The coastal highway in West Africa

There is a highway that runs along the coast of West Africa. I have only encountered it in sections between Lagos, Nigeria in the east and Abidjan, Côte d'Ivoire in the west, but if I understand correctly, it creeps up the coast in both directions for thousands of miles and in various states of repair. At times, it fronts directly on to some of the world's most beautiful white-sand beaches, lined with majestic palm trees. My first trip along this highway, in 2006, was on a bus with a group of Nigerians traveling from Lomé, Togo to Lagos, Nigeria. I was the only non west-African on the bus. So as we approached each border, the west Africans generally just tossed their passports into a bucket for "group processing," while I had to physically get off the bus and go through controls at each border. Each time, as soon as I got off, the bus would leave to go to the other side, and I would have to cross the border on foot. For anyone who imagines a tame and calm border crossing, think again. The border crossing from Togo to Benin was perhaps one of the largest markets I have ever encountered, filled with people selling everything under the sun, from goats to cloth to princess toys. It was a loud, rambunctious, zestful sort of place. Had I not been modestly concerned about my bus that had driven off, I might have enjoyed it. After two such border crossings and many hours sitting in traffic coming into Lagos, we made it to our destination, six hours late. 

A market along the highway

Today's trip along the highway was much less eventful, although it did involve one car breakdown that was fixed fairly quickly. The stretch of highway from Cotonou, Benin to Porto Novo, Benin (very close to the Nigerian border) is not the most picturesque, although it is probably one of the best in terms of road quality, with a double carriageway in both directions in addition to a lane for motorbikes. I am fairly well convinced that just about anything that can BE purchased is available for sale on the West African Highway, including possibly some things that SHOULDN'T be purchased. Another trip, this time to the west toward Lomé, found a road recently widened to two lanes going in each direction, but not yet paved. 

Some things that it is hard to miss:

- the enormous SUVs with license plates from Lagos, Nigeria

- the random herds of goats crossing the highway

- enormous roadside fabric markets

- mangos being sold out of the back of truck

- the often elaborately woven palm leaves and stalks that form buildings along the highway

Queuing for the toll booth

Porto Novo and Cotonou, Benin's twin capitals, fade into one another, connected by the aforementioned highway. Porto Novo is the home to the national parliament, while the president's offices are in Cotonou. Cotonou is also the business capital of the country. Porto Novo (New Door in Portuguese) is a sleepy, lakeside town with some lovely old architecture, quintessential views over Lake Yewa, and thriving markets. The parliament, currently located in an unassuming building in the center of town, will soon move to a new lakeside capitol building. Porto Novo lacks the bustle of Cotonou and appears to be a place worth exploring further. 

A quiet street in Porto Novo

There's no doubt that a 90 minute flight from Ouagadougou to Cotonou makes a huge difference. I left temperatures in the mid 30s centigrade at 9:00 am to land around midday in Cotonou with a temperature of 30. The difference, however, is in the humidity. Cotonou is a place where you soak your shirt with sweat in a matter of moments. The lush, green vegetation seems to drip humidity, and water (oceans and inland lakes) is everywhere.

Travel in West Africa is, without question, not easy or uncomplicated. But it never falls short of being fascinating. 

Africa Rising?

Every few months, the world's finest newspapers and magazines seem to do an in-depth cover story on Africa and its prospects. Almost invariably, they reach one of two conclusions:  that Africa is rising and that we are entering an "African century" or that the continent's challenges remain so vast that any sense of progress on the surface is fleeting. Certainly, there are more nuanced versions (the Economist's special report, last year, is a good example) that take into account the diversity of the 50 nations of Africa and the internal tensions and contradictions that characterize African nations (and all nations!) 

I write this sitting in the comfortable departures area of the Ouagadougou Airport, awaiting a flight on a African airline to Cotonou. I booked this ticket several months ago online in the United States with my credit card through an international site (at the suggestion of my travel agent). I payed a very reasonable price. I arrived at the airport, presented my documents, my record was found, and I was quickly and efficiently checked in for the flight, one of about 20 departing Ouaga for 15 cities in Africa today. Immigration and security checks were quick and efficient. Although there are still horrific airport experiences to be had in Africa (my own experiences in Bangui, Bunia, Douala, and Lagos come immediately to mind, some with a bit of a shudder), this kind of connectivity would have been quite rare even 10 years ago. The world is indeed changing. 

