Mayday in Ouagadougou (and if you can't spell it, I was the same...)

OK, so now I am in Burkino Faso for no other reason than the fact that, in 1962, Margaret and I travelled in Germany amongst my relatives and we heard of one who was the Ambassador here. The name stuck and I resolved one day to see this mysterious place. It is not mysterious, but a sprawling city of wide streets and some of them even tarred! Quite a change from the mud-brick villages I have been seeing and staying in lately. If you see how they build their multi-story buidings with the lightest of wooden scaffolding, you will know you are in Africa. And of course, the thing I like about these African villages, is the fact that the shops come to you. You just need to sit still for a moment, or for that matter walk along the side of a road, to be inundated by sellers of everything you ever dreamed of. And the technique is to persist and you find yourself, despite resolutions beforehand, to want a plastic bag of cold water, or a mango or batteries or clothes or food or watches or dark glasses or jewelery....and that is not taking into account the obvious tourist trash sellers (much of the latter very well made and not to be sneezed at if you have the baggage capacity and friends who are dying for evidence of your trip).

As I travel alone most of the time, I have become used to talking to myself and thinking of the life so far away. And the thing that has surprised me, is the fact that much of my luggage has a very personal and human element to it. In other words, my pack on my back reflects much of my friendships and family. So, instead of a straight review of what I have been doing and seeing, I have decided to describe it through my baggage. One can even give it a heading:


21 kilos


Before I left London I received many emails, letters, cards, phonecalls, presents and visits from friends who wished me well. It was overwhelming and I could not make the time to answer them all. But rest assured, they are there in my baggage and weigh nothing but very heavily on my thankfulness for such thoughts. Most of the phrases in these messages included the words 'be careful' and 'brave'. One is automatically careful wherever on goes in life (or one would have been run over by a bus a long time ago) and the word 'brave' only implies doing things without thought (a brave person goes into a burning house to rescue a child because he happens to be the one on the spot), for which I am well-known. 'Mad' or 'foolhardy' are also words to express the same thought..... So I reject any notion of doing something out of the ordinary. And when one sees other 'tourists' around places, one realises how small the world really is. The only thing I have done is to do what many might wish to do but do not have the fortune, health, energy or lack of responsibilities with which to undertake such an operation. So for all of you out there who want to join me in my thoughts, this is it.

My friends are very loyal and giving; no one is more important than another. When I thought of writing in this way, I decided that the alphabet is best used. But before that, I'll start with the things I paid for myself.

Rucsac and it's 'baby':

Ingrid very kindly bought me a nylon 100kilo rucsac with wheels which seemed ideal at the time. Fortunately this was in December and I used it with which to travel for 5 weeks throughout Europe. It was hopelessly too large and bulky and the wheels didn't really do as I wanted. So she and Pete took it off for their own needs and I went to Nomads, the camping specialists, and there was shown a 'sahara' bag made out of heavy canvas. It is brilliant in its design as there are no external pockets, the smaller bag can be zipped onto the main one or is a very convenient shape for a small rucsac. The main straps can be zipped out of sight and thus the bag is a very good shape to throw onto the numerous bush-taxis it has had the honour of accompanying. It is heavy, but the treatment it has had and will have has proved that anything else would have been destroyed by now. It is very dirty with oil marks and various unspeakable blemishes; but as Pete said, it would give me 'street credit', which it has.

This is probably the place to talk about bush taxis. They can be any vehicle which at one time in its life might have been classed as something to transport people and/or goods. Mysteriously, they become battered vehicles without lights or other fittings, with no concievable means of starting except through pushing or the deft use of a screwdriver. They are not put into motion until the paying fare has reached the optimum number (you can wait 5-7 hours without notice). The 'vehicles' are then systematically loaded on top until the load has the same or more height than the vehicle itself. On this is then placed goats or bunches of chickens. A young man is usually employed for this task and then has to find somewhere to hang on for the duration of the journey as the many breakdowns require his asistance. But the skill of tying everything in an orderly manner is quite remarkable. Just as an example, when we had a blow-out once and the vehicle went carreering into the Sahel (fortunately bush and not trees) for about 200 meters, we all, including the load, were supremely intact. Of course, it does help to be tightly squashed together. On this occasion 5 rows of 5 people with 4 on the driver's seat, two children on laps and two men outside (33 altogether) meant that we were in no way inconvenienced. The only slight hiccup was that one of the men assisting in the tyre repair was bitten by a small 10-inch snake. I gave him a 'rescue remedy' pill to dissolve under his tongue (ok, spelling is not my forte and I cannot find a spell-check) to keep his bloodflow calm, and we continued fixing and pushing in the sandy dark. On another occasion, when the Taxi was a truck, I was expected to share the front seat with the driver and two ladies of ample proportions (Alexander McCall-Smith fans know what I mean) and their children. There was no way....... but I think they appreciated my offer of sitting amongst the goats and 5 men on top of the load. It was sheer heaven! A starry desert night on sandy roads with frequent breakdowns was not to be sneezed at. How the drivers can find the right track in the dark through the sand is a miracle to me. There are various tracks going off in all directions, but he somehow knows which one is least rutted and will eventually get out on the other side. I try to see the countryside during the day if possible, but have found that some day-trips are virtually unendurable because of the heat. So evening trips through flat land are preferable. My last one to here from Mopti in Mali left only 90 minutes late at 6.30pm. We got help in pushing it to start, but then there were so many breakdowns during the trip that we only got to a town called Bobo Dioulasso (344 km further) at 10.30am and I missed the connection I had to have to continue to here. So I waited until 6.30pm when the taxi meant to leave at 5pm finally left. We did not have enough passengers and it took another hour of picking up and dropping people before we actually left the town. I arrived at 4.30am, a bit of a wreck. My back had been sorely tested. However, the inevitable town-taxi knew his customers well and instantly got me to the place I am staying in at present. Waking the 'reception' was no problem as they sleep on the entrance-settee anyway. As you can see, my life going through Africa is and will be dominated by the transport system.

