Adventures

We left Ghana early in the morning and flew Air Burkina- who knew there was an Air Burkina? When we landed, Olivier informed me the plane was built in 1987. I also learned the capitol of Burkina Faso is Ougadogoo. (it’s fun to say)

 

We ran into our first airport dilemma at customs. They took Keith and his equipment into a room for a very long time. There was paperwork and translation issues. We lost one piece of luggage- a tripod.

Once we cleared (miraculously without paying any “fees”) we met Bob Yule, my DC neighbor and EGPAF communications guy. It is his first trip to Cote D’Ivoire- only Kenny has been here before… so we were all going to see it with Fresh eyes. Bob is a delight- charming and warm. He has worked so hard for us and we wanted to make the story work. Gilberte, our in country contact and a complete rockstar met us too. She had been up all night. Everyone was invested in Kevin.

Bob Yule of The Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric Aids Foundation in Cote D'Ivoire

We also met our security in Cote D’Ivoire. Marcel is like the Ivoirian version of the hulk. Serious, solid as a rock, and carrying a man purse that had a gun in it. He had a driver and another police officer with him in a van for our gear. The “van” actually looks like an ice cream truck. Please picture this…. An ice cream truck with three of the biggest baddest men in Cote D’Ivoire sitting in a row in the front seat. I watched them from the back of our jeep- their mean heads bobbing together as we rumbled down the roads. I love them. We needed them….

I was like a bat out of hell in Abidjan. I had no money and couldn’t get access to any cash. Note: Cote D’Ivoire does not take credit cards nor travelers checks. They don’t want your American Dollars either. It was raining, dreary, and we didn’t know how Kevin and his Fiance were doing. And I was looking for a freaking bank.

I went to four banks looking for cash. I was mad. I sent scathing emails to Dan and Meagan (sorry about that). We didn’t know if Kevin was okay. We didn’t know if his Fiance was okay. We didn’t know what to do.

We went to EGPAF headquarters where we met Joseph, the country director. We decided to have a conference call with the nuns to decide whether to go to Dimbokro and see Kevin. Everyone was heartbroken in the office. We met Dr. Diby here as well- the man who first told Kevin’s story.

The conference call was conducted completely in French. Gilberte translated for us, but I didn’t need a translator. Watching Joseph express his grief transcended language. I tried to hold it together- but I couldn’t. Everyone was invested in Kevin. Everyone loves Kevin. Everyone was hurting for Kevin.

Life has a different price in Africa. I’ve said this many times. But this team was invested in Kevin’s life. He and his father are their story. He’ and his father are the heart and soul and the reason why they do their jobs. Kevin’s babies were their babies. They had done everything they possibly could . They said access to an incubator may have saved the second baby’s life.

Sister Pauline, the nun that runs the clinic where Kevin works, said Kevin wanted us to come. She told us Kevin knew we had come a long way to tell his story and he wanted to continue on. Kevin was certain we should do the story. We didn’t know what was going to happen.

Our Nun

The drive to Dimbokro was arduous. It was pouring. We stopped at a gas station and saw a mob beat a boy almost to death (maybe to death- we didn’t stick around to find out). Apparently he had stolen something.

There were checkpoints all along the road. Lots of guns. But- we had an ice cream truck full of cops at the back of our little convoy. I then learned that Marcel is the most popular cop in town. Once the guys saw Marcel with us, we were ushered straight through. No bribes. No guns. No worries.

I should mention here that each driver has had a soundtrack for us . In Ethiopia, Misgana had music from Mali. Here in Cote D’Ivoire, our driver had a tape- reggae. However the reggae music had a guy talking over it in French. The host was translating the English to French so the Ivoirians could understand the words to the song. It was interesting.

Half way through our drive, the rain stopped. The “highway” was a two lane road- potholes, trucks, and people everywhere. Reggae playing, we trucked along and the drive became very meditative. Cote D’Ivoire is tropical- green- lush- enormous ant hills- trees canopying over the road- small enclaves of people selling wood, rats, lizards, tissues, and yams.

Our first stop in Dimbokro was the clinic. We had decided to gather there and speak to the nuns without cameras. We needed an update. We needed to figure out if we should continue. It was getting dark when we arrived.

