Into the Sahel

Just in case you didn't think the central and southern parts of Burkina were hot enough, venture towards the scorching Sahel, where the bush meets the desert. It is worth it. The vegetation turns from lush mango trees to thorny bush and sand. And if you are searching for colorful markets, you'll find them at their best here.

Which tracks lead to the desert?

The explosion of color at Oursi's Sunday market:

Burkina Faso Fabrics 101

At every market, there are fabrics, fabrics, fabrics galore! Here are some of the more common ones.

The ubiquitous lost wax fabrics are filled with bright colors and patterns. Every man, woman and child is wearing something made with this cloth.

Bazin is dyed in solid colors with subtle damask-like patterns, contains wax, and is pounded for sheen. Usually made into clothing, we opted for two tablecloths instead.

Faso Dan Fani is the traditional fabric produced in Burkina Faso. It is a heavyweight cotton woven by hand, usually in more subtle, natural colors.

Lost and Found Girls

When a young girl of about 8 or 9 quietly sat next to me at the children's library of the Centre Culturel Francais in Ouagadougou, I just continued to read and translate French stories to Alex. And when I asked her what she liked to read, she shook her head no. I interpreted her no as an inability to read, which is not so uncommon given Burkina Faso has a literacy rate of 28%, one of the lowest in the world. But as the library was closing, she wandered around a bit, still keeping an eye on us. As we made our exit, it was clear, she didn't want us to leave her. She mumbled a story about her father dying and that she was willing to go wherever we were going. On the street, we firmly told her that we could not take her back with us and that she had to go home. But she was persistent and continued to follow us. We turned to her and explained that it was not possible for her to come with us and thought that giving her some money to take a taxi home and eat dinner was enough for her to understand. You could see in her eyes that home, if it even existed, was the last place she wanted to go. We thought that maybe she didn't understand French well enough, so we asked a few locals to ask about her situation in Moore. She finally expressed that her father did in fact die, her mother lived in a village but she did not live with her and that her grandmother lived in a district in Ouagadougou. We ended up leaving her with them, hoping they would have a better handle on the grim situation this girl was in.

That same day, by constrast, we were witness to a new family being formed. A little Burkinabe girl of nearly 2 was getting acquainted with her new parents who had made the long trip from Spain to adopt her. They had only been with her for 2 days when we met them, and already, she seemed right at home with them.

Here We (Ori)go!

Can't you see I'm relaxing?

I have to admit, I'm happy to not be haggling with taxi drivers or waiting hours for transport to leave. We have spoiled ourselves renting a van with ample room for the three of us and our junk. And on top of that, the van comes with a driver and an assistant.


Thanks to Marc's dentist, Lief, we were able to meet Filip, who owns and runs Origo, a company that arranges tours in East and West Africa. They have diverse itineraries that last for about 2 weeks for groups of 6-8, but are flexible in rearranging your trip according to your needs. In our case, we make up the schedule as we go. The guys make sure we get as much out of the day as possible without rushing through anything and safely getting us to where we need to be.

The person most spoiled in this endeavor is, of course, Alex. Soul, co-pilot to Marcel/mechanic/guide/ deal maker/all around sweet guy with the voice of a double bass, has taken on the role of sherpa and guardian to Alex. He doesn't have kids yet, so he has no idea what he's in for. The slightest whimper and he's there to pick her up. I think that's why the whining has peaked!

Les Cascades de Karfiguela, near Banfora

Les domes de Fabedougou, near Banfora

Women Who Rock

Red carpet action at Cine Burkina

With "Women of Rock" in the title, I expected the Belgian film we were going to see to be about just that - girls and music. I was correct with the first half but the music part had nothing to do with it.

"Winds of Sand, Women of Rock (Vents de Sable, Femmes de Roc)" was a poignant and beautiful film about the nomadic Toubou tribe of women who annually make a journey (of several hundred kilometers, in 3 weeks) through the harsh Sahara to collect and sell dates and livestock. This enables them to independently make a living to survive another year in their village. The scenes of the desert and their colorful clothing and tents are enough to make you want to do the journey with them.


Day 4 of FESPACO and this was the best film I've seen so far. Yesterday night, we watched "The Last Flight of the Flamingo" from Mozambique. Filled with traditional sorcery, this fable takes an entertaining look at the grim situation post-civil war and post-colonialism. I won't give it all away but it begins with the mystery of a severed penis found in the middle of the road. I will say no more.

It's no xiao long bao, but we needed an Asian food fix!

Oui, Ouaga

I am so happy to be in the French speaking part of West Africa. Not that things weren't good in Ghana. But our arrival into Ouagadougou welcomed us with what we found was missing in Ghana- a love of culture/art and fantastic food! Maybe it's also because we're here during FESPACO (the Pan-African Film Festival). The city is full of ambiance.


At the Institut Francais, we caught a free Nigerian film about a young girl with a physical disability and its misconceptions. Marc and I are attempting a night out to catch some films and hiring Amie, a Burkinabe and teacher in a nursery school, to watch Alex this evening.

At our tranquil hotel, Le Karite Bleu and considering running away with the Peul.

Dinner at the lovely Espace Gondwana - overflowing with West African art.

Hot and spicy

I knew what I was in for when I spotted the scotch bell peppers floating around in the slimy okra stew. Ghana is exactly that dish. Accra was steamy from the start. And our little Effia, as little girls born on Fridays are called (Kofi – yes, just like the former UN leader – if you are a boy) was a good sport about putting up with the heat from both the dish and the streets. Well, not really, but a nice tall neon orange Fanta made her forget about being hungry and being hot.

We also thought it might be a good idea to head up to the National Museum to cool off and wishfully thought that Alex would sleep. Wrong again. She decided to put on a big show for our taxi driver who probably wished that the traffic on Barnes Road had moved just a little bit faster. And the cool museum? Not exactly the temperature inside, but they did have some great information on the various meanings of Kente cloth and the slave routes including a vigorously scratched out photo of a former slave owner’s grave.

Day two in Accra had us running to and from the Burkina Faso embassy for US dollars and Alex’s US passport. Apparently there is some agreement between the US and Burkina Faso to allow US citizens to have multiple entries into the country good for 5 years. We walked straight to the Paloma Hotel for lunch and took a scenic cab tour near the streets of the bustling Makola market on our way back to our hotel.

Tomorrow, we are off to Akwidaa for palm trees, white sand and some relaxation!