The Very Last and Final Episode of
My Extremely Long Story About How We Visted a Winyé Earth Priest, Sacrificed Chickens, Saw Lots of Bats and Gave Away Some Cookies.

Within a few minutes, the ceremony at the Shrine of the Elephant Hunt was complete. The girls and I got out of there with what might well be described as relief.

It was over! We made it! I had the girls stand in front of the door to the hut and took a photo. (It’s the pic I posted yesterday. Now you know why Mal doesn’t look like her usual cheerful self in it. )

So, there I was standing by the door, putting the camera away and wondering why the guys weren’t coming outside. And JP says “Come back in! We had to give the gifts now at the Earth Shrine.”

There was NO WAY I was making the girls go back in, but I figured I could manage a final effort. I sent the girls to go sit in the shade and I walked back into the hut. Not surprisingly, I was confronted AGAIN by a mass of bats, this time moving out of the Earth Shrine and back to their usual home in the Shrine of the Elephant Hunt.

I waited for the traffic to die down and then made my way to the back room. There ceremony was very simple and quickly done.

Now, all we had to do was make a few social visits around the village, eat lunch and then leave. It was only about one o’clock and it was very possible that this day could actually stay on schedule!

We needed to go greet various friends/informants of JP. Not like we needed the company. There was plenty to be had in the compound of the Earth Priest, believe me. When we had arrived, it had been a quiet place, but soon after we had arrived various folks began dropping by to say “Naa Fo”. And there were the kids. Very quickly, there were about 20 of them, all staring fixedly at the twins and A. It was a bit sad, as there were many school-aged children. They all had parents that either could not afford or did not want to send them to school. And because they didn’t go to school none of them spoke French- and the girls with us spoke no Mooré. So, communication was very difficult.

After a bit, Mallory got the big bag of cookies out of the truck. I’d brought them from Ouagadougou as a sort of “ice-breaker”. And they were certainly a big hit. The girls handed out treats to each child and there was lots of smiling both sides.

After that, JP announced that we could start our round of visits. The village is quite scattered and the whole area mostly devoid of any shade or ground cover. So, it was very, very hot and very, very dusty as we crossed the village. And we were not passing through unremarked. As we walked, we collected a train of village children.

By the time arrived at our destination, we had over 80 kids in our retinue. The adults sat and drank the inevitable gourds of millet beer and the girls distributed the rest of the cookies. (See picture posted above. We can see that Mallory likes sharing cookies far more than visiting mystical bat chambers. Can’t blame her, really)

We visited a bit and then trekked back towards the Earth Priest’s compound. On the way, we stopped and visited the compound of the Griots. They are the traditional musician/praise singer caste. If I have to be reincarnated as a Burkinabé village woman (seems unlikely, but stick with me here) I fervently hope that it is as a Griot lady. They are the only village women in Burkina that seem to really have any fun. The minute we came into their compound, the women poured out of the interior of a nearby hut, laughing and joking. And soon the singing began, with impromptu and apparently very funny lyrics describing our visit. In a manner rarely seen in Burkina, the men were definitely in the background and it was a group of jolly, loud, fun women center stage, welcoming the guests.

Soon, we were back at the Earth Priest’s compound. It was 2 pm now and I was getting worried again about the deadline. If we weren’t in the truck and heading back by 3 pm, we’d have to stay overnight in Boromo. And that would NOT have been a good thing. But there was no imaginable way to leave before the meal was served an eaten.

But within a few minutes, we were ushered into a small hut to the right. You have to eat, but you don’t eat together. The Winyé are not big on communal meals. Guests don’t eat with hosts. Even in daily life, men don’t eat with the women and children, but are served first in a hut reserved for them alone.

So, Isseuf, JP, the girls and I were in our little hut, sitting on tiny wooden benches. Burkianbé benches are typically very, very low- intended to keep your rear end out of the dirt, but not by much of a margin. But as they don’t have tables, it makes sense. The communal bowls are placed on the floor and everyone digs in. We had a huge serving platter of millet tô (sticky dumplings) and a pan full of chicken parts and sauce. We ate with our fingers, in keeping with good Burkinabé non-table manners. Our twin daughters and A are quite good at this style of eating, as they all grew up eating local foods sitting on the kitchen floor with household helpers. For the less habituated, it’s hard to do without dripping sauce down your arm or onto the floor.

