Because I am kind, and want to give you a break from my long, waffly blog-posts, I did make an attempt to get our recent trip to Burkina into a nice neat nut-shell (a Shea nut one of course J). However it somehow turned into a poem... not much shorter after all, but different at least!

INTRO

Long lazy weekend in the sun, four volunteers relaxing and considering what to do next One has a bright idea....let's go to Burkina!

THE TRIP

We only live one hour away, being so far north near the border,

And so we set off, all four of us, sun screen*, I.D. and hats in order.

'We better get some fuel, enough to last the whole trip'

But when we got to the pump, all that was left was a mere drip,

Our trip almost in ruins, before it had even begun,

Then Ghanaian practicality showed up, the problem swiftly overcome. (Hurrah!)

We set off on our journey north, on more long dusty orange roads,

Up into the hills, 'Which might be the best route?'; none of us actually knows!

Tom and John in the front, talking volunteer placement roles and beer,

Me and Bev in the back, snapping pictures far and near.

As we leave Ghana behind in a thick fog of dust,

Courage, laughter, and a sense of adventure, on a trip like this are a must.

Under the towering hills we travelled, winding up and around the rickety track,

There became a difference in the scenery, especially when we looked back,

Ghana somehow looks different, the trees, the life, the land,

Burkina approaching faster now, Tom needing a careful hand,

To steer us in the right direction keep us on the right road,

The only other traffic a small boy on donkey and cart carrying a heavy load.

The mud huts start to look different, with striking angles and squares here and there,

Their architecture very neat and uniform; unlike Ghana's haphazardness everywhere.

There's a sense of fun and happiness, as colours decorate the churches and schools,

But somehow it strikes me as a place where you could get in trouble for breaking the rules.

On we go, farther through 'no man's land', heading past a few farmers travelling too,

Hoping we might even see a Fulani, riding his camel and begging for food.

The people-traffic starts to get thicker, with brightly dressed people heading here and there,

We must be approaching a border town now, the smell of roasted animal in the air.

As we get closer, we get a few stares and funny looks,

We must be odd-balls coming up here to these parts, especially in their books.

We try a few greetings in the languages we know, and are met with blank faces and stares

We park up by what looks like the market, with bundles of people selling their wares.

Tom sniffs out the kebab stall, and John locates the local beers,

Me and Bev find a nice place to sit by some flowers, and a man looking about eighty years,

We are welcomed into the local sitting area, and feast on goat kebab and Star beer,

John practises his French with the locals, for which we he receives a cheer.

The place has a different vibe, and there is a huge shift in culture,

We're not sure what to make of it, whether we are seen as guests or vultures.

But we are welcomed all the same, just in a different manner to what we're used to,

Burkina is an intriguing place, presenting the fringes of this country to us new,

There is so much more to discover but it's a good taster for now,

We pack back up into the truck and leave, past waving children and a grumpy looking cow.

Close to the border we see a signpost, so decide to follow it to a new town,

Heading towards the hub-bub of a market day with people, noise and animals all around.

Hopping out of the truck I notice, it's not like any village I've visited before,

It's all centred around one huge tree, the market sprawled out all over the floor.

There's the feeling of being a real foreigner in this quirky destination,

We are greeted with smiles and curious questions, containing pure anticipation,

We're giggled at by the girls, and sternly welcomed by the men,

And invited into a compound, where we sit and take a break for ten.

We meet a teacher from back in Zebilla, an old friend to many vso volunteers,

So we sit there a bit longer, chat and talk, and share with him some beers.

Travelling back later in the dark our headlamps and moon our only light,

It's been a wonderful trip and a real insight,

We all agree we'll come back again one day,

But for now our heads are ready to hit the hay!

With love from Burkina,

xx