Christmas came early in 2011 and brought me a van to deliver me and the Canadians to the closing ceremony of the Fete des Jardins. So I didn't have to bike over 70 km. It was an amazing day, and I believe that the photos speak for themselves . . . though I suppose some narrative is required. Voila! The winner of the 2011 competition. Now it's hot today, but a velvet cap is fine, even in this climate, as long as it's not worn after Easter. So the guy in the lower left corner appears happy, wouldn't you say?

So here are some of the products from the winning gardens. The display was like a little State Fair display, under tents, with each garden having its own number showing the ranking. Everything but the blue ribbon.

Lots of children at the party. Children don't fully comprehend the beauty of the 200mm lens. And I don't know the Kassim words for back-up . . . more . . . a little more. But I did get some nice close-up shots of the beautiful Burkinabe children. Oh sure, they look lovely and well-behaved in front of the camera; but you should experience the stampede brought-on by a box of Tic-Tacs.

Here's our other drummer. Now come on, admit it . . . that expression is priceless. Think this guy enjoys his work? Wouldn't mind finding one of these drums for the current redecorating occurring at chez moi. And as I think of it, actually, I believe that I prefer his hat . . . like the blue band.

Where have these babies been for the past six months!? Still haven't seem them at my marche, but perhaps some of these European eggplant will find their way to my hut before they're all gone to Ouaga for better prices. We do get African eggplant from time to time, but they're just too bitter.

I just love the face on this gentleman. What a warm smile. Of course, I did a lot of meet-and-greet in Kassim. Sought-out every Chef de Village that I could spot. And it didn't take long. One Chef would call out to another: Hey, Nassara is speaking Kassim and she's asked me about my family and my fields . . . come check-out her sad accent. Or at least I believe that's what they all said to each other.
Our drummer, again, looking rather pensive. Gots to get me one of those hats. What do you suppose happened to his nose? Chinatown-Roman-Polanski moment? The back-story on this photo is my risk of life-n-limb climbing atop a rickety board, onto which the kids decided to climb, too, and commence jumping.

When it comes to images of the women, I don't know what impresses me most: their smiles and laughter, which accompany a sometimes riske sense of humor . . . or their colorful attire . . . or the magical way that they can tie those scarves. I've not mastered their head-wrap technique, despite my kokoi lessons in the Kalahari.
I hate tomatoes, but these are gorgeous, non? So much so that I see the handwriting on the wall: I'm going to buy tomatoes (yuk) and attempt to make and freeze tomato sauces . . . maybe a Burkinabe version of Ro-Tel with a smidge of piment and onions. Gotta click on this and see the enlarged version.


OK. Here I truly am speechless, all evidence to the contrary. I think that face says it all.
We're nearing the end of the ton-ton entertainment here . . . but not the end of the  dancing and singing. So, in addition to the hat, that skirt's not bad either, right? Income generating activity [IGA]for a tailor maybe? Making me a hat and skirt? So the fete began with the usual speeches, award, presentations by the VIPs, and concluded with the dancing. We left for lunch soon thereafter, but I suspect that the folks who had come in from the surrounding villages in the Province du Nahouri are probably still dancing. I'll save photos of my pals for another time. Today I was so very proud to be even a small part of GaMoWigna and Po.

Again with the colorful female headgear. I prefer the pagne-look when it's all scrunched up as headwear. Yes, Rusty, Maggie & A.Kaye . . . I know that I need to work on my depth of field. For your amusement and consideration, I should mention one thing -- since I thought that I'd be biking to the fete, I dressed accordingly. Typical American . . . always over-dressed or under-dressed for the wrong occasions. At least I was brightly colored in my fish swimsuit cover up. No, I'm not joking. You know the one.

This little boy didn't get to attend the fete . . . probably didn't even know about it. I met him while the Canadian group was touring the Royal Palace (known to me as the painted houses) at Tiebele. Been there, done that . . . so I sat with kids and handed out bon-bons. OK, OK, I also did some bargaining for a few household items.

Well there's a glimpse into my day. Do I look as happy as I feel? I'm speaking Kassim and French . . . and learning to understand Canadian French, which is totally different that France-French and Burkina-French. What else is in store while the Canadians are visiting? Got a trip to Nazinga planned this week; and I may join them for my second trip up the Pic du Nahouri. Golly, it's nice to have my camera with me here in Burkina Faso. Will I ever be a photographer? What would A. Kaye say? We can only speculate.