Just Can't

It must have been the motorcycle.  My back, my ribs, my throbbing head; they said “REST!” and wouldn’t let me leave the side of fatigue for four days. 

                Praise our God who knew exactly what he was doing in delaying the trip we were planning for those four days. 

                Last Tuesday we wanted to take our trip to the capitol city, Ouagadougou, to complete some business.  We packed everything and hurried to the bus station.  Rakieta buses couldn’t take the size of motorcycle we had.  Rahimo didn’t have space until Sunday. 

                We sat at the Rahimo bus station for a long time, deciding what to do.  A helpful bus-hand said they could fit the motorcycle right then and take the two of us on a different bus at either 11:00 p.m. or 7:00 a.m.   Adama kept asking me what I wanted to do.  Being the impatient me, I was thinking ‘let’s please just go now…I really don’t want to ride all the uncomfortable way home on a loaded motorcycle again.’  But I did have an idea that it would be wiser to let him decide since I didn’t have any idea what the trip might be like.  He chose to wait until Sunday. 

                We went home, stopping many places to buy groceries along the way. 

 The beef market, where three sellers vied vehemently for our business, and the fourth actually got it.

Fruit vendors along the street.  Some avocados can be found about 6 huge fruits for $1.50.

                My stomach, head, etc. fell ill the next day.  They wanted to take me to the hospital.  The last thing I wanted to do was bounce on a motorcycle again. 

                I learned that I should be careful how I express pain if I don’t want the whole neighborhood coming to urge me to go to the hospital.  Nobody would want me to die.  They would even prefer a Burkinabè to die, because if this American happened to pass out of this world while in Burkina Faso, it would ruin the name of the country - even the whole continent - for all of you, dear readers and friends.  If I died, any of you cultivating a desire to come visit this beautiful land would likely never come. 

                In the same way that I am the only faint connection you have with West Africa, here I represent all of America to them.  Adama notes how important is my every word and action, and that I don’t realize each response being observed.  Wow, the weight of a nation, or even a whole race.  Too bad I have to be tired sometimes, and can’t always be Madam strong woman. 

Folks, as I learned again while waiting out the rain in the bus stop, you just can't have everything when you want it, how you want it.  Even in America, we're just kidding ourselves.   And guess what; it always turns out better than what I could have made it my way!  Just let it go...

                Well, as always, all is in the hands of our Almighty God!