Ghana’s ’security’, Burkina Faso, Accra. 14 Sep, Fri (1st 12 hours)

0230 bed, 0515 wake up. I just laid there for 15 minutes, kind of with a numbed sensation all over. It was like I had been teased with sleep and was going through some sort of torture test, but this was only the beginning of the endurance test…

As I was just dressed, Donat knocked came in and said “Time for airport.” So, Canazui had two bags with him on his moped, and I had the big bag, while on the back of Donat’s bike. We left the place called home, Reciproka, just as colour began to smear across the oily black skies. Just after 06oo heures, the day was now the main power at play and we got to the airport. Here, I did not realise Canazui was not going to come in, so I did not say goodbye to him. So, I know you will never read this, but goodbye Canazui, I hope you were finally able to get your driver’s license, but to that extent I would like to give a national warning to Burkina Faso, especially if you are a female.

In the airport, Donat waited aside while I sent off the check in gear, getting back to Donat, Yvonne was now present. The way things had gotten sorted, I was only able to spend maybe 5 minutes with the two, before check in began to close.

Saying goodbyes, actually more precisely, saying ‘au revoirs’ we all went our own way. I was wearing the clothes that would allow for me to carry an extra 2.5kgs worth of gear: Cargo army pants, fisherman’s’ vested jacket and the mild cold jacket. These guys were all bursting at their seam to try and save both room and weight: Books, easily moldable clothes and anything that would not be confiscated otherwise.

One thing that I nearly did wrong was go on a plane to Paris, and not to Amsterdam (Schiphol). The lady was unable to speak English and the words she was using in French were ones I was not familiar with. I sat back and stripped off the layers. Even though it was yet 07oo, it was already becoming, yet again, a balmy day. The people beside me thought otherwise, having a couple of hot teas each and enjoying the steamy goodness. One thing I did not think of until Ghana: My excess currency. The West African Franc is not exactly an Internationally tradable currency, and I found this out the hard way for the next few months.

On the plane, it was say 80% black and 20% white. I did not take note of this at first and aimed for the first two vacant seats to stretch out on. This is going to sound rude, but one thing I quickly realised: Black people on these flights, and from these regions, if they had to share, would share with fellow black people. On the other hand, white people would go about to try and get their own two seats.

The flight had a slight delay, as they stated they had to wait for a passenger. This passenger, also a Nasara, ended up sitting diagonally behind me across from the aisle. In front of him was a white guy he knew from previous African flights.

Collapsing, I knew I would not be able to sleep, mostly because I enjoyed listening to the French and English language amongst independent parties. I set my coat as a pillow and tried to ease the numbness of the body by sleeping, but hunger prevailed. There were chocolate flavoured croissants on the agenda for breakfast, and while not my most recommended food, it definitely went down well with the Diet Coke and Apple Juice. I’m telling you, the foods are not exactly looked at to healthily compliment either each other or the essentials for a good diet.

After ravishing this supply, I went back to pretending to be asleep, but was now getting caught up with the conversation of the two white guys. One sounded like he was typically working the cabin for his daily job, and the other was a guy involved in the optimisation of various companies, I think. And right now he was involved with the West African Pharmaceuticals, I think. What it was that he did sounded like a fairly cruisy job on one hand and being able to take advantage of the lavish life style, but a little bit of a personal risk occupation. In the plane circumstances he would typically be carrying sums of money anywhere between £5,000 to 50.000£. At times he would carry even more, but this was, for him, fortunately rare.

Money man’s name may have been Chris, and the guy across from me Mark. This is how we got to know each other: ‘Hey do you think he speaks English or French?”I don’t know, but it sure likes his out of it.,’ they said a few more things along these lines, when I thought it high time to let them in on a greeting. We all introduced ourselves, and the usual stranger just meet circumstance, then we continued with their telling stories of past and future.

Mark had, on several occasions, been a part of the cabin crew when Chris had been on the flights throughout Africa. I think Chris now expected to cause issues with his money, because this is how Chris and Mark first got to know each other. Also speaking the same language helps in this vast continent. With Chris, once again, being the final person on board, Mark had not been surprised and was in fact anticipating the passenger to be.

Some stories discussed: Chris, I think mentioned of the man who lived 3 hours south of the Hamburg airport on a farm. Suddenly this man felt sick, then better, then sick again, then he died. Forensics discovered that he had been infected with Malaria, and the strand was one from Africa. So, apparently this critter had been transported and found itself in Hamburg. These guys live a life of about 3 weeks (or 3 days?), but this was long enough to be able to get to this innocent Deutschelander.

These guys both had a number of crazy stories of their experiences, and one that got me scratching my head was how Mark was going to be part of a crew that would be serving flights in between UAE and Bagdad. Either he wanted some real adventure, or there was some other incentive, but whatever it was, I think it would be awesome to be a part of the corkscrew landing sequence. This technique is not meant to be healthy for individuals, so after extensive tests, these people in the crew are only allowed to do a limited number of weeks, either in total or for a duration of time.

Talking to Mark, it sounded like he had more to life then to just have a long life in the air. This was 100% true as well. He had previously been in the legal industry of South Africa and had gone by experiencing some daunting experiences (the friend in jail actually tore me apart hearing, as did a guys one way rail trip, and another legal advisor’s incentives for staying as a legal advisor and thus becoming hardened both on the inside and the outside.

Wanting to see more of a sense of humanity, and experiencing the world, he became a cabin crew member. This would take him away from his daughter occasionally, but allow for more extended times with her when he was in between flight paths.

Knowing these guys too had one little perk: double seconds, thus having three times the normal amount for brekkie. This obviously was not the reason for the initial meeting but the lady saw we had been talking and seemed to warm up to me slightly. The other good thing about knowing Mark was that he was giving all of the points away with reasons why certain things were done by the cabin crew, as well as the most optimal way and how little signs, or similar, were means of determining things. One thing that got everyone a little started on the flight was when the lady asked us to breathe through our shirts while she went about spraying. From the front of plane the lady went about spraying a substance in the air. There had been some sort of scare of some sort of creature on the plane, and no man in Germany wanted to be dead again.

With the plane landed, Mark was able to go the special way as he claimed to be in his duty as a worker, involving the jacket that stated his airline, Air Burkina (what we just flew) and he got all the special treatments. Chris and I however, ended up somehow getting royally shafted and some how got from being halfway up, we were at the back. We were in the last several people that were checked at immigration. Now, out of curiosity, what would my life be without some minor hassle between governments. (As of the end of 2007, it was up to near half a dozen conflicts between several goverments: British once, Australian two or three times, Ghanan this time. I think this is all for now)

When it was my turn to get passed through the immigration they asked why I had no visa, I said I was in a flight for this evening, nine hours away, and intend to bunk up at the airport and enjoy some airport cuisine. For one reason or another this was not acceptable. They said that I should pay money, and I said I will not. I got taken away to the section that delt with ‘transfer flights’ and here I waited a short while. Once again a guy stated that I should be paying, and I reiterated I was not going to pay 20 USD to sit in an International governed zone, according to various agencies. Yep, that is right guys, airports are not official representations of a country’s ability of proving their authority, it is under, to some extent, International laws.

Thus, the wait began. Tick tock, or in Japan tock tick, due to the linguistical variation of their language. After another 20 minutes, I was surprised by Mark appearing, and like me he seemed royally pissed. He has dealt with many African nations at their borders and said that the Ghanan continued being one of the worst at the airport borders to those they feel they could take advantage of. Both Mark and I had argued with one of the officials and this turned out near useless, but he did get his superior officer to try and scare us. Mark gave the notion that I should be a fellow worker, but just in between legs. This worked, and the some what unbothered, but pretending to be over exerting, officer let us loose. This is where the next issue comes into play: “But first I need to get my luggage!” “Where is your luggage?” “At the baggage claim” “Then you have to pay for the visa.” “No”

Mark and I talked some more and this is what Mark, the bloody genious, came up with: “Actually, here is your luggage Ben, I grabbed yours to drop it off, but now I need to go and get my stuff.” So Mark went back and collected my bag for me. Yea, it was obviously a very played at situation, but we had kind of played at their own game. Where would I be if it weren’t for Mark? Would there have been some Australian versus Ghanian conflict? I doubt it, but it would be good to imagine.

So, the exerted officer escorted me via the way and said “The other guy should know where to go.” So he obviously knew we had been playing at his game a little. This is where once again I got some minor butterflies in my stomach, what if Mark was in some illicit trade, and I was going to be done for? Ah, that would be OK, because if I was done for anything, then he would not know what to say about my bag veing half full of fluids for my medication. Nah, there was no problem anyway.

As I was sorting everything out, Mark came around with my gear, you beaut. With this all done, we skipped through the departure gate with the security officer and had to stay near him as he waved us through the various departure security measures. Then, after all this intense security precautions being taken, he just pointed at some restuarant and said “You should stay there, that is the transfer lounge.”

When one has a little under 8 hours remaining, with another guy, what would you normally do in a restuarant that sells various beers? Well, if you didn’t know, we went through a number of beers, while there were a number of bags surrounding us. For a good 5 hours we stayed here, got to know the bar person, had possibly 7 or so beers and grabbed some food. This is where once again, I was astounded by Mark’s ease of generosity, Before we had even started the drinking/ eating session, he said that it would all be on him. He kind of had an idea that I did not have any Ghanan, or USA currency. As a means of saying thank you, it was not much, I handed him some Aussie currency, as he would normally surprise his daughter with various currencies with various denominations. I think this was the first Aussie note he had recieved.

