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Wandering North

Chronicling my travel adventures since 2007

  • Home
  • About Me
  • Where I’ve Been
  • Destinations
    • Africa
      • Algeria
      • Benin
      • Botswana
      • Burkina Faso
      • Côte d’Ivoire
      • Democratic Republic of the Congo
      • Djibouti
      • Egypt
      • Eritrea
      • Ethiopia
      • Ghana
      • Mauritania
      • Morocco
      • Rwanda
      • Senegal
      • South Sudan
      • Sudan
      • Togo
      • Tunisia
      • Uganda
      • Zambia
      • Zimbabwe
    • Asia
      • Azerbaijan
      • Bangladesh
      • Brunei Darussalam
      • Cambodia
      • China
      • Cyprus
      • Georgia (the country)
      • Hong Kong
      • India
      • Indonesia
      • Iraq
      • Japan
      • Jordan
      • Kazakhstan
      • Kyrgyzstan
      • Laos
      • Myanmar (Burma)
      • Malaysia
      • Nepal
      • Oman
      • Pakistan
      • Philippines
      • Qatar
      • Saudi Arabia
      • Singapore
      • South Korea
      • Taiwan
      • Thailand
      • Turkey
      • United Arab Emirates
      • Uzbekistan
      • Vietnam
    • Europe
      • Albania
      • Andorra
      • Belarus
      • Belgium
      • Bosnia and Herzegovina
      • Bulgaria
      • Croatia
      • Denmark
      • England
      • Estonia
      • Finland
      • France
      • Germany
      • Greece
      • Iceland
      • Ireland
      • Italy
      • Latvia
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Tag: Po

Posted inAfrica Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Tiébélé: the painted village

I awoke in Pô rested and ready for my reason for being there: to visit Tiébélé. I went out for breakfast: Nescafe, yogurt, and bread, which cost about a dollar. I then met my driver at the hotel, a young guy named Patrice, who spoke no English and wore a knitted scarf in the 40 degree heat. He had a motorbike (and as usual helmets are not available) and we set off. We bounced down the dry and dusty orange streets headed south to Tiébélé past donkey carts, kids headed to school, and women washing clothes with washboards and buckets.

After about 15 minutes we spotted one of the common police checkpoints. Patrice said (in French) “Policeman. It is a problem for me.” And we turned around to take a detour. This is one of those times when my rudimentary French was not enough to clarify the situation. Why were the police a problem? Did he not have ID? Was the moto not registered? Was he wanted for murder? I would never know and simply said “ok”.

Our detour was pleasant, past little villages and large baobab trees, many of which were hung with ropes of sorghum to dry.

We stopped at a little lake and looked at the fields of potatoes, tomatoes, and peppers growing in tidy green rows.

After an hour maybe we arrived in the town of Tiébélé, which is small but had a few shops and cafes. There was a small hut with art and the painter showed me his work, which included pictures of Tiébélé, Che Guevara, and Thomas Sankara.

Patrice and i stopped and had a drink with his brother, who spoke a bit of English, and the the three of us headed to the old village.

Patrice’s brother gave me a tour of the village, which is known for its painted huts, which are covered in symbolic designs representing animist tradition. Geometric patterns, lizards, tortoises, and seeds were common.

The village was designed for protection from enemies and is laid out in a twisty maze, with tiny doorways into the houses to thwart invaders. I learned that round huts were for single people, square huts for married couples, and huts shaped like figure eights were for seniors. I was shown (but not allowed to photograph) the place where sacrifices are made for the village.
I got to go into one hut, which had three rooms, including a kitchen, each separated with tiny portals which one had to crawl through. People live there today and were all quite friendly, particularly the children who handed me peanuts while saying bonjour.

It was all very interesting and worth the journey to get there from Ouagadougou.  After the village, we had coffee and took a stroll through the market, where i bought some oranges.

 

We returned to Pô and i killed time until my bus back to Ouagadougou. I watched some tv with the proprietor of my hotel and had a cigar while making some small talk in Franglais.

The bus ride back was mostly in the dark and was a bit nerve-wracking, as the highway was completely dark and the landscape disappeared. The security checkpoints seemed more ominous and for a while machine gun armed soldiers in full combat gear rode with us through an area known for attacks from bandits.

After about three hours we arrived in Ouagadougou and I made my way back to my hotel, where I fell asleep, too tired for dinner. A long but good day.

Read More about Tiébélé: the painted village
Posted on 24 November 16
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Posted inAfrica Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

On the Road in Pô

I did something i seldom do anymore, which is i arrived in my destination without a hotel/hostel reservation. I stopped doing this after i arrived in Prague during the jazz festival and found every conceivable accommodation booked aside from the worst hotel in Europe, which did not have a shower but did have a host of bedbugs.

Anyway, i arrived in Pô from Ouagadougou after a very pleasant three hour bus journey. Unlike previous bus trips, this one was not oversold, had highly functioning AC, and i had two seats to myself from which to enjoy the view of dry landscapes, villages, and cotton fields.

Pô is a dusty little town in south Burkina Faso, near the border with Ghana. There is no reason to visit it except that it is the jumping off place to view elephants etc in the Nazinga nature reserve and to see a little village called Tiébélé. I was there for the latter.

I left the bus depot, map in hand with three hotels noted. The first no longer existed, the second was full, but i got a room at the third. The Hotel Tiandora Esperance. It looked like it might have been ok once but now looked like a low rent motel that had barely survived a war. Dusty and broken with piles of garbage and junk. No place to eat or sit really. On the plus side, my room was clean and the AC worked well, also the guy working there, a young guy from Cote d’Ivoire with a slight mohawk, was very nice.

Getting to the hotel was a struggle. My map was a bit wrong and left me in circles on the super dusty roads, walking in a perpetual cloud of dust, like Pig Pen. The streets were mostly empty aside from donkeys, loads of pigs and goats, and lizards on every wall. It was blazingly hot and no shade to be found.

After getting my room though i felt a bit better and set off to wander after i arranged for a moto for the next morning. The town has one paved road through and the rest is just bumpy, dusty side streets. This made it easy to find things and there were a few decent places to eat, including one which had four vegetarian dishes on the menu. A miracle in a place where vegetarian usually means meat with vegetables.

As i didn’t have anything else to do, i walked a lot, checking out the businesses (mostly auto repair shops and hair salons) and people watching. In Pô i seemed to attract more attention that elsewhere i have been in the country. People called out “Nasara” constantly, which means “white woman” in one of the tribal languages. I don’t think it is meant in a derogatory way, as it is often accompanied with a friendly “bon arrivé”, but i don’t care for it. A lot of little kids ran out to say “bonjour” and shake my hand, which was always welcome.

I ate and smoked and napped and walked and smoked some more while finishing my book. There is no internet in Pô. I have been rereading “On the Road” on this trip for the first time since high school. I still like it though i found it sadder than i remember. Teenage me was captivated by the freedom and adventure. This still resonates with adult me, but so does Sal’s on going unhappiness in wondering if that is all there is: uncertainty and the pursuit of “kicks”. Anyway, i finished the book sitting in a chair i dragged outside, and slept well. The next day i was headed for Tiébélé.

 

Read More about On the Road in Pô
Posted on 23 November 16
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About Wandering North

Welcome to Wandering North, where I have been blogging about my travels since 2007.

Dale Raven North

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