Flat Tire

The best story I have from over these last few months is when I got a flat tire between the middle of nowhere and some village not even on the map. I was riding my bike from my village to the next biggest one to meet a friend to go on and even more extreme ride. (I rode 87k in a day yes I am a Rock Star!!!) Anyway I got a flat tire and there is like nothing around: dirt road, and harvested dead cotton fields as far as the eye can see. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw a village big or small. Having done this bike ride many times before I was pretty sure there was a village coming up just a few k away. So I just start walking my bike thinking when someone does finally go by they will be able to maybe help me.

These Fulani kids come out of the brush and point behind me. Fulani are partly nomadic and walk around with the cows all over Africa. In my humble opinion are the coolest people on earth (at least that I have come in contact with). I refer to them as the puck rockers of Africa and am pretty sure that the original puck rockers stole their style from the Fulani. Back to the point, the Fulani live in tiny little villages. I kept telling the kids that there is nothing behind me and a village of some sorts ahead. I am speaking in French regardless of the fact that these kids don’t even speak the local language I kind of know much less French. The Fulani don’t really mix with the other local groups. The kids are persistent and keep pointing, not saying anything; fully realizing that no words can be passed between us and this is communication enough. As far as the silent pointing goes think naked Indian from Wayne’s World.

So I finally turn around and start walking my bike where they are pointing, they accompany me. and after a few minutes this guy comes out of the brush grabs my bike for me. We start walking into the forest on this tiny little dirt path. Before I know it this little village pops up; mud huts with straw roofs and all. The guy calls some people over and someone goes and gets a patch kit. A guy comes out of one of the super small structures they have for houses. He kind of spoke French. More people started to show up I did my best with the greetings in local language, the French speaker did the best he could with French. Another one of the guys kind of spoke English which was really surprising and only adds the mystery and magic of these people. He really only knew nouns it seemed like: bike, American, and tire. They fixed my bike. The guy who kind of spoke french asked me to give him the bike when I leave. I told him I couldn't because it’s not mine to give, but gave them a deck of cards instead which they happily accepted. I only wish I would have grabbed my American flag playing cards before I left the house rather then my plain deck.