Lost in Translation

The story starts like so many of mine do: out for the day visiting a family.

They lived in Ouaga but not a district that is easy to reach. Our taxi took us only so far and then some men met us at the side of the road and we walked the rest of the way. Once we arrived Adiara left me sitting in the family’s small two room house while she went to go buy rice and millet. I was familiar with this method of working: she often left me places (bringing a nasara shopping severely hampered her ability to barter). Today I sat on a small sofa and noted beauty in the simplicity of the home. The family had almost nothing (not even soap to wash their clothes), but they’d taken time to write bible verses on their walls in chalk. This home was beautiful.

I’d been instructed to rest and stay out of the heat but, after a few minutes of doing so I recognized I wasn’t prepared to wait inside until Adiara returned. I wandered out into the family’s courtyard and found mother and daughter stripping leaves for tô sauce. Although they were shocked when I asked if I could help them we soon found a working stride.

The daughter was quiet but mother was bubbly and talkative. If I’d worried at all that we would find topics for conversation I needn’t have. She told me about her life in Yako before she came to Ouaga and of her children’s schooling. As I grew to know more about her story my heart began to break. She didn’t tell me the illness that was threatening her life and made it impossible for her to provide for her children but I knew. Her strength was evident in her choice of words, in her demeanor and in her smile.

The conversation wasn’t all intense: she had some really interesting things to tell me about Burkina in general.

She asked at one point: “Do you know Black Man?” The words ‘Black Man’ were in English although briefly I’d wondered if she’d been speaking Doula. I should have understood these english words but they came out jumbled and sounding foreign. I recognized she may have been saying something else and I was misunderstanding.

“Pardon?” I said. “Do I know a black man?” I had no idea where this conversation was going as the answer seemed a little obvious. I’d responded in French hoping to avoid further misunderstanding.

“No” She laughed. “Black So Man. Do you know him?” I wondered if her english was simply a little rusty and tried to run through a list of her possible questions in my head. Her daughter laughed at me quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m confused.” I admitted. I grabbed a few more leaves and continued stripping them. She stopped working and looked at me.

“Black.” she said. “Isn’t that english for noire?”

“Yes,” I said. “It is.” I stopped stripping leaves too.

“That’s his first name.”

“Black” I said. I was sure I knew nobody in Yako with the first name of Black. I told her so and she looked confused.

“l’homme noire.” She stated. “And So. What does so mean?”

“Yes- ’homme noire.” I said. “And sew? It means coudre. Does that make sense?”
It didn’t. I’d translated the wrong word. Our conversation continued like this for a while: speaking in French but, throwing in English words where they were needed. She was patient, I was confused and the daughter seemed disinterested. We had no trouble understanding the others french but we were not communicating.

Eventually she explained: “Black So Man is a singer.” The context of this conversation finally made sense.

She went on to tell me about Black So Man. He was Burkinabé, although he spent some time in Côte (and really, who hasn’t?). He released a very popular album titled ‘Tout le Monde et Personne’ (Everybody and Nobody). Several years ago he was killed in a car crash. According to this woman it is the Burkina version of Princess Diana: how did the car crash happen and who caused it? His wife who survived the crash has tried to dismiss the rumors and convey that it was simply an accident but people continue to speculate. The story was intriguing.

Last July I remembered this meeting and decided to find this man’s music. A german wikipedia page and a few itunes searches later and I’d discovered my favorite album of the year.

Here is 'Adji' one of my favourites from Tout le Monde et Personne. Listening to it reminds me of bus trips across Burkina.