Kevin was there to greet us. His father was there to greet us. We didn’t expect this.

Kevin and his father are both incredibly handsome and distinguished. Kevin’s smile is contagious. He was smiling- happy to see us.

We didn’t expect this.

First things first, we had to sit for the traditional tribal greeting. The brought out chairs and cokes and lemonade and we sat in a circle in the middle of the clinic courtyard. In the tribal tradition, we were to first ask the news of the village. Then they would ask us the news of our travels. The translation was difficult, but we managed on. It got dark and the mosquitoes came out as Kevin and his father told us they wanted to tell their story. They were honored we had come such a long way to meet them. They would carry on to share their story. We were going to go on as planned. Kevin’s fiancé was still in the hospital, but was improving. The babies had been buried quickly. We were moving on.

Gilberte told me that evening that in Ivoirian culture, you do not cry when your first born dies. You do not have a proper funeral when your first born dies. She didn’t know why.

We left the clinic- moving on- and we checked into our hotel, “Le Petrollier” or “The Oil Tanker”. The best hotel in all of Dimbokro- $50 bucks a night. How do I describe it?? sh++hole. Surprised?

We ordered dinner to be delivered to the hotel for us from the other hotel in town- owned by the same man. Chicken and rice.

We went to the bar and had drinks. It had been a long day. It was hot. We were drenched. Our drinks were good. I put ice in mine.

The same woman was our check in lady, waitress, room service, bartender, and breakfast server. I felt awful for her. She was confused by the whirlwind of a big group. I don’t think the Oil Tanker hotel sells out very often.

Chicken and rice. I tasted the chicken and only ate the rice.

Kenny and I realized that we had been on the same shoot- just different legs of it in 2006. The world is small. Kenny tells the most magnificent stories. He’s been everywhere, seen everything, and has a fantastic sense of humor about it all. His latest story (after telling us his first hand experiences- Tienamen square, Bosnia, Iraq and Afghanistan) was about how he was held hostage in a hotel by a drunk crazy man in 1975. I love him.

By now, Olivier is quite comfortable with all of us- ie we are teasing each other constantly. It keeps the mood light. Olivier is quite magic- a little jaded (or a lot, depending how many drinks he’s had) and very very funny. We are so lucky to find this French Canadian African photographer. He’s the perfect fourth person. I pray this is the first of many times we are a team. It works. It really works.

Olivier and I realized we’ve met before. He yelled at me in a market in Ghana during the Bono trip in 2006. He was with AP and the team had switched the schedule. They had no access to Bono and were completely outraged. I remember Olivier now- he had sunglasses on that day. The world is small.

In the morning, we went to the clinic. Kevin came to work and we proceeded to film. We followed him as he tested 4 people for HIV and gave them counseling. 3 were negative. The fourth was positive- she was 6 months pregnant. It rained very hard.

The nuns made lunch. Chicken and rice.

We shot b-roll of Kevin sitting with his adopted nun mom’s – Sister Pauline and Sister Felicity. They were laughing their heads off at something Sister Felicity was saying. Olivier looked over at me with a rather horrified look on his face. She was telling dirty jokes.

I love these nuns.

We returned to the Hotel for dinner. Chicken and Rice.

I learned a new term- bicycle chicken. It’s when a chicken is so lean there is no meat- just skin. I ate rice. And bread. And a jack and coke. Keith brought down his ipod and Bob was searching for good music . He found Keith’s favorite itunes mix- freak mix 1. Secret Lover was the first song on the track, Tenderoni by Bobby Brown was the second.

Keith didn’t let us get past there.

In the morning we headed to the Kevin’s father’s village. It’s the most remote I’ve ever been, I think. No electricity- no running water- the road to the village is muddy this time of year and we trekked our jeeps through the tropical grasses to get to it. The ice cream truck filled with cops made it too.

The chief was there to greet us in his traditional garb. I will tell you now, he had three or four clothing changes during our time there. It was 100000 degrees.

There were chairs in a circle for another traditional tribal greeting. I sat next to Bob Yule and Kenny, Keith and Olivier sat on the other side of the circle. This was going to be good- and we knew it.

