between Clayton and I
a coconut crashed to the ground. The little bugger tried to hit us with it and
got uncomfortably close! We took some pictures in the waterfall and asked if we
could hold the monkey. Shocker, the monkey was not used to white people and did
not want to be handled by us. He bit me and I was done with it. Fortunately it
didn’t break the skin. I handed the monkey back over to the guy and Clayton
gave it a go, to no avail. He got bit also. Handling monkeys is not something I
am naturally skilled at I suppose, much like golf, speaking quietly, and
learning languages. We kept going up the mountain and reached the castle that
was used for a grand total of about eight years and probably cost over a
million dollars to construct… classic African misusage of money. There was one
hell of a view from that place, and besides it being insane to get to, it would
be a pretty sweet residence.
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| The monkey right before he began gnawing on me |
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| Beautiful view from the top of the mountain |
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| Just a funny picture |
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| L-R: Clayton, Marco, me, Martin |
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| What happens when you give an inexperienced Togolais guy a super nice camera? This. |
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| Clayton and his new friend at lunch |
We left the castle and got lunch before
we headed toward the other awesome waterfall. Clayton was a bit afflicted with
one of Africa’s famous stomach maladies, but we got on the road and headed up
yet another mountain. We got to the top of the mountain by car only to descend
by foot all the way back down, with the sun fading relatively quickly. Finally
we got there and it was truly incredible. There was a large pool of water that
we swam in and hung out under the flow of water. After an enjoyable swim and
photo shoot (shocker), we went back up that exhausting mountain of stairs
carved out of the earth. We went back to Lomé and passed out, absolutely
exhausted from the long day.
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The second totally badass waterfall
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Had to add this because it is ridiculous and looks photoshopped!
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| Also a must-add. Didn't know this guy and he asked me to take a picture with him. Wtf is happening in my life? |
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| The ascent was intense. QUITE a lot of stairs like this. |
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The next two days were relaxing. We went
to the beach and went in the water up to our waists. The undertow was extremely
strong and neither of us, Clayton being a college swimmer, me a diver, and both
of us spending our whole lives in the water, felt comfortable going all the way
into the large waves. We went to the grand marché and bought a bunch of tourist
stuff, which was cool, but the people were extremely pushy and that became
quite obnoxious after a bit.
Saturday rolled around and we got up at
5:00 AM so we could go to Benin and make it back before midnight. We got to the
border after about 2.5 hours, crossed, and continued on to Ouidah, about 25 km
from the border. Ouidah is the birthplace of Voodoo for the whole world, and
its influences are still very visible throughout. We went to the Temple of
Pythons and had pythons draped on our necks and put in our hands. They
explained that Voodoo, while often thought to be almost dark
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| Jordan with his python buddies |
magic, is a
strictly positive way of life, sacrificing animals to the Gods to bring
positivity to those who practice. They told us that each month the actual house
for the pythons is opened and they roam around the village, picking off bugs
and small creatures, but rarely killing any animals important to the villagers,
such as chickens or pintades. When they’ve had their fill, they return to the
temple and hang out until the next time they are allowed out. I had been here
when I was about three years old and had a picture in front of the sign, so of
course I took another one, twenty years later. The sign had changed, but it is
still pretty cool putting them side-by-side.
From Ouidah we continued on to Cotonou,
where I lived as a child. The first place we stopped at was Les Lapins Bleus
(The Blue Rabbits), which was the preschool I went to when we lived there. I
was five weeks old when I moved to Africa, going to the Central African
Republic first, Senegal second, and Benin last, so I was old enough to forge a
few memories, such as the one at Hotel du Lac. The memories I had of this
preschool betrayed me. I remembered a very large complex with one large
classroom. In reality, it was a small courtyard and about seven classrooms. Of
course,
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| In front of the old pre-school |
a lot could change in twenty years, so it very well could have been how
I remembered it and was renovated. The door was completely different which was
unfortunate because I couldn’t compare the two pictures with a familiar
landmark, but it was still cool. We tried to find my house, but couldn’t get in
touch with my mom in America and couldn’t seem to find the same concrete walls
as in the picture. We moved on and visited the artisanal village where we
bought more tourist stuff that they actually don’t have in Burkina. Most of the
artisanal things you find here are the same in all of the West African nations.
