Keeping cool

Pancho woke with a start. It was hot and his head felt as if it was wrapped in cotton wool. His leg had twitched and the sudden jerk had brought him back to the present sweltering heat. His brain clicked into action and with unrivalled speed of thought Pancho proceeded to act as if he was stretching. Of course he had not twitched in his sleep, he was just stretching particularly vigorously, something only well trained practitioners of vigorous stretching were able to do. Twitching in his sleep was not something Pancho did!

Opening his eyes a crack, he surveyed his surroundings. Good! Apart from a few chickens and a few roaming pigs there was nobody around that could have misinterpreted the movement. His gaze returned to the pigs with suspicion though. He had heard that they were intelligent animals. Maybe their snuffling the ground was just an act. Maybe they thought he had twitched in his sleep instead of the most apparent truth?! He maintained his focus on the pigs as they continued their act of innocence, but Pancho knew better, he was certain. It was the subtleties that gave secrets away and his most discerning eye meant that they couldn’t elude him. The way the pigs consequently ignored him was a sure sign of their embarrassment!  Ha! He had found them out. Pancho’s sense of triumph was only diminished by the fact that he now knew that the pigs believed he had twitched… He directed his considerable mental faculties towards finding a way of convincing the pigs that he had in fact just been stretching but then a more important thought entered his mind. A thick thirst had settled in his throat. Disappointed at not being able to commit fully to the pig problem Pancho diverted his attention. He squinted at the brilliantly lit dusty world beyond the shade of his mango tree and sighed. The time had come. He would have to brave the blistering heat and battle the elements to ensure further survival in this inhumanely hostile environment.

He mustered his strength and stood up to his imposing height before stepping into the glare. The sun’s rays bore down on him from directly above without mercy. He nodded to himself as his expectations were confirmed. It was indeed hotter in the full glare of the midday sun, but naturally this was nothing that Pancho’s steeled physique couldn’t handle. A few measured steps further and he found himself inside his baked mud hut, pouring a plastic cup of water. Despite the warm temperature of the liquid, bordering on hot, he drank it greedily and followed up with several more cups.  In the meantime the radiating heat off the mud hut walls meant that Pancho was turning into a true fountain of sweat. He had to hurry up unless he wanted to sweat out the amount of water he was just drinking.

When he hurriedly stepped out of the baking oven a renewed blast of hot harmattan wind hit him and evaporated the drops that had started beading and trickling down his bare chest. He had quickly learned that it was wiser not to wear a shirt during his midday breaks. It was “cooler” this way and meant less washing as well.

Ahhhh, a brief moment of respite as the evaporating sweat cooled him.

Moments later he collapsed into his chair again with a sigh. When would this blasted heat end?! The wind was still blowing from the wrong direction for the rainy season. The shade of the mango tree was nice and the frequent wind made it all the more bearable as despite its heat and dryness it cooled well by evaporating sweat almost immediately. But even in light of his superb resilience Pancho thought some cooler temperatures may just make the stay ever so slightly more bearable.

He blinked and his mind turned in circles and searcheing for something to occupy itself with. Finally his sight came to rest on the pigs again suspiciously. A smile of triumph curled across his features. The pigs were settling down in the shade for a nap of their own. Pancho would watch closely to see if they twitched in their sleep. If he were able to witness such an event it would surely even the playing field!

But before long, Pancho’s own eyelids became heavy once more as if tied down by lead weights and he dozed off. This time of course he made sure that no movements would be involved that could possibly be construed as involuntary twitching.

…Ouagadougou was not what Pancho had expected. As the capital of a country striving upwards in the world he had envisioned streets paved with finest concrete, lined with spectacular (in one way or another) tropical palaces displaying cultural artefacts of an alien culture. But what he found, as Edward III chauffered him through the streets, was a familiarity that reminded him of destinations such as Thailand or India. Ramshackle buildings, rubbish strewn streets and the glorious whiff of burning plastic in the night air. It was almost as if he was back in Bangkok again, except that the buildings here seemed a lot smaller and flatter ( they rarely seemed to stand taller than the ground level floor).