In response to receiving some Australian currency he reached into his pocket and pulled out some South African currency. This, I think, is no longer with me along the travels due to sending it away. I have to say though, the lack of sleep did not feel too bad, and the company was a good reason to stay awake. Mark, if you read this, your a bloody champ.

Blind pitch, Ouagadougou. 13 Sep, Thu

Some days are known to stick in your memory, or at least a good portion of them. Many of the times in Burkina Faso will be remembered, maybe not in a specific order, but to the extent of ‘hey, what about the day you had to take a poo in a sample container,’ or like today ‘Remember the agony of having a semi potent batter mix land in your eye?’ It is best here to just accept things the way you read them, most times my writing, just like my speech is illogical and most of the words can be neglected, but today was one day where pain would forever be remembered.

Fidel, Canazui and I were all together by 0830, Donat was with us within minutes. We all took a brief look at the batter’s 24 hour progress. There had formed a shell of several millimetres of the batter, but other then that it had performed as expected. While Canazui was breaking up the mix into clumps, I fetched the water to make it a bit more then a pliable mix. Using a hoe to properly mix the batter and the fresh water supply, we were able to get a glue like product in batches of a couple of kilogram clumps, and carry it over to the foundations. For the next 90 minutes, we three were nearly like a bunch of mud wrestling babes that you would come across in some chauvinistic party of alcoholism. But instead of having the three hot, semi clad babes you had three (temperature wise) hot, sweaty guys covered in mud.

Looking at the photos, the one with the stub of foundation near the maisonette, it was here where the three of us tried to prove our might to each other. While for a good portion of the ‘construction’ I had been a little soft in the mud placement, I realised it was the real force that would allow for the extended life. It is this force that allowed for the man’s Sugri-Doogo to have a life of near 40 years, as of this day, and not the care and delicate treatment one may suspect. One time Canazui did a real great pitch, extremely close to the foundation, and one major splodge ricocheted from the foundation straight for my eye. The other guys had no idea, until seeing my eradic stumbling for the water.

On a side note, several days ago I had seen the means in which Canazui had gone about trying to get something out of Donat’s eye, this was through several impulsive spurts of air being blown into his eye, and this was one treatment I did not want to experience, no matter how successful. Impulse is the measure of force over a given time, thus a lower time interval would call for a higher value for Impulse to be experienced (air bag versus dashboard).

To remedy this, I went about flooding the contaminated air, and with Canazui’s approach, tried anything to deny thy blow. He got the hint and got my head and placed it properly under the tap. Several seconds of torture later, I was released being blind, but yet in a satisfactory way. Majority of the batter had been washed out and now it was just a matter of crying like a baby that would allow for the last few remnants to be removed.

On my return, and with hands properly washed, it was time to take some snaps of a job ‘well done.’ As also stated previously, due to the heat being released from the mud brick foundation, cracking had already began in a good portion of the foundation we had just layered approximately 7.5mm.

Finished, we all went about showering up. This was one great shower, especially as the heat my body had already accumulated just in the morning had slightly changed the colour of brown to a more rusty red-brown variety. The cold murky water eased itself down the drain, and the spider that had been in the shower with me for the previous 3 weeks was swinging merrily on her web. Every time I had taken a shower, this spider always caught my eye to the extent that there was going to be guaranteed safety for the little critter. I could not say the same for this huge mosquito though, splat!

After we had finished cleaning, and Canazui and I went about getting things sorted out with my plane. Confirmation had to be done in Burkina Faso within the 24 hours prior to a flight. As well as this, I was meant to get photos printed off, and some things grabbed for Fidel. Canazui forgot and could not understand my desire for not going straight back to Reciproka, and the shop for Fidel was also shut… permanently. Actually, I think there were many stores that accommodated whatever it was that Fidel had wanted, but it was just, well, Canazui was not the most fruitful tree sometimes, definitely full of strength of shear determination though.

On our return, Donat, Fidel and I were all slightly disappointed, but with Fidel and Donat able to enjoy a little bit of local grog, until Canazui and I had completed my colour picture printing, we had some time up our sleeves. Some time, to me, does not mean close to two hours. I had seen an Internet Cafe, which Canazui had not, but he thought it best to head on to the Discotheque and tell them the update in progress and get some tips on photography places. For some reason I knew this was going to be like an epic tale. I told Canazui we did not want a photography joint as they probably did not have l’ordinateur. The people at the discotheque pointed out the closest one, to which we rode there, and guess what, they had no idea what this little metallic gadget was that I was holding. It was kind of funny seeing Canazui and four others standing in a circle trying to figure out what this thing was and how photos could be taken from it. The curses of memory sticks in non memory stick land! Suddenly, I said “Internet Cafe,” and the people said “Oui” and pointed in the direction I had also seen the original Internet Cafe. Finally this was getting sorted out. Now, I know back home we can get a single sheet that is in colour for 0.60 cents at several places, but here it was 1100 CFa (about $2.20 Australian) per sheet. So we had two picture taken on each one and I think 12 sheets. This business transaction of over 10,000 CFa was a real set back, but too late to back out of. Fortunately some photos did not turn out, keeping it down to 12, instead of the original 15 sheets (24 photos instead of the original 29)

By the end of this printing saga, the guy working, Canazui and I were starving. So much so, we were barely uttering a word (strange for Canazui) and other people began to help us out in the completion of this. Finally back at Reciproka, Donat and Fidel were scratching their heads at our time away, and like us, they were unable to understand what had actually just happened. Anyhow, Canazui was able to go and come again with some food for us all. We all, Donat, Fidel, Canazui and I went about enjoying my last ‘family’ feed. With Donat needing to get more things done, he was now feeling better and had to catch up on many little (and big) tasks), Canazui went to his after lunch radio entertainment (raucously laughing) and Fidel went about sleeping for a short while at the table.

A while later, Fidel had to go, and the sun was not as severe, so we said our goodbyes. After that it was Donat’s time to leave, and we confirmed the following day’s plans. We were to leave before 6am for the 7am flight. As the sun began setting, it was time for Canazui and I to go about to several people and hand deliver photos to them all. Fidel already had his, we gave them to Maree, and the discotheque crew. Back at Reciproka I had a couple for Mama (Miriam’s mum), which was conveniently able to be given to her as she paid a short visit. She had actually visited 3 times in the past six or so days, which, even though we did not talk much, was great. She was a really warm hearted person that everyone would pay great respect to. She would not talk all the time, but times when she did talk, everyone would listen. It was a mysterious power, but I am sure if Miriam or Donat were reading this, they would nearly be nodding their heads in agreement. After she had left, within minutes, the power surge came into play.

Yesterday, or a few days ago, I had received a great necklace, that I knew even though heavy, I was able to get used to. Today though, after a variety of languages being mixed around with, it was deemed important that my old necklace be switched around with a more appropriate one. Canazui and I went on what I thought would be a little revisit to the guy he had previously visited to get a more complete version, but he did not do this, he just went straight to the vendors and thought it possible to switch with my current one with a new one. This was also topped with him wanting me to pay for parking, even though it was not too much money, it was just a little aggravating that it had resorted to this. The place I saw an appropriate replacement, all the vendors thought me to be one of those ignorant touristy whites. In an attempt to communicate to Canazui, all was near failure, but my constant iteration of being a volunteer, and having very little money, allowed for the crowd to thin. After getting the replacement necklace, I was able to thank a guy and in accepting his help I had promised to see his vending spot. The things were honestly nice, but I had no desire, or room, to accept anything else. So it was time to go back to Reciproka.

Ah well. There was no trouble now, except the continual power surge. We went across the road to give some photos to papa and his family. We had one of his very young children and one of his, I think she was 19, older daughter. Back at Reciproka, we could not do too much, so we just mucked around. I thought it may be time to also go about organising packs. I also gave Yvonne a call, and gave her the run down of my plan. The anticipation was to not see her, as I had packing to do, but Canazui had the phone after me. Yvonne would be around in 40 minutes. The reason why we have been hearing so much about Yvonne, now, and not Patrick, is because he had a strange arrangement with work. His duties was to tend to a retired priest with many health issues, and to keep him company for several days minimum. So, the days that I was unable to see Patrick, also being my last set of days, was also the time I had been seeing Yvonne as well.

Midst my packing I had a surprise to see Yvonne, with a bundle of gifts. She had given a couple of things for me, as well as something for Laura, my youngest sister. This was kind of crazy, because she had only heard about my sister on one or two occasion. She stayed around for a coupe of hours and we spoke to Canazui in the mosquito infested region near the non constructed patio area. As I was thinking I may need to sleep in the near future, I did not complain when she suggested she will leave (by now it was a little after 22oo heure and the bike had to be back to her neighbour by 2230.

Thinking how great this was, it was now time for me to get some things sorted with the packing. I now had to repack several things with the surprises that were just given, one that I did enjoy was the board that gave a representation of the rural lifestyle of a Burkinese. I hope it turns up in Australia in one undamaged piece. Finally, I got everything sorted out in terms of mail for home, check in gear and carry on gear. I think by now it was a little after 23oo heures. With timing feeling good, I went out to Canazui, and with him: Rasta. Yea, his name really is Rasta. He had been mentioned in previous entries, either by name or by being mentioned as the young guy next door who hung his head over the fence.

Even though this guy was constantly laughing and seeming to have fun with annoying Canazui, I found out he held Canazui with the utmost respect, and would listen to his demands, kind of crazy I thought. While we were all talking, I gave Rasta the picture of him that I had, he was pretty wrapped and came back with his portfolio, to which he put his newly acquired picture at the back of it. We were talking for a short while when Canazui asked if I was hungry. Saying yes, I asked for something cold. With this at hand, I was asked for several coins. Canazui gave the coins to Rasta and asked for him to look for something. Rasta got up and rode his bike around the neighbourhood, for near an hour and a bit.

