The ride home

As the passenger’s head flopped to one side, looking for a shoulder to fall asleep on, and a father nursing a child used my leg for support, one thought ran through our heads.

“I’m so glad it’s Sunday morning.”

The bus ride back from Fada – a little town four hours drive from our home in Ouagadougou – provided a great African experience… we hope not to repeat in the near future.

To understand just how uncomfortable this trip was, I first have to rewind a couple of weeks, and provide a bit of background.

Cathlin and I have spent the last 10 days in Fada; one week of which was spent running an English/Bible outreach course for 17 students. Not long after we arrived Cathlin came down with what we thought was malaria, creating our most challenging week on the mission field thus far.

Without the medical facilities of the capital city, missionaries self-diagnose and-self treat in Fada. Showing all the signs of malaria – fever, headaches, and several other symptoms – we started the appropriate treatment, while making last minute plans to keep the course going, with three different missionaries taking over Cathlin’s classes.

Cathlin’s temperature returned to normal after some medication, which we thought was a sign of a quick recovery… but then the vomiting started.

So we were left with the decision: do we make a dash to return to the capital to get properly diagnosed, or start treating for a different ailment?

Convinced the four-hour bus trip was out of the question, we stayed put (and finished teaching the course), changed medication, and waited until Sunday morning to make the journey… as Cathlin was feeling a bit better.

But when we arrived at the bus terminal, the old mini-bus was already close to capacity, which meant we were in the aisle. There were some flimsy fold-out chairs, so we were able to sit down… however we had to stand up at every stop to let people climb past, and leg room was non-existent.

At every stop, people would crowd around the bus, selling everything from cold water to eggs and hot chicken to passengers.

So, I was uncomfortable, but healthy… and Cathlin was uncomfortable and feeling miserable. But throughout the journey we were thinking the exact same thing: “I’m so glad it’s Sunday morning.”

Why?

Well, deodorant is a luxury item here, and Saturday night is shower night.

(This may sound like we are having a bit of fun at the Burkinabe expense, but in this humidity and heat, body odor can be extreme... and there are times you simply need to leave an enclosed space.)

For the record, Cathlin is recovering, but still weak… so if you believe in the power of prayer… please pray for her.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t take pictures of our plight, as it would have been culturally inappropriate… but just imagine two white people crammed into a 24-seater, carrying about 30 Africans… and you’ll get the picture.

Jon