Soon, the meal was over. We thanked our host and hostess many times and slowly began the process of “asking for the road”.

Finally, amazingly, our visit to the village of Nanou was at an end. By three o’clock we were getting back into the truck.

With Isseuf translating for her, the Earth Priest’s wife jokingly asked if she could come along with me, as we gotten to be friendly, despite the language barrier.

I put my arm across her shoulders and asked Isseuf to say that she was coming with me to Ouaga for a nice rest and that the Earth Priest would have to do his own cooking and laundry for a while. We all had a laugh ( though actually I was more than half serious and if she shows up at my house, she’s than welcome. )

The trip back was uneventful, except for Mallory making me swear that I would never take her there again. Ever. I guess she’s not going to grow up to be an anthropologist like her dad.

Anyway, that’s it.

Really.

No more about our trip to Nanou. On to other things, which there are plenty of, believe me. Burkina is bracing for some more demonstrations against the rising cost of living here (or “la vie chere” as they call it) The US Embassy just sent out a warning that action is expected today in the town of Koudougou, not far from Ouaga. CRS Riot police are being sent out from the capitol to control any unruly mobs that arise.

Less serious, but more annoying: yesterday the electricity was cut almost all day. As the weather is getting hotter, it was not that fun trying to manage with not even a fan. Plus, I was worried about the food in the refrigerator. I was envisioning my kilos and kilos of strawberries half-unthawed and ruined.
The power finally came on again about midnight. Hope today goes better!

Enter the Bat Shrine of Doom. Yeah. Real high on my “To Do” list.

But there was Isseuf, chortling gleefully and giving me a “You white girls are such sissies” kind of look. And I WAS pretty curious, I have to admit.
And the bats DID all seem to have relocated, at least for the moment.

I told A to go wait outside. No telling what would go on in this next, more mysterious shrine and I figured that NOT bringing the 10 year old child of missionaries into might be a good plan.

But, amazingly, A. wanted to come along and Alexa, too, was ok with it.
Mallory, unfortunately, was at the end of her patience with all the weirdness and was already outside. And I wasn’t going to make her. I’d let her brilliant anthropologist father figure that one out.

I gathered the other two girls right up behind me, figuring that I could block any stray bats that might have missed the initial bulletin that strangers were invading their home.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could make out that this room was about the same size as the Earth Shrine, but far more roomy. Instead of an elaborate altar at the far end, there was a very simple one, mostly made up of a big, black pottery jar. I don’t know what was in the jar. I was never even tempted to look. I was just relieved to see that there was a bench for us to sit on along one wall and that the floor was quite clean. Maybe the Earth Priest gets his wife to sweep it out regularly. At any rate, it was not the nightmare of bat droppings that I had been expecting.

I sat down with the two girls on each side of me and Isseuf was crouched near the Earth Priest. He translated the Earth Priests words to me:

“This is the Shrine of the Elephant Hunt. Now, of course, laws prevent us from hunting as we used to in the past, but we still keep our shrine. Even though we can’(t hunt elephants, we can ask here for help with other problems. Our troubles and obstacles can be lifted. We can ask for protection and prosperity. That is what I am going to do for your daughters. They will be protected when you leave our lands and go back to France.”

It was all very wonderful - but our last eight years in Africa have probably been far more risky than our eventual future in Europe will be. No malaria or meningitis in France! But going to live there no doubt sounded like a pretty perilous undertaking to an elderly Earth Priest who has never even been to Ouagadougou

And his previous demands for better health for Alexa seem to have worked wonders. So, why not?

I contemplated all this as I listened to JP trying to persuade a very reluctant Mallory to enter the Shrine of the Elephant Hunt. He had her in the doorway, but she wouldn’t come in. We all assured her it was fine (very clean, bat-free and far less scary than the Earth Shrine) but to no avail.

JP finally half-carried her in and sat down with her on the far end of the bench.

No sacrifices were even required here. We just sat respectfully while the Earth Priest chanted.

Tomorrow I hope to get to the end of this VERY long story...