On his unsuccessful return, I think Canazui had already started making a batch of food, we had a bit of a rice dish with Canazui’s own concoction. Even though heat with heat caused a sweat, it did hit the spot. After eating, Rasta said I should look at his portfolio. This took an hour in itself. The thing I should have done, while Rasta was gone, was pack away my computer. He had used computers before, but assumed my own was like that of the French keyboards on the PCs in the Internet Cafe. Every minute, or so, he was asking for assistance. In one hand it was pretty funny, and the other I was now feeling a bit exhausted, being 02oo heures and counting, time for rest was very little. Rasta had to finish up as he had either forgotten his password, or the keyboard variance was too great. I think it was a little of both, poor bugger.

Rasta was pretty good, so it seemed, with his African style of artwork he had pencilled in, but after 45 min and only being a little past the halfway mark, I noticed a common theme, and began the flicking process. It may be a good thing in the art work, in its 2d form, but it is something that would stand proud in a 3d format, in a rich mans mansion after he had done what I refer to as the pompous tours of third world countries. The problem with talent like that from Rasta, well, it would usually get wasted away. Like my sleeping time.

Ah, the desirable bed was only a short lived dream, and ended up being a sweet three hours worth.

Bypass the job, Ouagadougou. 12 Sep, Wed

Something clicked, as I was getting up at 0730. I only had a couple of days left in Burkina Faso, and, as you have probably read, I have not actually done much in terms of real giving to the community in physical improvements. With my getting Malaria, I think Donat and Miriam had played it more on the soft side for me. I also think they were nice in not admitting it, but I think I had not planned for the best dates to be in Ouagadougou. This was not the reason I used to go by this, but in Miriam’s and my last few ’strategic’ conversations, I had iterated to her how I now had several things that I can either expand on, or use as a means of improving, then to give back to them. The easiest and most likely returns include the spreadsheets and the construction report. The spreadsheets will be flora based typically, one ranging from what was evident on their plantation, the other based on the 4-6 regions throughout Burkina Faso. One thing that I would not be able to get done, but may end up expanding on, is the virtual world of Ouaga 2000. Here I would like to obtain a software package that would allow me to recreate the region in various layers, from GPS, to topography and other layers, to even property value of individual pieces of estate and the division of individual estates. Kind of a crazy long term project, but I just love these things that could last for years upon years. Another thing that I would like to do is then to develop something similar to what a lady did, in conjunction with Rotary International. A lady in Arushi, Tanzania, developed the philosophy ‘Preventing Poverty through Education,’ which to me is a marvelous philosophy to follow. I will not go about constructing a physical premises to go about as my means of creating such a program, but will utilise locally developed organisations to help create connections. Like the virtual Ouaga 2000, this will not be a short term project and I suppose one word will be the determination of make or break: Resources.

There you go, this extended voluntary program may have allowed for the right thing to click in my head, but now we need to push it from head to paper to reality, and now, back to my chronological account of life.

After this small pondering, I rushed out to grab a bit to eat and get prepared for Fidel, I think he ws beginning to enjoy these little visits as 08oo heure was, to him 0750 heure, and so on. I actually did not mind this, as we had fun trying to teach each other the basics of our languages, and creating strange sentences using three different languages. Today, with his early arrival, him and Canazui first spoke, then him and I. It was here that I taught him how to use my digital camera, and he was able to take a nifty picture of his ‘vehicle,’ his wheelchair/ bike.

Donat got up and was still feeling drained of energy, but had gotten the likes of his voice back, as well as a bit more colour in his face. With him needing to do a few computer tasks, Canazui, Fidel and I went about starting to put together our batter mix. Donat realised our lack of natural material mat to protect the batter for the 24 hour settling. So, he went about on the search, which would aparently be more difficult then one would think. The idea was to get something that had no stitch of fabric from anything outside of Burkina Faso, with the right weave. This batter creation, in one hand, was a tedious task needing patience, but on the other hand, we had finished properly in an hour’s time. By possibly 11oo we had finished, and a few minutes Donat had appeared with the closest thing.

The great thing about the batter produced was the material that Fidel had wanted in this mix had been found in adequate quantity. One problem, the foundation surrounding the proposed patio was going to have detrimental effects. Our altered plan was to layer the batter on to the pre made mud bricks that Canazui had laid a week previous. These bricks, like anything similar to concrete, was able to retain heat, and to some extent feel warmer at night then the air. This variable would be the cause of the cracks that were inevitable in our project, thus making more then one layer the intention. The following layers would need to wait some time, so they would not be under the same effect as the first.

Anyhow, with the batter finished before the hot sun was able to beat down its harsh rays, we had sufficiently covered the mix and Canazui was on the road to get some of the famous market grog for Fidel. This was, I think, the first time that Fidel was staying for lunch, and would be a great time actually. With our minimal conversation, I was able to try and make tit from tat with the conversation between Fidel and Donat, which was in Moore. The great thing about having Canazui around was his slight stutter, and more basic usage of Moore. So on his arrival, where he would unknowingly try to take control of the conversation, I was able to slow down the brain process and try to actually work at what was being said. References to the radio, what comedians had said and presenters, as well as things in his own area and things that, to him, were minor catastrophes and gave reason for him to have a downturned look and vigorous nods of the head to emphasise his emotion to the topic at hand.

Anyway, after lunch, and a bit of a rest due to the heat of the sun, Canazui and I left for me to do some of the practical side of one of my projects, photographing flora on the plantation.

Thinking, oh yea, this would account for several hours: 40 minute in either direction and a bit under two hours walking around, I was soon to be mistaken. The first thing on Canazui’s mind was to see another girl. This one had apparently been the one Canazui gave his phone to, and had not received back on the day he wished for it back. On the way to her work, we were passed by a man who Canazui knew through a person, someone’s father, and we chatted to him while all of us still traveling on the bikes. We turned off down some dingy looking road and found our way in the midst of some market. Canazui got something ‘checked’ on the bike and we went for a walk. We walked to a call centre (which were more populated in the country then Internet Cafes). In this call centre was a lady squashed in two minute rooms and who was also covered in areas with very fine tattoos.

As the way Canazui would, he seemed to get a little heated about the situation, but within seconds was all passionate. A very confused person, with his emotion, he was trying to persuade her to come on over either tonight or the following night and to return his phone. If he wanted to have her come on over tonight, I don’t think he realised that Donat was in fact going to be staying tonight as well. I think we ended up spending about 30 minutes here, then saying our goodbyes, we went about to the bike and past the market I had met both Francious and his brother and both their wives. We slowly went pass the market, but did not see whoever that Canazui was planning to talk to, so went about heading to the plantation I had seen near the start of my visit to Burkina Faso.

Eighty photos later, and no more water, it was time the sun was telling us to slowly head back. On our way back we were able to see some real deal situations of Sugri-Doogos. One that we were able to see also had an elderly man 40 metres away who was slowly heading back to his place. Canazui found the rutted path that would take us near the man’s house. Walking the last 10 metres, we were able to get to the man’s ‘property’ as he did too. Introducing ourselves, Canazui did most of the talking, as the man only knew Moore. The man was eventually nodding and smiling all over. The strange thing was the fact that he was not the original owner of his sleeping hut. This place was originally inhabited by his grandfather. I think this place had been around, and repaired during the times, for nearing 40 years. Honestly, it did look old and derelict, with the dank smell of sewage being kind of pungent, but it was home, his and his family’s home.

Even though he felt a little awkward having Canazui and I taking photos, he was more then welcoming and friendly about his approach. Canazui assured him that he would return with a photo. A comparison photo of his Sugri-Doogo and the granary was also allowed, great to see the direct correlation between the two typical structures. On our departure we gave him several coins to say thank you, which would apparently last him a couple of months, if used correctly.

Thinking this would be time for us to think of home, Canazui got to the main road, crossed it, and headed down an unkown path (to me), after 10 minutes we headed into a market. This was the main market for the day, in the region, and some of the familiar faces were seen again. This would be the last time, in this visit, that I would be able to enjoy some if the local alcohol. Even though the sun was going down, we still managed to get several photos of the people who had accommodated us in this situation, in the ‘water’ hut.

Now, this time we were really on the road, when we were in between the market and Ouaga 2000, Canazui thought it would be great if I took the lead on his moped. In one hand it was exciting, but in the other, this was a bloody scary experience. Going from never being on a motorized bike to having someone on your rear ’support’ rack. Minor movements would in reality be an over-exaggeration, and freak Canazui out a little. Just after the roundabout, and before we had to turn at a major intersection, I had to pull on over and let Canazui take charge.

The proposed 3 hour experience had led to nearly a five hour experience. This had made Donat a little flustered at Canazui. After dealing with this, eating, down loading the photos and doing some work, time dissipated and it was time for bed.

Criminal heat, Ouagadougou, Ouahgouya. 11 Sep, Tue

Really, 5 1/2 hours of sleep does go quickly when you surprise even yourself in going to sleep. To let you know about the extent of people sleeping in this place: Yvonne had already taken a shower and had woken us up on her way back from the shower, as well as this, her sister had already left to meet us at the major bus depot. So, even though 5 1/2 hours of sleep is bugger all, people think this 5 1/2 hours is enough and even plenty in circumstances. Then again, while home Yvonne would try and go about having three showers a day… to my one, maybe two on a real stinker.

