Bouaké - Painting - Bead making - Weaving - Korhogo

Breakfast here at Mon Afrik Hotel in Bouaké is a rather disappointing affair, especially after the lovely dinner last night. There is no bread or butter, so I choose a pancake with syrup, while David has a pineapple cake. Both are very dry.

The buffet

My pancake

David's pineapple cake

The restaurant

We are the only people here this morning

This morning we are heading further north, to the town of Korhogo, the fifth largest city in the country, and mostly inhabited by the Senufo people.

Just outside Bouaké we pass by a long, linear market at the side of the road, with colourful men and women selling colourful fruit, vegetables and other items. I am in photography heaven, practising my usual drive-by-shooting, snapping picture after picture on continuous shooting as we pass by, firing off over 200 photos in less than two minutes.

I'm glad we have a private vehicle rather than travelling on the public bus

While we stop for a while at a grocery store where Mathias buys some snacks and David stocks up on Cokes to go with the Duty Free rum, I spend my time being amused by the local police vehicle.

Is that a prisoner on board?

"He went that way! After him!"

We pass through the town of Korhogo and head for a small village some ten miles outside.

Korhogo

Love this kid's fashion style

Truck stop

On the way, Mathias points out a cashew tree, where the nuts are beginning to form, while the still-small fruit is not yet ripe (the fruit - above the nut - is usually much larger than the nut itself). Mathias explains it will be another month before they are ready.

This is what it looks like when ripe (photo from our trip to Brazil in 2022)

Fakaha Village

The village is known throughout the country and beyond for its Korhogo Cloth: traditional paintings on raw cotton depicting scenes from everyday life, symbolic creatures, and geometric shapes, all of which are rooted in Senufo culture and mythology.

We are introduced to one of the most well known painters, Soro, who explains the meanings behind the different motifs.

The wall hanging behind Soro on the left hand side (in the photo below), was commissioned especially for a funeral, the one on the right shows masks as used in the traditional dances of the Senufo people.

The cotton cloth is purchased from the market, but the coloured paints are all natural dyes and are made locally in the village.

Soro primarily uses three colours: brown, extracted by boiling the leaves of the Niginem tree.

The red comes from grinding dried sorghum stems and adding water.

The black colour is derived from the juice of rotting maize.

These paintings are not created in the usual western way with a brush, Soro uses an iron blade to create lines, then a wooden stick or a worn-out toothbrush to fill in larger areas of the motif.

The black paint is applied last, using a sponge, and for some reason does not soak into the bare cotton that has not been painted, only those areas that have already been painted brown.

And then it is our turn. We are given a small piece of cloth each tacked onto some wood, a metal blade and a toothbrush. It’s not as easy as Soro makes it look.

This is very different to the watercolour painting I have done in the past, and I find it very much harder (and less detailed, especially using a toothbrush, which I find splatters the paint to places I don’t want it).

Maybe wearing white trousers wasn't such a good idea today

David draws a fancy scene with a car, whereas I opt for a simple pattern.

I explain to Mathias that my pattern symbolises our love. The right hand side represents me and David, as we are imperfect; whereas the left hand side shows our love – perfect! ♥ Despite the fact that I quickly make up the narrative to match fact that I have messed up the colouring in of the squares, Mathias really likes this and makes me repeat it while he videos me on his phone.

Drying out in the sun before we can take our finished masterpieces away

The women in the village sit around spinning cotton.

Senufo Tribe

Most people in this area belong to the Senufo – a large tribe with several subgroups. Mathias explains that these people have a strong belief in a traditional ‘school of life’ known as Poro, which has been around from before the Europeans introduced the more standard education. All children are required by law to attend mainstream school from age six to sixteen, although it is thought that some remote and more traditional villages do not strictly adhere to this.

The Poro training starts at age seven, and consists of three stages, each lasting seven years, and is only for boys. A boy is not considered a ‘proper man’ until he has completed all the three stages and become ‘initiated’, by which time he will have learnt everything there is to know about tribal life, how to protect the community, and arrange funerals, wedding and naming ceremonies. The training takes place in a sacred forest, and no-one who is not initiated should see the boys go in or leave the forest. The Poro education runs alongside the elementary school as these are usually in the villages. Secondary schools, however, are mostly in bigger towns, so changes are made to the schedules, so that the boys can spend one or two months back in the villages for Poro, in addition to their school holidays.