On the edges of Ouaga stands the independent municipality of "Ouaga 2000," the new center of Burkinabé government. The legacy of the French remains strong, with the broad boulevards of the new city, dominated on either end by the "Presidence" buildings. New government ministries, many built in a distinctively west African style, line the boulevards. Embassies and the homes of the rich dot the landscape, many still under construction. A number of buildings stand half completed, including an enormous new mosque. Why? Because the resources for some of these buildings were coming from Qadaffi's Libya before his fall. The flow of Libyan resources into Burkina, which was significant, has now dried up. Yet the broader influence of the North African and Middle Eastern world remains strong, and is probably growing as the percentage of Muslims grows (largely due to demographic issues). France, the United States, and Canada, also have a palpable presence. 

Monument des Martyrs in Ouaga 2000 (from wikipedia.fr)

I visited yesterday a "center for development" attached to a local Pentecostal church. This center serves about 200 children from ages 3-16 every day, providing them with schooling, very basic food, and, perhaps most importantly, a sense of care and belonging. Many of these children are orphans, being cared for by relatives who lack the financial and/or emotional resources to properly care for these children. The stories of grinding poverty are sobering, as tales of lives truly without choices unfold. Public schooling is available in the neighborhood only on Thursday mornings, and that is if the teacher shows up. The only options for regular schooling are to travel to other parts of the city by foot or bicycle and pay school fees that are far beyond the reach of most of the residents of the neighborhood. 

Children at Development Center in Ouaga

How encouraging it is to see communities of believers, with few resources themselves, reaching out in whatever way they can. Although the students study under make-shift tin roofs hold up with tree branches, the make-shift walls are lovingly painted with biblical scenes, encouraging words, passages of scripture, and cartoon characters. I encounter this kind of holistic vision more and more as I travel in Africa, especially Francophone Africa. Yet the truly systemic issues of poverty seem a mighty wave flowing against a meager stream. 

At the same time, stories abound about the effectiveness and character of the mayor, under whose watch most major city thoroughfares have been well paved, with barriers dividing 3 lanes for pedestrians, bicycles, and lanes for car traffic. I heard numerous stories of all-season roads reaching remote parts of the bush that have never had roads before. Anyone who has set foot in Africa can see the value of this. Young, bright people cluster around the university, and I'm told that the "back-flow" of many Burkinabé educated abroad is growing. I met several of these people, educated in the United States or Europe, who have chosen to return and invest in their nation. 

"Moto" parking in Cotonou

Africa is undoubtedly changing. Is it for the better? It's impossible for me to say. Is it easier for a foreigner (or a relatively wealthy African) to travel in Africa today? Unquestionably. Are more commodities and better infrastructure available to wealthy urban Africans? Unquestionably. Are systemic issues that leave millions in grinding poverty being addressed? Are these infrastructural improvements allowing for true development at the community level, or merely facilitating the extraction of agricultural commodities? It is very hard to say, and I'm sure that the answer differs from country to country and even from community to community. 

But one thing that is clearly untrue is that Africa is static. Africa, as always, is moving, albeit with contradictions. 

Ouaga

Ouagadougou (Pronounced wag-a-DOO-goo) or Ouaga in short (pronounced WA-ga) is the capital city of Burkina Faso, a former French colony located just north of Benin, Togo, Ghana, and Côte d'Ivoire. It is a city that has grown rapidly in the past twenty years, now flirting with a population of two million. Although I've traveled quite a bit in coastal West Africa, this is my first time in the interior of this vast and complex region. There is a lot of cultural similarity with points further south in terms of dress, cuisine, and culture, but the climate is markedly different. Burkina is a hot and dusty place, another step in the slow transition from the verdant tropics of the Atlantic coast to the blazing deserts of the Sahara in the north. 

A roadside café outside of Ouaga, made of magically heat-beating woven grasses

Like much of Africa, Burkina experiences wet and dry seasons. The rains generally begin in late May-early June and last through September or October. I'm told that when the rains come, the dusty, brown world springs to life with grasses and crops. It's kind of hard to imagine the verdancy people describe amidst the dusty brownness of the end of the dry season. The dry season tends to peak in April, which is also the peak of temperatures, when daytime highs can easily reach 50 degrees centigrade (about 125). 