Talk about the guy I was, er, sleeping with, being so great, he gave us the keys to his bike (moped, actually) to which we would use to get to the station with, and meet Yvonne’s sister. I think the bus left at 6.30am. After leaving the living quarters at just after 5.15am, we had one near miss accident… my that was tied around my waist had gone about slipping around a little and the longest section was only millimetres from the bike’s tyre, but a lady gave enough gestures to allow for us to realise the problem at hand, while she overtook us. I don’t know about how much clarification I have given readers, or how in depth people are reading, but the great thing about having so many bikes on the road is the extensive lanes of bikes only that had been cordoned off with mini concrete barriers with minor breaks between them every 1.5m, or so. This would allow bikers to crossover between car lanes and bike lanes. Real interesting is the concrete barrier height being small enough to allow for children or donkeys to drag along the carts with a wheel either side of the barrier, diminishing danger to both themselves and the fellow traffic.

At the bus station, we met her sister, bought our tickets and said goodbye to her sister. By then it was 6.26am, perfect timing for the bus. We were also early enough to be able to get a seat, which at departure was all gone and had about 15 people standing. Off to Ouahgouya we were. In between sleeping, tickling being informed about the bus stops at each town, and the basket vendors with food and water, it was a bit over three hours before we got to Ouahgouya. Now, the length of the journey really was something, but the best of it did not come until we had jumped off of the bus. Just before we had gotten off I noticed three others who had jumped off, kind of awkwardly.

After we had gotten off of the bus, I looked over to the three people who had gotten off of the bus to notice they were two criminals and a police officer. The criminals had their own feet cuffed, but one cuff was between the right guys left hand and the left guys right hand.

One kilometre down the road was the place we were looking for: Yvonne’s older sister’s place. She was actually at work now, and we met two people, an old friend of Yvonne’s and a girl who seemed to help around the living quarters area. It was kind of strange, her pottering around and the means in which she went about it (compared to both Western styles of pottering and what I had seen of similar positioned people in Burkina Faso). While Yvonne was studying something similar to Economics, her friend was in the midst of exam mode (kind of) for her nursing degree. And while Yvonne and I were both talking to her and lazing around a bit, she was not studying. Then the lack of sleep and the extensive bus trip up took its toll. Yvonne and I pulled out a mattress and slept for, well my guess was about 1 1/2 hours. Being already after midday, it was actually kind of perfect timing for lunch. Moving things around conveniently we ended up having, well, a rice dish with a stew incorporated in with it. This might sound like a monotony in flavour, but the variety of stews, even with fairly consistent ingredients, was incredible. It seems to have slightly spicy food, with spices to add, with overly sugary drinks, seem to be a fairly common trend. Sounding either rude or a little blunt, this was enough proof to see why their teeth seem to be on average a little more deteriorated. What am I comparing this to? Honestly I do not know, but imagine those people who have consumed tonnes of sugary carbonated drink, and yes you know that one of the worst offenders to this is Coca-Cola (and they get away with it), and they tend to either have discoloured teeth, or what I call shark teeth, where you could nearly fit a bus between neighbouring teeth due to the acid effect. I just mentioned this because the sweet drink we had for lunch was along these lines, wow, enough of it could probably give you the jitters with so much of an intense energy hit.

A short while after we had eaten, and were in fact outside feeling sorry for our stomachs, Yvonne’s sister had come back from work, she was a Maternity Nurse and had delivered three babies today. The only similarity I was able to see between the sisters was their height. After talking for a while, Yvonne’s sister eating and then needing to go for a nap, Yvonne thought it best to do a little tour guide with me, on her sister’s bike. The thing we should have taken into account was the midday sun (1330 heure).

She showed me the surrounding area, from basically most directions of the establishment (the extent of the suburbs), as well as trying to show me Sugri-Doogos in the region. Floods had caused minor issues in some places, thus enough to make us backing away from getting too far out of town. The out of town ride was great to see things on a more obvious scale, from how people from ‘nearby’ villages would travel to the major centre with their products, and upon finishing with this go on the long walk back home. This was more obvious, compared to Ouagadougou, due to the sudden alteration from suburbia to rural land. People were also pleasant enough to give a smile, or wave, as we passed., maybe white person syndrome, or maybe their typical nature, I will not know for the time being.

Back in the built up region, I was amazed at several things. Considering Ouahgouya was the third largest city, they had one huge market. The reason why this was being larger then what seemed to be Ouagadougou’s largest market, well, Ouagadougou seemed to have a number of markets happening on majority of the days of the week, whereas this seemed to be the only central hub for the market industry, thus intensifying the numbers that much more. Typically I would see only Christian structures spiring into the sky, but here there seemed to be a domination in the Musim symbol, crescent and star, piercing the sky. The country is apparently, in a rough manor, split in half physically with its religious standing. Many things did stand out, but the third main… item, was the lack of sanitation. Garbage was strewn about everywhere, sometimes in non conforming piles, other times semi deteriorated with weather into the dirt road, other times running down streams of water that had been created via people throwing out their finished grey water (from washing, and similar). The reason for this mentioning is, as I would hope you would be aware of, the stench, the overpowering stench that it seemed only I was aware of. Not even Yvonne seemed to comment about this. This may be due to either sincere lack of knowledge, or from attempted ignorance, but definitely something I did not want to yet bring into conversation.

We saw the main gathering point for festivals, the hospital where her sister help pop out the babies, and a strange sight, yes a very strange one indeed. We saw another Nasara. This actually got Yvonne quite jealous. This Nasara, to me, tickled no fancy whatsoever, but being Nasara she drew my attention. It got me wondering how much of a friendship, or relationship, Yvonne and I were in, did I actually do something that would mean we would be forever and ever, amen? It was only a short lived annoyance as the heat had begun to take it’s toll. Being the one needing to concentrate, and also getting the brunt of the sun on her, Yvonne was, unknowing to her, troubled with heatstroke.

Being near her sister’s place, we were soon back there, with Yvonne claiming a lack of sight at times. Finally back, we were able to get some water into her, as well as lying down. Minutes later she had fallen asleep. This did not matter too much by now, as her sister was still in sleep mode, and her friend was trying to study. The younger girl who had been helping around the place was also in the process of setting up her own mat for the siesta. I think it was just before everyone started dropping like flies that Yvonne’s phone rang, it was for me. Donat, who was sounding fairly weak. He was still feeling sick, had taken the day off of work, and I think had forgotten about our conversation of me going to Ouahgouya. He was OK with it, and just wanted confirmation of my well-being.

I think the time was about 17oo heures when Yvonne awoke, to which her friend also was leaving. Light was thinning out, making study difficult. Also it was time for us to get ready to head on down to the 18oo heure bus. With friend gone, Yvonne, her sister and I began walking to the bus. Most of the way was in mindless chit chat mode, that is excluding the reference to the school for natural construction. A school that seemed to use modern methods to construct the locals native, but modern, housing systems. Pallets were laid out, as were mud bricks and other construction material. It was at this point that Yvonne’s sister left us, and we went the rest of the way ourselves (ooh, the whole 600m)

Most of the ride was in more random, and pretty mindless conversation, and also me being the only white person on the bus, again. It was about 20.30 when we got back to the secondary bus station (there are two main bus stations, but the busses go randomly to one of them at the end of the trip) and it was at this point that Donat called again. I think he was getting a bit worried, which kind of makes sense now that I think about it. A white guy who could speak very minimal French, and even less Moore. I gave him the promise that I would get back before 22oo heure, and hope it would be closer to the 2130 mark.

This is where I was introduced to yet another traditional custom: The taxis. I know this process occurs in many places around the world, but it still freaks me out. Yvonne semi-haggled the guy in letting us come in his car, but the talking seemed to extend beyond this. Being the one customer experienced person that I am, I started to freak out when a random guy said a few words to the driver and just jumped on in. This then happened with an elderly lady, and she jumped on in the front passenger seat. What on earth was happening? Then the driver turned to Yvonne, said a few words and Yvonne kind of headed to the taxi too. A shared cab, how exciting, I always wanted to know how these things worked. Overall, these shared taxis seem to be a mix between a private taxi and a bus system. The city of Ouagadougou was also, unofficially I think, zoned off to allow for a more economic situation for the taxi drivers. From where we had been dropped off (in a reasonably isolated backstreet) we were able to find he taxi that I just told the little, confusing, situation.

From this first taxi, which covered, say the North zone and the central zone, we were dropped off at the grand roundabout with in Ouagadougou, to which we had to cross the manic road crossing, that was actually non existent, but there was no other way around to the following taxi zone. During the day this would be maybe at most a 3-5 minute wait. Being closer to 2130, we had more of a 20 minute wait. Standing here we were nearly tempted to get onto a bus that would bring us closer to our location, but still needing a rather extensive walk to follow. While heading to this alternative solution, a taxi went about trying to pick someone else, who was near us. With all of us jumping in, this was definitely one taxi ride to remember. I think per person, a taxi cost about 800 CFa. So, for the two of us to get two taxis came to a 3200 CFa situation. This was not what made it all the most amazing thing with the taxi situation, it was the fact that, while he was going along main roads only, he would stop along to see where potential clients would be going. By the way, the driver did not refuse a single person. By the time that Yvonne and I were trying to get out we had two clients in the one seat in the front and I think five in the back, how happy I was that I was in between two ladies (one being near 60 years).

Even though the adventure was a little hectic, I kind of enjoyed this environment, even though people who had not known each other were not actually talking to fellow strangers. But we had been dropped off at the main road and still had a good 400 metre walk ahead of us. In most cases this would have been an ease, but to think about doing this, in the dark, after the previous days storms, in the narrowest alleys that I did not even realise were for public use, well I have to admit, I was kind of freaking out. But within several minutes of the zigzagging passage, we had soon entered the right street less then 15 metres away from the final location (for Yvonne).

