just going downtown...

Since I am in limbo waiting for a visa again, I thought I might go cruise around downtown for a while this morning.

First, I went to my bike supply man. Cissé Salifou is THE name in bikes in Ouaga. Back in the day, he was one of Burkina's premier riders and coaches -the wall of his office is covered in newspaper clippings and photos of him. At the top is a certificate signed by the Minister of Sport, saying "Thank you for being a force for sport in this country." He showed me pictures from when he first opened the store and had an actual racing team with sponsorship from Peugeot. These memories are now faded, as are the yellowing pictures that he shows me, but Cissé still has a firm handshake, and runs a tight shop. Old man Cissé is impressed when I tell him about the tirip that I am in the middlee of, and gives me a super-good discount on a spare tire, some extra tubes and he even throws in a old nylon raincoat (I think it is left-over from when he first opened the store!!)

When I leave the shop, I notice the murals of bike racers on the front wall, so faint that I didn't even notice them when I stepped between the rows of new children's bikes to enter the store. I wonder if Mr. Salifou dreams of the faded glory? Will I, one day, sit with my back to a wall of old photos and dreams that have passed? I hope not, but then again, maybe I should hope so. He has done very well for himself, now he just oversees the money being made, and many of his family now earn a living out of his shop - maybe he is happy with life removed from those days. But I saw his light up when I showed him my bike. I know he still has passion and spark left in him... I rode to the end of the street as I was pondering this and was just deciding which way to go when a policeman came across the road and asked me to accompany him.

I thought that he wanted to chat, but it turns out that I had just ridden the wrong way down a one-way street!!! Oooops. It was only 2 weeks ago, in Abidjan, that I discussed with a Burkinabé taxi-driver how much more honourable the police were in Ouagadougou- "if you did something wrong, there was no bribing or excusing your way out of it!" The policeman explained that I would need to go with him to the station and pay the $15 fine. I said no problem, but when he asked for the receipt proving that I owned the bicycle, there we were at a problem. I have no idea where the receipt is. I normally don't carry receipts around with me for years on end. Now, without the receipt, it would be impossible to do the necessary paperwork, but I still needed to pay for my wrongdoing. He proposed that I could pay them there without a reciept (a kind of a bribe to let me off the hook). I said that I didn't normally do that kind of thing, and since it was obvious that I had made the error by accident, could he please let me go this time? The policeman was doubtful, but said that he would go ask his partner (who held rank). I breathed a prayer for wisdom and decided to patiently wait. When his partner came over, he asked me a few more questions, then decided to let me go. Thank you Jesus. Not for helping me get away with traffic offences, but for helping me avoid the ugly confrontation of conscience for subverting justice.

After thanking them both for their hard work, honesty and forgiveness, I rode away to look for some of the most decadent food in the world: the cashew. I found what I was looking for in an alleyway between 2 department stores - a woman who sold them, beautifully roasted and salted, by the kilo. Although the price had gone up a little since my last visit, I was able to buy a big bag of the treasured nut that would serve as an encouraging snack on my way to Niamey. At the same time, I also bought a bag of dried mango slices. Mangos may have gone out of season, but I can still enjoy them. Mmmm. I'm eager to get going, just so I can start the snacking!