The right way to give and the Burkinabé pub (maquis) culture

The right way to give

The smooth pace at which Burkinabé life coasts along on a daily basis is another area of fascination. In a polychronic culture (the anthropological way to say time doesn't matter), passing a friend on the street and inquiring into wellbeing is far more important than honouring the formal time of an organised meeting.  

Firstly, salutations are more extensive and inquisitive than the impersonality of Northern European or Anglo-Saxon cultural norms. The Burkinabé handshake comes first. It starts off as expected but culminates in a smooth slide-off, such that the two individuals' middle fingers click. A fist bump is also common amongst friends. And when a Burkinabé enters a room full of people, he will individually shake the hands of everyone present without a second thought. The ensuing dialogue is also particular. While Brits with their stiff upper lips see the 'how are you' as a quick formality, here one almost ubiquitously inquires into how well you slept ("bonjour, c'est comment (comment ca va)? Bien dormi?"), and how your family is. The Burkinabés' larger concept of family (perhaps due to the fact that almost everyone seems to have ­many siblings) seems somewhat reflected in the Burkinabé French, in which instead of replying "fine thank you, and you?", it is customary to hear the subtly modified response, "fine thank you, and at yours?" ("et chez toi?").  The cultural differences even extend to the way objects are given from one person to another, as it is considered disrespectful to give with one's left hand. However, in this warm culture, it really does seem everyone is welcome. A warm smile, respect and friendliness suffice. Just remember to give in the right way.

Photo: "Bon marché!"

Maquis, maquis and more maquis

The unanswered paradox is that the food in regular restaurants is almost exclusively: carbs (rice, tô, , spaghetti, couscous, or bread), some flavoured sauce, maybe some more carbs, and the gauntest ration of meat - usually pork or sheep. Local markets on the other hand, bustle with an enviable range of vegetables and spices for little ligidi (money). Furthermore, no Burkinabé street corner is complete without its trademark maquis. A maquis is the Burkinabé French term for a small bar/restaurant (even the Courrier International has written about the maquis). They can be found on literally every corner and are identical in menu and prices. It's a meeting place where variety is not the spice of life. A place for spouses to escape from their spouses, many have big screens showing live European football, with the English league seemingly the most popular.

The Burkinabé have the sweetest teeth this side of the Sahel. Maquis coffee = instant Nescafé. Four lumps of sugar are typically added, while the more upmarket café au lait (i.e. a few sterling pence extra) is Nescafé dissolved in half a glass of condensed milk and half a glass of water. It is served with bread and butter and one order will get you close to your RDA of fat. In a move seemingly aimed at discouraging British volunteers, the only tea is Lipton served in a glass with lemon and sugar (in an often diabetic quantity). The omnipresent soda brands are served but my personal local favourite is Bissap: a sweet syrup squash made from hibiscus flowers. Horchata, a milkshake-like drink made from 'chufas' that I have only ever found in the Valencian Community in Spain, curiously seems to be served in some places. There are also some other local drinks made from millet and ginger, though I have yet to develop the necessary palette. The local beers, Brakina, Sobra and Beaufort cost around £1 for a large 60CL bottle; a price range which compensates for the lacklustre tea options. Also, for better or worse, the Burkinabé have developed a strong penchant for Guinness, by far the most popular export beer.

While maquis are a rudimentary West African twist to the concept of the British public house, I often fantasise of a slightly varied menu. While British pubs share many similarities - even the names are reused time and time again - every maquis has the same menu. What if someone jazzed up the rice and sauce (riz sauce) dish with one different spice or a new vegetable? What if the 24 hour boulangeries baked bread in a slightly different shape so as not to exclusively sell the colonial hangover that is the French baguette? Would a change from Nescafé to Kenco or, more interestingly, from Lipton to Twinings lead to civil unrest? 

Photo: Au maquis

Photo: Le goût pour la Guinness