Was this nun being mean to me? I would swear she was being mean.

“It is not possible. We serve lunch until 3:30. Then we rest. Then we clean up and set up the tables at 6pm.” That was her story and she was sticking to it, but it meant bad news for me.

“But Mass starts at six, Sister R. That means I won’t be able to see the ceremony. I’ll have to be here arranging things”. This was the third time I’d said it - don’t know why I bothered.

It was Thursday night and we were ironing out the final details of the post-communion dinner to be held at the locally famous Eau Vive restaurant. It’s run by a small group of nuns and is famous for its good food and the “Ave Maria” sung at 9pm every night in the dining room. It’s the prime venue for a nice party after a Catholic event and through clever planning ( being organized months ahead of time, anyway-which is pretty clever, IMHO) I managed to reserve the main dining room for our big event.

It was going to be a big, formal dinner for about 60 people and there would be a lot to organize. I had been hoping to be able to come help set up the tables at 3pm on Saturday, but Sister R, the woman in charge, was having none of it. If I missed my twin daughters’ First Communion ceremony, it was strictly NOT her problem.

A mean nun. Who knew? I’m not Catholic and only started hanging around nuns since I moved to Africa. Most of them have fulfilled every stereotype I had in my head concerning them. (Hey-I’ve seen The Sound of Music approximately one billion times. I know from nuns). Invariably, the nuns I’ve met and worked with here are so darn kind, nice and spiritual that it doesn’t seem possible. But Sister R was a different matter.

“Well, could I at least drop a few things off in the afternoon?” I ventured, trying for a compromise position.

Well- ok. As long as I didn’t disturb the other clients.
????
Well, normally I go around with a tame ocelot on a leash, singing songs from Okalahoma! at the top of my lungs. But I'd make and effort and leave my pet at home on Saturday. Also, I would try only humming the showtunes under my breath.

See? I can do non-disturbing.

In the end , I got her to agree that I could not only come at 3:30 and drop things off (in a non-disturbing way), but I could ALSO have a small table so that I could set up the cake! This would be quite a process, as the cake would be transported unassembled and then the four layers would have to be put back up with their pillars and the decorations re-attached. Maybe this is no big deal for a caterer, but I’m strictly amateur and this was my biggest cake ever. Over five pounds of frosting and five boxes of cake mix.

I would still have to leave the ceremony to set up place cards, flowers, etc, but it wouldn’t take more than an hour at most. At least I’d be able to see the beginning and end of the big event at the church.

So, at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, Mallory and Valentine helped me load up the car and just before 3:30 we arrived at the restaurant. I carried the bottom two tiers of the cake like they were highly explosive, sure that I was going to drop the whole thing. I had vivid visions of the dramatic fall, the shattered cake and fondant roses rolling around in the dirt like tiny albino severed heads.

And I almost did drop the thing out of sheer shock as I entered the dining room. There was no sign of Sister R. Instead, there was a very energetic Vietnamese sister bustling about the deserted room, removing plates and linens from the tables - tables that were ALREADY set in position for our party! She told me that Sister R was off-duty until 6 and that she herself was in charge of the afternoon shift. And she preferred to Get Things Done, rather than wait around. I imagine she had a lot of other stuff she could have been doing, like resting or praying, for example, but she chose to start getting our party venue organised! This woman was my new best friend! And it turned out to be fun working with her. Valentuine, Mallory and I helped put away clean dishes and cutlery, take dirty linens to the laundry and put away clean ones. We got to see the inside of their kitchen, which is one of the largest, best-equipped and certainly cleanest in the whole country. My girls and I marvelled at the big walk-in refrigerator rooms- one for meat, one for drinks, one for fruit and veg! It was fun getting an insiders view of the place.

Soon, another sister came to help and the five of us quickly had everything done. White linens on the tables, place settings for 60, place cards arranged, flowers in place, cake set up and positioned near and air-conditioner and everything was finished. I wouldn’t need to come back during the ceremony! Everything was ready for the guests to arrive and all I had to do was get home and get the girls dressed. They needed to be at the church by 5pm and it was already past 4:00!

More tomorrow, if the internet isn't down again. It's off and on, depending on the day, as is the electricity. I am SO ready to live in France again!

At about 7:45 on Saturday morning we were headed over to the convent of the nuns of Our Lady of Consolation. The twins were in the backseat with their little friend L, who had spent the night. They were busy chatting away about the great time they were going to have spending all day with the Sisters. The kids had apparently been promised lots of art projects and coloring. Very Vatican II.
But they were distracted, as we all were, by the huge crowd gathered along the Charles de G Boulevard at the Babanguida road intersection. There were plenty of police and a few stopped vehicles almost blocking the road.
I knew it was probably an accident, and from the quiet gravity of the crowd, I was guessing it was a fatal one.


Sadly, really terrible accidents are a daily fact of life in Ouagadougou. Bicyles, handcarts, donkey carts, motorscooters, pedestrians and cars are all competing for the same roadspace and it just doesn't work out well. Add to that no helmets and little respect for and/or knowledge of traffic rules and it all combines into one big, deadly mess.

My children, of course, spend their days in school, not tooling around the roads of Ouaga. I, on the other hand, do lots of errand running and have passed by many serious accidents. And I have learned not to look. I say a prayer for the people involved, but I don't look.

How do I know the accidents were serious? Our driver, Mahama, told me. He is a serious rubber-necker. Even when he's driving, he can't resist looking. Even when I tell him to pay attention to the freaking road so WE don't end up in a bad way.
So, there I was, once again telling the driver to please keep his eyes on the road and not rear-end the folks in front of us.
And then I hear Mallory say in a horrified whisper "He's dead! There's blood around his head!"

I was pretty horrified myself. The crowd was SO big, I had figured that any possible view of the actual accident would be hidden. But I guess people had left a large clear space around the body as they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

"Somebody put a handkerchief on his face. His bicycle is by him. He was hit by a car."

Oh boy.

A block further on, we had turned left towards the convent. I reached back and held Mallory's hand and we all had a talk about the difference between stopping to help someone and slowing down to gawk at misfortune -the latter being a very common human reaction. We are curious to see what hideous fate that we have been lucky enough to avoid. But when there's already a crowd of people helping out, there's NO reason to slow down for a look.
The girls understood -now if only I could get our driver to understand, too.


Mal and the other two girls sat quietly as we pulled up the the high convent gates. As we got out of the car, she asked if she should ask Sister Perpetua to have all the children pray for the man.

I told her it was a brilliant idea, gave her a hug and sent her off.

She seems to have dealt with it all pretty well. This morning, she was awake early and all ready to go on an outing. We were going to vist the new house of Aisha and her family. Thanks to help from MLW, Babzee and my father, they now have a little home out in the suburb/village of Saaba. (Thanks again! ) . This was a project I'd had in mind for some time and I'm SO pleased that it has really happened. Aisha is now 20 years old and supporting two sisters, a brother and their mentally ill mother. Owning a home will get them out from under paying rent and worrying about being homeless. The money she earns from sewing can go right to paying for food, water and school for the three younger ones.
It's a simple one-room mud-brick home, but they are thrilled.

In the photo, Aisha is the smaller one. Her sister Mariam is 12, but much taller. And of course, there's Mally in front.