Biker babes of Burkina Faso

Motorbikes, Muslims, fashion and the modern woman in Burkina Faso.   When your brain does a Google image search on the terms Muslim women, African women or African Muslim women, what comes to mind?  I won’t be so presumptuous to think that my regular readers are the kind of people to jump immediately to the stereotypes of poverty and oppression, or at the very least to move on from them after a moment’s reflection – after all there are many…

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Village of Witches

Traditional religion and accusations of witchcraft in West Africa. Centuries after the introduction of Islam and Christianity to Sub-Saharan Africa, traditional religions may have been relegated to the margins in much of the continent but they still have a powerful hold over the culture of many Africans. Traditional religions, or at least elements of them, are often practiced alongside peoples’ professed faith, despite the best efforts of Imams and priests to paint the acts as haram or heretical. However, the…

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Next time someone tells you Africans are lazy, send them to Ouagadougou

Its 40C, what do you fancy doing? Sitting in the shade, drinking some ice-cold beer, going for a swim? Work wouldn’t be at the top of your list would it? If you had to work, you’d probably envision some kind of air conditioned environment and a source of ice cubes for your cold drinks. You bone idle slob! What about lugging a pile of granite on your head up a steep slope or swinging a bloody great sledge-hammer all day,…

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More shop art from Burkina Faso

The wonders of African shop art. I may be in a small group of weirdo aficionados of African shop art but I can’t get enough of it so here are a few more examples from Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, for my fellow weirdos. This was certainly enough to convince me I had to buy a beer in this bar The art form always has to catch up with new technology, though it has to be said that solar panels provide little…

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In the shadow of Thomas Sankara

Why Burkina Faso’s revolutionary president still matters Under the full moon glow in the warm Ouagadougou night, to the thud of ominous beats, the Congolese rapper strode onto the stage, declaring, “I may be from Congo Brazzaville but tonight, on the anniversary of the death of Thomas Sankara we are all Burkinabe”. For the first time in the night the previously subdued crowd roared in appreciation, from then on he could do no wrong. But why, twenty-nine years after he…

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The shop art of Jongo, Burkina Faso

More hand painted African shop art Given that my post on the hand painted shop art of Somaliland seemed relatively popular with some of you, it seemed sensible to give you something to compare it to and put it into perspective. Of course, the term relatively popular here is no actual indication of actual popularity, which could more accurately be described as woefully unpopular, which puts you, dear readers, in the travel blog reading category of weird deviants, which is…

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Back to basics in Burkina Faso

Another taste of slum life in Burkina Faso It’s all very well luxuriating in 5 star hotels but you aint gonna learn much about a country or its people sipping fine wines and chomping on Lobster flown in from some distant sea. Sometimes you’ve just got to get down and dirty. So, I was only too happy to go back to the muddy shacks of Jongo, on the outskirts of Ouagadougou, the shabby capital of Burkina Faso, to see my…

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How the other half live

Let me take you away from the headline grabbing suffering in Africa and go down to the simple realities of everyday existence, to my friend Mamadou’s home: a one room mud brick shack with a corrugated iron roof, in a small town a few km outside the capital of Burkina Faso – Ouagadougou. Apart from a lucky few who could afford concrete blocks, all houses are built like this, so every rainy season brings some new collapses.  Here, where I…

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Chicken and fish – but not to eat

By the time I got to  Burkina Faso I was beginning to get disappointed by the lack of sacrificial poultry action, so was delighted to discover the Sacred Fish Pond just outside of Bobo Dioulasso. Philipe, a French man I had met kindly let me tag along with his guide and 4×4 for a couple of days. After a short hike over wind eroded rocks, carved into a myriad of interesting shapes, we descended a narrow fissure in the rocks…

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