Yes, I did buy other things:
A magical little 'pump' which, when applied to a mosquito bite, takes away the sting. So far used only a few times, but as I enter the more lushious (sp!) areas, it will no doubt be invaluable. And it works! But do not ask me how---a little 'electrical' impulse?
A sleeping bag designed by the same guy as the rucsac. It is a square and has a velcro slit in the middle to enable it to be used as a poncho. There are also ties all over, so it can be used as a shade cloth. Or zipped up as a bag. There have been times when I used its cushion effect as a mattress, but its best use so far was two evenings when it rained (the worse of the heat will soon be over as the rainy season starts) and I could pull it over myself and enjoy the sound and feeling of the rain as it fell down on me where I lay on the riverbank. And it pulls tighly into a relatively small bag.
Two torches: One a head-torch which is ideal for reading, although it can become quite tangled when I am trying to read with a mosquito net thrown over myself on a rooftop. The other is a self-charging hand torch which I love, but am a bit worried about because it no longer gives the bright light it used to, despite my vigorous shaking as prescribed. But it is early days and I defer to time.... Very useful when changing tyres or looking for the broken suspension or whatever as the drivers invariably have torches with fading batteries.
Spectacles: Extra for those inevitable losses I can expect. The Fendi dark glasses are a bit poncy for me, but they were the only ones available which would give me good desert-light protection. And it means that I have to be extra careful about not having them nicked, as the new wearers will not necessarily appreciate the varifocal lenses. But, although I sometimes feel a bit like a tourist with the glasses, they do give my eyes the protection from the strong light they need. The worst is to accept that I now need reading glasses. So one is just comfortably ensconced on a rooftop, covered by a loose mosquito-net with torch and book ready, when the lack of spectacles becomes another problem to deal with.....those mosquitoes are good at seeing an opportunity!
Diary: It is a small book, but extremely handy as I wrote birthdays and anniversaries into it and keep it to remind me of what I've done or where I've been. So those friends whose birthdays I know, are thought of and, with time on my hands, thoroughly digested. I hope you know that it is very important to me!
Phrase book of 12 languages of Africa. I'd gone to the BBC World Service Shop to get their frequency timetable and list of programmes. There I saw this little book. Great! I thought. It will help me to try and unravel the mystries of French. Sadly, I showed it to a Mali man during a long ride in Mauritania and he thought I had given it to him. It was only the night after he continued his visit to Mali and had installed me with his friends in Nema and I wanted to communicate with this hospitable family, that I missed the book. I have been bereft since, but emails to Karin has ensured that she has acquired another copy with great difficulty as the BBC Shop no longer had them, and is sending it to Accra. What friends would do for one! It was an interesting family to be staying with because they were on the cusp of modernising and my stay lead to confusions. One was offered the traditional drinks of welcome but I shared the dish of food with the host, not the wife and mother and children, as in other families. I was given a spoon rather than be expected to eat with my hand. A table and chairs was found rather than let us all sit on the floor. The new mother of a very small baby gave her child strawberry-flavoured yoghurt (as far as I am concerned, with no food value) and then anxiously/proudly asked me to confirm that it was good for the baby. I tried to explain that it should not be eaten after two days because of the intense heat, but doubt whether the message got across. They bought me bottles of sweet drinks made with artificial flavours rather than accept that the traditional goats' milk drink is preferable. But their pleasure in spoiling me had no bounds. They were impressed with the beautiful milufa (?) I had been wearing, but as I was going into Mali the next day, and the mother came from there, they insisted that I should have one of their Mali-outfits. No amount of argument or offer of money....... I proudly walked out in a two-piece with headscarf the next day and only hope that my beautiful orange/yellow cloth I left behind has found a good use. The outfit is certainly very popular with the locals (my guide in Mopti used to translate) and I travel in it to show that I am not seeking preference.
African Sayings: Another little BBC World Service publication which has caused much pleasure and discussion. Originally bought for the Land Rover Trip which fell through, it is still a handy start to the day. The book consists of many phrases and saying gathered from all over Africa. I allow myself one peek a day. A phrase is chosen and dated and the thoughts from it can be digested for the rest of the day. Today's from Kenya: "A moving cicket is only still in the mouth of a frog". Time for me to stop moving these keyboard pieces and to go and fetch a cushion to sit on in the open-air cinema I am going to. Have managed a few swims inbetween this typing and feel refreshed.......

If you have managed this far, congratulations! This is really just for me to get thoughts off my chest as there is a lack of conversation at present......