Welcome to Ouagadougou

If only every country could have a capital with a name as cool as Ouagadougou! Mama Zida dropped me off at my adorable hotel - Le Pavillon Vert - at 8:30 Thursday morning before heading off to a planning meeting for the national orphanage association's upcoming AGM. I haven't stopped moving since.

The first thing I did was make friends with the hotel reception and get directions for the French Cultural Centre, for whence I departed after lunch. It turned out there was a concert there that evening, so I had my plans made for me. After going back to the Pavillon for a nap I went to the concert with two French girls I met at the hotel. The concert itself was put on by a French jazz trio called Hakuba Trio and every French ex-pat in Ouaga must have been there. The music was related to jazz, I guess, but it was heavily laced with psychadelic trance lounge music. The Burkinabes in the audience didn't last past the first half of the concert, and those few brave souls that remained with their white significant others looked like they were about to pass out from boredom. Personally I enjoyed the atmosphere they created in the FCC's open air venue, but I wouldn't listen to that kind of music unless it were live. I only got a few blurry pictures of the whole thing, but I feel they capture the trippy vibe perfectly.

The next morning I woke up early to see the Mora-Naaba ceremony, which takes place just outside the Naaba's palace every Friday morning at 7 am. I arrived at 7:30, but luckily for me the ceremony had been pushed back to 8:30 for some reason unknown to all the tourists but known by the Burkinabes, who showed up 5 minutes before the main event. Here's the story behind the Mora-Naaba ceremony. Hundreds of years ago, two Mossi brothers ruled the cities of Ouagadougou in the centre and Ouahigouya in the north. The Ouagalese Naaba was the elder brother and supreme ruler and, as such, carried the sacred gri-gri which gave him power. One day, his brother in Ouahigouya stole the gri-gri and brought it back to the North with him. The Ouagalese Naaba prepared for war. He walked from his house the next morning dressed entirely in red and commande his servants to saddle his horse and prepare his cannon. The lesser Naabas from Ouaga's various sectors and suburbs, learning of their king's intentions through the drumming of the palace griots (griots are the musician caste) came to the field in front of the palace and begged their king not to go to war. He listened to their pleas and advice, returned to his house, and came back out dressed in white. His horse was desaddled and the cannon fired off harmlessly outside the palace gates. To this day, every Friday the Mora-naaba prepares for war and the lesser Naabas and other prominent Mossi gather in order of importance and beg him not to go. I took no pictures, as it's forbidden.

Since then I've been out dancing, I've gone to another concet at the FCC, visited the sacred crocodiles and stayed for a village party. But more on that another day, it's siesta time now.