Burkina and Mali Trip, Part I

October 19, 2011

Back in Ghana!  We had an awesome trip to Burkina Faso and Mali.  Despite crapping in a hole for 2 weeks, sleeping in a different place everyday for the first 12 days, not speaking French or the local language, sweltering heat, hiking 25 km with my pack, and many hours spent on (mostly non-AC) buses (I’ve calculated approximately 92 hours of buses/tros/bush taxis), this may actually go down as my favorite trip so far.  We had so much fun!

After a 14 hour bus ride, 3 hour tro ride, we stopped in Bolga Tonga, which is in the Upper East Region of Ghana, to visit Emma, one of my fav PCV’s.  When we were still in Accra, Nivole was talking to another PCV about a shrine that is near Bolga Tonga; it’s a topless shrine.  “Jeanna, we gotta do titty shrine!”  And if you knew Nivole you would understand why this is so funny; it’s completely out of character for her. Hey, it’s vacation, I’m game…as long as there’s not creepy Ghanaian men staring at my sparkling, white boobies; I get harassed enough in Ghana when my clothes are on.

So, we headed to Tonga Hills where the shrine is and we had a great hike around the area; there are lots of cool rock formations.  We also toured the compounds and the chief’s compound.  In the upper regions the huts are round, whereas where I live, they are square.  These compounds are made of mud with thatch roofs and some flat mud roofs.  They are surrounded and joined by mudwalls that make it look like a maze inside…it was really cool.  Next, we started the walk to Titty Shrine; this is an animist culture and they still do animal sacrifices.  Half way up the mountain you have to remove your top, shoes, hats, sunglasses; basically naked from the waste up and the knees down as this is how the people used to climb to the shrine back in the day…only in a loincloth.  So we strip down and start climbing behind our guide, Kingston, the medicine man already climbed up, and a medicine man in training was behind us.  It was way less creepy than I thought it would be; they didn’t really stare.  I was worried about scrapping my boobies on the rocks, though…I need these bad boys!  We get to the cave/rock/shrine area and are told to lay down flat on the rock and look over the crack to where the medicine man is sitting amongst all the bones, feathers, and other offerings.  It was really interesting; and nice to be flat on my belly (chest hidden), and the cool rock felt really good against my sweaty skin.  So after we get stories from the medicine man, we climb down, dress, and climb rest of the way down and head back to town to go stay with Emma.

Next morning we wake up and head to Paga. We get a room, lunch, and then haggle to rent a taxi for the day to take us to Sirigu where they make pottery and also paint their mud compounds with red/black /white patterns.  It was really cool.  I love going into the different houses and compounds, it’s so neat!  Next we went to a slave village and then back to the room to rest up before crossing into Burkina the next day!  

So the next day we walk across the Ghana border (surprisingly smooth…I had all these visions of assbags in uniforms extorting money) and start walking in the no-man’s land until we come to the Burkina border and are faced with our first French speakers…eek.  But since they worked the border they had some English and everything went smooth.  Then we walked up to where we would be able to catch a tro to Ouagadougou (Capital of Burkina and probably the coolest city name!)  We’re walking along and some guy comes up and grabs ahold of the top of my backpack; like not trying to steal it, but just being weird.  So I grab his hand loose and start off again.  He grabs ahold really hard and won’t let go and is mumbling in French (I think he was drunk).  I had both hands trying to pull him off and Nivole was pulling on him too (he was really strong…it kind of scared me how weak I was against him)  So we’re both mouthing off in English (no good) and I start looking around and see some other men over by their big rigs and I kinda throw my hands up and say “Hey, are you guys gonna help us or what?”  They didn’t understand me, but I heard them clicking and clucking their dislike of the guy, and at the same time some other man came over and yelled at the guy and he let go and we went on walking.  “Jeanna, you and your shiny skin…why did I travel with a white girl?”  Thanks Nivole.  We catch our tro and are then dropped in Ouaga about 3 hours later.  Taxi drivers talking to us in French….uh…uh…  We need to tell them to take us to the Peace Corps office, but have no idea how to work that.  I show the guy my PC  patch on my bag; after discussing (in French) with several other drivers, he decides he knows where he’s going.  I’m pretty sure he doesn’t, but I know we don’t know, and it’s hot, and a tro almost ran me over (seriously, felt the tire on the side of my leg and the mate shoved me out of the way through his window), so…  We start driving around and have a good time trying to act out what we are trying to say; after stopping 2 times to ask random people and a couple phone calls, we arrive at the PC office…it’s freaking nice!  Completely nicer than our office…we were jealous.  We meet up with some of the Burkina PCV’s and they help us reserve bus tickets for the next day, took us out to eat steak sandwiches and yogurt, did some shopping and just came back and relaxed at the house. The PCV’s took such good care of us! They made life so much easier. 