Saying hello and goodbye to the several people that were still active enough to allow for visitors, including the bike lender, bed lender and Yvonne’s sister, it was now time to go for the 30 minute bike ride. Getting to the street with Yvonne we hugged goodbye and her bike lender was suddenly standing there. I had no idea what this was for, until I began riding. Down the street there were no lights, this would have been a story in itself otherwise, but suddenly the area was softly illuminated and the, I wish I could say purring, noise of the engine was behind. On the bike was the lender and Yvonne. At the main road intersection, the lender went about getting some essentials at an ailment store (kind of a grocery store) and let Yvonne take the bike to follow me. It now felt like I was training for an event of some sorts, maybe the rusty, derelict mountain bike 7km race? Yvonne was always within 5 metres of my bike at a snails pace for a motorbike, but hammering along at a mountain bike pace.

I had managed to remember the exact path back, in reverse, to get to Reciproka, well kind of. I went a little too far on the longest straight, but managed to actually find a rough short cut, hooray. This burst of exercise was great, with muscles feeling the sudden need to want to rip out so much more activity. So, once again I gave Yvonne a hug goodbye, who said hello and goodbye to Donat. Yes Donat had waited patiently and due to not feeling well, as well as needing a few things to get done around Reciproka, Canazui and I were enlightened with his company for a couple of nights. Even if I forget to mention it in tomorrows entry, he was there in the evening, and did end up staying this night as well.

Overall, Donat was happy for my new experiences and ability to have more Burkinese culture to remember, especially as my time was coming closer to the end now.

Community, Ouagadougou. 10 Sep, Mon

So, today was a day of Fidel action. not only this, but Francious came along, as did the still sick Donat. Several days ago, Patrick and i had passed on a list of flora we would like to have collected from around Francious’ place. I think he was able to get all of the essentials. The main essentials was the grasses, and a relatively fresh cutting of the Kooka bark. The grasses looked similar from a distance, but were all unique in a closer inspection, as well as by touch and strength in shear. The Kooka bark was needed for emphasis on the discolouration of water, if soaked for a short amount of time (preferably in the sun).

With Donat feeling, well, too unwell to go through large amounts of thinking (still teaching today), Fidel and I were trying to speak French together, and the more complicated words would be those that Donat would add his two bit to. I think Fidel was also not feeling too well, with the downing of Aspirins being the start and end of his visit for the day. Conversation was about the more person role, and religious role, of a successful Sugri-doogo. While we were dealing with the religious aspects of the structure, Donat went about looking for top quality clay, from a trusted place. On his return, we were able to see what the same clay looked like, but with a little bit of moisture variation. Fidel Quality Assured the product. One batch was great quality, whereas the other was a little too moist, and required proper exposure for drying by the time we needed to use it.

To take advantage of the situaiton, Canazui got me to jump on the donkey that was used to drag the supply of soil. Ah, the thrill in being on a small lumbering animal with such great strength. By 11am, which came around relatively quickly, Fidel, Francious and Donat had their own plans for the day. With their leaving, I was able to ask Donat for permission to go on to Ouahagouya with Yvonne.

While I was on the phone to update Yvonne, and getting things ready for lunch, Canazui had been able to get the lady from the liquor store to come on over, I think her name was Maree. The issue with this one, well, she had wanted me to visit her and for us to go out dancing. The plans I made at first for us to go dancing ( near a couple of weeks ago) was stopped due to her exhaustion after work, then the following plans had been spoilt with me doing something with Miriam’s cousin instead (whoops). This had caused a little bit of difficulties, but Canazui did not want us to give up. The other problem being my desire to actually get some work done as well. So, this time when Maree came, she actually came along and saw that I had been on the computer. Actually I may have been checking email, or booking flights.

Canazui grabbed photos of us, then as the thoughts had been about my intense working nature, she left. Sorry, but then Canazui promised about giving her copies of all photos. Bloody hell Canazui, this meant the list was growing, and colour printing was not a cheap task to get done.

I basically wanted her to leave, so as to grab a bite to eat and take Canazui’s pushbike to Yvonne’s place, before it rained. We ate lunch, then, it began to rain. This was not several hours, only a couple, but it made me look like the culprit for being late to the pre-planned meeting. For one reason, or another, I was unable to contact Yvonne, and just went about on a whim to hope she was home, also to get the right directions. Canazui had managed to also get a TV set up and was watching a bit of football, soccer, while the rain was preventing his outdoor projects.

The rain did not immediately stop, but I was now growing a little impatient. This was also due to the phones being down and not being able to contact people to see what the surrounding weather was like (Internet was also down). There was not much more rain to encounter, maybe only another 5 minutes worth on the bike and it had stopped causing misery. Twas not only the rain that was causing mischief, but the humidity. I was totally enclosed in clothing, including my backpack, but this also was able to enclose the body heat I was producing with the pedaling. Finally getting to Yvonne’s sector, the bumpy road was more like a new water way, river like paths formed helter skelter of each other and where the narrow ones were able to have some speed behind them, it was the wider ones that, even if slow, was able to create some hard work getting through.

Finally walking into the housing region of where Yvonne lived, I had to ask one of the people of the precise location. Even though pointing, they ended up calling out to Yvonne, who appeared within 20 seconds, or so. Saying hellos to each other, the first thing on the agenda was to get me out of the sweat sodden clothes clinging onto my back. You can see from the photos what the result of this was, even though it was a unisex top, I could definitely feel the places stretching had taken effect.

A little walk around the place allowed for some introductions to be inevitable. This area was like the market visited the previous day: Not many Nasaras would be seen in the area. This especially became evident with a nephew of Yvonne’s breaking out in tears and running to his mum every time he saw me, or if he thought I hadn’t seen him, to even just hide behind his mother’s dress. So, if I had not lost my journal a week before typing this, I would have been able to reiterate to you the names of majority of those I had been introduced to. The photos taken was not to show off the people I had seen, but only of the moments I thought were extra special. The perfect example of this was with Yvonne’s cousin taking the time to make a special, dessert like product that was great to fight against the humidity. It was ice, yoghurt and another product or two. This was a reasonably successful business of hers too, even down the reasonably back street. Most of her clients were, obviously, those from around the suburbs, with an estimated average of one person every 3-5 minutes (To me a success). These estimates come from me keeping minor track over three different sessions, for at least 10 minutes and up to maybe 40 minutes, per interval.

Yvonne lived with one sister, her cousin would come down for a few days at a time and stay with them each time. Also in the region, Yvonne had several cousins, uncles & aunts, nephews & nieces, and a great ‘family’ community. Everyone seemed to know everyone, and this would have been due to several things, in my eyes, the close proximity of everyones’ living arrangements, certain shared amenities, sharing of valuables (eg 50% living quarters had TV), church was an invaluable experience for them all (it seemed) and many of the people seemed to have a skill that could help others in the area (or obtain material).

Talking about a churchly experience, Yvonne and her sister took me to the community church. Referring to my picture page (I hope I have the picture uploaded), you can see how vast the area is between the church and the gates. This is not to prevent missiles to be thrown, but to allow for the community to sufficiently fit into the area if the religious figure were to have a renowned ceremony from the steps of the structure. Closer to the church one would get, the more compact the ground was and also immune to flooding, which could not be equally stated for the ground surrounding the fence line, in particular the main entrance. To allow for all day prayer and meditation, there was a section with an archway setup of chairs surrounding a statue of Jesus’ mother. It was here we had about 10 minutes of peace, to pray.

Whilst leaving, it was also seen that the church grounds was also a minor thoroughfare, with donkeys drawing carts, both laden and unladen, and boys occasionally tapping them on various sides of their rump. Across from the church grounds was a further education institute. Getting back to the living area, it was now time to meet more friends, watch a hair platting process (I think the lady said a 3 hour job) to a young girl, and grab some rice with meat stew.

The heat makes it near impossible to have a large appetite, but this was good, as we then had time to see the neighbour who would lend his bike to Yvonne to visit me, I went over to say thanks to him, to which we were bombarded with a decent quantity of peanuts to share with them. The guy’s child was great, with an ability to freely dance and have all his joints seem loose. This was then followed to talk to another neighbour, who lived by himself, and to ask if I could stay with him for the night, to which he was freely acceptable of the situation. This brought me to imagining if I asked my neighbours in Geelong to borrow their car, even pushbike, or to sleep on their couch even, let alone share their bed. Hmm… is the thing we need the most another Great Depression? These people were happy beyond happy, especially when not in my proximity, but I could observe them, it was inspiring. They might be in a country that is frequently in the bottom 5, but if they have enough care with food, health and family, should we inflict them with our… luxuries? What is the need to try to create an entire world that is apparently developed. This developed nature is also a means of physical isolation and lacking in certain values that is obviously seen from a country that has a GDP not worth even typing about. A yearly wage of this country is like an average working Australians’ three or four daily wage, but yet, how often do you see people hanging out in the streets and interacting with people they live in the same street with. When I mention this, I am not being specific with age, either, people of all agese interact, from 3 years to over 60 years. A mother would know their child is nearby, but not need to worry as within the hour she would be able to see a neighbour down the road walking with her child, or even changing the child’s dirtied pants. To iterate one word: Inspiring.

Anyhow, this topic could be an epic in itself, but I am here to… brag, I mean, record my doings. So, after having a bed to sleep in for the night, Yvonne thought she would go about giving me a desert with very standard ingredients that would be able to bring about a very non standard flavour to ones taste-buds. Sliced banana that had been encased with suger, thrown on some hot oil, and then slightly salted, or very similar to those methods, was the entirety of the making process. Oh, the best banana is one that is borderline rotting, so fairly squishy, and this is to be cooked until a slightly burnt look is seen amongst majority of those pieces on the pan. Strangely enough, this was extraordinary, and my wish was that we had at least half a dozen bananas, but we had to make do with the three bananas, greedy fat white Westerner eh?

