(warning – coarse language)It wasn’t so long ago that I had never heard of a country called Burkina Faso.
I arrived on March 20 and finally on April 20 I was on a plane outta there. It certainly wasn’t my intention to stay so long. Nor did I see much outside of Ouagadougou, the capital. Most people arrive in Ouaga on their way to some place else. But I know Ouga like not many other travelers.
I decided after my second day in Ouaga that I would cut my travels short and fly to Tunis the following weekend. I was extremely tired and with the extreme heat and incredibly high volume of hassles on the street I didn’t think I could continue…. And now I know the next time I find myself so tired, I will lock myself in a room until I recover – to avoid any catastrophes.
However, I changed my mind when I met someone who offered some tranquility. He offered to travel with me to Bobo for a few days. Traveling with an African means the hassles are considerably reduced, and he found me an apartment for next to nothing compared to what I was paying at the hotel.
Great! I decided to stick around.
The heat – mon dieu! Every day was 40-44 C, mid-30s during the night. This isn’t a healthy operating temperature for the human body. I often felt slightly sick or thought I was coming down with something. I took several cold showers during the day and used talc, but I still ended up with rashes I had never had before, but was reassured that they are normal. I was startled when I poured the shampoo and it hit my palm hot. It was even too much for my tube of toothpaste – left one day at the edge of the counter, I found it later drooped lifelessly over the edge. My flip-flops often felt as though they were melting. And who has an appetite at those temperatures! The only thing that interested me were very very cold drinks – I never want to have another Orange Fanta.
I did habituate a wee bit. At the beginning I didn’t think I would survive, however near the end I just felt very uncomfortable. I now have a much clearer understanding and respect for why things shut down between noon and 3 p.m.
The hassles – mon dieu! I will always be hassled as a single white female traveler, but by the time I got to Ouaga it just felt overwhelming. If I stood still for longer than a few seconds I would have a crowd around me offering all kinds of services.
No, I can’t buy everything that is for sale. No, I can’t marry every man who asks. No, I can’t be a friend to everyone. No I can’t keep contact with everyone who asks. No, I can’t have sex with everyone who asks (back in Ghana a young cheeky woman asked – I should’ve said yes to that one).
This lessened as I became a regular on the street and they would no longer call out with sssst ssssst (something I find very rude, but is the norm in West Africa) and the guys started to even call out to me Ms Burkinabe.
I had known the cause of my soon-to-arrive-problems for over a week and had some comfort in that he operates a travel agency and is opening a restaurant – both in partnership with a fellow Canadian. But then I started to feel very uneasy…. And soon enough discovered I was the victim of a manipulating, narcissistic, swindler.
And so you can maybe imagine how during the weeks that followed my use of the French language improved dramatically!!
When I finally gave up on the strategy of being calm and nice, and started to feel quite unsafe, I moved out of my apartment and to the hostel on the tranquil grounds of the Catholic Mission at Les Lauriers with the Sisters.
Next thing I did was go to the Canadian Embassy. Frederic gave me a lot of hope that first day – he listened, was sympathetic and called the swindler and gave him 2 days to settle this issue. However, Frederic was of no further use after that and was not interested in getting any further involved. I must remember to contact the Canadian Government and find out what it is that our embassies can do for distressed Canadians overseas, aside from offering a few moments of enjoyment in air-conditioning.
Then my luck changed. Sebasiten #1 was my neighbour at Les Lauriers – French, well traveled and very experienced in Africa. There really was no reason for him to be in Ouaga at the time. He arrived from Mali and left 3 days later back to Mali (delayed one day to further help me). He was the one who supported me at the beginning and who convinced me to fight to the end – which meant I would have to delay my departure to Angola. It is almost as if he showed up just for me. It was terribly hard to say goodbye and we will try to meet up again someday, somewhere.
My most fortunate moment – when it became clear that I needed a car at my constant disposal to accomplish everything that I needed to do I approached a group of drivers … and Ben stepped forward. He had no idea what he was stepping into.
He became far more than my chauffeur. He supported me, kept me sane and calm, reminded me to eat, kept me hydrated, and helped me manage affairs with the police and gendarmerie (and poked me when I should have better manners).
After not being able to trust one male here, how could I be sure that I could trust Ben? Ben is a Burkinabe born in Ouaga, his entire family is in Ouaga, including his mother and father – everybody knows Ben. Therefore, he wouldn’t dare do anything to shame these people and he would be easy to find. He also voluntarily gave me a photocopy of his government issued Identification Card.
The other guy is a lone Togolese, living in Ouaga without his family – who even knew this guy?! While I was in Togo I met a voodoo practitioner – and he tried hard to convince me to allow him to do a voodoo on me to protect me on my travels – maybe I should have accepted?
The Burkinabes were outraged that a Togolese had done this to me in their country, and they all wanted to ensure that I didn't leave thinking negatively of their country.
Then I involved Sebastien #2 – the Canadian partner currently in Montreal. I had to know if he was a decent guy whose help I could ask for in trying to reason with his con-artist partner. Sebastien is a very decent guy and unfortunately he now has to re-examine what it is he is doing with this fucking bastard.
The last person in my drama is The Major at the gendarmerie. It was Ben’s suggestion – he felt we would get nowhere without the help of the gendarmerie. I have little respect for the police and military but the Major is quite a character – a skinny man with a huge, toothy mouth and a tremondous laugh who was very keen to catch the bad guy and help me.
That’s almost the end – I would gain nothing by sticking around Ouaga any longer (nor did I have the strength) – I had given the Major enough info for him to post something on Interpol. I then signed over legal proxy to Ben, allowing him to continue to search and capture in my absence. Then one hour before I was to head to the airport to check-in the despicable, vile criminal showed himself at the office of the Major. So I had to go to the office too and have one final awful look at him – of course, Ben was there to pull me away on time.
Everything is settled… and all will be right again soon.
Merci Ben.
