Some two hours later we came to a town called Orodara. There, at the local bus station, we had a welcome stop-over of some fifteen minutes. After two hours in an overcrowded bus, with more passengers than it should have taken in the first place – now I knew what those plastic vessels in the aisle were meant for: people were sitting on them – I guess we thoroughly deserved it. With so many bodies tightly packed aboard, I was literally melting with trickles of sweat constantly running down my cheeks and neck. An odd window had been open during the ride, but almost everyone had pulled the curtains over, sheltering from the sun, so it didn’t help much. But at least I had a feeling that with time it helped a bit with this strong and musty odour inside.
Our „very good“ Diarra Trans bus had no air-conditioner whatsoever.
I was relieved when I was told we would be able to get off the bus and have a chance to stretch the legs for a while. And also, for all the early afternoon African heat, once out, the air was not stuffy any more and that, too, was a welcome bonus. Quite a few people used the opportunity to leave the bus. Even if not all. But Annette came out, as well. She was hungry so she wanted to buy something too eat. And she was not the only one. Actually, none of those who trust locally cooked street food in Africa should ever go hungry during trips like this. Bus station in Orodara was full of people selling all sorts of food, many of them cooking and frying it on the spot. There were several food stalls with smoking stoves and Annette picked and chose one offering mutton.
Orodara itself is a town which I am not sure would be of much interest to travellers were it not situated on the National Route No.8, or main road between Bobo-Dioulasso and Bamako via Sikasso. „Lonely Planet“ fails to mention it altogether and an average tourist would therefore be pretty much excused thinking that there’s nothing there whatsoever. Having said that, though, with the developed cultivation of mangos and oranges in the area, as well as some other crops, they call it the fruit basket of Burkina Faso. And on top of all that, the town is the capital of Kénédougou Province. So in a way it all puts it on equal footing with Banfora.
They say the town has a district hospital, a large market, a cinema, post office, town hall and two gas stations. So compared to Banfora, at least in terms of hospital and cinema, it has even more to offer. Unless I missed them back there. Only, it doesn’t seem to have natural assets that Banfora surroundings do.
But then again, the better of two Orodara hotels is cracked up to be in any sense way above anything that Banfora has. Even Bobo-Dioulasso allegedly has only one dig, hotel „L’Auberge“, that beats best Orodara accommodation. So you ask yourself a logical question. If there’s really nothing there in Orodara, why on earth have they built themselves a hotel like that?
That was one of the questions I was not going to find an answer to. Maybe I would have if my plans had included an overnight stay there. But they didn’t. All I had were fifteen minutes at and around bus station and then it was on to Sikasso.
I had thought that the open windows in the bus during the ride from Bobo had helped air the inside and dispelled some of the stench. They had not. When I got back on board, I realised it had only been my nose adapting to the odour by dulling my sense of smell. The bus proudly stank as much as it had at the beginning of the trip and that was an extra included in the ticket price, free of charge.
Well, my nose had adapted once, so it would again. And we moved on.