With the neighbour, who I was bedding with, having dinner at a mates place (maybe in Bobodilasou, spelt wrong, but the second largest city in Burkina Faso), we hung out to enjoy some crazy TV. I think it was Spanish, well, it was very emotional and this person had done that thing to the other persons thingy causing a major disturbance in the relationship of another couple… very intense. The thing that I did not realise was the fact that, well for possibly 12 years of my life I had had a TV that could easily be my surrender to brain power, but with this easily available luxury at hand, I never thought it as an important factor (and would rather do anything other then watch TV that was not a decent movie). Sitting here, I had more entertainment watching the intensity of Yvonne’s own desire to watch TV, it kind of had me perplexed, but she was literally off in the world of passionate, Hispanic, drama.

Earth was landed upon after the credits began to roll, and several deep blinks proved how much depth had been taken to absorb all of it in. She tried to give a brief run down of the show, which I understood, but really if it ain’t happening then it ain’t worth remembering. To keep this in mind, I also think reality TV is not worth retaining the information too.

Talking and having people coming in and out, just to say hello and briefly chat, it somehow happened that time disappeared from us. The guy came back at about 11pm, which just happend to be the time we had wanted to hit the sack. So, he took me to his amazing setting. I know it is common in many places that have such issues as Malaria and Yellow Fever, but to be able to experience the Mosquito Net sleeping arrangements was like a dream come true, literally this is one of my sick little pleasures that I had dreamt about partaking in for some years now (since reading some book in Primary School, ie 15 years ago).

We were talking and then suddenly, with the heat having such detrimental effect throughout the day, I awoke to the 4.45am alarm

Lying down to Moore, Ouagadougou. 9 Sep, Sun

The attempts at trying to tell Canazui the days events seemed to fill a good part of the morning, as well as some intense working sessions clearing and fixing things in the yard and maisonette, but we had things to take care of. He seemed excited over the story I told him and was impressed with the photos I showed him. Unfortunately being the overly male minded person that he is known for, questions about the extent of our ‘hanging out’ was the main part of conversation and him wanting to know what we ‘did’ when we could. Managing to find a way out of this, we both headed on over to Miriam’s mum’s place, with the echoes of Nasara coming from the streets covered and big toothy grins glowing along the dirt roads’ edges. It was here, I believe, that it was the previous night that Miriam had left for USA, but her last few days had been a ghost like presence, where her own family had barely seen her, due to hiding in her brother’s, Tony’s, work place.

In mama’s house, Canazui and I helped shred the needed parts of food to edible and non-edible sections, while drinking the brew that had no known concentration of alcohol. This hour and a half long task was used for us to fill in time while waiting for the lunch that was to be prepped up for us. With the morning being used for working, Canazui and I had established a healthy appetite, and we discovered Reciproka’s lack in the right spice for the food. So, after the time had passed, we got the energy to gather ourselves and head to a market that was near the discotheque that was near Reciproka. Note too, this previously mentioned establishment is like a vendor’s record shop, with a bit more solid foundations to the building. Talking to the guys here for a short while, we really had to get on the path of spice hunting. Behind the discotheque, a new world emerged. This every day market was huge and contained many narrow alleyways, barely wide enough for 3 people to stand abreast in, and to butter it up even further, the storms hitting the market allowed for sections to be mini quagmires needing delicate feet, or at times baring the brunt of the mud, walking through it and shrugging ones shoulders.

I think this part of the city was rarely, or never, visited by Nasaras as people were stopping there activities and conversations to have a gawk. At the spice section of the market, while Canazui was bargaining the spices, and enjoying the convervsing side of life, I was soon wanting to talk to a random person. She was a grandma, finishing conversation to other grandmas and trying to get her grandson not to stare at me so mesmerizingly, to which I asked what made me interesting his response was Nasara. To get the grandmother’s attention, I spoke in Moore and French, saying that in fact I was actually black, and it was seen at night time, with no light or moon. Suddenly her wrinkles changed from set in place to a whole bunch of crinkles, and while Canazui was talking about the spices, I ended up having a relatively spaced out chat to the ladies for the ten or so minutes, which was the extent of my French/ Moore vocabulary. It was also at this time that Canazui had felt it was time to deal with our stomachs.

Like previous, the walk out was amongst the ruined alley way like paths. Back at the ‘exit’ we said goodbyes to the discotheque crew with the promise of photos on our return. As we got back to Reciproka, the change from overly warm weather with the sun belting down on us, to enshrouding clouds heaving down on us was a less then hour alteration. The thing that I noticed here, and was also confirmation of what had been seen over the previous sudden storm approaches, was the rapidly moving clouds. This especially held true with none storm clouds, but storm clouds seemed to approach twice as rapidly as what I had been used to. As we walked in the yard, several overly large drops hit down on us, which was giving us enough time to bring in equipment, wood and any other potentially rain effected items.

With all inside, we were able to grab a quick feed. Afterwards, while I was preparing spreadsheets, and doing some research. the continual thumping from the kitchen was drawing my attention. Stopping with the progress slowly being made, I was able to see Canazui, once again, determined to find a means of grinding the spices. With an enlarged mortar and pestle, he was thumping and grinding at the little beads of spice. A while of doing this would give him the chance to scrape out the fine enough material and continue at the remaining portion. You would not believe how slow a progress this job was, both by my non-porfessional means of conducting the operations and Canazui’s more professional, and abled, methods. All the while that we were doing this, we could not take a step outside, until sunset, as the rain was set in for those hours of the afternoon (I think coming to a 3 hour storm).

OK, talking on the phone to Yvonne, I was trying to tell her how it would be hard with meeting Fidel for me to make it on over to ‘hang out’ for a while in the evening. This said, she told me not to worry, and yes, by the way things would work out she should be able to come on over by 19oo heures. One good thing was the storm clearing up by 18oo heures, thus giving Canazui and me enough time to play outside, in the mucky, flooded and garbage infested streets. Photos really do not depict the real atmosphere, the finally cooling down temperatures, which, due to my acclimatising I was now feeling cold with the rest of the general population.

A short time after 19oo heures, sure enough, Yvonne came along on the motorbike. By now it was now so expected to see people transported by their motorbikes, and to see a car, for me, was now a peculiarity. Over the past few days, Canazui and I had been distributing a higher grade soil on top of the current topsoil, which was known for not being able to have enough nutrients to sustain any form of adequate flora. This new topsoil, we had put on top, was unable to keep any strength properties after a decent sized storm. Pushing Yvonne’s motorbike through the yard, I had to use some real oomph to get the bike through the 8 metre quagmire. With this you would assume a collection of mud to fill in the tread of the tyres, but pushing the bike into the common space of Reciproka, the tyres were now unable to let it show the 8 metres mess it had to be tested through.

OK, with Canazui and Yvonne speaking Moore at first, Canazui asked me several questions and the word standing out was ‘les argent,’ ie money. So, being a little confused, a 1k bill was all I was going to be giving up (3 AUD). The reason soon dawned upon me, as he put on his shoes and left. Aah, the plan was to give Yvonne and me some alone time. Would lit be correct for me to say that I was just freaking out slightly. But after awhile of talking, I think maybe two hours, Yvonne mentioned how tired she was. To let you know, the day we had first met, Yvonne had been recovering from Malaria, which people in this region can get several times a year with no problem. Hearing how she had been feeling tired, I asked if she should lie down until Canazui came back. You can get any impression you want from the next part of this entry, even to me it sounds wrong, but you never know.

Once escorted, she lied down and I thought what the heck, lets do the same. While lying there I sensed some movement and with my eyes adjusting, I realised that Yvonne’s mode of sleeping may not have necessarily involved clothes. To, maybe save me, alter the situation, I heard the disturbance of the front door of Reciproka. The door was locked, wait that would explain why Canazui went through the kitchen door, and this could be locked prior to closing the door. “Canazui!” Aah, Donat was at the door, now he was still recovering from feeling sick several days ago. A variety of sinus problems and fever had plagued him for a while. A doctor had found the best medicine for him, and this is why Donat had come back.

With me not being able to unlock the door, Donat came from the kitchen side, to which unclasping was successful. Him walking in was the same time Yvonne had come into the common area too. This caused a bit of a falter in Donat’s step, just slightly. I introduced them and Donat wanted to get back for enough rest for teaching, especially now not feeling on top of the world. As he was leaving, less then 20 seconds after him leaving, Canazui came back. Now being late, Yvonne had to head on home, and so we went as three: Canazui by himself on his moped, and Yvonne and I on her longer seated bike. So, it was from here that I found the best path back to Yvonne’s place for my next adventure: Going to another city about a hundred and a bit more kilometres away Ouahgouya, or similar to that. This was to be happening in a couple of days, after some more lessons in natural material. All was good in getting Yvonne back home, but on the way back, man, the passenger seat was more like an item to torture ones butt. At Reciproka, Canazui and I crashed.

Burning, the Garden of Eden, Ouagadougou. 8 Sep, Sat

For majority of the day, Canazui and I were once again left predominantly alone. The last time that I had spoken to Miriam had been several days ago, at least, and it was today, with Donat’s brief visit, that I was to discover Miriam’s last few days would not be involving Reciproka, and it was either tonight at 3am in the morning, or the following night, the she was to make for her sudden departure to her San Franciscan life. This would mean bon voyage Miriam, and maybe next time we may meet.

