I left Elli in Ouaga, healed from her malaria but still not quite well, and went back to Gourcy to do the feedback sessions with the villages there. Three villages in a day meant the day became very long, and we ended up sitting in the dark, talking with the village elders in Tarba. The stars came out, with a brightness that they rarely have in Europe, and that gave me a chance to tell them that some of the stars actually were satellites – possibly even the satellite that had taken the pictures that I was showing them.
Sleeping alone in the uncomfortable bed in a mold-smelling room in Gourcy wasn’t easy, and at first I couldn’t fall asleep. And once I did, I dreamt nightmares and woke up in a cold sweat. And, of course it wasn’t just because of the absence of Elli, I was also feeling stressed about the intense days I had ahead of me, and other small bits and pieces that together didn’t give me a very collected state of mind. But NOT having Elli there made all those other things ten times worse. I did not get up with a smile that morning.
Today, we drove from Gourcy to Kaya and visited three villages on the way, asking them if they would help me and give me guided tours of their villages. I managed to keep a straight and friendly face in the villages (it wasn’t hard, the people are mostly so lovely and sincere in the villages), but in between meetings I was deteriorating fast. The nightmare, lack of sleep, stress, the constant bumping into the car roof and window due to the new driver’s quite careless driving style, gave me a terrible headache. And I thought: What the hell am I doing here? I don’t want to be here! Let me just go home!
But that wasn’t an option. I put on my headphones and put on some Tallest Man on Earth. Found a painkiller and swallowed it down with some Burkinabe ripp-off Fanta. When I had listened to all my the Tallest Man, I went on to some Nina Ramsby and Martin Hederos, watching the mountains pass by outside the window. There are actual mountains here around Kaya, as opposed to the very flat landscape around Ouahigouya. Quite beautiful, once the wonders of paracetamol kicked in.
And in the last village, we met the CVD on his way back from the fields, transporting an incredible load of animal fodder in a wagon behind a tiny little donkey.
When I told my name in the village, Nakombogo, every man under the trees (and they were quite a few), started repeating it, almost like a mantra, chanting it like there was something magic about it. Katia Malbor. And they thanked me for choosing to come to their village, and blessed my work, and said that they would help me with whatever I wanted when I returned.
And I suddenly realized that things didn’t feel quite as bad anymore.
Katja Malmborg 