It’s 6:45am and I’m in the TCV bus station; it turns out my “hotel” is only a block away. Stepping in to the corridor reconfirmed my impression of last night. I whisper “yep…this definitely IT”. Turning the corner in to the lobby, I find one fellow sleeping on a mattress he has thrown on the floor and another (guard?) sleeping on a chair by the door. He’s placed a chair by the door to stop it from blowing in the wind. I quietly move the chair and make my way onto the street. Whew…what an experience.
Outside the bus station (I’m 1.5 hours early) I txt James with a thanks for his help the night before. The bus station already has a fair bit of patrons but after last night I’m feeling pretty secure. fascination with Nasarah isn’t nearly as strong in Ouagadougou, they have plenty of “le blancs” comparatively speaking of course. The sun is full on now and it fills the bus station yard with a golden hue.
On the bus now and only 30 minutes into the ride, we are stopped by the “gendarmes”. I hear the word “Mali” in the middle of a sentence somewhere behind me, as I hand over my passport. Two hours into the bus ride and the back of the bus is filling up with sand and dust. I and the patrons around me search for the whole in the bus floor.
I should mention at this point that an hour or two before hopping on the bus in Yako, I had reached out to a hand full of Canadian volunteers based in Bobo Dioulasso; asking for any suggestions on a guide and accommodations. I was thankful that someone got back to me and suggested a fella by the name of Roy. Roy is a Uniterra volunteer that had been in Bobo for the past year and was suggested to be the best point of contact. I called Roy from Yako but only got a few words in before my phone ran out of credit and our connection was lost. After recharging my phone and while walking to the bus station Roy called me back. He said to call him when I arrived in Bobo. While on route, I received another call from “Eric” (another Canadian in Bobo). I thanked him and told him Roy had me covered.
So there I was fresh off the 5 hour bus ride in Bobo and exiting the bus yard. As usual, there were several folks there offering taxi service. My response this time was “Non merci, chez un ami ici a Bobo”. A few minutes later this Rastafarien dude comes around the corner and says in french “Hey your friend ask me to pick you up”. I’m a little suspicious but I think “why not…I guess it could be that easy, certainly don’t want to offend Roy”. I asked him how did he know I was the guy he was looking for and he says “Your friend told me to pick up the tourist at the bus station”. Now I can’t accurately convey what’s gone on here but I can say this guy (real name “Issouff”) is one of those folks that listens well and takes every opportunity or I’m just an easy mark (probably the latter). I think I then asked “Tu est Eric? (remember Eric called me on the bus) and of course this guy responds “Oui je suis Eric” and “Roy sent you?” and of course he responds “Oui Roy sent me”. In the confusion, I now have the false sense of security building; “Ok cool, Eric has come and he knows Roy”. I called Roy before getting in the taxi and said “Eric has picked me up I’m on my way”. I detected a slight hint of confusion in Roy’s voice but I don’t really know him and confusion has become the norm for me anyway. Remember EVERYTHING is in french, Mooré, and now in Bobo…Jula. Between you and me, sometimes I can’t differentiate one language from the other. Roy says “OK…”. After hanging up I guess Roy called the real “Eric” and asked “You picked up “la voluntaire Canadien?”. To which Eric replies “What voluntaire…?”. My phone rings again, while I’m riding in the taxi with this guy pretending to be “"Eric”, and it’s Roy…Roy asks to speak with “Eric” who is sitting in front with driver. I hear them talking and the name Eric used twice. I learned later, from Roy, that what I was hearing was Roy asking “Is this Eric la Canadien?” and the response being “Eric la Canadien? No je suis Eric la Rastafarien”. He passed me back the phone and says “Roy is on his way”. Of course gullible old me, sitting in the back of this cab, now oozing with confidence after hearing the name “Eric” twice and watching him chat with Roy, I say “I guess it’s pretty easy to spot the tourist in this town”. The cab driver and “Eric” just look at each other and smile. (I’m laughing out loud while I type this…I hope it reads well).
They take me to a hotel, in the centre of town and I check the room. Again not being able to judge what’s available and not wanting to offend Roy, I say sure I’ll take it for two nights. The price is actually quite reasonable and after last night, this place looks like Disneyland. I tell “Eric” what I really need is batteries for my camera and he runs off to fetch them. A few minutes later, the cleaning lady came to my room and told my friend was here and that’s when I met Roy.
From here (I can’t hold the spoiler) my experience in Bobo was in fact Disneyland. Roy took care of everything. Roy is Peruvian, with some Chinese heritage, and after working for three years in Montreal, found an opportunity through Uniterra, to volunteer in Burkina Faso. He reminds me alot of my friend Yawar. He and his girlfriend Amy took me to a restaurant, where we ordered some food to take back to their home. Everyone in this crowded spot seems to know Roy. Roy and his Amy have a beautiful home, not unlike a condo you’d find back home. I can’t begin to describe the welcoming atmosphere Roy and Amy extended to me. After lunch we visited, a family from Montreal (well near Montreal); they had just begun their 14 month mandate in Bob a few days earlier. By the way, this was the real Eric. Later Moussa (our driver and friend) took me to the “Grande Mosqué” and “Vieux Village” of Bobo. I received an interesting tour of the Mosqué and sampled some “Dolo”, which appears to be Burkina Faso moonshine. 
We ended the evening back at Roy’s home, eating dinner and watching the Mali/South African soccer match with another Burkinabé family. Mali won!!!; meaning the remaining teams in the Cup African Nations tournament were all from West Africa. We also landed on a plan and price for Moussa to take me to Banfora the next day.
As I retreated to my hotel, I thought of both James and Roy. I had already found two people on this voyage that were just being nice because they enjoyed being nice. Such a nice feeling. I’m understating Roy’s warmth and perspective on priorities. I won’t be able to do it justice here in the blog. We had several discussions and his heart and purpose in life is in a very good place. I think the best way to summarize it is. I have a list of 4 people that I would like to be more like. The list has now grown to 5.
Please consider joining me in Yako, Burkina Faso. Click here.
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