I think children know best. They know that the sun shouldn't reach for the moon. It's wrong . . . upsets the order of the universe. Wednesday night's total eclipse of the moon was visible here in Pô and was historic in that it was one of the darkest eclipses in about a hundred years. And though lunar eclipses aren't rare, it will be another 47 years before anyone sees anything quite like this. Although the moon was full and had risen just above the horizon, it was difficult to see because it was so dark and dim. Truly. The children had to point out the moon to me. So don't imagine a bright full moon with the earth's shadow crossing. Imagine a dark, dull, blood red sliver. Most bizarre thing I've ever seen in the heavens.

Thirty children were outside the courtyard beating drums, banging on pieces of tin, plates, just about anything, chanting: Laisser la lune . . . or in Kassem, we ahmay djohnny tchahna. Release the moon! It was enchanting and also spectacular. I'm no astronomer, but I Google a lot. Evidently the exceptionally long-lasting eclipse and the blood red color of the moon was caused by just the right circumstances, something the children of Pô didn't care about one bit. They simply enjoyed the excuse to play outdoors, down in the valley, running in huge circles through the quartier, and banging their drums. During such a long, bizarre eclipse, there was lots of banging to do . . . because it took hours for that moon to be released by the sun. Hours! Leon came outside about 22h30 and asked if I was enjoying the show. He explained the tradition of children banging so that the sun would stop reaching for the moon. Release the moon! Fascinating, in so many ways.

The morning after the late-night eclipse, I arose early to catch the first bus into the capital. Had some supply shopping to do. Off we went on the little Rakieta bus, on a deliciously cool morning with overcast skies. Now as PC volunteers, for reasons of safety, we're urged to sit near the back of public transportation (in the event of a head-on collision) and not near the windows (in case of shootings). Right. Like I'm going to give-up a prime spot near an open window. Anyway, about 15 klicks north of Pô something wet began hitting the windshield. Rain? No. Radiator fluid. The bus pulled over and stopped. Everyone poured off the bus . . . the women to sit in the brush beside the road, or under trees . . . the men to stand by the radiator and discuss the problem. An hour later, everyone was still sitting and/or pondering what to do.

I don't believe that I'd ever considered how few vehicles pass-by on the road from Pô to Ouagadougou. Not that many. And those vehicles that passed yesterday were hailed to determine their willingness to takes a few passengers to Ouaga. Silly me. I simply kept thinking that eventually Rakieta would send a repairman, or a new bus, or a vehicle to take us back to Pô. Uh-uh. Finally, with only about 8 passengers remaining by the roadside, a bush taxi came by and we all climbed aboard.

This was my first experience with a bush taxi. I've heard horror stories. In fact, it was fine, and somewhat fun. I begged to sit on top, with the bikes, the goats, the luggage. Uh-uh. Can't have little nasarra-lady blowing away. This I didn't understand, though I'm certain that my safety & security officer would applaud their refusal.

So a bush taxi is essentially a mini-van. A very old, beat-up mini-van that was intended to hold about 13-15 passengers. Ours had 32, including children. And it arrived in Ouaga at some location previously unknown to me. I called Seydou, my driver. Told him I was in Ouaga but had no idea where I was. Had to pass the mobile to someone to tell Seydou where I was. Great fun. Truly.

So what should have been less than a three-hour ride turned into almost five hours. The delay caused a serious impediment to my shopping time in Ouaga. Good news for my bank account. On the return last night, the bus was gone. Who do you suppose repaired the radiator? Will I ever get a refund for the money paid to Rakieta or should I stop reaching for the moon? And for what was I shopping in the capital? We can only speculate.