I told them I was looking for something distinctly Beninese. This was when I
learned something very disappointing. Most of the artisanal villages are sent
products that are mass-produced in Nigeria and very few of the things are
actually forged in the country you buy them. Still, in Benin there were
tapestries that I haven’t seen in Burkina or Togo, so that was what I went for.
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| A view of a "street" in Ganvie |
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| Jordan and Clayton with Ganvie in the background |
We started to head out of Cotonou and
then stopped at the entrance to the lake where you can catch a canoe with a pagne sail (which moved surprisingly
fast) and travel to Ganvie, the largest city on stilts in Africa, and one hell
of a marvel to see. It has a population of around 30,000 and there is almost no
land within the village, minus little permanent sandbars. We had a great tour
guide who explained the history of the village. In 1717 the slave traders were
heavily invading Cotonou and decimating the population of poor farmers. To flee
the risk of being forced into slavery, they took to the water, travelling far
out onto the lake and establishing the city that now lies there. There is a
very large mosque, churches, water towers, schools, two hotels (if that’s what
you want to call them), and families that are more comfortable out on the water
than on the land. The men fish and the women travel eight kilometers to land to
sell the fish. That is the only time people leave the village, except the rare
person that makes it to university level, such as our guide, who only does this
during the summer months when he isn’t teaching middle school. It cost 5 mille
($10) per person to go out there and that money is divided between the ministry
of tourism, the
guides, and the villagers themselves who are the ones who have
to deal with a constant influx of tourists, such as myself. Finally we headed
back into Togo, went back to the apartment, and passed out.
Sunday was Clayton’s last day on the
continent before flying out to Brussels and on to all over the place after
that. We slept most of the morning and then went to the mansion of the man
who’s car, and chauffeur, we’d been using for the past week. We had yet to meet
him, and he was a very nice man and when we got there the servant (that sounds
terrible, but that’s what he was) brought out bottles of some Chinese whiskey,
Johnnie Walker Black, some nice scotch, and Sheridan’s, which is not sold in
the US but is a delicious liqueur you drink with coffee, like Bailey’s. We
drank some of the Chinese stuff, which I’d never seen before. It tasted of a
bit of cinnamon, but was quite strong. Then I moved on to the delicious
Sheridan’s. That stuff is so good. If you see it in any country, or go on a
cruise, I suggest you pick up a bottle or six of that, age pending. We ate a
lunch of a stacked salad with all sorts of goodies, which is amazing when you
only get lettuce every few months, followed by Foufou, which they have in
Burkina but call it Foutou. It is just tô (maize beaten in mortar and pestle
with water until it’s a large paddy), but made out of ignam, which we don’t
have in America but is an enormous tuber much like a potato. I didn’t much care
for it, but ate as much as I could to not be rude. They gave us French red wine
with lunch, and then brought out a bottle of nice French champagne to help
digest I guess. Our incredible host fell asleep and we played with his two
awesome and extremely rambunctious young sons. We went back to the apartment
and Clayton packed up his crap. We had one more beer as our goodbye, and then
we all went to the airport.
The non-stop amazingness and spoiling
spree was not complete yet. We got to the airport and were granted VIP access
since Ferdinand flies internationally so often and got the pass. We were
escorted into a beautiful, air-conditioned room with comfortable leather
couches, gratis Wi-Fi, and free snacks and, you guessed it, beer. We hung out
there until the receptionist beckoned Clayton to walk out the door where he
would be taken directly to his plane, board, and leave immediately as the last
person to board the flight. I wished I were flying out to just to experience
it. Side note: flying seems like the greatest thing in the world at this point.
Public transportation really sucks in this country, as I have made very clear
and will continue to elaborate on in this very post. On a plane, you have your
own air-conditioner in a comfortable seat where they bring you free drinks and
food, and complimentary beer, wine, and champagne on international flights.
This sounds like an absolute dream to me. I think I could travel consecutively
for years on a plane at this point provided I could somehow charge my computer.
I cannot wait until I board a plane again (which fortunately is in two weeks!).
Anyways, back to the story.