A certain Ms. Smarty-Pants (aka babzee) just sent me an e-mail:
You have been posting so much it's almost hard to keep it all straight! You went to an orphanage in order to collect sacrifices to the crocodile gods and thereby divert their attention from your pet goat. Adorable chickens wore hats in honor of the twins and your husband took notes and refused to pass judgment.


OK-maybe my posting lately IS a bit chaotic. If any readers are new to this blog, my best advice is to go back about two weeks and start from there.
As for the rest of you, my ever so loyal family and pals all over the world that have put up with so much lately- Today we get to the "good"stuff:


The Winyé Earth Shrine Ceremony at Nanou
All too soon, yet not soon enough somehow, we were called into the inner sanctum. Everyone but the girls had to bend to get through the doorway of the ancient mud brick hut. We entered a big room holding several of the huge clay pots used for making millet beer. At the far back, on the left side, there was an even smaller door. This was the portal to the Earth Shrine.


We all left our shoes in the outer room and squeezed into the smaller chamber. It only measured about 6 feet wide and 8 feet long. And, as in all old, traditional huts, there were no windows- just a couple of smoke-holes in the ceiling. These are covered by overturned jars on the roof during the rains.

So, it was very dim in there and very, very crowded. Mallory and A. were in the far back corner crouched on a tiny wooden bench. Alexa squeezed in between JP and I on a slightly bigger bench in front of them.
The rest of the chamber was filled up by Isseuf, the Earth Priest, the Earth Priest’s son/apprentice and the altar itself, which took up about one third of the whole chamber. It’s was a mass of hanging bundles, dried plants, wooden figures, piles of dried mud, old blood and animal skins. ( It was hard to get an image with no flash, but I did my best. You can see it in the posted picture. The other picture is the girls in front of the outer doorway to the Earth Shrine.)
I could hear Mallory and A. whispering furiously behind me as the Earth Priest began chanting. Alexa pressed against me and I reassured her “You can close your eyes when they kill the chickens. And remember, it’s their lunch! People kill chickens everyday and it’s no worse than this.”
She’s a pretty good sport, so when the apprentice brought in chicken number one, she gamely grabbed its legs and handed it over to the Earth Priest.


Then it hit me. We were doing a sacrifice at the Winyé Earth Shrine. The chickens would die, blood would be splattered and much chanting to the spirits of the bush would be done. And I had brought along the daughter of Protestant missionaries.


Oops.


I could see it all: A. would go home traumatised and weeping. She’d report to her parents how Mal and Al’s folks had brought her along to a horrible heathen ritual of animal sacrifice.
I would be forever disbarred from the missionary community in Burkina and possibly all of West Africa.
This kind of thing can get you a rep.


Well, it was too late to get her out without making a fuss and ruining the ceremony. Luckily, she was stuck in the back, with JP’s back obstructing her view of the shrine. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

The Earth Priest cut the neck of Alexa’s chicken. He poured the blood onto several of the small piles of dried earth at the front of the shrine.
The chicken shuddered, flapped and pretty much refused to die. It wasn’t pretty.
Alexa buried her head in my lap. I told the other two behind me NOT to look.
“Don’t worry” Mal whispered “We don’t wanna look!”

The Earth Priest threw the not-very-dead chicken into the outer chamber, near our shoes.
Then it was time for chicken number two. Mallory had to climb over us and come forward to present her half of the sacrifice. She hesitated at the sight of a beautiful civet cat fur spread out on the floor in front of the shrine. I could tell that her animal-loving heart had had about as much as it could take, but she bravely handed over her chicken and then quickly retreated back to her place.


There was much chanting and waving of objects. The spirits were thanked for their attention to Alexa’s case and their efforts to improve her health.
Then millet beer was served. Nothing important in the village is done without dolo.

We left the shrine chamber and retrieved our shoes from their place near the small heap of still-twitching chickens.

I was thinking furiously. “Spin!” I told myself. “It’s all about damage control! As soon as we’re out of here, I can make a few well-chosen comments about how:
1). Traditional religion is NOT evil.
2. People in the Old Testament had to sacrifice animals all the time, because God liked it then. So, it’s not that strange that some folks still do it.
And, most importantly:
3). We are glad that Jesus saved us from having to kill animals for sacrifices. Lucky, lucky us.
It could work!”

