Roads in Burkina Faso are somewhat better than those in Mali. And buses are often a considerable improvement over Malian ones. Also, in addition to all that, in Burkina Faso you can occasionally experience an incredible treat of leaving on schedule. So for all those reasons, and after two weeks of erratic road conditions and traffic connections north of the border, the ride from Ouahigouya to Ouagadougou felt almost like a deluxe category. Add to it the fact that the bus was less than half full, and you had all the space on your seat you could ever need, this was an enjoyable morning on wheels.
And among the few fellow passengers there was a white couple.
Naturally, we immediately noticed each other and politely exchanged greetings. As only independent travellers travel like this, we also knew we were on the same mission here in West Africa – to add another, or a few more, less travelled countries to the ever increasing list of places we had visited.
They were Americans. Paul and Lois. They were travelling from Mali to Ghana and, same as me, had arrived in Ouahigouya the day before. They too had stayed in Ouahigouya overnight, albeit in one of somewhat cheaper options in town, They had decided that „L’amitié“ hotel where I had stayed was a luxury they didn’t have to go for at this point.
So we chatted on and off and in such a relaxed way reached a settlement of Gourcy after some forty five minutes. Some call Gourcy a town, but from what I could see from the bus, I was more inclined to call it a bunch of rickety, rundown shacks thrown around the road to Ouagadougou. On the face of it, the people of Gourcy, at least the ones whom those like me could see from our seats could roughly be divided in two categories. The first one were those who hoped to earn what little money they could from hungry or thirsty passengers. There were a few women who cooked meals right on the spot and sought to sell them if luck would have it. There were a few kids who peddled snacks and drinks.
And the other group were those who apparently did nothing.
We didn’t stay too long in Gourcy. Hardly anybody left the bus. One or two people joined us. At that was all. Then we moved on.
Half an hour later, we reached the town of Yako. This place, at least, looked like a town. By African standards, if nothing else. With the population of just over twenty thousand, it was hardly a place you’d visit on purpose. But it had a wonderful mosque clearly visible from the road and a large clearing which served as the STMB bus terminal. And in addition to that, it was the birth place of Thomas Sankara, the father of modern Burkina Faso. The father at least in the sense that he was the one who changed the name of the country from Upper Volta to Burkina Faso. If most of his other reforms hadn’t really stuck, this change was still in place.
We stopped in Yako for fifteen minutes. Paul and Lois didn’t leave the bus. I decided to get out, stretch my legs and take a few pictures. And why not? It was still a pleasant morning.
