in Ouagadougou, the maquis are resisting

It is 5 p.m., the beer is flowing and bursts of laughter echo in a “six-meter”, a dirt alley in Ouagadougou. Every evening at the time of the “descent” (leaving the offices), Moussa Sidibé and his friends meet at Serge’s, an old friend who opened a bar in front of his house after losing his job ten years ago. . A few plastic chairs, a small corrugated tin roof, refreshments. In the Burkinabe capital, this is enough to open its “maquis”, the name of these open-air bars. There are more than 3,000, twenty times more than pharmacies. And despite the crisis and inflation, they are always full.

The competition is such that the establishments compete with superlatives to praise their specialty: the drink “the freshest”, the “best bicycle chicken”a menu that offers lion or “grilled warthog”. “A good beer, a piece of meat, it relieves the head”recommends Fulgence Tiendrebeogo, known as “Fili”, the manager of a maquis specializing in horse steaks since 1974. ” resist “, he believes, while the jihadists set fire to the liquor stores in certain regions of the country.

There are the refreshments planted at the edge of the road and the poorly lit gardens, more discreet to find your lover

In terms of location, the tenants are not lacking in imagination either. There are the refreshments planted at the edge of the road, ideal for contemplating the ballet of traffic, the “ambienced” maquis spitting zouglou music, poorly lit gardens, more discreet to find his “second office”, that is to say his lover… You can also find them in ministries, car washes and in front of the airport, where it is not uncommon for drinkers to miss their plane.

An urban palaver tree

A place of solidarity and debate, the maquis act as an urban palaver tree. People come there to talk about business, neighborhood problems, listen to the advice of an elder or simply chat “about everything and nothing”, even if the multiplication of terrorist attacks is increasingly weighing down discussions. The brands are also echoing this news: the “Consolatrice”, the “Containment” or even the “Macron maquis”, so nicknamed since the surprise visit of the French president, who had insisted on drinking a beer there on the sidelines of his trip to Burkina Faso in 2017, to the great displeasure of his bodyguards…

At Serge, at Adjoba, customers do not leave their phones, on the lookout for alerts on social networks. We follow with concern the blockades of the jihadists around the cities and the multiplication of the displaced. “Each brings their piece to the puzzle to enable us to understand together”indicates Moussa Sidibé, alias “Bala”, construction entrepreneur. That evening, the tone rises. Some criticize the putschists in power, others France, we regret the rise in hate speech. “Calls for violence on the messaging systems, suspicious looks in the street… We never thought we would see this”Saddened Balla.

But here, we are among friends, high school friends, colleagues or regular customers… Tolerance is the rule. Whether you are an elected Muslim, a Catholic soldier, a well-to-do civil servant or a broke mechanic, everyone sits at the same table. A mixture of genres increasingly rare in the Sahel, but which does not prevent the spades and invectives from flowing.

“You my slave, you rice eater! », laughs Balla at his neighbor Gourmantché, an ethnic group from the east of the country. Mocking or insulting each other between “joking allies” is an old tradition that serves as a catharsis and maintains a certain social cohesion. “With more than 60 ethnic groups in the country, we would have already gotten into it without that! »believes Daniel behind his glass of whiskey and roasted peanuts bought from a street vendor.

Escaping from the family home

In Burkina Faso, the maquis is a veritable institution, a link between the circles of the family, the neighborhood and public life. “Some say they come from the settlers or the diaspora in Côte d’Ivoire, but it is above all an extension of the traditional cabarets where traditional beer is consumed in the villages”, points out the sociologist Issa Niamba. It is also a ” refuge “, consider those married men who seek to escape from the home. “Going into the maquis means leaving home to join the comrades without your wife knowing when you’ll be back”summarizes a regular, hilarious.

In full peak of Covid, the authorities had to reopen the maquis less than two months after their closure

Because in the maquis, we also share their sorrows, their anxieties. Not to “stay home alone”, we breathe. In Burkina, where home is often synonymous with constraints and family obligations, outdoor life plays a central role. Hardly had the heat fallen, the Ouagalais stormed the terraces to savor the evening breeze. “Staying locked up at home is perceived for many men as a prison”, says Issa Niamba. So much so that at the height of the Covid-19 crisis, the authorities had to resign themselves to reopening the maquis, less than two months after their closure. Anyway, at the Adjoba, the regulars were already braving the curfew to come and drink in secret in Serge’s courtyard. Even police officers on patrol, do we have fun.

Night falls at the Boulougou Bar, one of the oldest in the capital, opened shortly before the independence of the former Upper Volta. Every weekend, the “elders” put on their costumes or their festive boubou to let off steam to Congolese rumba and the Mandingo rhythms of their youth, played by an orchestra. On the track, the couples try to forget the heavy news. “We must continue to live, otherwise we bury ourselves”lets go of a dancer, his forehead dripping.