July 16, 2009
Dress Code
So I was riding my motorbike through the desert, when it broke down. I knew I wasn't too far from human habitation, so I set off on foot. But I had under-estimated the heat, and pretty soon was getting dehydrated.
Then I saw a Tuareg coming towards me on a camel. "Salaam aleykum!" I greeted him. Remembering one of the few Tamacheq words I know, I said "Aaman!" ("Water!") and cupped my hands to show I needed to drink. To my surprise, he replied in French:
"Pardon Monsieur. Je n'ai pas de l'eau." "Sorry sir, I don't have any water." Seeing my downcast face, he carried on: "Mais j'ai des cravattes. Moins cher!" ("But I do have some cheap ties!"). Somewhat bewildered, I refused the offer of a tie, and we went our separate ways.
A while later, as I was getting really desperate, I came to the beginnings of the bush of the Sahel, and came across a Fulani man on his own, wandering with his staff across his back. I spotted his water bottle slung over one shoulder and knew my luck was in.
"Accaa hakke, neddo am! Mido haaja ndiyam mi yara." (Excuse me, friend, I need some water to drink."
"Yaafam!" ("Sorry!") he replied, tipping up his water bottle to show me it was empty. "Ndiyam walaa!" "No water!"
He paused, then stuck his hand in his bag, and pulled out a handful of gaudy ties. I couldn't believe my eyes.
"A yidaa cravatiiji naa? Tiidaa!" "You don't want to buy some ties? They are not expensive."
"Mi yidaa cravatiiji! Mido maaya domka!" "I don't want ties! I am dying of thirst!"
He shrugged and left me to it.
By now I felt I was dying of thirst, but shortly afterwards I came across a Songhai moodibo (religous man) sitting in the shade of an acacia tree, reading his books.
"Salaam aleykum moodibo! Ada nana fulfulde naa? Mido haaja ndiyam mi yara." "Peace be with you teacher! Do you understand fulfulde? I need water to drink."
He looked at me with compassion:
"Ayyo, mido nana... ammaa mi walaa ndiyam. Accaa hakke. Ko jogiimi wo dewte tan..."
"Yes, I understand... but I don't have any water. Sorry. What I have is just my books..." he paused...
"Si wanaa cravatiiji seeda di coodiimi e Pullo bitiido joonin..." "Apart from a few ties I bought from a Fulani who just went by..." He looked at me hopefully, holding out a tie.
I couldn't understand where all these ties had come from. It is not as though they are part of traditional dress. Barely able to talk from the dryness of my mouth, I stumbled on.
Just when I thought I could go no further, I saw through the shimmering heat rising from the sand what I thought to be a mirage. It looked like a building with people milling around. But as I got closer, I saw it was indeed a building - and a restaurant at that, probably built for tourists coming to experience the desert in comfort.
I just about crawled to the door. But just as I was about to go in, the doorman put out a hand and stopped me:
"Sorry sir, you can't come in here without a tie."
January 03, 2009
Have you heard the one...?
Happy New Year! Here is a Fulani joke to start the year.
In Britain, we used to have the Irish. More recently, they have been replaced by blondes and by David Beckham. The Fulani have the Agilanaabe - a particular group of Fulani stereotypically known for their simple-mindedness. Here is a Fulani story told to me recently about an Agilanaajo:
- An Agalanaajo got into a bush taxi. Being a devout and respectable man, he took his shoes off before getting into the vehicle.
When the bush taxi arrived at its destination, he opened the door to get out, and exclaimed:
"Hey! Where are my shoes? I left them just outside the door!"
September 13, 2007
The story of donkey, dog, and goat
Donkey, dog, and goat were heading off from Gorom-Gorom to Dori in a bush-taxi. Donkey paid and got into the bush-taxi. Goat said his uncle would pay when they got to Dori. Dog only had a 10,000cfa note, so he paid, and was told he would be given the right change when they got to Dori.
When they got to Dori, donkey and dog got down. Goat jumped down and ran off without paying, and the bush-taxi driver set off in pursuit, without giving dog his change.
And that is why today throughout Africa, whenever they see a car coming, goat runs away, dog chases the car to get his change, and donkey just stands and watches.
April 18, 2006
The two-legged pig
In Gorom-Gorom there is a two-legged pig. Its back legs are useless, but it manages to scurry around the streets every day, looking for food, its front legs going full-tilt, dragging its rear end behind it.