While girls do not attend the Poro school, they receive a different training, also starting at a very young age. For the females, the emphasis is on learning how to take care of the home, how to treat their men and educate their children. Often, as soon as they start their period, the family choose a husband for them, always within the same tribe.

Cotton

Keen to photograph some of the cotton bales I saw earlier, I ask Mathias to be on the lookout. We spot some in the distance, somewhere off the road, and set off towards them. We soon find out that there is no road as such leading to the area where they are, more of a footpath. Solo engages four-wheel-drive and expertly negotiate the bumpy, uneven and rather adventurous track. Oh goody, a free African massage this morning.

Cotton is grown in large fields, and groups of pickers cover one area between them, gather the spoils in bales like this before they are collected by a tractor with a trailer and taken to a processing plant.

Nearby we see a lady at a well. We think the raised well is hiding an enclosed absolutions area.

On the way back we meet a motorcycle with a very wide load!

I love the crash helmet!

Road Block

Having already been stopped at a police road block earlier today, I don’t immediately think much of it when I see a rope strung out across the road.

This is different, though. We are on a dirt track off the beaten path, and more worryingly, the road block is not guarded by a policeman or soldier in uniform, but what looks like a scruffy old hobo. I find his demeanour somewhat intimidating, and feel a little apprehensive about his intentions. For fear of antagonising the 'tense' situation, I avoid pointing my camera directly at him, but take some covert snaps via the side mirror.

I needn’t have worried, apparently all he wants is a couple of bottles of water and he is all smiles and lowers the rope for us to drive through. Phew.

Lunch

After taking a phone call, Mathias announces there has been a change of plan for lunch. A local village chief has invited us to eat at his place, and we are being joined by the Minister of Tourism who wants to meet us.

Yègniguée Parc

Owned by the village chief, this place is being used to promote tourism in the area, and to teach the new generations to preserve nature, through statues of endangered species and a small animal park.

A long table is laid out for us under a covered pavilion. I spot an amazing carved wooden chair in the shape of an elephant, and ask if I may sit in that!

The village chief greets us, as does the Man from the Ministry. They all mill around, with a few other people, and talk amongst themselves. I wholly expected to be grilled by the tourism minister about our visit, our expectations before we came, did reality live up to it, how are the hotels, the food, the people, the sights…. But nothing. Beyond the pleasantries at the start, there is no interaction whatsoever. There are, however, a sea of mobile phones, all taking videos of us, some people with more than one phone. Our every movement is recorded for posterity.

Large plates of food are placed on the table: Jollof rice with a spicy sauce, capitain fish, lamb with a spicy soup, attiéké, grilled lamb, and fried yam.

We try a little of everything (the sauce to go with the fish is Spicy with a capital S), and notice that the local men in our group sure can eat: a mountain of attiéké on their plate, topped with meat and fish. Then back for seconds. I am impressed.

Apparently, when Mathias was told that we were invited as honoured guests by the chief, he asked if they could find me a hedgehog for lunch. They explained that the hedgehogs tend to be in hiding during the dry season, and very difficult to hunt down. They are mostly eaten during the wet season. That explains why we can not find it in any restaurant.

After lunch, the chief wants to show us his little mini zoo. First of all we see several cute little rabbits, sadly in very small cages.

The chief grabs one, a white rabbit that looks like it may be a albino, and holds it for us to stroke. Its fur is super soft.

Mathias explains that they are bred to eat, customers come here to pick one while still alive, kills it themselves, then either have it cooked here, or take it away to cook at home. I think he is winding me up at first. He is not.

While I have nothing against breeding rabbits for food, they are usually not the fluffy cute kind, and more importantly, although I have eaten rabbit several times, and even cooked it at home, I really don’t think I could kill it myself. At least not that cuddly bunny, shooting a rabbit on a farm would be a different matter.

We continue to see some of the other animals kept here, such as geese, a peacock, and a huge cow (or it could have been a bull, I didn't get close enough to find out as I am scared of cattle. Mathias admitted he is, too.) I ask if the geese and peacock are also kept for food, but apparently they are not.

From here, we are heading to the small village of Kapele along a straight easy dirt track. Unfortunately the road is closed as they are upgrading it, so there is a diversion. At first there are signs, later we have to stop and ask for directions.

Bead Making

We finally make it to the village and the local artisan who will show us how he makes his famous beads.

Taking a small blob of clay and putting a little shea oil on his hands, the artist quickly creates a completely spherical ball by rubbing his hands together.