First things first, they asked us the news and we asked them the news. We had that part down. Then……. They brought out the goat. It was a present for us. They didn’t slaughter it in front of us, but I’ll get to that later. The chief’s assistant then brought out a boiling pot of something. We learned it was fermented palm juice. Keith looked horrified.

Kenny was filming. They passed around a wooden cup of this concoction. We poured out a bit on the ground for the ancestors- oh yes we did. It actually tasted pretty good. I went first among our group- you are supposed to chug the entire thing and I tried with all my might. Sister Felicity had 4 or 5 cupfuls and she finished mine as well. Olivier warned us that it’s okay to drink one, but if we want to be functional- stop there.

Tribal Ceremony

Palm Wine at the Tribal Ceremony

They made 14 litres of the fermented palm juice for us. Whatever we didn’t drink, the chief’s assistant was responsible to finish. He had to be hammered by mid afternoon.

The interview with Kevin’s father was incredible. Keith stopped me at 3 tapes. He wept as he told us about carrying his son for several kilometers to the main road and then begging the truckers to pick them up to take them to the hospital. This strong man- the chief of several villages- the epitomy of masculinity- shared the most intimate details of taking care of his son. He went to every doctor appointment- every support group meeting. He never left his son’s side.

I have never seen so many goats, chickens, and pigs in my life. It’s a sound man’s nightmare. At one point a sheep was bleating so loudly in the background of our interview that Bob Yule ran off to scare them away. Yes, we have it on tape. His new name is The Goat Whisperer.

We could have filmed all day but they insisted we stop for a lunch break. Again, tribal protocol. The goat had been slaughtered and it was time to eat! Goat and rice.

It actually tasted pretty good, until Olivier pointed out the hair. There was still hair on the meat and we had no knives to cut it off. I realized I had a piece of hair in my teeth and it was over for me. The delicious gravy was made from the goat’s stomach. I ate rice.

We followed Kevin and his dad to their farm. They told us they come there to dream about the future. Kevin looks forward to the day he has HIV negative children and told us that god has different plans for him right now. The ice cream truck full of cops got stuck in the mud at the farm.

We needed to hightail it back to Abidjan before dark. The roads are treacherous at night and there are bandits and carjackers. But, Dan Meagan, and the production team- don’t worry. The tapes we shot were in the ice cream truck with the cops. No one was getting the most precious cargo.

We took Kevin home and met Beatrice. She had been released from the hospital and was sitting on the floor of their home, sick, tired, sad. She had an opportunistic infection and she didn’t look good at all. It wasn’t appropriate to film. Dr. Diby was very worried about her- I offered all of the antibiotics my doctor prescribed for me “just in case”. There is no need for me to come home with them. Pills grow on trees in America.

On the way back to Abidjan we were so excited- after 10 meals of chicken and rice, we couldn’t wait to get to the Novotel and have a proper hotel dinner. Anything but chicken and rice.

New saying= Abidjan = Sofitel not Novotel.

We showered and couldn’t wait to get to dinner. We had the choice of a buffet or the menu. I almost gagged when I saw chicken and rice on the buffet, so I ordered pasta. I think no matter what choice we made, it was all bad. Really bad.

So- it was off to the bar. They have fernet branca. Kenny still it “malaria” and told me it was his last fernet branca ever. It was at least a double. Not only do I now have a “Hi Alexander” around the world video… I am creating a “fernet branca” around the world video- filming the reaction of everyone that drinks the first shot of fernet. Children may read this, so I can’t tell you what Bob Yule said after he had his first sip. You’ll have to watch the video.

Keith had gone off to skype his wife. We decided he had to go spend an hour lighting the room before skyping her. A few Keno lights and a chimera at least!!!!

I think the fernet gave me malaria.

We are nearing the end of the trip. Tomorrow we are wheels up at 8:30 pm and I will be home Tuesday in time for dinner. I don’t know when all of these experiences are going to hit me and I don’t know if they’ll hit me all at once or gradually over time when I see something that triggers a memory. I am going to miss this new family we created over 17 days across a continent, but I can’t wait to get home to my own family. It’s father’s day and I wish I was there to have pancakes with my boys. I can’t wait to hear about their father/son adventures and I hope they know how much I love them and how much more lucky I feel to have them and hold them everyday. I do not have words for the gratitude I have for the people back home. See you soon. By the way- no chicken and rice for a while.