Starbucks

About a month ago, I was bee-bopping around en brousse (in the wilderness) just exploring, seeing if i could come across any cool trees. I climbed some awesome Baobabs. I mounted this rock formation. It was pretty cool. When I was going back I got kinda lost. There was a framer in his field working and so i approached him and asked him in Moore if he could show me what direction Tougouri was in. With a look of disbelief and shock he indicated the direction and I went on my way. As i was walking i was thinking about what that experience must have been like for him. To have a white lady show up in his field and ask in a local langiage where the village was. It must be the equivalent of this:

John lives in a nice quiet suburban cul-de-sac. It is sunday morning and he goes out to retrieve his paper. As he stretches and rubs his cheeseburger american-food belly he hears a clear bright voice at his right. Standing there is an African man, in traditional garb - the robe, cultivateur hat, a rudimentary hoe over his shoulder, elaborate face scars to indicate his ethnicity etc . . . use your already existing stereotypes (i know they fit me from time to time). He says to John, "Good morning neighbor! I seem to be lost. Could you indicate the nearest starbucks. How i long for a carmel frappucchino!"

That is what is must be like for the Burkinabe, to see me appear eb brousse and speaking their local language. haha. I thought it was funny.