I was planning all this and was just about out the door and into the sunshine again, when Isseuf told me “The Earth Priest says you can’t go yet. You have to go in there.” He indicated a very small, dark doorway just to the right of the exit. It was so low and dark that I hadn’t noticed it when we entered.
I thought he was kidding.

The Earth Priest ducked down and went through the small door.
Bats came POURING out. They were small bats, but there were many, many, many of them, sweeping past me just inches away, heading en masse for the Earth Shrine room at the back.

I clutched at A and Alexa, trying to shield them with my body. I didn’t say anything, but inside I was screaming “RABIES!” and mourning the fact that NO amount of damage control was going to get me past this one. A. might forget to give her parents the full details on the chicken sacrifice, but coupled with a massive bat attack?
It all spelled “scarred for life” with capital S and capital L.

I scurried into the doorway leading out as the bat flood lessened and the way cleared.
But Isseuf said “You have to go into the other shrine. Really! The Earth Priest has a special ceremony to do for you. And the bats are a good omen, you know? They are special Shrine Bats. If one of them clings to you as it passes, it’s a bad sign. It means that problems are hanging on you. But if they go past, it means you are ok!”

Yes it WAS a good sign that none of the millions of bats had “clung” to me, because I would have freaking LOST my mind and had to be committed to a special, very restful hospital somewhere in Switzerland for the rest of my life.


The Earth Priest called out something.
Isseuf translated: “He says the bats are all over at the Earth Shrine now, so you may as well go on in.”

The orphanage visit went well. There's much to tell, but will leave it for another day, as I have this entry all ready to go and I really need to finish the story of our trip to Nanou.


At left, you see JP, his field assistant and the Earth Priest. They are all sitting and waiting, something we do LOTS of here, especially when visiting the village.
That Sunday morning in Nanou, we sat...And then we sat some more. Mallory passed the time admiring the fluffy, curled feathers of the ‘Neré’ chickens wandering around the compound. They looked like little cotton balls. You hardly ever see the breed in Ouaga and it is even rare to find them out in the villages. The Earth Priest had a few special animals he was raising because they are highly prized as birds for sacrifice to the spirits.

After about an hour, some other, non-fluffy, full grown birds were brought to the Earth Priest for inspection. I figured that they weren’t for our lunch, because our midday meal would not require the approval of a divine authority. It could only mean one thing: a sacrifice was going to be held!

I leaned over to JP, whispering urgently “What are those birds for? Please tell me we are NOT doing a sacrifice. Please.” Visions of our last ceremony of sacrifice in Nanou filled my head- first the killing of the two chickens, then the two guinea fowls, then the beer and honey libation. The comings and goings and sheer amount of time it all took had been astounding. We’d have to sleep in Boromo. I knew it. And I had stubbornly not packed our toothbrushes or any other overnight gear.

JP gave me that cute, innocent, ‘I’m just a humble ethnographer, trapped by circumstances beyond my control’ look that he is so good at.

“But I didn’t know either! Nobody mentioned it! Really!” he said earnestly- but I could tell he was secretly having a Fiesta of Happiness deep in his heart. Some new and complicated ceremony he could film and ask endless questions about! What bliss. For him, anyway.

I was less than happy about the extra time it would probably take, but was really quite touched that they were going to so much trouble. And I’ll admit that my next thought was: “This is all going to make one HECK of a blog post!”

What was really bad was the fact that the twins would have to cooperate, and they wouldn’t like it. The subject would have to be broached delicately. They had been pretty horrified at the ceremony two years ago, when they’d had to hand over the four avian victims for sacrifice. It would only be two unfortunates this time around, but I knew the girls would not be overjoyed at the prospect.

I told the girls that we’d have to go into the Earth Shrine for a small sacrifice. Tiny, really. At least it’s not sheep, or (gods forfend) a couple of goats! Right?

How bad could it be?

Part IV
In Which We Arrive in Nanou and are Properly Greeted

Of course you can't take a road trip in Africa without at least one spare tire. And even that's risky - two is better. None is completely insane.
So, we waited. It’s not all that easy to find a tire repair place that’s open on Sunday morning at 7am, even in Burkina Faso.

Mal had to call A and tell her we’d be late. The twins had invited their good friend to come along with us on the trip. A’s parents are Swiss missionaries and have been here almost as long as we have, so the girls have known each other since they were 3 years old.

