My dad and Keiko's visit to Burkina overall went very well. We did a lot of traveling and visiting in the days they were here but the few minor problems we came across mostly occured during the beginning of their trip. They didn't even have to step out of the airport for that....the airline lost their suitcase (Welcome to Burkina!) After that issue was settled (they found and retrieved their bag the next day), my father's first words outside the airport had me worried about what they'd think of the rest of their trip.
Dad: "Is there a fire? Look at all that smoke in the air!"
Me: "No dad. That's....just...dust"
Me: "No dad. That's....just...dust"
Luckily I have a family of troopers. This was Keiko's first time to Africa and my father's second (he was in Africa 40 years ago) so its fair to say that while both didn't know exactly what to expect, they were ready to rough it out and were up for anything. Right from the start I was impressed with their easy going attitudes and willingness to go along with whatever I planned. The first couple days we stayed in Ouaga and had my friend tour them around. For their first lunch meal in Burkina my friend took them to a restaurant that served nice local food. To my surprise both Dad and Keiko ordered 'futu', which is basically a variation of "to" served with sauce.
"Now this," my friend says "is a local dish that you eat with your hands." This is where I held my breathe and waited for the disgusted look on my dad and Keiko's faces.
As my friend dug his thick hands into the soupy sauce Dad and Keiko didn't even hesitate...they dug right in and began chomping down, sauce running down their arms. Looking around the restaurant I couldn't help but notice that not a single Burkinabe was eating with their hands, they were all using forks and spoons.
After touring around we headed up to visit Pobe-Mengao. The visit itself was great. They met my friends and coworkers and really got a sense of the place I now call home. What wasn't so fun was the ride UP to Pobe. Since the morning of our departure my dad was feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Although it can't be proven, I beleive it was the BUSH RAT he chose to eat for lunch the day before. After a long and uncomfortable ride (we were crammed into the back seat of a car with two HUGE women. Cramped space + 2 fat Burkinabe women + pot-holes in the dirt roat + 7 hours is NOT a fun combination.) Then about 7k outside of Pobe the car's gas line snaps, leaking gas all over the place. Then we get a flat tire. Then, while the car is pulled over, Dad steps out and...yes, throws up (what I STILL say is bush rat) outside the door. When we finally arrived Dad was so sick he collapsed on the bed and remained there for the rest of the day. Luckily, he had cipro with him.
I have to say, Cipro is a hell of a drug. He took it and felt much better the very next day. We were able to spend that day touring around meeting and talking to people, seeing the sights Pobe has to offer. It was a wondrful experience for all of us. I think they both were able to really see the kindness and appreciation of the people. Everyone seemed to come by to welcome them, women came to dance for them. With them came praise, thanks and gifts. I think the best part of it all is how great it is for me to have my parents know this part of my life here. I know im lucky that all three of them came and not only witnessed but became part of my life experience in Pobe.
I have to say, Cipro is a hell of a drug. He took it and felt much better the very next day. We were able to spend that day touring around meeting and talking to people, seeing the sights Pobe has to offer. It was a wondrful experience for all of us. I think they both were able to really see the kindness and appreciation of the people. Everyone seemed to come by to welcome them, women came to dance for them. With them came praise, thanks and gifts. I think the best part of it all is how great it is for me to have my parents know this part of my life here. I know im lucky that all three of them came and not only witnessed but became part of my life experience in Pobe.
The great mosque in Bobo; Sindou peaks near Banfora
After Pobe, it was then off to visit Bobo, which was interesting; and Banfora, which was incredible. I couldn't beleive the difference between this area and Pobe. So green and lush. So many different sights to see. With the help of a friendly guide named Gabriel we were able to see beautiful sights like the Sindou peaks, Hippo lake, the sacred Baobab and the famous waterfalls. The waterfalls were by far my favorite part and after a long hot day of traveling everywhere it was a great way to end the day.
Keiko at the 'falls; Gabriel the guide cooling off
Ghana
I complain all the time about traveling in Burkina but I have to say, I never experienced such awful traveling as I did going to and from Accra. The bus itself was relatively nice but it is soooo long. Going to Accraa it took 21 hours, gong back 25. But it was oh so worth it!
Cape Coast; Kokrobite
In Ghana we were based in Kokrobite which is about 30k from Accra. We stayed at this place called Big Milly's Backyard, which was very nice and right on the beach. It was a pretty but rather interesting place. A lot of young European hippie women trying to hook up with wannabe rastafarian men, all of whom look like they'd been smokin waaaayyy to much of that ganja! But it was still fun and again, right on the beach so I of course loved it.
We did a couple day trips into Accra and another day into Cape Coast and El Mina to visit the slave castles. Accra was ridiculously busy. I had never seen traffic so horrible in all my life (Let's just say L.A traffic has NOTHING on Accra). What was entertaining while we were stuck in gridlock traffic though were all the vendors walking by with their merchandise to sell. They were all selling the most random things: fruit, bread, clothes, rabbit ears for t.v., toilet scrubber, soccer balls, coat hangers, brooms, etc. "This is better than wallmart!," my Dad exclaimed.
Slave castle in El Mina
The slave castles were really interesting and a very somber and humbling experience. Its hard not to feel anything when you're going into the dungeons where men were branded like cattle and the women raped, the slaves all crowded for months like sardines into the dark and dank room before being shipped off to work a life of hard labor. I couldn't help touching the walls, trying to imagine what they went through though I know there's no way I can even begin to imagine that hell.
I was surprised by the level of development in Ghana compared to other W. African countries. There were tall apartment buildings, fancy stores and the roads were in pretty good condition, there were even sidewalks! Though it was obvious to see the vast poverty. Big Milly's was beautiful but completely surrounded by old dilapillated and cramped houses, children still dressed in grungy rags. I was surprised by the amount of Christians in Accra. Every storefront seemed to have some religious title, and wierd ones at that: Lord's Victory Beauty Salon, With God's Blessing Linnens, Jesus Loves Me Shopping and Christ's Chicken were just a few I remember.
The rest of our time in Ghana was nothing except total relaxation: eating great food, lounging around the beach, drinking beers and eating some more great food. Funny lil story that happened on my way to the bus station to return to Burkina. Im in the taxi alone with the same driver (Felix) that drove us around previously on our trip.
Felix: "So I see your parents left already. How did your mom like the trip? That was your mom right?
Me: "Well actually she's my stepmom"
Me: "Well actually she's my stepmom"
Felix: "Ooooohhh! I THOUGHT so. I knew she couldn't be your mom. I knew it because you are so tall, and she's much shorter"
Me: "Oh yes...you're right" but what I'm thinking is "Uh...yeah. I'm taller. THAT'S the main difference people see between me and Keiko. Not the fact that she's Japanese."
Ghana was all so relaxing. But the 25 hr return bus ride quickly got me used to life in Burkina. Stepping off the bus, the incredible heat blasting into my face. The dust instantly gushing up into my nose and turning my clothes a rusty red. Taxi drivers hounding me, "Nassarra!" ringing in my ears.
Home Sweet Home