Although the worst of the April heat has passed, temperatures are still averaging around 40 centigrade (104 F) with nighttime temperatures falling to around 30 (86 F). Although April's heat, I am told, is dry desert heat, Ouaga today is also experiencing a bit of humidity as the rains draw near. It makes for quite an appalling mix. Life largely shuts down in the early hours of the afternoon, when most people can be seen resting under an awning or tree or, in some cases, sprawled out on a cool stone floor. Every conversation seems to turn at some point to le chaleur (the heat). It does make me wonder why the hymn "blanc, blanc plus que neige" (white, whiter than snow) is so very popular in the church here, akin to "Amazing Grace" in the United States of "Velikii Bog" in Russia and Ukraine. I've puzzled over that one every time I come to Francophone Africa, and will continue to puzzle. 

A well with banana trees growing from the runoff

One of the fascinating things about Africa is the seemingly near-magical cooling power of its trees. Large mango trees dot the Burkina landscape and serve as parking spots for cars, motos, and bicycles, as well as a place for people (especially mothers and babies) to rest. There is something magical about stepping under one of these magnificent beings, as the temperature seems to drop precipitously. 

This cooling power also seems to extend to grasses. The long grasses that grow up during the rainy season are dutifully harvested and then carefully and artfully woven into mats, roofs of shelters, granaries, and wind-blocking walls. They are everywhere. Again, buildings covered by these grass roofs seem somehow magically cool, while more "modern" metal-roofed buildings feel ready to bake a pie. 

A bicycle parking lot

While all hotter climates clearly have an appreciation for water, this seems especially pronounced in Burkina, where water is carefully collected during the rainy season for irrigation of crops in the dryer months. I am told that it is not uncommon for people to walk 8-10 kilometers to a deep-water well in the end of the dry season for water, as sources closer to the surface gradually dry up. I visited yesterday the site of a recently drilled deep-water well about 10 kilometers outside of Ouaga. A new community is sprouting up on what was once a desolate plain. A mother stood bathing her two young children from a bucket for freshly drawn, cold water. Somehow, the phrase "water is life" takes on a whole new meaning here. 

Water is Life 

A morning in Paris

Sometimes, I think that I've forgotten how to be a tourist in a leisurely way, as I've become quite adept at exploring some of the world's great cities in short blocks of time. Paris is a city I've visited quite a number of times, but never for more than two days at a time. I usually end up trekking around a new neighborhood each time I end up with a long layover at CDG. 

Today was no different, as I made my way by train from the airport to the Gare du Nord and then hiked a bit to the east to the neighborhood of Montmartre. I've certainly seen the neighborhood before. It is hard to miss, sitting on top of the highest hill in Paris, with the soaring Sacré Coeur Basilica sitting at its summit. 

The weather was more reminiscent of late March than late May -- cold, rainy, and in the 50s Fahrenheit. 

Paris is one of those cities that can, at times, seem a bit more trouble than it is worth. The swarming herds of tourists from every corner of the globe certainly take a bit of the edge off the charm. Yet I never fail to find a quiet, lovely backstreet with beautiful views that makes it all seem worthwhile. 

The Sacré Coeur Basilica is a beautiful space, filled with art that uses ancient techniques and subject matter (mosaic, religious iconography) but with a distinctly modern styling. I found myself strongly reminded of two churches of the same era in Russia and Ukraine - The Savior-on-the-Blood in St. Petersburg and St. Volodymyr's Cathedral in Kyiv. Both were decorated using the same kind of mosaics-with-a-modern twist by the Russian artists Vasnetsov, Nesterov, and Vriubel. I can also see shadows of art and architecture in Vienna from the same time period. There seems to be a commonality of melding together ancient and familiar religious forms with artistic expressions drawn more from popular folk culture. 

A small-scale mosaic in the aisle, looking up into the central altar dome of Sacré Coeur

All of these grand civil/religious structures, together with so much of the grandiosity of cities like Paris, Vienna, and St. Petersburg reflect the fascinating and short-lived period when social, historical, economic, and geo-political realities allowed the great powers of Europe to build such monuments. It was a time of deep fascination with the intersection of nationality, tradition, and modernity. It now seems a world quite far away. 

Paris today is far removed from the city that spread below Montmartre in the early 20th century. Many neighborhoods around the area are now filled with African cloth and haircare shops, halal meat markets, and North African restaurants. I saw signs in Arabic, Turkish, Tamil, and Chinese. It's bewildering. In many ways, the attempts of synthesis of the ancient and the modern that is visible in the Sacré Coeur is still happening in its shadows today. 

