The Land of the Honest Men II: Burkinabé navigation and the art of haggling

Who'd be a Burkinabé postman?

Getting around Ouaga is a little more challenging than the few swipes on the Google Maps app on which the Western Generation Y are now dependent. First of all, many streets are unnamed and unpaved. Street signs which do exist are often unclear and the identical alleys cross the sprawling suburbs are often numbered. The task can become ever more herculean during the frequent daily power cuts (as a side note, there are few sights as eerie as seeing all the lights of a motorway simultaneously black-out at night).

So tactics have been designed to remedy the situation. Water towers (châteaux d'eau) painted with coloured advertisements often loom high above the shacks that line the roads. You point the taxi driver to your local tower­. Pharmacies are also landmarks, as their big green crosses are the most visible points de référence when driving (or rather scooting) around. My house, for instance, is just off the main national motorway near the 'Jumbo' water tower just before the 'Pharmacie du progres' (Pharmacy of Progress).

Photo: Local transport

Photo: Châteaux d'eau

Photo: Mopeds in the city centre

The art of haggling

Prices are rarely displayed... anywhere. Every purchase becomes a constant retrospective wonder of 'did I get ripped off?'. The problem is particularly acute for newcomers who have no concept of local prices, such as British volunteers getting to grips with dividing everything by 700 (£1 = 720 CFA) on the spot. The rule of thumb, however, is that life is significantly cheaper than most of 'the West'. Even when living on a modest local currency stipend, it still feels like a bargain to get a burger and chips for a little over £2.

Even the taxis agree a price with you before the journey. Meters don't exist in the huge fleet of self-employed taxi drivers, who after getting their license, paint their banged-up Mercedes or Renault into 'taxis verts' (green taxis). After negotiating the price, the chauffeur proceeds to try and load up his taxi - two in the front and four in the back - taking whichever route gives him the best chance to do so. Time just doesn't matter to many people. They're perfectly content to not rush. Petrol prices, on the other hand, do cause grumblings, as at 712 CFA (£1) per litre, margins are tight for the minority choosing not to zip around on two wheels. 

Photo: Taxis verts

The Land of Honest Men Part I: Multiple gods and jovial racism

'Burkina Faso' roughly translates to the land of the honest (or 'upright') men (pays des hommes intègres), in the country's two main languages. It's a landlocked country of 16 million, with 60 languages and ethnicities, and French is the sole official language. It borders Mali, Ghana, Togo, Benin, Niger and Cote d'Ivoire. It is majority Muslim but with a sizable Christian minority.

Two gods are better than one?

Religion in Burkina is a fascinating topic. Despite 80% being either Muslim or Christian, nearly all nonetheless practise traditional beliefs. Goat sacrifices seem to be perfectly compatible with going to church every Sunday. The level of religious belief can also clearly be seen from the multitude of pietistic shop names. Many contain the prefix 'wend', which means 'god' in Mooré. 'Shalom' and 'peace' (paix) are also seen everywhere.

In addition, the traditional chiefs are still highly regarded in Burkinabé society. There are apparently some still-observed customs whereby women greeting the chief must approach him by crawling on their hands and knees. Monsieur le Président Blaise Compaoré is also said to exercise power through the traditional chiefs who can often disseminate messages to communities in a way that no political TV ad or garish billboard could. It is widely believed that he regularly consults the Mossi king.

Photo: Shalom Coiffure

Jovial racism

The multitude of different ethnicities is personified through friendly rivalry and banter (plaisanterie). Although the Kingdom of Ouagadougou is predominantly the Mossi tribe, the capital is a magnet for migration from across the Republic. While taking breakfast with a couple of elders - one Mossi, one Dioula - I was entertained by non-stop back-and-forth joshing of "he's Mossi, he eats people", "he's Dioula, he's a slave".. "he's a thief"... "he eats children" ... "he doesn't wear underwear"; and so on, punctuated with friendly jabs and the trademark Burkinabé smirk. It is often said that such jovial racism and making light of the differences between the multitude of groups is a binding custom in itself.

Older generations bear scars (cicatrices) on their faces. Until as recently as the 1980s, traditional chiefs (chefs coutumiers) used the marks as an antiquated identity card. The different patterns denote ethnicity, caste and social rank. This old custom, despite seeming somewhat brutish, was also subject to the abovementioned banter.  

Westerners, or rather anyone of a non sub-Saharan African origin, are subject to staring at every turn. Children ubiquitously follow and shout "Nassarah!" as you pass. Nassarah comes from the word "Nazareth", as the first Caucasian people to arrive were Christian missionaries from Europe. Such positive racism is akin to what many non-Chinese people experience in China, when calls of "laowai" (old foreigner) accompany similar bemusement when seeing non-natives. But here, a white person is ever more visible in the crowd. Particularly in Ouaga, where aside from a few diplomatic and development worker bubbles in the centre, the 'Nassarahs' are extremely few and far between. People can't help but stare and a few words in the native language brings out overwhelming warmth and friendliness.  

Photo: "Nassarah!"