Next day we go to the bus station to buy our tickets to Bobo (the PCV’s had called and reserved us tickets and also got us the cab).  So I give the lady my ID and say I have a “reservaTION” in my best French accent (which Nivole is now calling instant French and has become one of our favorite jokes).  The woman starts saying a bunch of stuff that we don’t understand so Nivole says yes, 2 tickets.  Which really turned out to be a 2-way ticket each; we didn’t need a return ticket….oh well.    So we each wasted about $10 US because we don’t speak French.  (Later that day I learned “aller sim” means one-way…I shall not soon forget that!)  Half way to Bobo is a rest stop where a PCV told us you can buy whole rotisserie chickens…so I stay on the bus to watch our stuff and Nivole gets out to pick the chicken and some bread.  She comes back with a whole chicken chopped up and swimming in rotisserie grease and 5 little crusty French breads…YUM!!!  I love that we were sitting on a bus pulling a chicken apart with our hands and using French bread to wipe off our greasy fingers.  I ask Nivole how much it cost.  “I didn’t understand what the lady was saying.  So I’ve developed a method.  I hand them money, if they don’t look happy, I hand them more money…I do this until they look happy and give me change back.”  Works for me; this is one of the many makeshift methods we come up with on this trip to compensate for our ignorance of the language...most of them worked at least some of the time J  So we get to Bobo, and call the taxi number that a PCV in Ouaga gave us.  They wrote down what to stay to the driver in French and spelled it out phonetically for us.  Nivole gave the first try…I nearly peed my pants laughing at her “Instant French” the only thing that sounded right was, “wee, wee”…and no taxi came.  So then I gave it a try…I sucked too.  So then I practiced a little while and then called a second number they gave us, and this guy did show up…excellent.  We got to the PC rest house and then got directions to a bus station where we could buy our tickets to Mali for the next day.  Instant French (I hope you all realize this just means a really crappy, strong, French inflection/accent) and some smiling got us tickets no problem! Holla…we were feeling brave and proud and decided to try our luck navigating the grand marche (market).  We wobble around the MANY stalls until we end up in the cloth section.  Nivole picked some cloth for her mom and I end up buying some Bizzan cloth that has really intricate sewing.  The guy quoted me some really ridiculous price (using a calculator to communicate the digits because we don’t know French numbers…see how much fun this can be!!!) and I just kept saying no and that I only had this much money on me, so no matter if it’s worth more or not, I can’t spend more…after about a ½ hour I got my price! One of the guys who came up spoke a little English so that was awesome.  He then led us over to the old mosque (built in 1880) and we toured that.  But to tour it you have to leave your shoes outside.  Nivole did not want to leave her shoes. “Haven’t you seen Slumdog Millionaire?  I’m not walking home in this nasty place without shoes!”  The Bizzan guy said there was a guy there to watch our shoes.  “He’s probably the one who’s gonna steal them!”  After I promised that if the guy stole our shoes that I would give her my Bizzan shirt, Nivole agreed to go in.  It was really pretty; sticks and mud.  It was getting evening so the sun was setting on the white/cream mud and it looked beautiful.  We came out and our shoes were there, but of course the guy wanted some money.  I didn’t have any coins smaller than 500 CFA, which is $1 US, so that’s what I gave him, but I lied to Nivole and said I gave him a 200 CFA piece because she was already pissed that we had to pay someone to watch our shoes.  I figured it was worth $1 to me to get to keep my shirt (later I confessed that I gave him 500 and she was like, “ I knew you were lying!!!!!”  We are kinda like a married couple…I could do worse…). We went to dinner by the PC house and I got this drink called “ochada” that a PCV told me about.  It’s kind of like soymilk; it’s white and made out of a bean or seed or something and sold in a bootleg water bottle.  It was DELICIOUS!!! And I never found it again in Mali or Burkina L

The next morning a taxi came and picked us and took us to the bus station.  On the bus they played a Malian music concert on the TV and I enjoyed the 5 or so hours listening to the music and looking out the window.  We knew we had to drop in a town called Bla and that it was about half way to the bus’s destination, so when we got to some town about 4 hours in, I asked the mate if it was Bla.  He shook his head no, but now he knew where we needed to drop.  Some time later the bus was stopping and he said Bla, so Nivole and I grabbed our bags and jumped down.  Then 2 other mates jumped off the bus and told us to get back on (which was good because we were not at a junction and I knew from the map we should drop right at a junction).  So we got back on and the mates were yapping to me in French and I said I had no French.  So they start yelling at Nivole (in French) basically saying she should help her white girl.  “I’m just as dumb as she is. I don’t have any French either.”  They thought that was hilarious…white girl and black girl, dumb, dumb, dumb.  So they next stop at the junction and tell us to get off and laugh and wave goodbye to us.  I start saying “Sevare” and several guys lead us to some hut, we buy tickets and wait until a bus pulls up and they tell us to get on to go to Sevare.  We get on and this bus is sooooo jankity.  There are at least 4 different types of seats that have been welded in, no open windows, just 2 little lift skylites for air and they kept the front and back door open for breeze, big gas jugs filled the aisle as to make more seats.  Various things were strapped to the top; both living and not…and we’re off.  It took FOREVER to get to Sevare because we stopped in every village to drop people and unrope their stuff from the top.  The exhaust fumes kept backing up in the bus (we were at the back)…it made me feel sick and it rained a couple times so they shut the skylites, which really made it stinky, but the scenery was gorgeous and I just listened to my ipod and smiled most of the way.  5 hours later it’s getting dark and we’re still not to the town we need.  I tell the mate we need Sevare and he shakes his head, ok.  We were staying with an Italian couchsurfer who told us we needed to drop by some hotel when we first started going through Sevare as the actual station was way on the other side of town.  It’s dark, the windows are all dirty and you can’t see out, and we had no idea where we were, so we just got down when some other people did.  We had to go buy phone credit and then call the couchsurfer.  We had her talk to some guy and tell him where we needed to meet her and then he took us there and she came and picked us.  This may seem like a long line of dribble you don’t need to know about, but I think it’s important to see how this trip wouldn’t have been so awesome if: 1) we knew what the hell we were doing and could speak, 2) if random people didn’t constantly help us!  So we hang out with Marta, get some food, go to bed, and wake up early to head to Dogon country!