When you drive through Coco whether on a bus or in a comfortably air-conditioned vehicle, you immediately notice the contradictions. The city is neither a bustling metropolis nor a quaint village. Developments in technology seem to have lurched forward in some areas and remained far behind in others. This eclectic make-up disguises the rhythm of life from the outsider—rendering them lost in a cacophony—but the local residents seem to march to its beat instinctively. (But then again, people around here seem to be able to feel the beat way more than most people I know.)
The downtown area feels incredibly busy, and the stereotypes of laid-back Africans don’t seem to play out; that is, until you’ve been here for a bit, and you realize that the downtown area is just really full of a bunch of laid-back people. There are cars, trucks, buses, donkey-carts, motorcycles, and a hundred pedestrians all surging forward in one chaotic flow on the downtown streets. The city sits on a main road that goes through to another main city and then either down to Burkina Faso or to Cote D’Ivore. The bus ride I took from the capital city was all on paved roads. The main road forms one side of the city, and another “Y’s” off the main road just as you enter the city limits. Most of the city sits between these two paved roads (like the middle of a triangle). Though you can drive from one end of town to the other in about 10 or 15 minutes on the main roads (and that includes slowing way down in the market areas), the city expands out in thousands of dirt alleys that make the city much bigger than it feels. There are about 120,000 people in Coco (some estimates are closer to 100,000), and at moments you feel as if they are all on the main-drag with you. [Below: a picture of one of the million donkey carts that drives everywhere in the city. You can see how young the driver is...and how attentive.]
During the day the city is noisy with people, animals, trucks, horns, and the Muslim calls-to-prayer being blasted out from the local mosques. But at night it seems to quiet down to the quiet whispers of people having conversations in the street. Sun up is at 6am, and people get moving early. In the evening, about 6:30-7 it grows dark, and people retire to their customary sitting places (usually in front of their house in some fashion), drink tea and entertain visitors. Most people in West Africa speak French and Bambara/Jula. Bambara/Jula is actually more commonly spoken than French, and at very least people will greet one another in Bambara/Jula. The greeting is quite extensive, with questions being asked about the person’s health, their family, their work, and anyone that is accompanying them; and this is then reciprocated. In some cases, the greetings are closed with a blessing that is pronounced on the other person. I really only know how to tell people, “No problems,” and “God bless you.”
Pulling off the main drag down one of the countless back alleys, you find more of the eclectic feel. The alleys can be fairly narrow, or quite wide, and there seems to be no rhythm or rhyme to this. The road conditions can be smooth and nice, or full of trenches and bumps requiring careful navigation. The housing ranges from quite nice concrete houses that are more amenable to Westerners, or to the adobe houses. Every house, or group of houses, is surrounded by some type of wall. Many W. Africans live in a compound with their extended family, with several houses enclosed in one set of walls.
Inside the more modern houses, you have running water and electricity (though these are sometimes rationed [i.e. cut] without prior warning). You also have internet service available from the various cell phone companies in town. Almost everyone has a cell phone, and some of them are very nice even by American standards. Many people do not have access to other electronics, so they go for the cell phones with the MP3 players and cameras. Here again a contradiction: my internet access is so good that I can call you using Skype, but I have to filter my water in order to drink it.
On the city limits you find more barren areas. The ground is mostly dirt or sand, with an occasional shrub giving the landscape an arid feel. However, there are mango and citrus trees everywhere, and the wide array of fresh produce available in the market reveals the thriving gardens that can be planted. There are also huge trees called Baobob trees. Many of them grow so large that five men could hold hands around them. During other seasons, cotton is grown everywhere. The city of Coco is home to a huge cotton factor that employs many people. They call cotton, “white gold.” [Below: a road-side stand where people sell all sorts of things. Empty because it is a Sunday. Also, a look at the out-skirts of town, just to give you an idea of the topography.]
Lastly, the weather… Well, it is hot, very hot. And it is not exactly a “dry” heat either. We usually have 30-50% humidity. The temps have usually been nearing 110 every day. In the OR, we have two air-conditioners on full blast, which usually only succeeds in bring the temperature down to around 90 degrees…but it feels wonderful! However, we’ve had some rains lately, and in addition to cooling things off for a bit, they indicate the coming of the rainy season, which is still hot but a bit less intense.
Right now, I still feel a little lost in my surroundings, but I’m praying that this place will feel quite like home by the time I leave.
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