A longish wooden stick gets pushed all the way through the centre of the bead and out the other end, which he uses for spinning it around.

All the colours are naturally made. We are shown how he makes a red colour by rubbing teak leaves in his hands.

Green is made in a similar fashion, using the leaves from a tree he calls kengelipa.

Kaolin produces the white colour he uses and the yellow comes from the local sand.

Kaolin

Local sand

To paint, he uses a tiny feather from a chicken.

I notice later he sticks the feather in his mouth to clean it.

The vertical lines are done freehand, whereas the circular lines are painted while he spins the bead on his foot.

The finished product

We’re given a clay ball on a stick each, and some pots of colour. Gulp. The most difficult part is to keep the ball spinning by turning the stick continuously in one direction with one hand. It’s a lot of fun, though, and although they won’t win any prices, I think we did pretty well for our first time!

We both have a lot of fun, that’s the main thing.

This is the first place where we have the touristy “exit through the shop”, a small open sided hut filled with beads such as necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and many other things. Not one to wear jewellery of any sort, nor do I buy gifts for friends when we travel, I settle on a small ring pull for the zip of my handbag.

Weaving Co-operative

From here we continue to the village of Waraniéné where a co-operative of around 300 weavers have set up shop.

The weaving is very similar to what we have seen before on this trip.

It is almost exclusively men who do the weaving, as women are deemed unsuitable because they won’t physically fit behind the loom when pregnant.

We are shown a typical ladies’ dress which is mostly one piece of cotton material, with woven strips sewn on and embroidered decorations added.

Mathias explains that they are much cheaper than the stripy garments below, as they require less work. The stripes are all woven.

This lady is joining several woven strips together using crocheting.

Each person has a different role to play in the production of these clothes.

Printemps Mont Korhogo Hotel

As with most of the hotels we’ve stayed in on this trip, Mont Korhogo is surrounded by a high wall, and has a security officer on the gate. After the guard asks to see inside the car, inside the boot, inside the glove compartment, and under the car, then after a cursory glance, walks away, we teach Mathias a new English expression: “Jobsworth”.

For my non-English readers:

The expression comes from the sentence "It's more than my job's worth to...."

To enter the hotel reception, all bags must go through an X-ray, and guests through an airport-style metal detector. Except me. A young porter takes me by the hand and leads me past the machines, even though I am carrying my handbag and a camera. He sits me down in some comfy seats in the reception while David goes with Mathias to check in.

Checking in seems to take forever, and it transpires that their system has gone down, so they are unable to complete the registration. They’ve taken copies of the passports and got all our details, so we are shown to our room, which is nearest the reception.

In the dossier we received from Undiscovered Destinations before we left home, this hotel is described as ‘basic’. Obviously their idea of ‘basic’ and our idea of ‘basic’ are two different things. We have a big bed, a couple of reasonably comfortable chairs, a coffee maker, and a fridge that doesn’t work. There is even a hair dryer in the bathroom, and the room is clean and smart, with an efficient AC. What more do you need?

David does down to the restaurant to get the menu, so that we can pre-order our dinner. I want lasagne, and David chooses boeuf Bourguignon, and goes back to the restaurant to place the order for 20:00. Ten minutes later there is a knock on the door: “No lasange. No boeuf Bourguignon.” They have chicken or fish. We both order Chicken Fillet Skewers with fries.

David comes out after his shower rather disappointed that the hair dryer is not working. Popping in to the bathroom and looking at it, I ask him: “This may be a stupid question, but did you plug it in?” Doh.

We make our way to the restaurant for 20:00 as agreed, and order a drink while we wait for the food. David looks at me quizzically and asks: “Is your top on inside out? I can’t see any buttons…” My turn for a “doh”.

The food finally arrives at 20:30, and it is worth waiting for. The chicken meat is of good quality (not always a given in Africa, they have some of the skinniest chickens on the planet!), and is not at all dry. The fries are splendid.

We should have ordered just one man dish between us, as I am full after one of the skewers and half the chips. David eats all his and then finishes mine – he then complains he’s overfull!

Making our way back to the room involves a short walk outside under cover, then through a set of automatic doors. Unfortunately they don’t seem to allow for disabled people being slower than normal, and the doors let me though, but traps David who is walking behind me, which gives us a lot of amusement (it doesn’t take much after a couple of beers).

Goodnight from Korhogo, and thank you to Undiscovered Destinations for arranging this incredible adventure to the Ivory Coast.