Clayton was gone now and I was in Lomé
for 2-3 more days before returning to Burkina. I hung out with the family and
enjoyed the solitude and air-conditioning (noticing an AC motif here?). We
decided Tuesday morning that it would be better to leave Tuesday night and
travel through the night to arrive in Ouagadougou midday Wednesday and make it
to a meeting I had on Thursday morning. I bought a ticket in the morning for a
pretty standard bush taxi and then went and ate lunch with the Amah’s until it
was time to get my stuff and head out. At the gare, they told me the bush taxi would leave at 6:00 PM. I arrived
at just before 6:00 to see that they had not even begun packing up the taxi. So
began the longest and most horrible journey of my life.
I waited for quite a while before the
Amah’s showed up to see me off, which was another unbelievably nice gesture by
them; I think about the four millionth of the trip. Martin waited around until
the bush taxi left, which wasn’t until 9:00 PM. At this point I had been
“travelling” for three hours. We left and I tried to fall asleep as quickly as
possible to make the long ride more bearable. It worked to a certain extent,
though I woke up every 10-15 minutes. Also, my iPhone had broken when in Lomé
(it just stopped functioning, the dust and old age got to it) so I had to do
this trip with no music. Anyways, after 15 straight hours, with only a couple
stops to do who knows what, we arrived in what I was hoping was the border
town, seeing as that is what I paid for. Naturally, we were about 40 km away
from it. I grabbed a taxi with four other people heading there and after
sitting around for no reason for an extra twenty minutes, we drove to the
border. As this hellish trip continued, the taxi driver stopped a full
kilometer away from the border, and it had started heavily raining. Drenched
and annoyed, but trying to stay positive as I had just finished a great
vacation and was only a few hours from Ouaga, I walked the whole way with
people trying to get me to jump on their motos for a mildly modest fee (the
white person price). I kindly refused time and time again because Peace Corps
prohibits us from riding motos without permission. Finally I reached the Togo
side and passed through, and then walked another half a kilometer (I do not
understand why they made these so unbelievably far apart when the Togo-Benin
one is so very easy) and passed through, no problem. What I did learn is that
border control in West Africa is not the tight ship it is in the US. I sat
down, they asked me my occupation and made a joke about America, and then sent
me on my way. I could not imagine the border between the US and Canada or
Mexico is so easy.
Now I had no idea what I was doing. I
was back in Burkina and was hearing Mooré, which I welcomed as it was something
that I recognized. I was glad to be back… for a short time. I eventually found
the
gare and after passing through
another set of military whom after telling them I was a volunteer told me, “all
Americans are in the military.” I kindly told him he was mistaken and that I am
actually the exact opposite of that, but didn’t feel like getting into a long
argument and continued on. I found a bush taxi relatively easily and we left
after about thirty minutes of sitting around. It was packed to the brim, but I
was not about to wait for yet another taxi to fill and fill and fill. We
travelled about 30 km, very slowly, and stopping every 30 meters. Finally, his
tire popped and I was traded to another bush taxi. This one moved a lot faster,
but stopped over and over and over, as seems to be the usual case. Finally I
got to
Tenkodogo, which hits the road to Ouaga (detailed Burkina road map). Unfortunately, we sat there for 40 minutes for no
reason. By this point I was pretty annoyed. The two Mossi ladies behind me
yelling in Mooré about something or other that I could not understand
compounded this. I assume they were annoyed at the delay as well, but it was
insanely annoying and obvious that their protests were not going to make us
move any faster, so it was pointless. We started moving again, and then when we
reached Koupela, I was
traded yet again. I wanted to jump off a bridge at this point, but seeing as
this whole country is flat, I was safe. I just climbed into the bus and tried
not to go insane with the blaring music and overcrowded bus and another 70 km
to go. I gritted my teeth and tried to fall asleep, using the man next to me as
my pillow until he shook me awake… and he was so comfortable too. Finally, we
reached Ouaga and after dropping off like nine people in six places, we reached
gare de l’est. I got off the bus,
grabbed my bag, and scurried away before somebody could tell me I had to give
more money or something. It was 11:30 PM at this point and I started walking
because there were no taxis. I got pretty far, but finally a cab showed up and
I hopped aboard, thus ending my transit at about 11:45 PM. I started at 6:00 PM
and finished at 11:45 PM the next day, all of bush taxis. It was
horrible.
