Tiebele is a small village near the Ghana border. After breakfast, which included presumably two presumably scrambled pale presumed eggs (what do they feed American chickens to make the yolks so orange?) we were joined by our Ouagadougou guide, Ibrahim. He shook my hand and when Dave came out he shook Dave's hand and as near as I can tell that was all he did for the rest of the day. He certainly had no interaction with either of us. On the way back from Tiebele he streamed Tuareg French continuously at Kone, getting very little reaction except every ten or fifteen kilometers Mohamed would say something and about half as often as that Kone would say something. When we got to the hotel, he disappeared without a goodbye. I don't understand French, of course, but from cognates and proper nouns and so forth I have decided in my own mind that it wasn't anything deep. A lot about phone cards about km 130. I assume he was there as a talisman or a payback or some other African welfare substitute which allows useless chattering relatives of powerful men not to starve to death while keeping them out of casinos and beds and the like. The substance of the day was that we drove to Tiebele and were lectured on a way of life which has probably been replaced by generic poverty, and drove back. The decorations were nowhere near as vivid as on the Internet, but the anthropology was much richer. I was steeling myself for a wildly painted village of wildly painted village souvenir salesmen. It was much more placid. It may be that they live there. There were about 8 guys vying to be the sub sub guide — "Bernard" won out. He says he's an animist even though Bernard is a Christian name. How does one "believe" in a multicultural country such as America or Burkina Faso? But I keep forgetting — belief never enters into it, only behavior. We toured a compound consisting of a few houses where an extended family lives. The room we entered smelled like the peanut butter which had just been freshly ground.