There is nothing more surreal than going back to site after spending time with other volunteers in the capital. Returning to the rollercoaster of transport and site is definitely tough after eating good food and enjoying good company in the capital city.
Yesterday’s trip was no different. After spending 2 weeks at the beach in Togo and another week in a training of trainers I was definitely ready to head home. As I sat on the bus, naturally ended up being 4.5 hours late, I was serenated by the scraggly speaker’s blaring traditional Muslim prayers. The other passengers and I had already finished fighting over the limited baggage space and were more than ready to head out. A few old men sang along with the Arabic prayers limping out of the speakers while naked children laughed and played… on my head rest and seat. The chickens under my seat were making an unholy amount of noise as they defecated all over the floor of the bus. Life suddenly becomes a reality show (do they still have those in the states? I don’t know) and I realize that True Life: I live in West Africa…and am getting too well integrated. None of the above things bother or phase me; not the lateness, chickens, children, or prayers. (The two new fly bites on my left foot and hand respectively still bothered me… AND HURT)
It turned out that the bus was late because it didn’t work in the first place. The enterprising business men decided to sell tickets for a bus that did not work. (I had no option as only one bus goes to my area of Burkina Faso.) After finally getting the bus working, we were destined for a maximum speed if 60 kmh, one accident, and two break downs. After stopping on the side of the road, the driver could not get the bus going again so he floored the gas (logical reaction). Unfortunately, the bus was in reverse (of its own volition) and we hit something behind us. 4 hours after departing, we had gone about 150 km and decided that we needed to switch buses. Admittedly, after the hour and a half that it took to transfer baggage and people to the new bus, we moved a lot quicker. Arriving at our destination 6.5 hours later; it was dark, rainy, and cold (of all the luck in a land-locked Sahel country). I still had to bike to a neighboring volunteer’s site where I would spend the night and then continue on to my site in the morning (biking 40k). The bus staff had taken my two calshews (def: piece of rubber used to tie baggage to bikes or motos) off of my bike and I therefore had to bike with my army duffle on my back and my backpack in my hand. Sigh, ce n’est pas facile. A couple of things that did make this 15 hour trip bearable were the other passengers and scenery. Striking up engaging conversations with other passengers definitely makes the time fly by quickly.
After biking through several small lakes, I arrived at my house. Over-grown and inaccessible; I had to go to a neighbor’s house to ask for a machete to cut the bushes so that I could reach my house. The naked village children shouting bon arrive definitely made me smile but I soon lost that smile as I made it into my overgrown courtyard. Going into my house was not actually so bad but I definitely have a lot of cleaning to do. Ugh….. Spiders are everywhere. Home sweet home
As usualy: More pictures are on Facebook!
PS. we have a new group of trainees coming in today. I want to say BON ARRIVE to them... as well as send them good luck as they learn to make this country their home. Best Wishes
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