I have to express my love and
appreciation for the Amah family. They welcomed me into their home and into
their family without knowing anything about me. They allowed to stay in their beautiful
apartment free of charge and arranged for a chauffeur to take us around
beautiful Togo. They paid even when I insisted on paying. They went so far
beyond what I ever could have imagined and I owe an amazing vacation to that
family. I extended my visa for another year so I can go back and visit them
again and maybe again after that. After just nine days with this family I felt
a connection rarely felt by any experience in America. This was a moment of
true culture shock, as I do not know anybody in America that would go so far
out of their way to make somebody they do not know feel at home. So, from the
bottom of my heart, a huge thank you to the whole family, and I cannot wait to
see you all again!
Ouaga was good to me after that. I
cruised through the next couple days, went to the ICT (Information
Communication Technology) meeting and was somehow voted co-chair, and then when
Saturday rolled around, a large group of us went to the Burkina Faso vs. Gabon
World Cup Qualifier. It was a heck of a spectacle. I have never seen so many
Burkinabé in one place and they were rowdy as all hell. We saw the police close
one entrance because the section was full and so began a pushing match between
ten pissed off (and probably drunk) soccer fans and four gendarmes… the
gendarmes won, and the Burkinabé responded by peeing on the wall, causing a
river of urine. It was disgusting to say the least, and smelled like a used
diaper filled with Indian food (thank you Anchorman).
The game was not particularly entertaining; with the first half ending in a 0-0
draw. The second half started slowly with a lot of “injuries” that magically
healed themselves with the spray of a water bottle, but in the 55th
minute, a cross went into the middle and forceful header found it’s way to the
back of the net. Seeing a touchdown in college football or the NFL is awesome.
Watching something actually happen in a World Cup game and seeing 35,000
Burkinabé going buck wild post goal was a whole other story. It was like
nothing I’ve ever experienced. The rest of the game was just nail biting
waiting for the final whistle while everybody listened to the Congo vs. Niger
game on their portable radios. If that game were a draw or a Niger win, Burkina
would advance. You could feel the anxiety in the stadium and when everybody
went crazy at random intervals in the game, you knew it must have been a Niger
goal. Our game ended 1-0 and about half the stadium cleared out. The rest of us
eagerly awaited the results of the other game. Then it happened. The 20,000
remaining people simultaneously started screaming and jumping around. Burkina
had won the group and is moving on to the last stage in World Cup Qualifying.
I’m not a huge soccer fan, but to be
there for such a palpable victory in a country that does not have much going
for it was an amazing experience. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience
and I am so glad that I was there to witness it. All the way down the street
for a few kilometers cars and motos were honking and people were screaming.
People came up to us just to give us high-fives and not to ask for money or
food, which was a nice break. I will definitely be attending the next soccer
game, whenever that may be.
That’s all that has been going in my
life lately. It has been a great last two weeks, and I think the next three
will be even better. My mom is about to arrive and we’ll journey around a bit
until we jump on a plane and head to Morocco for a week of staying in luxurious
hotels and experiencing real culture while eating amazing food. I am so very
excited to see my mother again!
Tonight is the Redskins first game of
the season; I hope they start it off on a great note. Meanwhile, the Cards are
2-0 and Teddy Bridgewater looks like the Heisman Trophy winning quarterback he
is destined to be. Go cards, run the table and get Teddy picked number one
overall! I hope everything is well back home with everybody and I hope to hear
from you all soon!
And now a few more pictures:
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| The mosque in Ganvie |
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| The building was our apartment complex |
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| Clayton with some pythons in Ouidah |
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| Me looking slightly murderous with some pythons in Ouidah |
Saturday rolled around and we got up at
5:00 AM so we could go to Benin and make it back before midnight. We got to the
border after about 2.5 hours, crossed, and continued on to Ouidah, about 25 km
from the border. Ouidah is the birthplace of Voodoo for the whole world, and
its influences are still very visible throughout. We went to the Temple of
Pythons and had pythons draped on our necks and put in our hands. They
explained that Voodoo, while often thought to be almost dark
