Ouagadogou and shooting stars
"A fucking started at thirteen. A traveling guess a little later, to travel I mean seriously. My first trip was with a guy to Nigeria, there is cheaper gasoline, down a van and loaded with drums climb. Thus began the business. In the evenings he worked as a waiter in the French Cultural Centre, I had a good, I have always liked the white… Do you think there will be good coffee in Amsterdam?” Tabsoba looks out the window with concern as we pass through the first shanties of Ouaga.
From ten days ago, I sleep on buses and vans that roam the Sahel as pilgrims sad
Live on the road and I think I'm being wheeled out. From ten days ago, I sleep on buses and vans that roam the Sahel as pilgrims sad. Dhoso, Niamey, Segou, Kaya, Bobo, Banfora ... I'm getting addicted to this frantic wanderings I try to maximize the time and resources. Get off in each city with the first light of the morning, take a look at the market, share a few beers and reserve a place in the first vehicle to go to the next destination. While I curse the driver and wait for all car seats are filled, make friends.
Tabsoba is the last one, is installed next to me in this truck than twenty squares leads to Ouagadogou (Ouaga for friends) la capital de Burkina Faso. He is excited, home in two days. His girlfriend, one Dutch twenty years older than him, has sent the plane ticket and some money for the road. Twelve hours of flight with stops await you the next morning. Like most Burkinabe Tabsoba has a band every night and go dancing by the "maquis" of the city. So he met his future wife, a Dutch NGO working.
If there is no good coffee in Amsterdam as she has promised, she plans to get divorced immediately.
Tabsoba is sooo in love, for him age is not an obstacle, of course as long as your future wife will prepare a good coffee. Because if there is something without which he can not pass, even fewer women, is coffee. Licking tells me it takes more than eight cups daily, is your first thought when you wake up and the last thing when you lie. Yes, suspiciously assures, Amsterdam if no good coffee as she has promised instantly thinks divorce.
Seat distracted, Tabsoba, Yobou, Soufiane ... the last days and confused conversations in my head. I only pay attention to the new soundtrack of my life; the engine run-run combined with the asphalt that crackles under us, and to my wheels, especially pay attention to most Ruedas. If you are worried about your blissful Tabsoba cups I'm obsessed with the idea that my feet are covering a rough, sticky rubber. Ungovernable round and round, make a noise as hell and I have great concern not adequately reviewed the status of my Yantas. I spend my days crouched in a stance impossible, I try to make the most of the space while I adjust the tetris of my life. If I look ahead, contemplate a forest of dark heads that sway with the bumps in the road, any apparatus sometimes snoring on my shoulder. If I have luck and achieving a place by the window, sleep sleepy monotonous brown landscape with acacia trees and herds hardened. Sometimes I wake up and read.
The crazy spirit of Kerouac soon be dead and buried
But this story and has little, Kerouac crazed spirit will soon be dead and buried. In a moment I'll be in Ouaga, Then fifteen hours await me crossing Benin, Two days later I have an appointment in Cotonou. Family vacations, a week of oasis, beaches and palm trees, a bed and soft pillows. Just need a little step.
Getting off the van I leave Tabsoba, I wish you a happy life, full of love and hypertension. I take a taxi and ask him to take me to the station at the other end of town. The bus to Cotonou out in three hours.
Curfew, curfew!, shouts
The night is beautiful Ouaga, It is not excessively hot and the stars hang huge and shiny like spiders. Out contemplate the firmament, an electric blue light passes through it like an exhalation, I make a wish. Suddenly the sky fills with dozens of bright flashes that cross in all directions, in the distance you hear a muffled clatter and deaf. The driver brakes suddenly, all senses alert. Curfew, curfew!, screams as he turns. But what makes? The rumor sounds dangerously close and I can now identify the noise Shots!
As we return to the station the taxi driver tells me that the army is on strike. Fed up that they are not improving their wages, threaten several weeks to undertake a curfew. It seems they have decided to start tonight. The touch starts at twelve o'clock and lasts until seven o'clock, is forbidden to drive on the streets or drive or walk. The consequences can be immediate arrest or worse. Here picketing tanks take to the streets and their caliber measured slogans when lost in the dark burst. Anyone who has had the bad luck of dealing with the army or the police in any corner of Africa knows that if they have any reason, the least you can expect is to be fleeced alive..
Turning a street are the first tanks
Ouaga crossed under speeding balicera trying to bring down the stars, turning a first tanks appear Avenue. The car swerves and plunges into the city night. Minutes later we are back on the bus station, breathe relieved. Most passengers have become, silent swirl on the floor and share their supplies at an impromptu dinner, a child cries. Tabsoba is installed on a metal bench, me funny smiles, his plane does not leave until ten o'clock. Extend the sleeping bag and lie next to him while outside rages downloads. People seem not to care, sleeps soundly, a chorus of snoring resonates indifferent season night show. The only thing I worry about is losing the next bus, my taxi driver listens to the radio from his car and reassures, anyone can travel at this time in the city. I can not sleep and I get up to stretch your legs, night lights with an electric glow, unusually beautiful. Fireworks seem.
At dawn the passengers desperezan, I undertake with the driver the way to the station. With any luck I can still take the bus to Cotonou. City slowly returns to life and spreads avenues a trail of charred cars, some of their owners assess damage. I cross the look with a heartbroken kid who contemplated the smoldering remains of his moped. Over the following months I'll still have to spend three times more for Oauagadogou, the curfew remains in force, in an unresolvable conflict between the army and eternal and Government, mutilating the nightlife of one of the gayest cities in Africa, Season with gunpowder and fear their mornings.
Seasoning with gunpowder and fear their mornings
We arrived at the station when a van is about to leave, a guy perched on the roof accommodates bundles of goods and calls out the destination Cotonou, Cotonou! Buy the ticket and settle in the back row between two gigantic "madams" and fruit baskets. With me complete the passage. We started, We expect 15 hour drive. Exhausted I fall asleep and dream of my wheels. And there are, indifferent round and round on the road while police checks happen, the horn, waiting, jams, doubts, street vendors, heat, loneliness...life.
Comments (4)
Daniel Landa
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Great the story, Enrique, with Africa to the surface on each line.
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Jaime
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Kike, look I doubt coffee quality tatsoba…imagine sharing good shots and nights to remember malasaña intemperie.el it seems unacceptable as the memories of Italy in auschwitz.un primo levi big hug from the Colombian jungle…
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Enrique Vaquerizo
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Thank you very much Daniel. Jaime, the memory of Malasana is always acceptable. I hope your winter quarters go well.:::
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Isabel
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What a wealth of life experiences! ! . Great , continue like this
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