We ended up leaving 45 minutes late and I began to fear that the trip was already spinning slightly out of control. It would take 2 hours just to drive to Boromo. Then, we’d have to drop off our car at JP’s camp and go with him in his truck out the village of Nanou, which is on a very rough track. That would take another half an hour. Here’s the problem: though JP’s friends out in the village were expecting us, they know better than anyone that things always go wrong here. The whole event might not even happen at all. So, there’s no use in starting to cook the celebratory meal until the truck full of guests pulls up in the village. And there’s no way guests can come and go without being fed.
So, I needed to get us out to Nanou so that the ladies would start cooking. That way, we could do the Ceremony of Gratitude (or whatever it was), greet various friends in the village, and quickly eat, so that we could leave by 3pm. That would get us back to Boromo by 3:30, where we could use a non-scary bathroom at JP’s house, load our stuff back into our own car and get back to Ouaga by 6pm. Any later than that and we’d be driving in the dark, which I was dead set against, especially with three children in the vehicle.
It all boiled down to this: if we left Nanou any later than 3:30pm, we would have to stay overnight in Boromo. Then, we'd have to get on the road by 5am on Monday morning to have the girls back in time for school, which begins at 7:30am.

All this in mind, you can see why the idea of being even 45 minutes behind schedule was grounds for gnashing of teeth, etc... If we had any kind of further trouble or delay on the drive out, it was guaranteed that we’d be sleeping in Boromo, which is not a thing greatly to be desired. As JP doesn’t have beds for four extra people at his compound, we’d have to stay in the best hotel in Boromo -which is like worst hotel anyplace else in the world, with cold water showers, intermittent electricity, plenty of mosquitoes and exceptionally dismal customer service.

The flat tire had me very depressed and we hadn’t even left the house yet.

By 8am, though, we were making our way out of Ouaga, heading west. The three girls were in the back, watching a dvd. Me, I have the enviable ability to read in moving vehicle with absolutely no ill effects. I pity weaker creatures (like JP!) that get headaches and nausea from it. I happily read an old mystery novel (Salt is Leaving) for two hours as we sped towards Boromo.

When we arrived, we quickly found JP’s camp, located at the south edge of town. The girls enjoyed having a look around as we transferred the gear to the truck. JP’s place is in a compound with a few other families, so there were some kids, chicks, a puppy and other attractions. But we didn’t have time to waste. We needed to get out to Nanou so the ceremony to thank the spirits could begin! Two years ago, the old Earth Priest in the village and his son (who’s next in line to inherit) carried out a twin’s “baptism” ceremony for our girls and asked for good health for them, especially Al, who had some cardiac issues that have been quite worrying. Now it was time to thank the spirits for their intervention. We had some gifts to offer and some cash to lay on the Earth Shrine. I figured on a minimum of fuss, a quick meal and then a return home in time for a 7pm phone call I was expecting, but precision timing would be required. Sadly, Africa is not big on precision timing. "It happens when it happens" is the motto around here. But I am nothing if not optimistic.

I dragged Mal away from the puppy and we crowded into JP’s field vehicle. It’s a very beat-up king cab pickup. Not that it’s really elderly, but it’s had a hard time in its short life, mostly jolting along narrow, chasm-filled dirt tracks. JP sat beside the driver with Alexa on his lap. I was in the back with Isseuf, JP’s field assistant, and the two other girls.

It took about half and hour to get out to the village. When we pulled up to the Earth Priest’s compound, we saw him and one of his sons napping outside in chairs made of wooden sticks tied together with goathide. Their little donkey stood nearby, chewing on millet stalks. As is typical, the women were not napping. Funny- it’s so much less frequent to see women sleeping during the day. (And, no, it’s not because they nap indoors. While the guys snooze, the women are walking around, doing stuff. Work stuff.)

