If Cathlin and I grew up in a south-western Burkinabe village, and our parents arranged for us to be married, we might live with them in a home like this.Our aunts and uncles, grandparents and children of any of the aforementioned would live with us (oh happy days). The kids would sleep in the first room of the red, mud-brick structure that leads to the forecourt, and the women would sleep in the adjoining room.
I would sleep next to my father-in-law, brothers, uncles et al upstairs, next to the millet silo. When I or dad-in-law get hungry we’d simply tap on a wooden log, or pillar, that stands in the middle of the house, and goes from the ground to the top storey. Our wives would hear the log vibrating, and come up to see what we were after. Hopefully they’d bring up couscous and sauce, but more likely a millet concoction would have to suffice.
And if I ever have to make a quick escape (perhaps during washing-up time) I can climb down the wooden branch on the right of the picture, without anyone noticing.
Jon
3 comments:
Sorry, got to ask the question that everyone else is thinking...what do you do when you want to be, uh, intimate with your wife..?
Funny you mention it. We are kind of wondering the same thing (and the amount of children in this country proves that intimacy happens). But we are not really sure how to ask the Burkinabe this question. Even in the house next door to ours, everyone (kids, uncles, aunts) sleep next to each other on the floor.
Jon
Up on the roof in the dead of night? Down behind the coffee cart?
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