Amended: These are two of the taxis in Bagre! Taken just this morning. And the loads on these vans are completely typical- you see at least this much cargo on almost every taxi out there.
The taxi-brousse. Bush taxi. One of the most popular forms of transportation (and one of the most practical) in Burkina, and one that I cannot help but love. Don't get me wrong, they're uncomfortable, unpredictable, unsafe, and unreliable. But I'm kind of a romantic about adventures, and riding in a bush taxi is ALWAYS an adventure.
A bush taxi is generally an old-school commercial 15-passenger van, falling apart at every joint and seam, often brightly painted, with a ladder on the back and a roof rack. I mention the ladder and roof rack because they are a crucial part of the taxi-brousse experience- I'll come to that in a minute. They go on regular routes from villages to towns: for example, from Bagre I can catch a taxi in the morning around 7:30 that will take me to Tenkodogo in a little over an hour, and if I want to I can take the one that continues to Ouagadougou (if I'm prepared for another four-plus hours in the taxi. It's much faster and more comfortable to take a real bus company, but again, I have a soft spot for bush taxis.)
I said the taxis are built for about fifteen passengers, but there's a running contest among Volunteers for who's ridden in a taxi with the most passengers. I think the number to beat is in the thirties. And they're not always exactly IN the bus- there are often men hanging off the ladder in the back or sitting on the roof rack.
Then there's the non-human cargo. Passengers' bikes and motorcycles go on top, along with sacks of rice, bags of fruit and other merchandise. Live animals are also welcome- some of my favorites are whole herds of goats strapped to the roof rack, or crates full of chickens piled up as high as the van again and tied in bunches all along the sides and back of the car (looks kind of like a giant ball of chickens.) And then, there's the experience that prompted this blog post.
It started off as a very typical taxi-brousse ride from Tenkodogo: I was told it would leave at 14:00, I got there about 14:20, and we got going at about 15:30. After hours of sitting and waiting there's some magical signal that tells the driver it's time to get going, but what that signal may be is a complete mystery to me. The taxi is painted green and yellow with falling-apart leather seats that have been moved too close together and side walls that feel like they'll to fall out if you lean on them.
So the taxi got going (with a little push to give it a running start,) and a couple of stops for snacks and new passengers later we made it to just outside of Tenkodogo. Examples of fellow passengers include: big motherly woman in full complet (fancy dress made of pagnes,) younger woman with a baby, and the older man with a greying beard who was sitting next to me wearing a Ronaldinho jersey, grey blazer and a chief's hat. Then the taxi slowed down at the police stop, and the taxi guys called out something in Moore to a man standing by the side of the road. I caught that they asked him where he was going, and when he called something back they laughed, looked at each other, and turned the engine off. That's when I saw he was holding a rope. Attached to a donkey. So the guy sitting in the back row moved up to the next row up (my row,) the taxi guys shifted the back bench forward about a foot, and the donkey went in the back. Thus, fifteen adult passengers, a couple of kids, and a donkey.
Another running push and we had a lovely ride back to Bagre with the sun starting to set in the sky over the fields, a warm breeze flowing through the car, and the donkey kicking behind my seat every time he got anxious. Oh, and a couple of guys hanging off the ladder behind the donkey.
I love taxi brousse rides because there's a good chance you'll have a story to tell at the end of them. Which can go both ways: in a few months I'll probably be telling you that a taxi brousse ride caused the worst day of my life. But I have a strange affinity for car trips in general, they're like a world of their own, like a kind of in-between world. In a taxi brousse I get to view what's become familiar over the past half a year from a different perspective, and I can appreciate again how cool it is to live here. I get to see my new home like a tourist would, but I have the bonus of understanding (better) what it's actually like. It's very thought-provoking. … As indicated by this mile-long blog post. Anyways, bush taxis! I'll try to take some pictures here, they're really really a sight to be seen, not just imagined.
