Getting down with the locals

24. November 2007 by admin.

I was hoping my stay here would be without incident, but how boring would that be? The week began normally, work at L’Oeil, a fruit salad lunch at home and off to the DED to talk to Susanne. I’m aclimatised to not being in an air-conditioned environment, so the a/c at the DED was a welcome change. By the end of the workday, I was feeling a bit chilly which happens switching from a/c to non in a short period of time. No biggie, I thought, I’m tired as well.
Upon my return home, I had no apetite and forced myself to eat some noodles and crawled into bed until I realized my breath had become hotter than usual. That night I suddenly came down with a fever reaching 39.1 celsius (thermometer courtesy of Geneviève, my roomate), shivering, sweating and running to the washroom every hour or so. Ugh. Great. I decide to wait until the morning to see if the fever will pass.
4 am in the morning and the neighbourhood rooster goes on his cock-a-doodle-dooing solo, the morning call to prayer goes out and I’ve turned off the fan and still shivering in bed. Pass out….sounds of rattles of motorbikes pass by. Wake up and its 8am. Time to text Stephanie, my coordinator at Oxfam-Québec. I type letter-by-letter on my non-French mobile, “Je suis malade avec fievre” translated into, “I am sick with a fever”. By this hour, I’ve simply given up on any sort of sleep and she tells me she’ll be right over to bring me to the Clinique Française. At a slow-motion pace, I get dressed whilst bumping into every single sharp corner of my room, groggy from lack of sleep and muscles sore from the fever.
The Oxfam-Québec “ambulance” arrives with Edgar (Stephanie’s husband) at the wheel and Stephanie as the “paramedic”. In the sunny, hot weather combined pollution, I begin to feel queasy and am thankful for our arrival at the Clinique. After a quick wait, the doctor sees me and perscribes me a bunch of drugs, that the generosity of the French health system! As a precaution, they test me for malaria, which I thankfully don’t have. And stab me in…of all places, the wrist to draw blood for blood tests. The first blood test indicates that I have a high number of white blood cells indicating my body is fighting off an infection. With the lab halfway across town, we drop off my blood and I also have to provide an *ahem* sample.
Four days later of popping pills and passing out, my lab results indicate that I have E. Coli. Dun dun DUN. I return to the doctor, who prods my stomach and tells me my colon is tight, which is causing me diziness and headaches that I was thought experiencing due to the heat and pollution. More antiobiotics are prescribed since E. Coli is resistant to the type of antiobiotics prescribed by him a few days ago. He tells me its common and is transferred by unsanitary conditions (whon whon), vegetables, fruits and meats.
To my fair audience whom I’ve forgotten to mention an important fact. I did see the doctor a week beforehand for fatigue and allergies. Could the fatigue have been caused by my body fighting off the E. Coli? Possibly. The anti-malarial drug I take is in essence, an anti-biotic. Taken daily, the E.Coli could have become resistant to it and thus me coming down with a fever. I’m not a doctor, but this hypothesis is quite possible.
So when in Africa don’t take signs of sickness lightly, become a hypochondriac and see the doctor!
Next week, I’m off work to rest and hopefully rid myself of these local friends. Wish me luck!

Posted in Thoughts, Food, General | 3 Comments »

After the Old City…

18. November 2007 by admin.

Our guided tour ended with numerous visit to local artisans workshops…

The famed ebony trees In the backyard of Bobo’s cultural museum, a couple of artists were working. Jonathan and a batik artist who explained the process of waxing and dying. He had a large order to complete.
A welcome change, these artists didn’t push their wares on us and let us take photos.

A wood sculptor’s outdoor workshop.

A copper sculptor heating up his oven.

He was so sweet to give me one of his creations, for free! I gave him a gift in return for his kindness.

Bobo’s river with their sacred fish that they don’t eat.

Earlier on in the day, our guide told us there would be a “fête des masques” (a mask ceremony). Someone important had passed away in the city and this would be part of their funeral.

For some reason, I was picked out and led to the inner circle of obsevers where I snapped a couple photos while being jostled around. Children were also in the crowd being pushed and crying by adults. I was afraid of them being squashed.
 Being in an excited mob is full of uncertainties and I was a bit scared of what would happen. But I was well protected by this man and his friend who offered me a stool to sit on. Afterwards, they asked for a little gift, which they totally deserved! The “fetisheurs” seemed possessed, dancing around, sommersaulting, etc while a man played the djembe and the crowd cheered them on. A couple of other normal people joined by sommersaulting and dancing too. Another type of “fetisheur” dressed in grass, chased people with a whip. Fortunately, they don’t whip foreigners and only scare people they know. STILL. Near the end of ceremony, when I had safely escaped.

Posted in Travel, People, Culture, General | 1 Comment »

Bobo continued…

17. November 2007 by admin.

Where did I leave off last time? Ahh…Bobo and the the old city. After viewing the Old Mosque, we paid an entrance fee to see the Old City. Apparently, the funds are used to pay for reparations and initatives for the residents, our guide explained.

Children outside the walls.

The main entrance to the Old City.

The Old City is indeed ancient, as you’ll see in the following pictures. There’a a Muslim, Animist neighbourhoods, etc, all controlled by single chef. I tried to get a clear explanation of how people get a house there, pay rent etc. From my observations and our guide’s explanations, initially families were chosen by the Chef to reside there and the turnover is low. Rent is paid out in the form of gifts, may it be cash, an animal, etc. From my understanding, it’s very informal. Our guide, taking us down the narrow streets.

A resident’s courtyard with a banana tree and a dead chickadee…

A type of grain, red mil is used as a carb side-dish and in beverages, such as “Dolo” which is a warm beer.

As a non-beer drinker, I tasted a bit and then gave it away. Plus, it was warm!

The hen who chased Jonathan and I when we approached too closely to her chicks.

A drum parade on the main street, while I was relaxing in front of one of our numerous boutique stops.

Sitting alone brings curiosity.

The little ones began to ask for a “gift”, usually meaning money. But the older girl in the 28ers t-shirt chased them away, saying “Laisse la!”, meaning “Leave her!”.

Photo courtesy of Michelle.A child playing on the street.

The river which passes by the Old City.

A pig drinking in the river.

The city through a window.

Drying clothes.

 Reminds me of photos I’ve seen of Brazlian favelas. Every country has their ghettos.

A man walking on the outskirts of the Old City.

Posted in Travel, People, Culture, General | 1 Comment »