How does someone who has never been to Africa decide which country to go first? Or more to the point, how come of all the countries there, the first country to go to happens to be Burkina Faso? Yes, certainly, there may be some charm in telling the people you know you’re going to Burkina Faso and then watching their expressions of utter bewilderment. Since, of course, most of them will be completely at a loss, look at you unsure of what you mean and ask „Bur... what?“ Then, yes, it’s also cool to just roll off the name of Burkina’s capital as it sounds so unmistakeably African. When you say Ouagadougou, everyone correctly guesses you’re going to Africa, except almost no one knows exactly where. But all that can’t be the reason why you decide to start your African exploration from there, can it? Right, it can’t. So how do you arrive at Burkina Faso in the first place?
In a bit of a roundabout way.
It all started with a documentary, in fact. Travellers must get their ideas for their destinations somewhere, after all, mustn’t they? My idea for this particular one came from this documentary. In truth, it never even mentioned Burkina Faso. It rather focused on the border between Senegal and Mauritania. Seeing it – I guess those German guys simply shot it splendidly – I just said to myself I had to go there. So I started researching the area, reading up things on it, and before long realised that the place to visit in the region was in fact another country. Namely, Mali. Very soon it became clear to me that the centrepiece of my trip there should be Mali, whereas Senegal and Mauritania would have to get relegated to second fiddles. Fine, no problem. So, Mali it was.
Next step were flight connections from Europe. As it turned out, they were not entirely cheap, but the best deal by far that I could find for the region was Ouagadougou. However, it automatically posed some logistical problems. Travelling from, say, Burkina Faso up to Mali and then on to Senegal and Mauritania wasn’t exactly the same thing as covering Benelux or going to München from my hometown where in five hours you set foot on the soil of four different countries. African countries are simply too huge. Incomparably huge next to most of those in Europe. And, to a large extent, they lacked necessary infrastructure. All of them. So very early into my planning I realised I would have to make a choice. It meant that I would either have to go for a considerably more expensive ticket and fly to Dakar or Bamako, or if I wanted to cut expenses somewhat down, leave Senegal and Mauritania for some other occasion and go to Burkina Faso instead. Only Mali would always stay in the cards.
Eventually, I decided on Burkina Faso.
So that was how the first African country I would ever set my foot on turned out to be this landlocked former French colony, according to some statistics, third poorest country on the planet, which once was known to the rest of the world as Upper Volta. The rest of the world meaning whoever heard of it at all. And that was how this evening my airplane flying from Paris, with a brief stop-over across the border to the east in Niamey, Niger, was landing in Ouagadougou. As some would say that as the capitals go, the capital with the coolest name on earth.
It’s not only the names, though, but also airports like Ouagadougou that don’t exist in my part of the world. When you fill in an arrival form and clear police officials, which doesn’t go that fast as they don’t have any computers and every single thing is checked and written by hand, then you get into a large room, or maybe a modest-size hall, with a conveyor belt. As nothing here moves at the speed of light, by the time you’re there, the luggage from your airplane is already circling around, ready to collect. Peculiar thing about this hall, as opposed to every other airport in the world I’ve been to, is that it is not for arrivals only. Here, everyone is there, both those who have just landed and those who are about to depart. And right then, at the time of my arrival, there was a noisy crowd of Muslim pilgrims apparently soon flying off to Mecca, all dressed in long white robes, just like you’d expect Arabs to be. They were in majority. Then you could also notice a number of locals with less then obvious reasons for being there, who were nevertheless loitering around. And finally us, both Africans and Europeans, who had just arrived on the flight from Paris and were now collecting our luggage. All that under watchful eye of several armed soldiers.
Nobody ever asked me what I had in my luggage and if there was anything there to declare. So I just went up to the exit gate expecting to come into a waiting hall or something. But there is neither a waiting hall nor an arrivals section inside the Ouagadougou airport. Instead, to my surprise, I emerged straight out in the open, entirely outside the airport building, and was treated to one of the most colourful scenes I’d ever seen at airports as of yet.
First, coming from winter Europe, even if this year’s winter was rather mild right now, the warm and thick African air took me aback. And then at the same time, you literally come out on the street and a huge crowd pushing forward in an attempt to get themselves a better spot welcomes you with loud cheers. They are kept at bay only by few security guards and a flimsy rope. Instantly, I was stopped in my tracks, caught totally unawares. And yet, at the same time, it was absolutely fantastic.