Impressions of Detroit

A chilly spring day on the Detroit River - Downtown Detroit from Windsor, Ontario

I fell in love with the impressionist style of painting many years ago, during an exhibition of Monet's work at the Art Institute of Chicago during my college years. I love how impressionism tries to capture not how something really looks, but how the eye captures the interplay of the subject and light and the tricks-the-eyes-play. A different time or vantage or combination can give a completely different image. Our family's brief trip to Detroit this week brought impressionism to mind many times. The combinations of images that form Detroit are at times difficult to unite in one impression, yet somehow coalesce at the same time into a coherent whole. 

Detroit has the usual features of a large American city -- ribbons of freeways, ornate early-20th-century stone skyscrapers, shiny later towers, sprawl. Yet it is different from most other cities I've visited -- even other "rust belt" cities fallen on hard times -- in that the contrast between the monuments of the city's glory days of 1920-1950 stand in such stark contrast with the monuments to the city's dramatic fall in the second half of the twentieth century. I struggle to think of another major city that has experienced this kind of meteoric rise followed by such a dramatic fall. Detroit has some beautiful "bones" -- stunning art deco and beaux arts architecture, splendid museums (the Detroit Institute of Arts is one of the finest I have visited, both in its collection and presentations) -- all situated on the dramatic geographical space of the narrows of the Detroit River. Most of these gems continue to shine today or are in the process of being renewed. Some dramatic new buildings have also joined the skyline, as have sparkling new sports arenas in the heart of downtown. 

The ruins of Michigan Central Station (from historicdetroit.org - a great site)

Despite these positives, I have never seen the level of urban decay that I saw in Detroit. While cities like Akron and Cleveland and Indianapolis have highly blighted neighborhoods, it doesn't seem quite as systemic as the decay seems in Detroit, with quite literally falling-down buildings in the very heart of downtown. Beyond the core of the city, some neighborhoods seemed more like semi-rural areas, with only perhaps one of twenty original homes remaining amidst renewed prairies of grass. In one neighborhood, artists have taken to transforming abandoned homes into objects of art (which has played a role in renewal of that neighborhood). The iconic Michigan Central Station -- perhaps the grandest ruin in Detroit -- looms above the Ambassador Bridge from Windsor, Ontario. In so many ways, the influences that led to the decline of so many inner cities in America -- the advent of the automobile and highways that allowed for sprawl to suburbs, troubled race relations from the late 1960s, deindustrialization, dysfunctional politics -- were concentrated on the urban reality of Detroit. 

Yet from an impressionistic viewpoint, one that attempts to see the whole and not just the parts, Detroit is a fascinating place. Amidst a seemingly empty neighborhood, a shiny furniture store functions on a major avenue. Vast open grasslands grow under the shadows of the business district. Little by little the lights come on in long-emtpy downtown buildings. A restored Victorian mansion sits in its grandness as the only home left on its block. A thriving restaurant thrives on a street of largely abandoned buildings a block off of the Grand Circus Park. I really can't fathom the effort it takes to lead a city like Detroit and to face its political, social, and economic challenges (it has recently been taken over by the state of Michigan). But despite the brokenness, there is hope evidenced everywhere. People are clearly pouring themselves into the city at all levels. The sum of these parts, viewed from various angles, is indeed striking and beautiful. 

Eating in South Asia

Cuisine is rarely a simple affair. Just as every Midwestern farm wife has her own special way of making pie crust or beef stew, so do cooks all over the world differ in how they approach their cooking. This village-to-village variety is compounded in India and South Asia by the variety of ethnic and regional expressions of food. Thankfully, Indian food does go distinctly beyond the chicken tikka masala (which was originally concocted in the UK), saag paneer, and naan common to North American Indian buffets. 

A Karnataka Meal

One of the misperceptions of Indian food is that it is all spicy/piquant. Granted, the use of chili peppers is common throughout India and there are some dishes I've had that set your mouth on fire. But good Indian food is characterized more by nuance and the blending together of many spices and flavorings, including sweet spices (cinnamon, cloves, cardamom), savory spices (cumin, coriander), "wet" spices (onion, garlic, ginger - the "Holy Trinity" of Indian cooking), and other ingredients that affect the taste or consistency of the food (hing/asofoetida, tamarind, lime or lemon juice, palm sugar, coconut or coconut milk). "Curry" is rooted in a Tamil word that means sauce and is not a "spice" at all in Indian usage. Rather, "curry" indicates the blend of numerous sweet and savory spices (every cook has their own recipe) that is added to foods. 