Edward III’s domicile, which they reached soon after, was not quite up to Pancho’s regal standards but with his impeccable manners he accepted what was on offer. A simple mattress on the floor was enough until he could make it to his own quarters on the following day. Edward III had already set a strict schedule for the coming days that would ensure that Pancho would acclimatise in no time. Pancho nodded appreciatively at this, he was most confident that he could manage anything this fellow could throw his way. In fact Pancho was most famous for his words that discipline and hard work were the backbone of any worthy endeavour. He said the sentence alloud and made sure to repeat it several times until he was certain that Edward III would for ever remember who had coined them.

The night brought more memories of Thailand. The sound of roosters crowing in the morning and waking him at unpleasant hours was the fondest of them all. In reality the roosters never crowed in the morning, for some reason they seemed to crow in the middle of the night, or well before the sun decided to rise, which was 5:30am in Ouagadougou.

Despite these pesky and wholly unwarranted interruptions by the rude local fauna Pancho managed to find some well deserved rest.

The following morning, more or less refreshed, Pancho was quickly ready to establish himself in the country and delve in to the plentiful work he had set himself.

He was greeted by fresh baguette with avocado and spiced and dried crickets for breakfast. This was certainly a pleasant if somewhat unexpected surprise for Pancho. Having eaten such delicacies before it was no issue to overcome his initial scepticism and truly indulge in the great taste the meal had to offer. As fond as Pancho was of dutiful industriousness, much to his liking Edward then whisked Pancho off to the research institute’s office shortly after breakfast. The office would serve as the base of operations from whence Pancho would set out on his heroic endeavours in the following three months.

Once on the roard Pancho found himself drenched in sweat very quickly. As his body began the process of adapting to the local clime Pancho’s mind was already vigorously taking in its surroundings.  Ouagadougou was a very different place in broad daylight it seemed.

It was dusty; very dusty and brownish in colour with dusty roads and dusty side roads and various things covered in dust here and there in between dusty patches of dust. Interesting, Pancho thought. Just as the dustiness of the dust was somewhat of a surprise the state of the roads was as well. Due to his expert research skills being applied before embarking on this grand voyage, Pancho had been aware that Ouaga’s side streets were not paved, but he had not been entirely prepared for the real live sight of them. They made the city look more like a slum than a capital he found. But, then again Pancho had to remind himself, as he held a most critically appreciative inner dialogue with himself, that behind the metal gate of Edward’s house, the inside had been quite comfortable and nice and considerably less dusty.

So as Edward III expertly weaved the motor cycle through somewhat unreliable local traffic Pancho felt that old and familiar tingle of excitement and delight rise insider him at being thrown into a new adventure. It was the new experience he had sought and the challenge that he looked for. Conquering this challenge would most assuredly provide Pancho with new international allies for his grand scheme of…. Ah, he was letting his excitement get the better of him. He snapped out of it and instead enjoyed the Burkinabean air(presumaby dusty as well) ripple over his face and through his hair as they rode along.

Arriving at the head office further lifted his spirits. Despite the drab and disorganised inside of the office room, it offered the height and crowning achievement and decadence of technological civilisation. The glory of air conditioning! And to top all of this off, if there was a power outage, which was a frequent occurrence in Ouaga as the municipal diesel generators that powered the city would sometimes overheat, the institute had its own backup generator that would ensure a cool and measured environment in which to maintain his most diligent work practice.

Pancho nodded in approval. This would do for his research. The deep mysteries of the Mossi plateau termites and their impact on the local agriculture would not elude Pancho for long (or longer than the allotted 3 months in any case).

The Heat - Adventures in Africa

What on earth was going on?! It felt almost as if he was sitting inside an oven, while this oven was turned on to full blast. His body was being baked into a pulpy shapeless blob as his brain strained to keep his glazed over eyes open. And every renewed blast of hot air greedily drew a few more drops of moisture from his already heavy and torturously dry limbs.

Pancho was one hardy fellow but right now he had to admit to himself that he may quite possibly just about be in over his head. And the worst was yet to come! Shortly after midday, when the blazing ball of flames in the sky licked the scorched land with its fiery tongue, not even the emerald sea of dense mango tree leaves above would be of much use. Well, Pancho swatted away an annoying fly, it would still be better than roasting in the full blaze. The bone dry dusty soil stretching out around him was God's witness.

