Last night, I hung out with the beau monde of Ouaga’s expat community. And when I say beau monde, I mean that quite literally: almost all the women were wearing pretty, elegant, well-fitting dresses; they had their hair done nicely, they had a great tan, and they smelled nice. There were few men, but most of them looked like male models. They were with about twenty people, and they sat on French-style benches, surrounded by blossoming trees, with classical music and the sound of water dripping in the background. All of them spoke at least three languages fluently, and all of them were sipping brightly-coloured cocktails. They were friendly, relaxed and welcoming. And of course, all of them had interesting jobs.
Sandrine, being kind as ever, had told me about this little gathering. Since she was having a cold, she was not able to join herself, but suggested I should go. Actually, I have not been out much in the evenings here. The fact that my alarm clock goes off at six every morning is a rather good excuse for that, I think. I have been dining out at Friday evenings though, with colleagues, who are always kind enough to take me along in their cars. This time, however, I had to get there myself. I went on my bike of course, as I would do in the Netherlands. However, in the Netherlands, we have street lights. Here, they have street lights as well: most of them out of order, unfortunately. Normally, in daylight, it can already be quite challenging to avoid potholes in the road; at night, I now found out, there is little else you can do besides going about it slowly and hope for the best.
Another thing is that it is probably very unusual for women, and especially white ones, to be out and about on the streets on a bike when it’s dark. ‘You’re going out?’, guard Alexander asked incredulously when I was leaving. Being on my bike and all, I thought that that was rather obvious. Personally, I think this is a very safe neighbourhood, considering it is residential, and therefore there are guards in front of every building. And besides, it gets dark around 18:30h here; people can’t seriously expect a 25 year old to lock herself in every evening after that hour, right?
Well, proving my point: I survived, and I was home at a very decent hour (ten), so don’t worry. I enjoyed the evening, and the mohjito cocktail, and the conversation in English, which jumped from disaster relief for those hit hardest by the floods, to reproductive activities of koala beers. And then, I was invited to a party this weekend, and to a girls’ lunch on Tuesday. The evening ended with me handing out business cards (yes, I have official ministry-of-foreign-affairs business cards!) and kissing everyone good night. When I cycled back home again, hobbly-wobbly, I knew that I had at least one thing on my to-do-list this weekend: finding a tailor shop and getting myself some new dresses!
Sandrine, being kind as ever, had told me about this little gathering. Since she was having a cold, she was not able to join herself, but suggested I should go. Actually, I have not been out much in the evenings here. The fact that my alarm clock goes off at six every morning is a rather good excuse for that, I think. I have been dining out at Friday evenings though, with colleagues, who are always kind enough to take me along in their cars. This time, however, I had to get there myself. I went on my bike of course, as I would do in the Netherlands. However, in the Netherlands, we have street lights. Here, they have street lights as well: most of them out of order, unfortunately. Normally, in daylight, it can already be quite challenging to avoid potholes in the road; at night, I now found out, there is little else you can do besides going about it slowly and hope for the best.
Another thing is that it is probably very unusual for women, and especially white ones, to be out and about on the streets on a bike when it’s dark. ‘You’re going out?’, guard Alexander asked incredulously when I was leaving. Being on my bike and all, I thought that that was rather obvious. Personally, I think this is a very safe neighbourhood, considering it is residential, and therefore there are guards in front of every building. And besides, it gets dark around 18:30h here; people can’t seriously expect a 25 year old to lock herself in every evening after that hour, right?
Well, proving my point: I survived, and I was home at a very decent hour (ten), so don’t worry. I enjoyed the evening, and the mohjito cocktail, and the conversation in English, which jumped from disaster relief for those hit hardest by the floods, to reproductive activities of koala beers. And then, I was invited to a party this weekend, and to a girls’ lunch on Tuesday. The evening ended with me handing out business cards (yes, I have official ministry-of-foreign-affairs business cards!) and kissing everyone good night. When I cycled back home again, hobbly-wobbly, I knew that I had at least one thing on my to-do-list this weekend: finding a tailor shop and getting myself some new dresses!
Leuk man! Wel voorzichtig aan doen op dat fietsje, he?
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