More fun and games...

‘Les Masques’ are important symbols in Burkinabè culture, both as objects and as beings. I saw a fine collection in the National Museum in Ouaga, and have seen one or two elsewhere, but until recently had never had the chance to see them in action. So I was highly delighted with two opportunities to see the masks ‘come out’ (sortir) over the last couple of weekends – one in the old town here in Bobo, and the other in Pala, a village not too far away.





















The occasion in the Old Town was funerary – the anniversary of the death of a senior Griot. Griots are a mix of court jester, musician, town crier, story-teller – usually in support of a traditional ruler. The custom here is for burial the day of death or the day after, accompanied by a sombre ceremony, and then a celebration one and/or several years later. The masks came out on 2 successive days, a Saturday and Sunday, in a well-organised and highly popular public event. The space in the Old Town was absolutely packed, with people sitting on wall and roof tops and perched in trees as well as cramming the semi-official seating. Hot, sweaty but fantastic atmosphere – not far off a friendly football crowd. The space in the middle was kept clear by officials with mean looking whips – I took care not to find out how mean. Musicians – different drums, flute – played, and the figures came running in, doing somersaults and other acrobatics.

The following weekend, at Pala, a small village just outside Bobo, there was again a massive gathering – the village was heaving.
The festival went on all day, with at least 3 performances, and some mysterious bits in between which women were not allowed to watch (so we were temporarily accommodated in a small room with not much by way of windows) and intervals for eating, of course, and drinking of Dolo (millet beer). Masks came, on foot, from Bobo to join the local ones; just outside the village, along the route, young men were practising gymnastics and acrobatics with impressive displays of jumping and turning. Lots of laughing and clapping, mock-fights but general good humour and free entertainment.

Impressive athleticism and stamina all round! And a new interpretation of “dancing on someone’s grave…”

High Days and Holidays

How time flies when you are having fun... and when you are nearing the end of a year in Africa. Hard to believe it’s so long since the last blog. Each pack of 10 anti-malaria tablets seems to run out quicker than the previous one…

So anyway a quick update on some recent highlights, which have distracted me from blogging:


The first weekend in March I went with some other volunteers to Boromo, the half-way point between Bobo and Ouaga, and renowned for elephants at this time of year. Justly so – a few kilometres into the bush is a purpose-built viewing platform, overlooking a river, where elephants of all shapes and sizes regularly come and disport themselves – and where cold drinks can be obtained while waiting! Luxury indeed. The hotter it gets, the more the elephants come to the river, and who can blame them.




We stayed in a ‘camp’, run by an expatriate Frenchman and his friendly Burkinabe family, reached by donkey cart from the bus station. Not luxurious, but welcoming, clean and comfortable.























March 8th was international women’s day, which is a public holiday here. For a serious reflection on IWD, try Michelle Bachelet. In theory, on this day the men should go to market to do the shopping, and do all the cooking – and this was apparently the case in the time of Thomas Sankara, the previous President. But less so now; I had a quick look around and cannot say that the food markets were flooded with men… It is chiefly marked, as so much else here, by fabric – each year there is a special fabric printed, and those women who can afford it have a new outfit.

This year’s fabric came in 2 colour-ways, brown and green, as modelled by two ladies from one of our partner charities. The Centre Culturel Français put on a show of the fabric from several previous years too.

The following weekend I went with some friends to the beach. Ah, but Burkina is land-locked, I hear you say… Well, the local beach is by the river, in a patch of wooded countryside some 15km outside Bobo; it is much loved by locals, and sure enough, full of people demonstrating beach behaviour such as picnics and splashing about in the water – all of course to the ubiquitous soundtrack.














As you can see, I am cramming entertainment into my last few weekends… and Holy Catfish, it is time to start another pack of anti-malarials!

Here comes the rain…

… it’s been a long dry dusty winter… but not cold, not really – although balaclavas and winter coats have been sighted.

This morning at about 5 was the first real rain of the season. It woke me up – breeze in the bedroom, banging in the street, and that sound – yes it really is rain, not just the wind in the trees. My neighbours who were sleeping out in the courtyard hurriedly moved inside. But in general it’s a good time for rain, with not much traffic on the road – with the first rains the roads become really slippery, causing skids and mayhem.

There were a few drops at the weekend, but hardly enough even to make people move indoors. This was the real thing – gusty wind, powerful rain, and that distinctive smell of water hitting the dry ground.

And holy catfish, are we ready for it!! The ground is really dry, everywhere is really dusty – it will take more than one heavy shower to slake the dust of months – the last rain was around late October as far as I recall. It is not the real rainy season yet – these early rains are called ‘la pluie des mangues’, because they are supposed to arrive in time to wash the mangos clean. Which is fine by me. My grandfather reckoned that every meal in the strawberry season without strawberries was an opportunity wasted – and I feel rather the same about mangoes, as you may perhaps have gathered!

With the freshness comes a burst of energy - I need to make the most of that, as the inexorably increasing heat brings lethargy and inertia.

I was wondering whether I would see and feel real rain again before leaving Burkina Faso, and now I have - so with the exhilaration comes realisation that the year has nearly turned full circle, and it will soon be time to go home. But time for a few more blogs before that, so keep watching this space....