So, now it was left as the three musketeers, Donat, Canazui and myself. But now, as well, was the time that Donat was beginning to get busier with his full time ‘day’ job, teaching. He was a busy man when it came to this lifestyle. Where at one stage he was jumping between four different schools around the city, he, this year, had cut the locations down to (I think) three schools. With this decrease in the number of locations, he was now able to teach more classes overall, as well as devote several evenings to Reciproka. These past couple of paragraphs were a basic summation of what happened over the last several days, or thereabouts.

Today was, to no surprise, a steaming hot day. Canazui showed the weather that it could not defeat him, with his new occupation at hand to keep him busy with the outdoor world. Since the storms, people had discovered weak spots of their ‘waterproof’ roofs and were going about using bitumen backed insulation a means of sealing the pesty holes. Today Canazui was to do a little more of Reciproka’s maison and maisonette, as well as the neighbour directly across the road asking him for some assistance. The constant reference to this man was papa, as I think Canazui had a mild infatuation with his daughter. The funniest thing about this was that I don’t think he realised that he did have such thoughts.

Finishing Reciproka, we went over to papa’s, respectful, house; I met papa and mama, as well as the ‘daughter.’ Note in a previous entry how Miriam’s brother had a ‘daughter,’ basically it is a form of adoption, but in the same token this person would not be an equal to the other children and would, in fact , go about doing majority of the chores. I think I had met a half dozen, or so, homes in the same situation. This would be done in homes where a wage would be able to sustain the extra person, but not lavishly, to which I would have to commend the people doing this, and putting themselves out of the way.

Well, somehow Canazui scrambled up on the roof. The awkward operation involved a fairly chunky stick to be leaned up against the wall and Canazui would conform his feet to the available knots on the stick and compromise himself on the way up, but pulling his solid self into the roof. After finishing this task, he would prepare himself for my major contribution: Throwing up of the implements of danger. This included a bottle with altered lid, extended matches, water and something to be used in a spatula formation (actually I think it was a screwdriver). While Canazui was bounding on the roof, burning the bitumen side of the insulation, and the de-gradated portions of the roof, I would need to keep an eye out (like a dog man with cranes) and refer him to other less then satisfactory sections of the roof. The tell tale signs came from the discolourations on the wall, where running water had caused its effects.

My way of helping him was through the combined use of Moore, French and English. This caused erratic laughing from him and also bringing out the attention of the various home dwellers. I think their major curiousity was the hearing of a white boy using Moore as one of the means of communication. Overall it was both a successful and fun venture. The task done, Canazui managed to find his way down the lopsided stick and we went about talking to the relatives of the household, who had mostly gathered on the outer. This was more so they could thank us, actually Canazui, for the repairs done in the day. This opportunity arising, Canazui thought this the best time to also take care of photos. His ability to keep the hands of his steady were like trying to keep a plane steady while in the midst of a turbulent wind in the skies surrounding mountains, ocean, desert and fronts in the one region. With the mediocre photos taken, the heat finally being overwhelming for Canazui and people needing to tend to their own projects, we headed on back across the road to Reciproka and he downed a bit over a litres worth of water. We had a bit of a lunch, and the intense heat had worn him a bit thin, so we went about lazing about on benches listening to comedy and music, in Moore and French (respectively). The whole afternoon would not be just lazing around, as today was apparently the big day for me, according to Patrick.

Before Patrick’s arrival, Canazui and I were standing out the front of Reciproka, his ability of talking to any passer-by, funnily enough being of the feminine kind, was astounding. But while standing there we had the luck of attracting the attention of the direct neighbour of papa, Sylvia. Now, previous entries, awhile ago now, would have shown an introduction to this awesome lady. She was able to speak adequate English, but having a proficient speaker standing in front of her brought out butterflies, hence French being the conversing language. Anyhow, with Canazui and I having attracted her attention, she came on over and we began an hour long conversation. To let you know, she worked in one of the governmental departments as a PA and at the age of 30 seemed to be set in the career side of her life. Her over enthusiastic nature to life was one of my highlights to visiting the country, where her laugh could easily carry from her house’s closed doors to the maisonette of Reciproka with utter ease. The light hearted nature of Sylvia seemed to lift the emotion of those surrounding her.

Another thing that I had not previously mention was a large party that was had by Sylvia and her family the previous night, bass pumping, people laughing, getting mildly drunk, who would have thought that the basis of all this was a religious one? But then again, people had the anticipation of religious parties reaching such climaxes, especially with people who were praying aloud to scream out their prayer by the end of their session and those surrounding, in the premise of the ‘party’ to be either cheering, screaming, clapping or another noise making agreement. We also chatted about our families, Malaria recovery and other various time passing topics. But, alas, we had our evening commitments to tend to, au revoir Mademoiselle.

Yvonne’s and my meeting time was to be at 1830 heures, and nearing to 18oo heure I went about nicifying myself. The refreshing cold shower was able to remove the layers of grim that would cling to ones skin, after the drying of the sweat that would typically arise and dry throughout the day, and also bring about the evening life for me. The day was great at exhausting one, and preventing them from entering the ecstatic phase of their personality for the evening… groove. The buzz back in action, and dealing with the clothes to wear for the evening, Patrick appeared while I was mid-dress and gave the seal of approval for the attire selected. Unfortunately time was running thin, thus the cream on the cake, contacts, were not to be a part of me. Oh damn.

Several days ago, maybe on Tuesday, I had been visited by Miriam’s cousin, who had mentioned then that he was to take me out to the night life for the city. Unfortunately, hearing nothing at all, since, and having no time of confirmation, this was to be ignored and hope that he did not appear with expectation. This in the back of my mind, Patrick went about chauffeuring me to the mini garden near centre de ville, and until the time that we were companied with Yvonne’s presence, we sipped away at a Guinness each. Here we go all you Guinness appreciators, we all know that the taste of Guinness has variations from location to location, but the situation from the taste buds, to the liquidy effects, was relatively disappointing. An overly sweetened alcoholic drink with lack of real Guinness, renowned, body, then coming in a glass bottle resembling a tall soft drink glass bottle, really had me scratching me head. The ingredients were an interest in itself as well, where sugar’s appearance was relatively high on the list. Then again, if a successful company wants to tap the market for a variety of clients, especially where the population variation is relatively stagnant, then adjusting the ingredients to keep the look the same, but ‘perfect’ the flavour to have the society begging for more gives opportunity of keeping ones name and still have all three: Success, high price and name.

Off the topic slightly, sorry but trodding along smoothly is not typical for a warped mind typing on for such length of time (in terms of months, so to speak). The reason for mentioning about Miriam’s cousin, and the preposed plan was due our strange encounter while riding over to the gardens. At the major T-intersection, near Reciproka, Patrick and I thought we heard a whistling directed to us, but thought nothing of it, especially as Patrick was not actually from the surrounding area and I, being white and non-local, had no idea of this near zero static from occurring. Driving along at a moderate speed, I was taped on the shoulder, Patrick pulled over and he was there. I need to make reference to my blog, but his name was mentioned many times in previous entries, as the excited relative who was bloody funny and wanted to help me with finding a Burkinese wife, while I found him an Aussie wife. For a conversation that could have lasted another eternity, Patrick informed our reason for being off, and my dress, to which a heavy slap on the back was the means of being excited and constant oohing and aahing. Leaving his own way, this would be the last time I would see him, which was a damn shame, but that is life, eh? Thus our journey to the gardens again, the beer story gets inserted here, and the following paragraph goes after the beer paragraph.

Off track again slightly, but so Patrick had taken a couple of photos of Yvonne and I, spoken for a while and head that Oua was in fact not feeling the best he thought it time to tend to the situation (I think). Thus, the following three hours was spent in a rather unique, but yet not unique, situation. To let you all know, this was considered as a date for Patrick and Yvonne, I thought it would be interesting to use this as a means of exploring a different avenue of the Burkina Faso experience (not in terms of having another addition to the ‘black book’). Over the course of the evening it actually turned out into a mini language lesson: English, French and Moore. The most memoriable part of the ‘lesson’ was the learning of facial points, ie Tubre is ear, Yembre is one and about a dozen or so others.

With Yvonne having her neighbours bike and needing to return it, she went about delivering me back to Reciproka with a phone call expectation in hand, and her leaving for home.

The big lands, Ouagadougou. 7 Sep, Fri

For a few hours in the morning both Fidel and an uncle of Patrick’s was visiting Reciproka briefly. This brief visit was to see what the extent of flora was, that was gathered the previous day with Patrick, but then to allow for Patrick’s other uncle to see that he may need to get a few examples of flora from around his region. His uncle soon left for work, but with Fidel staying we soon worked out the exact necessities and the fact that Francouis needed an updated list for collection.

With Fidel staying for lunch and us being more relaxed, then not being able to stay any longer it was then soon after lunch time gave way for Patrick and I to leave to the ’suburb’ of ignorance (Ouaga 2000). On the journey over, him and I want to Francouis’ work. This was what got me more curious then ever. On many occasions I had been able to observe the people who had little vending ’stores’ along the road, but it was Francouis and his partner that were the first two people that I knew personally to be able to observe their working… functions. It was a fairly sad means of getting an income to sustain one’s family, but he was one overly positive person to be with. The harder thing to be a part of was Francouis’ ability to only speak Moore, not even my French abilities were able to tap into his stories of life. With Patrick being the speaking man, I wrote the precise list of essentials for examples to be gathered, that was yet to be grabbed from Patrick’s and my previous experience, and Patrick gave a little run down to Francouis.

