Toussian-Bandougou

This weekend Boris and I headed out to Toussian-Bandougou to visit a friend of his whose wife had just given birth to a little girl, Noely, on December 24th. We packed our bikes onto a bus that took us to Orodara then biked a few km along a dirt road up to the village. We turned off a little too soon so were shown the way by a man we met in a field of bissap (deep vermilion red flower used to make juice that tastes a little like blackcurrant).

Bissap

Arriving at Moussa’s house everyone came out to greet us. When you greet someone here in order to show your respect you crouch down sort of to kneel and bow at he same time. You tend to do this with people who are older than yourself or with someone who is socially more important.

With the night fall the stars came out in full glory, as the village is without electricity. We sat around talking and shelling peanuts in the cold night air, with a flashlight tucked under Moussa’s chin. For dinner we shared a bowl of rice cooked with shea butter.

Moussa’s house compound has several houses set up in a circle. There is a house for his father, a house for his fathers new wife (his previous wife is deceased), a house for his brother, two kitchen houses, his own house and some grain storage silos. Moussa is presently saving up money and preparing materials to build a house for his wife (drying and weaving grasses for the roof and breaking apart an old building to recuperate the bricks). They hope to have the official wedding come March and the house to be built by March as well. Presently she sleeps in the kitchen with their two kids as it is warmer for the baby near the fire.

Grass drying to make a roof

Moussa insisted we take his bed while he slept on a single bed in his living room. His house is two small rooms with two small windows. The doorways are short so you must duck to enter. The walls are thick (about a foot wide) so they keep the house cool in the day and warm at night. We slept well under our blanket, and I hardly noticed the mice scurrying above out heads.

Morning was announced by the roosters, they seem to start at random different times till the sun finally rises and they all chime in together (they really need to learn to coordinate their wake up call). The air is very cold in the morning and so for my bucket shower I have to admit I couldn’t jump all in. I just washed my face and feet and even then I was frozen! I spent my days with the women while Boris and Moussa sent theirs with the men.

I started the day with separating the peanuts from their shells, roasting the peanuts over the fire, and then we removed the skins by tossing them up and down in a basket letting the wind blow the skins away. Once we were done we sent the peanuts off with the brother by bike to the mill to be ground. I then joined a group of women to help with removing the bissap flowers from their stocks. The flowers themselves are surprisingly thick (about 2-3 mm) and have little tiny hair like thorns that make your hands itchy. The red sap of the flowers dyes you fingers a deep red, though it is easily removed with lemon juice. The bissap flowers are then laid out in the sun to be dried and later sold in the market.

Removing the skins from peanuts

Seperating the Bissap flowers from the stocks

Bissap ready for the market

Seeds for next year

When I wasn’t separating Bissap, I was helping in the kitchen (learning recipes), playing with the kids or taking the new born for the mom to have a break. I learnt how to make Pambara a ground pea flour and ochra flour pancake, of sorts. Basically you mix the flour and water and cook it in a frying pan over the fire, once cooked you chop up an onion on top and place four or five giant heaping spoonfuls of shea butter or oil on it. You chop it all up making sure each piece is coated and dripping with the shea butter and then you eat. The pancake is quite good; it’s just the quantity of butter I had some difficulty with. I also made tô wosso, which is basically mashed sweet potatoes with peanut paste mixed in (picture mashed potatoes with peanut butter and you get the idea). This was pretty good! I recommend trying it at home as it is really easy.

I spent some time with the kids drawing pictures in the sand and playing imaginary games. Lea, Moussa’s older daughter who is 3 years old, is extremely curious, happy and lost in her imagination. Her best friend and inseparable companion is Willie, also three years old and Moussa’s father’s last child. Willie is clam, content and easygoing; she kind of grounds Lea and brings her back to reality when necessary. The two of them became my instant friends. As for Noely, the new born, well she is like most little babies. She eats (constantly), sleeps and poops, it seemed like it was almost in 5 minute rotations. I also got to experience the joys of a new born without diapers! Lots of clothes changes for Noely and for those that are holding her! But she was pretty cute as well.

Asha, Willlie and Lea

Lea and Noely

What was amazing was that I spent my days with the women without a communal language. Both Moussa’s wife and his father’s wife haven’t had a chance to go to school so neither speaks any French. Theirs and my Dioula is limited, they speak Toussian, so we spent most of our time talking with gestures and facial expressions. Despite the language barriers I know that we got along and that we have built a friendship.

At one point during the weekend an airplane crossed over head. Lea jumped up and ran after it squealing with joy. Her amazement and excitement was contagious. I have become so accustomed to planes that I had forgotten how to marvel at their impressiveness.

We spent an afternoon visiting the village. As Boris had already been there he was visiting people he had already met and presenting me to them. We joked that it kind of felt like I was his trophy wife as it felt a little like I was his show and tell item. Everyone was happy to see him again and to meet me and many served us Pambara. As part of our tour we visited the chief of the village and the local musician. Boris has now put in an order for a xylophone to me made, that we will pick up in about a months time. Here the xylophone has a deeply cultural and almost mystical symbolism. The musician makes two kinds of xylophones, one called a Toussiane and the other a Dioula. It is believed that the xylophone speaks rather than just makes music. Only someone who can speak Toussiane can play the Toussiane xylophone otherwise it doesn’t work, but people who speak Dioula or French can play the Dioula xylophone. The musician played us a few melodies and at one point Moussa replied to the notes as he said that the xylophone was pronouncing benedictions.

When it was finally time to leave, Moussa over loaded us with heaping amounts of food. He wouldn’t let us decline his generous gifts so we left with our bikes ingulphed with giant bags of oranges, peanuts, papayas, rhones (palm tree fruit with a clear jelly inside) and bissap. Once back in Bobo we broke a few stereotypes by biking with all our good on our bikes rather than taking a taxi. Then at home we separated our many goods into smaller bags and distributed food to our neighbours and friends. There is no way as two we can finish all that he gave us.

We have made good friends in Toussian-Bandougou and hope to spend much more time there during this year.