We piled out of the truck and the Earth Priest and his wife came to greet us. Napping Son (a short 20ish fellow) didn’t stir. His mom kicked him a bit, not in a mean way, and he woke up to give us the all-important greeting. Though people’s lives here are simple materially, socially they are very complicated -probably more so than in the USA, where people put a premium on informality and practicality. No way was anybody sleeping through the arrival of guests! Every hand must be shaken and detailed inquiries made into the health of the members of the extended family. How are you? Your children? Your parents? All the people back in your home territory?, etc… None of this was in French, though. Not even Mooré. It was all in Winyé, which JP speaks pretty well, but I can’t even get through the greetings correctly! Some of the people that had joined us noticed my difficulty and started speaking Djoula, which is the trade language of West Africa. They were surprised that it didn’t help. While I can chat with ease in French and English and get by in Spanish and Mooré (the dominant local language), that exhausts my bag of linguistic tricks. No Fulani, no Djoula, no Winyé. So, I could only smile in what I hoped was a kindly and intelligent way, but I probably looked like a complete idiot. I seem to do that a lot.

That's it for today's instalment. I have managed to load some pictures in the Photobucket Album. So, if you want a look at the Carnival and Nanou, click on the link at right. It's all in the Feb 2008 album. BTW-The pic posted above is me with the Earth Priest's wife.

Saturday’s festivities went well. Much fun was had. I will mercifully spare you the details.

I am happily posting this from my HOME! Yes, I once again have internet and can both receive and (get this!) SEND e-mails again!! What fun! The only problem is that I suspect that many messages sent to me over the last week and a half have been lost. If you have been trying to contact me and had a message bounced last week, try again. Should work now.

Part III: In which an Elegant Event is Attended and a Trip Begins, Badly.

Well, the twins enjoyed the show and then hanging out with their friends afterwards. But by noon, we were home, having lunch, getting ready for the second half of the day. The twins had been invited to the birthday party of EC and R. They are b/g twins that are in their classes at school. The girls have played with EC (the girl) a few times at her home in the chic, uber-rich neighbourhood of Ouaga 2000. Mal informed me after one visit that at EC’s house “they have the air-conditioning on all the time! Even when they aren’t in the room!” – very unlike our home, where every hour that the roaring machines are on is carefully weighed against the eventual electrical bill to be received.

EC and her twin brother were turning 10 and to celebrate, their parents rented the restaurant at the most elegant and expensive hotel in all of Burkina. It is scarily inappropriate. ( I blogged about it here) The girls needed to be driven out to this hotel in Ouaga 2000- about a half and hour trip one-way. I had arranged a carpool with another mom, so that was great. The girls went off and I stayed home writing a bit and then rehearsing some songs. But very soon it was 5:30 and time to trek out to the Hotel Libya. Valentine went along, just out of curiosity, and it was worth the trip. When we got to the huge, elegant hotel restaurant, we found all the kids dressed in matching t-shirts that had been specially printed for the event. They were dancing to music played by a DJ . The buffet included a full meal and other kid-delights such as tiny little pastries and a chocolate fondue with marshmallows to dip. Very chic.

The Master of Ceremonies had just finished holding the “Miss Birthday Party” pageant. When the twins told me about it later, it sounded disturbing. The girls had all paraded around the room like it was a beauty contest. After a “clap for your favourite” vote, the MC declared that EC (of course) was Miss Birthday Party. My twins, of course, didn’t know what was so completely unacceptable about the entire idea of a beauty pageant. What they were stewing about was the fact that Alexa hadn’t been declared the winner.

“Everybody in the class says that she’s the prettiest and everybody clapped the most for her during the voting!” Mal proclaimed indignantly.

IMHO, the whole idea was completely creepy.
My kids once saw the film “Miss Congeniality” – that is the extent of their contact with beauty pageants. So, I haven’t really been inspired to give lectures on the evils of them. They were a non-issue, an antiquated institution, almost dead. I had heard that the last “Miss America” pageant had to be aired in the USA on the Country Music Channel, because no other station wanted it.
All this in mind, on the drive home we discussed the general dopiness of pageants and I explained that the contest had been fixed, anyway. The MC wasn’t going to ruin EC’s happy birthday fête by choosing another little girl to be the winner, no matter who actually got the most applause and wasn’t the whole thing just a bad, bad idea, destined to leave lots of people unhappy for absolutely no good reason?

The drive home took half an hour, so we got back at 7:40- which just gave me time to run in, get some cold pizza out of the fridge and load up Sev and his pal D., who were at the house playing computer games. We headed right over to Saturday night worship service, the kids downing the cold pizza as I drove. We got there with five minutes to spare. I drove fast.
I found it very soothing and refreshing, as I always do. They go heavy on the singing, which I really enjoy.