Ah! He longed for a trickle of water down his parched throat, but that would mean braving the torturous rays, even if it was for a mere few meters. Instead, his body decided to not move an inch and simply accept the delicate position it was in and had been since Pancho's arrival in the splendid and most glorious Republic of Burkina Faso!

Suddenly he twitched. Frowning he stared around. Had he been drifting off to sleep?! A fresh bout of energy seemed to flow through him and Pancho sat up straight as a ruler baring his most contemptuous expression at the blasted heat around him. He had not come to this irrefutably hot part of the world to be subdued into a brain- and spineless stupor. Oh no sir! Not him! Not Pancho Wodehouse, the great explorer and adventurer of his day and age. He stared ahead at the baking soil resolutely and with purpose. What purpose he wasn't quite sure of but it did not matter, his staring was so impeccably resolute that the stare in itself had to hold some kind of natural purpose, surely...

A mango dropped from the tree above and thudded into the soil drily. The resulting sudden bout of frenzy among the drift of pigs nearby, racing to conquer that covetted prize seemed to underline Pancho's purposeful stare. It was in fact such an emphatic confirmation of his mastery of the elements that Pancho could not stop himself from puffing out his chest. The ´hams to be' squealed and returned to snuffling the dry soil as the largest of them made off with the juicy treat. Then something highly unexpected happened. A question popped into Pancho's mind without having been invited. He couldn't help but frown slightly as he tried to solve the riddle of this unexpected intruder into his thoughts. 

Why was he here?

- silence -

Naturally, as you may have quite correctly suspected oh reader, the question wasn't posed in the philosophical sense. Pancho shook his head with amusement. Of course not, sitting in above 40°C heat under a mango tree among pigs, chicken and other sorts of companions was not the right kind of place for such high minded thoughts. The question was in fact far simpler than that. Why was Pancho Wodehouse in Burkina Faso? 

More accurately, why was Pancho Wodehouse sitting beneath a Burkinabean mango tree engulfed in this terrible heat?

Aha! Pancho nodded knowingly, he was getting somewhere here. 

But his positive demeanor seemed to melt away as his mind, usually the sharpest tool there was, failed to conclusively pierce the veil of heavy heat that seemed to smother his higher faculties. He struggled a bit harder; how had this all come about?!

A hazy recollection entered his mind from somewhere beyond somewhere else. Pancho tried to concentrate his great intellect with more force, reaching out frantically, grasping at that faint waft of a memory.

Ahhhh yes! He had caught a flight to Burkina Faso! That was how it had all begun. His mind's eye turned to the memory of arriving at the airport of this country's great capital city:

Ouagadougou! A splendid name for a capital city Pancho had thought when he first heard it. The people of Burkina Faso had to be truly brilliant to name it so. The creativity and ability to come up with such a unique name was truly admirable. 

Pancho's smile diminished somewhat; he was drifting off again. Where had he been? Ah yes, at the airport!

His arrival had very naturally for this time of year and this region of the planet, blasted by dry winds, been greeted by heat and a strange little customs process. After having been transported from the plane to the terminal building by bus, despite the distance surely being no more than 30 meters, Pancho had been welcomed by a control for Ebola, including mandatory hand washing and a very disorganised seeming process of registering his arrival. Nevertheless it all had gone quite smoothly for him until he had picked up his checked luggage and was purposefully heading towards the exit. Purposefully because it was of course important to look as if one always knew what one was doing, so as to not invite unwelcome attention. But alas, as he attempted to exit the arrivals hall a local officer, evidently taken by sudden bout of unexplicable folly, approached Pancho and dared to ask whether he had in fact the baggage ticket belonging to the bag that he was intending to carry off. For a moment Pancho had to battle to keep his expression free from aghast shock. Did she deem him capable of mistaking somebody else's luggage for his own?! 

He looked down at his bag. It was admittedly a most excellent specimen of a bag but then again, it suited him so perfectly that under normal circumstances there could be no question. Nevertheless Pancho, with his usual impeccable manners, gave the officer a friendly smile and placed the bag on the ground in order to retrieve the desired baggage ticket (which was stuck on the flight ticket of the first stretch of the flight). 

