I like to think that my life operates on a need to know basis. Do I need to know? Do I really need to know. If I don’t really need to know, don’t tell me. Although I’m a SED volunteer, I don’t think that I really need to know about abstract macro-economics theory. This outlook simplifies things; and need to know sounds rather James Bond espionagesque. I like saying it: need to know basis.


I live on a hilltop. Possibly the highest hilltop in Po. On my bike-ride to my home, I can look down over other smaller hills. I think that I’m at the top, and I go up and down several times daily. One thing boggles me: it’s my Barbie-purple mountain bike with lots of gears. The final 50 feet to my home is straight uphill. I mean really up a steep hill. Ask anyone.

I’m not a biker. I don’t understand gears. Once I had a ten-speed bicycle, but I didn’t understand that either. All I ask for is a cute basket . . . maybe some tassles. But no. Here in Burkina Faso, the PC has equipped me with a mountain bike. It has gear-shift levers on each handle. That’s two sets of gears that are somehow associated with the bike chain. The left handle shifts into three different gears, and the right handle has eight different gears. Eight! I don’t know what these gears do, and I don’t think that I need to know. I’ve been told that if the left-handle gear is in first [is that the number one 1 or the number three 3? I presume it’s 1], then the right hand gear should not be in 8 . . . or maybe it’s 1 – I forget. I don’t know why this gear guideline exists. I don’t want to know why. Need to know basis.

Here’s what I do know: The higher the number on the right hand gear (7 or 8, for instance), the more difficult it is to pedal. As for the left-hand gear, the lower the number, the easier it is to pedal. I’ve never used the number 3 gear on the left hand. I’m a number 2 type of gal. In general, I ride around Po with number 2 gear on the left and number 6 or 7 on the right. After all, you want to be pedaling and accomplishing some forward motion, not merely spinning the pedals. I do know, too, that gears affect this physical aspect of cycling.

So I live on a hill, and yet, after that first 50 feet leaving my home, I have to pedal harder to get into town. Conversely, upon returning home, I can go flying up toward my home with almost no effort . . . until that last 50 feet. I’d like to see a topographical map of my hilltop. On the other hand . . . need to know basis. Would it really affect my daily rides?

I’m always thrilled when there are no cows, no burros, no herds of goats in my path, and I can put the right gear in 8, pedal with some effort, and fly right up to that last 50 feet, whereupon I quickly downshift (is that the word?) all the way from 8 to 2-3 and climb the hill. This gear-shifting strategy doesn’t work with livestock in the path. When faced with livestock there’s nothing to do but go steadily, which makes it very difficult to climb that hill. When slowed by livestock, I’ve actually been known to use gear 1 on the left side and gear 2 on the right . . . and still not make it to the top of my hill. I’ve been told that grown men, strong grown men have difficulty getting to the top without stopping.

How can it be that I’m on a Po peak and there’s an uphill run into town? It’s a mysterious topographical-thing, right? Today, with a little jar of mayonnaise I made the uphill run without stopping. We Texans? We’re genetically equipped to know that all mayonnaise must be refrigerated at all times. We’re born knowing this as surely as we’re born knowing how to breathe. Now I’m told that mayonnaise really doesn’t need to be refrigerated here in Burkina Faso. How can that be? What’s in this Burkina mayonnaise that eliminates the need for refrigeration? Need to know basis, right? We can only speculate.