My brother left for Ghana this morning, so I now have to settle down to a month of work (work?!?) in Ouagadougou. To get this work started on the right foot, I spent most of today hiding from the rain in an internet cafe, catching up on missed episodes of America’s Next Top Model. Ah, the joys of travel to experience new cultures. After the rain stopped, I walked downtown to go to the bank and sit with a coffee and a book at my favourite cafe/restaurant in Ouaga, Patisserie Koulouba, only to discover that for some reason it (and most restaurants in the city) is closed for lunch between 12:30 and 4:00. Since most other things downtown are closed at lunch, I walked over to Ave Kwame Nkrumah… to sit at another internet cafe. Oh Burkina and your funny business hours inherited from the colonial legacy of the French.
It’s been quite the week. On Sunday, my brother and I were supposed to leave in the morning for Kaya, a large town in a pretty area an hour north of Ouagadougou. Jamie had to run a couple errands, so I decided to read under one of the gazebos at our hotel. Around 9AM, a massive dust storm started, and I stupidly ignored this warning sign that it was about to rain, so I stayed outside. When it started to drizzle, and all the Burkinabe in the courtyard ran inside, I figured I could enjoy the cool air and remain sheltered from the rain. By the time I realized this was a stupid idea, it was too late. If you’ve never seen a tropical rainstorm, it’s hard to really understand. It’s like the sky explodes. The rain started coming in sideways, and the courtyard became almost instantly flooded. Finally, shivering (in one of Africa’s hottest countries) I waded almost knee deep across the courtyard to the reception area (we had already checked out), only to find it also flooded. The hotel staff were running outside with axes, furiously making new holes in the courtyard wall to drain the water out. By the time Jamie arrived back at the hotel, he practically had to swim across the parking lot.
The funniest thing about rain around here is that the country basically shuts down. Buses and gas stations stop running, stores won’t open their doors to you, and even people who work inside take the day off. Obviously, we weren’t going to make it to Kaya.
That evening, after the rain had cleared we went downtown to console ourselves with a fancy meal. For about 15 dollars each we were treated to an extreme upscale meal, which made us feel a little guilty, but not enough to not enjoy it. Salad (raw vegetables!), thin crust pizza, wine, ice cream… On the way out, I ignored one of Ouagadougou’s many beggars (this one in a wheelchair) not because I’m necessarily a callous bitch (in fact, I buy food and give money to beggar children all the time) but because I hate being accosted on my way out of places at night.
But karma’s a bitch, apparently, because only two blocks later I was mugged. We were on a main street downtown. It wasn’t exactly booming with activity, but there were some people on it and motorcycles driving by. Basically, a guy walking towards us suddenly grabbed my bag, and then jumped into the sewer before Jamie or I really realized what was going on. I held on to my purse with all my might, but the guy was obviously stronger than I am. He fell with a splash into a large hole in the sewer. A young guy on the street immediately picked up a brick and whipped it at him, but it was too late. The guy disappeared, and since the sewer went in three directions from that whole, there was no real way to know which way he swam. In any case, besides my driver’s license (which I don’t actually need this summer) and a couple small things, I didn’t have much of value in there. So I hope the measly amount of cash in there was worth it to the guy to have to swim in overflowing shit-water.
I was fairly shaken up (and my shirt ripped in half from when he grabbed at my purse) but I was unharmed and by the next day I didn’t really care. In fact, I think I irritated my brother by constantly joking about the incident.
To be continued…
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