He patted his various pockets, certain that he had placed the ticket there a few hours earlier in wise premonition at the need of it. The ticket did not seem to emerge on the first round of patting however so in good spirits Pancho eagerly set about on a second round of patting. But alas, all the patting in the world did not seem to be able to bring that ticket with the baggage token into existence. Pancho soldiered on bravely, patting away here and there, making sure not to leave any pocket out but starting to feel somewhat confounded at the impossibility of the situation. 

Meanwhile the office surveyed Pancho's brave attempts with an increasingly pitiful gaze it seemed. That look spurned Pancho on to ever more ambitious patting to the point where the officer's pity must have become unbearable to her so she decided to change her mode of attack. 

She asked for the flight ticket instead. Somewhat relieved that Pancho could now stop patting his various pockets he began rummaging in one specific pocket that the second ticket would most assuredly be in. And after a very brief and faint bout of terrific terror, that the second document was also missing and that he would have to spend the night rummaging through his bags, the most desired piece of paper finally emerged. A slight sigh of relief could be heared by the more discerning ears in the baggage claim area.

Several minutes after the officer had confirmed the ownership of the bag Pancho was finally allowed to step into the hot night air of Ouagadougou. He was ready to make a big impression on his first arrival, especially after the first somewhat unnecessary excitement.

As he stepped out his gaze rolled over the scenery unfolding before him expecting to recognise at any moment the glorious welcoming comittee that would honour him with a tad of unnecessary fanfare. But instead, what greeted him were strange faces staring blankly. After the briefest moment of reflection Pancho decided not to let the locals prey on his lack of local knowledge and street smarts and accordingly proceeded to strut forth in the most exuberant fashion. As the stares deepened and their blankness increased Pancho could tell that the locals were mightily impressed. 

As if to confirm his suspicion a first supplicant eventually approached his imposing form. The man however evidently was unsure of how to express himself correctly. Pancho thought he had heard something along the lines of needing a taxi or some such matter but he knew that he must have misheard. The local was evidently offering his most prestigious services as a butler. Pancho honoured the bold proposal with a fond smile but waved the man away. There was absolutely no need for this fine fellow to waste his most assuredly ample talent on such a humble fellow as Pancho was. After all, Burkina Faso was considered one of the most basic countries in the world and Pancho did not deem it right to ostentatiously display his wealth openly. He would lead a simple life, adapting to local customs. As such he would dress and bathe himself!

The man eventually shuffled off unable to completely hide his disappointment at not being able to serve such a fine gentleman. But Pancho was certain that the man would do well for himself despite the slight miscommunication.

A full 60 minutes later slight doubts seemed to creep up on Pancho however. He was still standing as exuberantly as one could possibly stand in the parking lot of the airport, waiting for his promised arrival committee, but he had no local currency, no means of contacting his host nor any address to call upon. In fact a friendly missionary from the North American continent had offered him the use of her portable telephone to contact his host, but it had brought no discernible results. His contact's telecommunications device seemed to be switched off or some such thing.

Now that his contact was nowhere to be reached and that that splendid butler prospect had been rebuffed, Pancho needed to find another solution. With a sudden burst of brilliance Pancho found the solution to his dilemma. 

A plan B was necessary! With renewed zeal Pancho set about immediately devising it. His exuberant stance renewadly exuberant, Pancho thought hard and fast. Thinking hard and fast was a skill he had acquired after many years of discerning and honest work! 

But as he had been thinking hard and fast for several minutes, suddenly his controlled expression of concentrated sublimity crumbled and turned into something more along the lines of naive hope. Had he just seen his host fly by in the distance on a scooter of sorts?!

Pancho set himself in motion to get to the bottom of this mystery. And as if he had known all along, shortly after Pancho realised that his eyes, excellent as they were even at night time, had not deceived him. His host, by now a notorious man in Pancho's mind had truly arrived. He had arrived indisputably late but as was the case with men of true greatness, Pancho was quick to forgive such a slight if it was the result of an earnest mistake. And as it of course turned out, his host, Edward III, had been the impotent victim of most unfortunate circumstances and an inescapably terrible fate. 

He had fallen asleep unexpectedly and with great surprise. 

But now that this Edward fellow had arrived in fine and infectious spirit all was good and forgiven and Pancho Wodehouse, that most daring of worldly gentlemen, could after a short wait finally continue on this great adventure that Burkina Faso would have to offer.