Apparently, the pig did once have four fully-functioning legs. But one day it got into a Fulani yard - maybe into the food even, and the Fulani gave the pig such a thrashing, its rear legs were permanently damaged.
The Fulani detest pigs.
Pigs then and now
When I first moved to Gorom-Gorom, most people there had never seen a pig. I remember some young men discovering a picture book of the story Jesus told of the Prodigal Son. There is a bit where the son has lost all his money and ends up taking a job feeding pigs - a situation as repellant for the Muslim Fulani as for the Jew. The story is a great parable of how, when we have made a mess of our lives, we can still come back to God. He is waiting to embrace us and welcome us back home.
In the book there is this picture of the son sitting disconsolately among the pigs. My friends were looking at the animals and trying to decide what they were - dogs? goats?
"No", I explained, "they are girooji - pigs."
They were intrigued, and they looked more intently at the picture.
"Ohhh! Is that what pigs look like...?"
Today, many pigs roam the streets of Gorom-Gorom, brought to the area and bred by people of other tribes and regions who have come to Gorom for work. They are seen bathing in the mud outside people's latrines, or in the ponds where the cows come to drink - much to the disgust of the Fulani. The pig is unclean - both literally, and religiously - for the Fulani. Finding it with its snout in your cooking pot might well put you off your dinner, but if you were a Fulani, it could drive you, well, to beat the hind legs off it.
The Fulani really don't like pigs.
To market, to market...
Once I was with my friend John at Gorom-Gorom cattle market. We were dressed in local clothes, and, partially hidden by our turbans and robes, went un-noticed by the tourists wandering around in their shorts and t-shirts, sweaty pink flesh exposed for all to see, oblivious to how inappropriately they were dressed.
Suddenly John nudged me, and pointed. There was a decidedly overweight tourist, sweat staining his shorts and t-shirt. Across the front of his t-shirt was a banking logo and advert. In large letters, right across his chest, was the word "GIRO".
Fortunately for him perhaps, he couldn't have realised that "giro" is the Fulani word for pig...
Tags: africa burkina burkina faso travel pigs sahel fulani
July 15, 2005
Flanders & Swann... and malaria prevention
For those of us visiting Africa from abroad, anti-malarial medicine is an essential. In recent years, lariam or mefloquine has been found to be effective, but unfortunately, has become well-known for its disconcerting side-effects.
Continue reading "Flanders & Swann... and malaria prevention"
May 07, 2005
It's turned out sunny again (a poem)
It's May, the hottest month in Gorom-Gorom.
The temperature has been up to about 45C (113F) in the shade so far, and will reach close to 50C (122F) before the end of the month. At night, you sleep outside, with only a pair of shorts between you and the stars. But still the temperature leaves you sweating through the night. You wish you could unbutton your skin and climb out of that, too.
There are many challenges to overcome in taking the gospel to the needy and unreached of the 10-40 widow: spiritual opposition, physical hardship, discouragement, our own apathy... The heat is one more draining element in the battle. It saps the strength and wilts good intention. It acts also as a metaphor of both the spiritual need and the spiritual opposition that we, the church face, as we wimp out of the challenge to take the good news of Jesus to the difficult places on earth.
Please pray for my colleague Steve, as he perseveres in the ministry in Burkina, seeking to bring life to the Fulani. And pray for an outpouring of God's Spirit - both upon the Fulani, and upon the church He sends into all the world.
Now, I don't write poetry.
However...
This is a sort of a poem I wrote a couple of years ago during the hot season. I was sitting sweating in the shade of a mat shelter. It was too hot to do anything, and too hot to do nothing. And so I put my feelings down on paper. It's called: It's turned out sunny again...
Continue reading "It's turned out sunny again (a poem)"
April 22, 2005
A Pope for the 21st Century?
thanks to Mike for this
April 20, 2005
Cross-cultural adaptation in pictures
The fund-raising do at Link Romania went really well. I survived the daunting cross-cultural experience of a black tie event. Managed to borrow a dinner jacket and bow tie. And even enjoyed the evening, which was a lot of fun.
At the same time, it was for a serious purpose. Romania is still in need of prayer and help. 44% of Romanians live in poverty on under $2/ day. Link Romania have some great projects that they support. Go to their website to find out more.