We were back home by 9pm and went to bed soon after, as my plan was to be up by 5:30 Sunday morning. I needed to make sandwiches, pack the cooler, gather up the last minute stuff and make sure the twins and I were all ready to leave by 7am at the very latest for our big adventure in Nanou.

The next day, everything went according to plan…for the first hour and fifteen minutes, anyway.

I’d packed the food and drink. The twins had eaten their breakfast and were dressed. I ‘d gathered all the gifts that JP had asked me to bring: cash, a watch, and school supplies. I also had a huge sack of cookies to share with the village children.

Then, I hauled the cooler, bags and boxes out for the driver to pack. Glancing around the yard, I didn’t see him right away. I finally found Mahama crouched by the side of the car, wrestling the spare tire into place.

“Completely flat” he told me sadly. “We have to go get it fixed before we can leave.”

Here I am, back from amazing adventures in Nanou. We returned at six last night, somewhat sunburned and tired, and very happy to be back. It was a great trip and I’m glad we got to do it. It almost got cancelled. It’s a long story:

Eldest Daughter went to a birthday party Friday night, which was nice. Nice for her, I mean. I had the unenviable task of staying up until midnight to go fetch her. And my days of staying up late for fun are long past, thank you very much.

Sev and I put on a new Film Crew movie that we just got from the USA (Thanks, Mom and Dad!), but even that wasn’t enough to keep me awake.
By 10:30, I quit fighting it and went to lay down in bed. I set the alarm and drifted off for an hour. At 11:30, I jumped into the station wagon, feeling much better. But soon, I felt a lot worse. The car, bought at so much expense and with such great hopes only a few months back, was making a noise. A weird noise. A bad, weird noise that was VERY unwelcome, as I had a busy day ahead on Saturday and a big trip to the bush planned for Sunday.

I listened intently as I drove, trying to figure out what it could be. It wasn’t an engine-y thing. It was definitely a sound from underneath the car. A steering-y thing? I soon gave up, as I am completely useless with cars. May as well ask Aslan the Wonder Goat what was wrong with it.

I was pretty concerned, but kept driving. I figured that if it broke down completely, I could use my cell phone and call for a rescue.
Luckily, it wasn’t very far to the party. Eldest Daughter was glad to see me and expressed amazement that I hadn’t gotten lost trying to find the place in the dark - which (sadly) would not have been beyond the realm of possibility, but I had had that all covered. I’d cleverly brought along the invitation, which had the phone number written on it, so that I could call for further directions if I went astray. Well, it would have been a clever plan…but as my daughter spoke, I realised that I’d left my cell phone at home. Typical. It certainly made the drive home more stressful, as getting help would be quite complicated. There are no phone booths in Burkina Faso.

As we drove, she told me all about the party. She also told me about the huge porn movie scare at her school! Short version: some 6^th grade boys(11-12 years old) were joking around a couple of weeks ago and said that they were going to make a pornographic film. Which is very scary. I don’t know what kind of lives they have that, at their age, they 1. know what a porn film is and 2. think it sounds funny. Anyway, some of the girls heard about it and apparently thought it was for real. Rumours flew around the school. Finally, it ended with upset parents calling the school. One parent reported that she’d heard the boys had made up a list of girls that were going to be in the film. The already huge scandal swelled and became gigantic.
The boys were called in and said it was “just a joke”. They have been suspended from school for a few days. And I guess they had a good talking to.
The Superintendent (Proviseur) had the teachers read a letter to every class in the school about “respect for human dignity, the psychological health of children, etc”.

So, Eldest Daughter told me all this, then she also mentioned that they’d be having a “sex education” talk at the school at the end of the year.
“I heard about it. They show you how to put a condom on a banana;” she said. “I didn’t know fresh fruits were so dangerous that you need protection. I’m going to be more careful at breakfast from now on!”
She’s a funny girl, even at midnight, long after my brain has shut down.

