Do not even get the camera!- Isaak whispers in a jerky fashion while slows. And so our rickety moped engine seems to be silent about the overwhelming spectacle that we see on the side of the highway. A dark spot is directed toward us at breakneck speed, as it approaches, the stain is divided into a swarm of shadows that jump, run and dance and above them stands the awesome sound of a rhythmic chant and rhythmic. Arriving at our height surrounds us endless challenging looks about five hundred young Senufo of slender bodies covered with a cloth just like a loincloth. Intimidated contemplate the unprecedented parade in seconds is lost in the asphalt highway leaving only the echo of their voices.
Arriving at our height surrounds us endless challenging looks about five hundred young Senufo of slender bodies covered with a cloth just like a loincloth
«They are senoufos warriors, are at their initiation period, spend a month in nature without clothes, nor weapons living only on what they hunt and the plants they find ». I said, 'Let Issaak!- I impel me planting my hands on one two chickens tied to the handlebars that we transport moped,-Yes we get along in Prisa, miss the best time to make the sacrifice! It's six in the morning and the sun just barely over the vast savannah scatter. The Sahel is inflamed and you just give us a thousand times with Burkina Faso breathtakingly.
Embedded in the heart of the Sahel and covering an area slightly above the UK, Burkina Faso is a fascinating collage of ethnicities, traditions, religions and unexplored landscapes by mass tourism. With a majority of its population living on less than two dollars a day, the horsemen of the apocalypse that hit the country in the form of periodic famines, merciless drought and a corrupt administration and unstable pale before the torrent of laughter and polite gestures with which self-styled land of upright men overwhelms the traveler.
I have just one week in Burkina, specifically in the city of Bobo Dioufalaso, an oasis of greenery right in the Sahel, balanfón traditional birthplace and where one can relax walking the thousand scattered markets in the shadow of the giant mango, visit the imposing mosque Sudanese tourism or swallow a frozen Brakina after another (for me the best beer in West Africa). In short let time pass, dilate, break it and mold it to your whim, reveling in the feeling of having nothing urgent to do as only the traveler can do in Africa.
12 hours after I installed on a motorcycle traveling dusty roads with a chicken in his hand. Other African destinations that are inscrutable
Soldier to my Brakina like a gargoyle last night, someone yelled: «Hey Tubabou, have you already gone to see the sacred Catfish of Dafra??». As I turned a big white teeth like piano keys throw me smile disarmingly, Issak, autoinvita is presented and a beer. I'm easy and I know, 12 hours after I installed on a motorcycle traveling dusty roads with a chicken in his hand. Other African destinations that are inscrutable.
And these are still stunned after the ghostly vision of warriors seinoufos that just passed, continue for a while in the B1 close to Bobo and we launched cross-country plantations of corn and sugar cane from which occasionally arise heads of women who are watching us from curious and fun wrapped in multicolored dresses with huge jugs in the head retaining the balance as impossible appendices. Finally we reached twenty adobe huts where Abdou wonder. After a while you see a very white-bearded old man smiling that after taking a look at the two live chickens that twist in our hands simply get an indication to follow him. Immediately the old man sets out to jog between spectacular scenery that unfolds before us between volcanic rock gorges. It's barely 8 am and the temperature rises above and thirty degrees.
see a very white-bearded old man smiling that after taking a look at the two live chickens that twist in our hands simply get an indication to follow him
After more than an hour's walk descend a ridge cut abruptly in a small lake. The scene is indescribable. All around the rocks and hanging bloodstained fur hundreds of goats, cows and a horse, be scattered walking endless chicken feathers like a foam party they were, the smell of death pervades every corner of the lake. We are in the sanctuary of sacred catfish Dafra and.
From time immemorial the inhabitants of the small village of Dafra have become caretakers of these huge beasts sometimes reaching almost two meters long. They are responsible for feeding and officiate at ceremonies where sacrifices are performed with much of Burkinabe from all parts of the country were given away in exchange for favoring their prayers. Most of them no doubt the infallible nature of this sort of huge octopus Paul and entrust them to ask when a good harvest, dowry for the marriage of his daughter or simply close protection on the roads when going to the market.
ceremonies where sacrifices are performed with much of Burkinabe from all parts of the country were given away in exchange for favoring their prayers
After being warned about the prohibition of the sanctuary pictures silent and request our particular desires in two business Abdou slaughters chickens gashes give offerings to them and starts them bloody mess her womb, approaching them on the shore of Lake. Immediately the waters begin to stir in a noisy tumult rising from the lake bottom and the rhythmic call of the priest Dafra, Dafra as! the huge fish with jaws open up a foot of water and gobble the bloody spoils offered Abdou approach them.
Shocked by the spectacle we have just seen the way back we return, while from the walls of the throat are precipitated beheaded bodies of sheep and goats by Dafra priests who continue doing their jobs. On the way we passed four men who laboriously dragged a cow mooing and resists angry macabre foreshadowing his fate. Just another day dawn in Burkina Faso.
