June 18, 2009
A Peace Corps Volunteer on “vacation” is a peculiar thing. I learned a lot about my mental state on a recent vacation. A friend and I took a trip to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso last week. We were excited to leave village life behind for a few days. Our first night in Ouaga we met some travelers from Europe. They were desperately seeking culture in this large African city. One of them came back to the bar with a bottle of tchouk stating, “I went out for cigarettes and asked for the local spirits.” Chrissy and I look at each other and say “Mmm, I could go for some tchouk right now.” But what’s tchouk with a thcouk Mama serving it to you out of a garbage can, drinking out of a calabash, and practicing local language? They asked us lots of questions about Peace Corps, Togo, our work, and what we were doing in Ouaga. They laughed at our answer to the latter; “The American Rec Center has a pool and serves milkshakes and bacon cheeseburgers.”
We didn’t try to escape all Burkinabe culture- we went to the Grand Marche where artesial men trying to sell their goods swarmed us. We discovered that the more prominence Islam has in a country, the worse the beer. Ouaga is the film capital of West Africa hosting a biannual festival. We tried unsuccessfully, because apparently no one goes to the cinema at 10:30 on a Thursday night, to see “Ouaga Battle”- which judging by the poster could have also been named “You Got Served 3: Africa.”
The last night in Ouaga we took our European friends out to a buvette; where Chrissy and I were comfortable with cheap beers and P Squared blasting form the speakers. In the early morning when we called it a night we left with this parting advice for those seeking West African culture: Try fufu! It’s delicious!
A Peace Corps Volunteer on “vacation” is a peculiar thing. I learned a lot about my mental state on a recent vacation. A friend and I took a trip to Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso last week. We were excited to leave village life behind for a few days. Our first night in Ouaga we met some travelers from Europe. They were desperately seeking culture in this large African city. One of them came back to the bar with a bottle of tchouk stating, “I went out for cigarettes and asked for the local spirits.” Chrissy and I look at each other and say “Mmm, I could go for some tchouk right now.” But what’s tchouk with a thcouk Mama serving it to you out of a garbage can, drinking out of a calabash, and practicing local language? They asked us lots of questions about Peace Corps, Togo, our work, and what we were doing in Ouaga. They laughed at our answer to the latter; “The American Rec Center has a pool and serves milkshakes and bacon cheeseburgers.”
We didn’t try to escape all Burkinabe culture- we went to the Grand Marche where artesial men trying to sell their goods swarmed us. We discovered that the more prominence Islam has in a country, the worse the beer. Ouaga is the film capital of West Africa hosting a biannual festival. We tried unsuccessfully, because apparently no one goes to the cinema at 10:30 on a Thursday night, to see “Ouaga Battle”- which judging by the poster could have also been named “You Got Served 3: Africa.”
The last night in Ouaga we took our European friends out to a buvette; where Chrissy and I were comfortable with cheap beers and P Squared blasting form the speakers. In the early morning when we called it a night we left with this parting advice for those seeking West African culture: Try fufu! It’s delicious!
Cine Burkina
Watered-down Beer
Sacred Burkina Tortoise
OuagaBattle
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