I looked around trying to locate Annette. But this was a football-type crowd, hundreds of them, and as she was not right by the rope, there was no way I could ever spot her. My hope was that she would rather see me first. Which of course she would. In every part of the world I stand out to an extent. Here in Africa, I was a total opposite to everyone around. So I pulled back a bit, climbed three stairs back up to the gate and, both for the purpose of having a better vantage point and of giving Annette a chance to see me more easily, stopped there.
And it worked. I soon noticed her waving enthusiastically from the crowd at me, so I climbed down the stairs again and pushed by the security guards towards her.
„Monsieur, taxi?“, I heard from all sides. But I ignored it all. I dived through the crowd until I finally reached the spot where she was.
„Good evening,“ I said.
„So, you finally arrived,“ she said smiling broadly, took me by the hand and led me through the crowd to the car waiting for us. We were now going straight to „Belle Vue“, the hotel I was going to stay in while in Ouagadougou. Annette had checked it some time before my arrival and as she felt it was a place I might feel OK in, after a consultation with me had booked it on my name.
The airport in Ouagadougou is precisely that – an airport in Ouagadougou. In town. Only two kilometres from the city centre. So it didn’t take us long to reach „Belle Vue“. But in spite of Annette’s timely booking, and the fact that she had given them final confirmation earlier in the day that I would be in the hotel on schedule, for some reason unknown to anyone there was no room for me there. The staff were very friendly, all smiling and shaking hands. But they explained to me that even if my booking was OK and still standing, this evening I would have to stay elsewhere. Was it OK with me?
I nodded. All the more so as they had already found the substitute accommodation and claimed that the place I’d be in for the night was not any worse than the „Belle Vue“. Also, they would themselves get me there by car. Free of charge. And from tomorrow on I’d be able to stay in the „Belle Vue“ if I wanted.
Annette was frowning. She just didn’t like it. But seeing me take it in stride eased her mood, so we switched the cars and went to that other hotel. Besides, it wasn’t far, just a street or two away, so at the end of the day, nothing much changed.
The other hotel was „Nazémsé“, a three-star thing, even if most likely that hardly meant anything. I don’t think rating in Burkina Faso necessarily matches European ratings. But I didn’t care, either. I would have hot water, they would serve breakfast in the morning, and that was all I needed. Stars were definitely of secondary importance. Besides, the room I got was very spacious. OK, the furniture was rickety and worn, but bed was hard, which guaranteed – climate provided – a good kip under circumstances. There was a mosquito net hanging off the ceiling and a pre-deluge air-conditioner, which was, miraculously, still in function. Then there was a table, as well, so what else could someone like me need here? Nothing. I had it all.
Annette and I sat talking for a while and I gave her a thing or two I had brought for her, notably two Tibet-style cowboy hats I had bought in China upon her request. One black and one white. Being a true lady, she tried them both immediately on and to my relief, they were both to her liking.
She lived with her family in Ouagadougou, but a bit outside the city centre, which meant some twenty minutes or so by motorbike. As little as I’d been able to see so far, streets of Ouagadougou were mostly unlit, so neither she nor her family felt too comfortable about her staying outside after dark too long. Whether that fear was justified or not, I could not be the judge of. But we both agreed that she shouldn’t stay for too long into the evening lest her parents get too worried.
OK, Burkina Faso may in many ways lag behind even North Korea, but at least everybody seemed to own a mobile phone here. So naturally, Annette did, too. Same as her father and at least a few more members of her family. Therefore, in case of emergency, everyone was always able to get in touch with each other. But it was reasonable for her to go home, just the same. She said she would come tomorrow morning at eight and that was it. After she had left, I had my long hot shower and started preparing for bed. I cast one last look through the window, but it was completely dark outside. Only the sound of an occasional car or motorbike could be heard and that was all. So I unfurled the mosquito net, took out my own bedding and decided it would be best to try to sleep as much as the new bed and the new country would permit me on my first night here.
My first visit to Africa ever had just begun. In the country many people where I come from never heard of. And in the capital city with the coolest name in the world.