This done, and a little bit of speaking to fill in the time, Patrick and I went about the main objective of the day. Wow, going past some reasonably lavish hotels I was able to take a lavish number of photos of total contrast to a good 95% of the country’s typical housing. Hah, it also seems the hot deal with embassies, and so on, was to move their structures to an oversized mansion in the midst of Ouaga 2000. This was causing me to get the jitters, this put to shame the structure of Hate’s, the last time I was in Ouaga 2000, during the storm, with the vastness of their size. Thinking that these embassies were an embarrassingly large size would only make one gasp when looking at the residence of the President of the country. Where a standard house in Ouaga 2000 would be three times larger then the standard Australian house, an embassy would be three to four times larger then the houses and the presidential house would be approximated to being about eight times larger then the largest of the embassies.

People were prohibited from being stagnant for too long on the isolated near 1km long road but after going past the welcome roundabout the poorer people began making appearances. Amongst sections of Ouaga 2000 poor people had established bases for their very unsuccessful businesses, either waving fans over cooking corn or waving their banners of prepaid phone cards and clothing ’sticks.’ With Patrick having an enormous appetite, he was already hungry enough to demolish a large head of corn and I joined him in a BBQ corn. Even though the corn looked a little burnt and derelict, the corn was pretty tasty. While munching this, I went about taking photos of the architecturally designed buildings, where some of the houses had a top to bottom window system and others had ivy climbing over one side of near windowless walls. One horrific richness emphasis was one cage that held a horse and several chickens, with the cage being barely enough to hold the horse itself, as well as only a bag worth of green grass being used as all the animals.

Imagine, this was the last vision I had of the insides of Ouaga 2000 I had. So, even though it was the designated rich zone, there were still hints of the true nature of the land’s lack of overall richness (caged horse, street workers, litter) But this view was a minor part of the true nature of, even, the city. As Patrick and I were going back to Reciproka we accidently too the wrong path from the normal route, to find ourselves in an area that wreaked of rotting rubbish, pollution and actually some pleasant smelling spices and meats being prepared along the roadsides. Even though the road had been covered in tarmac, the dirt that carried along the motorbikes was able to collect upon the merchants’ clothing on the side of the road, where colour had been depleted with the settling residue. With this in mind, it was my duty, upon arrival to Reciproka, to quickly write pages on my blog directly relating to my opinions of the divisions of Burkina Faso that I had experienced (Rural, city and high society)

The people at Reciproka (Donat, and some of his friends) noted the vast difference between their living and what they saw on my photos (Donat lived in a comfortable, yet still amidst the community). Patrick had now been in a slight conflict with Oua and even though he was unable to spend much time with me for the rest of the day, he had other things, beyond Oua, to tend to. It is actually from hereon that I think he did not spend time with Oua, and even neglected to respond her calls. I will forget to put the correct info in for the correct date (soon after today), but the reason for Oua’s change in nature was due to her being sick. Aah yea, it was Yvonne who had told me this tomorrow, at our… romantic meeting place.

Blind date, Ouagadougou. 6 Sep, Thu

Patrick came around early and, after Donat was able to contact a guy at a research botany, Patrick and I went about heading to the other side of the city. The guy here was able to give us examples of most of the plants, not only their scientific names, but also chopping a portion of them off with his machete. The most difficult for him was the Zibri vine, even though it was virtualy the thinnest of the samples.

This hour long saga was followed by visiting one of Patrick’s closer friends in the city. As this is being taken from both memory and photo imports, names have now escaped me, but it may have been similar to Matthew (actually all forgotten names, from hereon in, which are necessary will hopefully show that it is obviously a forgotten name). Matthew was lucky enough to have the ability to jump in and out of his brother’s pad (bedroom and living area) whenever he was not there, the other fortunate thing with this is the fact that his brother still was on the same property as the parents, but was able to have a separate building.

After downing a couple of mugs of steaming hot tea (in the steaming hot weather, which I’d now acclimatised to) it was time to have some tea, maybe Chai. To do this, we walked down two blocks to a corner where a group of friends were hanging out at. The six, or so guys seemed intrigued with this white guy approaching them. Soon enough we all got along to chatting, while Matthew got along with his hot drink concoction. Being only three glasses available, this turned out to be a relatively communal affair with nine of us drinking up. A brief example of the guys: Three of them spoke another language that was apparently Fundi (spelt wrong, I am sure, but sounded similar to that) which, like Portuguese is to Spanish, Fundi is to Moore; Patric emphasized the difference in selling his name to Patrick, which was very uncommon to the norm (ie Patrick was not common); King was out of his prime pimping outfit, which was his night time attire whilst around the ladies and there was a guy who was more then eager to be the person to assist in the creation and running of a Burkina-be embassy Down Under, and that I should be the Australian ambassador for the ‘to be created’ embassy in Burkina Faso.

Somehow time seemed to run straight from under us, and after talking to the compadres in their hang out spot, as well as being gawked at by a number of passer bys, it was time for Patrick and I to head on back to Reciproka for some nourishment. It was not all just fun and games whilst at Reciproka (and dining), once the plants had been sorted out and the plant-worthy plants taken care of, in terms of being planted and being watered, it was also the best time to take identity shots of them, and try to establish a database/ spreadsheet for the natural form of the ingredients for the batter of the natural construction.

At last, a decent sized lunch was demolished, where I think by now it was about 15oo heures. With lunch finishing up at about 16oo heures, Donat and Patrick discussed how my previous failure at taking adequate photos of Ouaga 2000 monstrosities was to be taken care of via Patrick driving me around tomorrow and me pretending to be an architectural engineering journalist comparing the upmarket areas of capital cities around the world for their aesthetics, era of influence and the adequacy of design.

Patrick had to head off for his own agenda to be tended to, but he wanted me to join in on his adventures. Actually, he had pre-organised meetings for me to partake in. To allow for his legitimacy in taking me to his appointments for the day, he emphasised the need to show me where he was schooling at and several other locations. He showed me where the majority of the lecture theatres were and actually informed me how the government and upper tier of society were trying to segregate people in schooling. The board would allow for a couple of people to come from international locations to teach English, and German, but even though they were given the opportunity to the freedom of teaching there had been tension developing amongst one of the exchange (USA) professors. There was an unofficial limitation on the extent of marks allowed to be given to the students (ie kind of like the bell curve statistical marking system). With the exchange professor being honest in her own approach of mark distribution she had been given the one only warning, with (apparently) the government having a link in the board of education, for the university, also providing their iron fist to the issue at hand.

Wow, anyhow, after this little hidden story being told to me, Patrick and I went about seeing his friend we had seen earlier on in the day, Matthew, as well as several other people. This time we rode his bike to another guy’s place. He was also called Patrick. Note that he had the same spelling as the Patrick I know, and not the Patric that had been met earlier. For a couple of hours we talked on the street, while sitting on deck chairs from Patrick’s house. While sitting here we were able to see another Nasara (female) walking along with a local guy. With her attire and physique, she looked like she was here to view the backstreets of Ouagadougou (possibly other areas of Burkina Faso), unlike the business people and tourist that otherwise would plague the, polished, streets of Ouagadougou. While looking at the passer-bys and listening to the French Moore being spoken and picking up a good amount of the conversations, I was lucky enough to be approached on numerous of times by four or five kids on a cornering house. They seemed OK at first, but their constant harassing, and prodding, made the other guys get irate at them and allowed for them to vent their anger on my behalf.

With the sun disappearing, and sick people needing tending to, it was time for people to go their own ways. This gathering had been organised to allow for a girl to come along and meet us (actually me), but time was against us, as she had to work for extended hours. While going, a group of four of us went in the same direction, and the lead biker suddenly pulled over, and we joined him, the realisation dawned upon everyone, bar me, as we walked into a clothing store. This was where the girl had been working for an extended number of hours. If only I had have grabbed a photo of her, this over energetic, young 20s girl with the ability to converse to us with unbelievable enthusiasm that it exhausted me. An hour later, we had to go once again and I still had no idea who she was (in terms of Patrick’s setting up), until it was too late. Saying seya to her, the boys went their own way and Patrick and I went to another person’s place for a meeting.

This is where Yvonne and I had our first, of a number, meeting. Patrick and Yvonne spoke for an hour, with my French and English contributions made throughout and suckling away at the water in a plastic sachet. Towards the end of the… session, it was planned so as to Yvonne and I were to meet in two days time at a garden in centre de ville (centre of village). A hug later and being guided out, Patrick and I left for Reciproka. It was here where we spoke about the two ladies that had been visited today and decisions had been to not worry about visiting the first lady, more due to several reasons. Patrick told me here how she had a boyfriend and I should not enter her life, even as a friend, due to the typical jealous behaviour of the men in the country.

This will obviously sound stupid, but I had not realised the main purpose of the evening was to find the right lady for me to hang out with for times over the next week or so. Oh well, the purpose of this experience was to both volunteer and be a part of all community involvement.

NOTE:

Now, there had been a degree of laziness, on my part, in regards to the various entries for the blog. It is now after Christmas (27 December) and I was at first in a kind of set situation, that is, entries had been recorded in my little black journal and I was too busy enjoying the times around me to enter the entries from previous dates. Well, in London I lost my book, I think this was about 20th December that the book had wandered away. The situation: At a public phone I called a friend and rushed off, leaving the book on top of the phone. The following day there was no trace of the book, so, for the times between 5 September and well, whenever, this is going to not be so in depth. Some people are thinking hooray, but I was fortunate that the majority of my trip have not been based around downing so many drinks. Generally most places have been kept on the brain in the dark corner, so some quick fixing is to be a part of the next few weeks.

I am going to try to use photos to refer to individual days, so 1 picture will be worth a couple hundred words… possibly!