A Camel Comes to Visit

Last weekend I was sitting minding my own business on my front porch. I had gotten a little behind in my lesson preparations, and as it was already late Sunday afternoon and I had nothing prepared for Monday morning, I admit I was a bit…focused on my work. And that probably explains my delayed reaction as a mob of swarming children stampeded into my courtyard. (I’m not kidding. There were probably 50 of them.)

My first thought admittedly was, “Great. What do they want? And why are there so many of them?” I’m accustomed to having numerous small children come to stare at me, but usually they try to sneak into the courtyard (as if a group five year-olds can sneak anywhere) and peek over my wall to stare at me and ask for candy. But as my gaze rose, my jaw dropped, and I watched as a man’s head bobbed up and down above my courtyard wall. He slowly made his way to the gate, moving in a very jerky manner that at first made me think he was on stilts. Nope. He got to the gate and I immediately saw that he was sitting atop a gigantic camel. He smiled and waved at me, then eased the camel through the gate and rode right up to my porch. I was dumbfounded. And for a second I didn’t think he was going to stop. My thoughts sounded like a stuttering adolescent Romeo: “Uh, pbt, ah, what do I do with a camel on my porch?” I froze. Luckily he stopped at the porch step, and my 8 year-old neighbor came running up.

“Monsieur, he’s travelling through town and wants you to take a picture.” When a man rides into your courtyard on a camel asking for a picture, you oblige. I ran into the house, and was shocked again when I came back out. The camel that had been enormous moments ago was now kneeling with his head about level with mine. I took a few pictures of the man and his camel, then, without a word, he got back on, stuck out his hand for a tip, and was gone. Equally amazingly, the children had found the one thing in village more interesting than a goofy white person, and they followed the camel (which we don’t see very often that far south) out the gate.

I talked to my neighbor a few minutes later. Apparently the man, a member of the Tuareg tribe that lives in the Sahelian north of Burkina, was travelling through town, probably on his way south to Cote d’Ivoire. Someone must have told him that there was a tobaboo (the Djioula word meaning “stranger”, “foreigner”…or “white person”) in village who would love to take his picture. So he came to visit. And I took his picture.

Almost two years in Burkina, and it’s still bringing me surprises. Go figure!