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.