The car got us home just fine, but I knew I’d have to get someone to look at it right away if I wanted to be ready for the trip to Nanou early Sunday morning. I woke up early and got the twins ready for school. Yes, they had to be at school on Saturday morning- it was the day of the big Carnival show!. Like usual, I had volunteered to be one of the “helper moms”- getting kids into their costumes and makeup. As I’m lucky enough to have a driver, I had him drop us off at the school and then he continued on to the mechanic. I was really hoping that the weird noise would turn out to be a simple, inexpensive weird noise. If the car couldn’t be fixed quickly, Sunday’s village trip would have to be cancelled. And there would be no re-scheduling. This was the last weekend that JP would have free, as he would be travelling and wouldn’t be back in Burkina until May 3. By then, it would be too late, as contacting the sprits is a dry season activity. May is too late.

Anyway, the car went off and I went into Mal’s class, where the kids were getting dressed like painters and as the subjects of Great Paintings. Well, I guess they were Great Paintings. I hadn’t heard of any of them, and I am an art fan. Not like I regularly haul out big piles of art and stand around admiring it, but I have been to the Louvre, like, five times. (NB- If my blog were associated with the AFN, I'd make that "The French Louvre", so you wouldn't get it mixed up with the Louvre of, say, Northern Indiana). I didn’t recognise the paintings.

So, there were kids with big white shirts on, straw hats and lots of paint stains- that was the artists. The others were dressed like card players, cyclists, African women carrying gourds, baskets, babies, etc. and one girl wore a white plastic rice sack. Whatever.

I would have liked to be taking pictures already- lots of candids of the kids getting ready, but as I wrote in my last post, all our cameras were out with JP in the field. However, our kind neighbour Tony was supposed to come to the show and he’s quite a good photographer. So, I was counting on him for pictures of my girls performing.

Soon the kids were all dressed and it was time for me to go out and find a seat, which is always a big deal. The nice parents tend to stay nice, but the merely tolerable ones become horrible- pushing, shoving, blocking, and acting, in general, like they are the only people on earth that count. And the mean parents become absolute monsters. The seemingly benign world of school pageants brings out the worst in many. Scary.

Tomorrow: On With The Show!

(This is what they call a “cliff-hanger”- a cheap device to get you to come back tomorrow. Will the car get repaired in time for the trip? Will Beth get a good seat at the school program? Will Tony show up and take pictures? Stay tuned…)

The weekend ahead is looking extremely busy, full of strange activities that will, no doubt, be fertile grounds for future blogging:
Saturday morning, the twins will be performing their annual school “Carnival”. As in previous years, each class offers a skit or dance in a show that takes the whole of a morning, but seems to occupy an entire geological era. Over the years here in Ouaga, I’ve seen my kids perform as: roses, lions, Roman soldiers, geishas, Paleolithic hunters, Chinese coolies, bubbles, disco dancers, clowns, playing cards and the colour blue. SO, in keeping with a long tradition of bizarreness, Mallory is going to be a painter. (Hey! Nothing says “Showtime!” like watching someone paint -don’t you think? ) Alexa will be a waitress - an evil waitress that poisons the body guards of the President by bringing them a tray full of doctored drinks. Then the bad guys will come in their cardboard cars, but the secret agents arrive…is this making sense to you? Anyway, the real problem is that JP has our digital camera and the movie camera (see yesterday’s post for details) out in the bush with him. So, I won’t have any pictures to post unless I figure out a solution soon…

The second big event is a trip back out to the village of Nanou on Sunday. Long-time readers of my blog will remember that the twins underwent a traditional Winyé twin “baptism” ceremony there back in 2006. Well, that’s not the end of the story. We have to go back to complete the process and “thank” the spirits. So, we’ll be taking off at 7am on Sunday morning. We’re just going for the day, but I have no doubt it will be one chock-full of interesting, if not frankly freaky, incidents.

Add to this menu of delights the fact that tonight Eldest Daughter will be attending a birthday party. A real, 14-year-old kind of party: boys and girls, music and snacks, 7 pm until midnight. Now, I don’t have a good track record in this matter (see this post), but I’m hoping to do better this time around and not fall asleep, stranding my daughter with no transportation, leaving her to depend on the kindness of strangers. Well, not actual starngers. But still. .. Anyway, Severin has kindly promised to stay awake with me, watching stupid movies. I'm thinking Strange Brew. Or would that be considered child abuse?