Moussa picked me up in the morning and we proceeded to go to the “guichet” withdraw some cash. This important because you can’t replenish your cash n Yako…there’s no bank or ATM We also stop at a supermarket to grab some food for the 5 hour bus ride to Ouagadougou. He leaves me at the bus station and it’s not long before I’m on the bus heading out of Bobo Dioulasso.
Not quite out of Bobo I spot two camels walking down the street. Mission accomplished, I think to myself as I had intended to rent a camel here in Burkina Faso. Oh well seeing them will have to suffice. It does highlight that Burkina Faso is nothing like I imagined. There’s something sticky on the wall beside me (for all I know it’s something sticky on my arm) but I’ve resigned myself to the fact that this is going to pull on the hairs on my arm for the rest of the ride. The bus is full and I have scored a window seat but the Burkinabé are not big on travelling with the windows down even without air conditioning.
An hour and half into the ride some guy in a bright red Reebok shirt with a union jack pasted on the front, stands up in the isle and tells everyone to pay attention…we have a long ride ahead of us, everyone is tired and he wants everyone to listen very closely. The guy speaks quite authoritatively to someone in the back “Pssssst ……Toi…dans le bleu…j’ai dit écoute…est-ce-que il y a un probleme?” I'm thinking “oh Boy what the hell is this?” But I’m not wearing blue so I slide my sun glasses on and casually look out the window. He is holding up a tube and ask if anyone uses this? It’s a cream of sort that apparently cures everything, including motorbike crashes. He moves up and down the isle with a sample squirt. The bus now smells like Bengay….which is actually a slight improvement over the smell of a crowded bus with the windows closed and no A/C. To my amazement he’s got customers up and down the isle. I pass with a “Pas moi merci”. He’s actually quite good at finishing off his pitch with directions that this is not be put in your mouth…nor eyes. He supports this advisory with slow dialogue and clear hand gesture; “Pas dans la bouche”. His final warning, to my fellow bus patrons includes not getting this near your private parts.
Product #2 seems to be toothpaste and a brush. He makes it clear (again supported by hand gestures) that everyone should use one of these and we don’t share toothbrushes. We end with something called “guano” sold in a small sandwich bag. It’s for severe constipation….yes this pitch includes hand gestures too. I don’t think anyone bought this one.
I’ve just received a txt on the bus from Kevin and then again from Katelyn from Yako. They have both shared with me the very sad news that YELKUNI Richard, a young fellow I’ve been working with in Yako passed away last night. I connected with Richard quite quickly as I’m sure most would. He was intelligent, energetic and prided himself on wearing many hats. He was extremely helpful in supporting me and the others in my first training session and was excited about the possibilities inherent in the next round of training. He understood that by automating some of the summary information, he would be freeing up time to form observations and recommendations rather than simply arriving at a result.
A clear light bulb with a shoestring dangling by its side; that's the image that comes to mind when ever I think of death. I have only witnessed death first hand once. Regardless of how close to death someone is, and regardless of how long you've sat by their side, the moment life stops you become instantly aware of the quantum chasm that exists between life and death. I don't want to take away from the bedside solace of a hand on someone’s forehead as we say "your almost there dear, everything will be fine", but what I am suggesting is that when life does leave that room you're sitting in, it feels a million miles away almost immediately. In my mind, it's quite similar to sitting in a small room and pulling that shoestring. Instantaneously things are dark; there is no more light. We often, for a moment at least, marvel at the absence of light when it first arrives; at just how dark it can be. I think we do this because we can’t believe the huge contrast between seeing so much and then absolutely nothing. We will sometimes even hold out a hand in front of our face in total disbelief that the light has been completely snuffed out. And just like at that immediate moment when light ends, the end of life focuses all senses towards that one reality. For a moment you hear nothing, you smell nothing, you feel nothing you are completely aware of only one thing. The light is Gone....with a capital "G". I had thought, before leaving for Burkina Faso, that I might be exposed to death and misery, but I wasn’t expecting it like this. Richard has a wife and three young children. My thoughts are with them.
I switched buses in Ouagadougou by grabbing the Ouayigouya bus that stops in Yako. It’s an open bus yard (they all are) and I’m amazed that they are able to get buses in and out of the one entrance yard without any gridlock or system. At least it’s not apparent to me. The hour lay over in Ouagadougou is hot and I’m relieved to be now sitting in the bus. It’s interesting to see how dedicated Muslims are hear to prayer. There’s even a make shift mosque available for people to pray in within the bus station walls. I’ve connected with Bev and Becky through Skype as the bus makes it’s way out of Ouaga. I’ve also received an email from Uniterra that extra prudence the crisis in Mali seems to be intensifying.
As I step off the bus in Yako, it’s different for me…it’s different for them and I smile to myself…it’s different for us. This reconfirms for that I fact did begin to miss Yako while in Bobo; as nice as it was there. Making my way back to SEMUS the “bon soirs” seemed to have a hint of “Oh he’s back” in town. Entering our courtyard gate, Bassirou greets me and we speak briefly of the sad news. I made my way to the burial site, which isn’t far from SEMUS. It’s dark now and the grave is near completion. It’s dug by hand of course and the men tending to their work are supported by a generator and a few fluorescent lights hanging by a nearby tree. Off to my left, I can see a procession of motorbikes, pickup trucks and even a few cars. There are no street lights here and the light from the vehicles is dissipated in the haze of dust and sand. The vehicles are followed by a very long and wide procession of people walking. I can hear the gentle beat of drums. I won’t make entertainment of Richard’s funeral. There are some similarities to home and there are some differences. It’s sad. The grave site, appears to me to be a lot that I have passed almost every day on my daily walks. I asked someone if this was a cemetery and they informed me that he was being buried here because he was the son of a Yako Naba. It turns out Richard really was a prince.
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