Idli and Sambar

Indian meals generally consist of some form of starch (rice or rice-flour breads in the South, rice or wheat-flour breads in the North), some kind of dal (beans, lentils, etc.) cooked in a rich, savory broth, some kind of vegetable cooked with spices, and usually a chutney or pickle on the side. As Oprah Winfrey discovered in a mighty cultural faux pas in Mumbai last year, Indians usually eat with their right hands, working together the rice and sauces, scooping them up with the thumb, index, and middle fingers, and then using the thumb to delicately push the food into the mouth. It's actually quite an elegant process that, when done right, often results in hands as clean as when the meal began. 

One of my favorite Indian meals is firmly rooted in Tamil Nadu in the South but can be found throughout South Asia. It consists of steamed rice-and-lentil-flour dumplings (idli) served with a spicy soup called sambal and various chutneys. This is a traditional breakfast food. 

Food reflects culture. Japanese cooking is famous for its simplicity and understatement. Chinese food prizes local ingredients cooked in harmony with a few key flavorings and the harmony of the various dishes on the table. Thai and Vietnamese cooking prizes the balance of the spicy, sweet, sour, and salty. Indian food also seeks balance, but of a much more diverse set of ingredients, all combining together into a flavorful whole. 

Snapshots of India

I've had a very hard time putting together blog thoughts during this trip to India. The absence of spare time short of sleeping hours has probably played a part. But I think it's something else as well. India has an immensity about it that is very hard to define. 

Just a few "snapshots"

- Contrary to popular misconception in the West, Hindi is not spoken throughout India. While Hindi and related languages are spoken across the vastness of North India (approximately 250 million speakers, plus many more who use it as a lingua franca). In the South especially, local languages predominate -- Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, and Kannada are just a few, spoken by tens of millions. Official things are labeled in three languages. Many things in the city are signed in English and the local language, but there are many, many things written only in the local languages.

Elevator labeled in Tamil, Hindi, and (British) English

- Religion permeates everything in India. As you drive through the streets of a South Indian city, you are about as likely to see a  mosque in the Mughal style as you are to see a Hindu temple or a Christian church. Although Hindus compose the vast majority of Indians, the numbers of Muslims (160 million) is the second largest Muslim population after Indonesia. Christians may compose up to 7% of the population, including ancient communities of Syriac Christians that go back to nearly apostolic times. 

A Hindu temple in Chennai

- If Uttar Pradesh, the most populous state, were an independent nation, it would fight with Brazil for fifth most populous in the world (200 million people). The region commonly called North India is home to 900 million people or 12% of humanity. This is about equal to the population of sub-Saharan Africa, just shy of three times the population of the United States, and and about 150 million more than live in all of Europe. 

- The new highways leading the the Bangalore airport (one of India's best) are still under construction and reconstruction, so they involve some creative driving. The occasional herd of cows can wreak havoc on traffic. Stepping into the B'lore Airport, however, you feel like you've moved into a parallel consumerist paradise. Enormous banners above the concourse announce that "Dubai Shopping Festival," showing photos of Indians in hotel rooms with amazing views of the Dubai skyline sheerly exhausted by their shopping endeavors, surrounded by the horde. India is a world of contrasts. 

New construction in Bangalore

- Indian airlines, in my experience, are quite an efficient affair. With the exception of one flight on this trip, I don't think my front door-to-boarding gate experience has ever been more than 15 minutes. They also manage to serve a meal (and not a bad one) on most domestic flights. A burgeoning budget airline industry is also connecting the nation as never before. The new airport in Delhi is a site to behold with sculpture parks, soaring atria, and futuristic electronic billboards announcing the latest entertainment "news." 

Domestic arrivals area - Delhi Airport

- I know of nowhere where the movies hold a greater cultural sway than India, be it the Hindi industry based in Mumbai or the south Indian (especially Tamil) industry in the south. Movie posters -- an artistic genre all their own -- blanket Indian cities. There are a few film stars that are probably among the world's most recognizable faces. 

A few movie posters (far from the best) in Chennai

You see so many things that contradict one another. Ridiculous wealth. Grinding poverty. Soaring, sleek skyscrapers. Crumbling, fetid slums. Remarkable efficiency. Mind-numbing bureaucracy. Yet it's all the same. Every nation has its complexities, contrasts, and ironies. China is another colossus of complexity. But India, if nothing more than in the scope and scale of its smack-you-in-the-face diversity, is in a league of its own.