Loving Burkina Faso

13/14/15/16/17 February 2011

Banfora

Ahh Banfora, where I pass a leisurely week. Staying at the very relaxed Baobab Campement (no power) in my own little hut to spread out in. Day trips to the gorgeous nearby Karfiguela waterfalls, walking the quiet roads, excellent pizza and beer dinners by the light of the moon – ahh the countryside is a wonderful tonic. I rent a pushbike one day then a mobylette another to get out and about to the Domes de Fabedougou – I reckon they’re a lot like the Australia’s Olgas. Another day out to Tengrela Lake, where there are family groups of hippos lazing about. You get a canoe out on the lake and I could have watched them all day – as it was my bloke was getting twitchy after a ½ hr. The hippos were wonderful - rising and up and down in the water, calling to each other and the occasional HUGE yawn. Folk here are very protective of the hippos – tourism livelihood depends on the hippos flourishing, and that seems to be the case here. It was a magical morning on that lake! And of course the canoe bloke was a rasta, and with that comes the obligatory flirting – including my flowery accessories hand made by him. Ahh they make an old girl laugh! Lol

FACT: The current president Compaoré is entering his 24th year in power as of 2011. He "has become immensely wealthy" and purchased a presidential plane to reflect his personal prestige, while landlocked Burkina Faso ranks as the third least developed country in the world and has one of the lowest GDP per capita figures in the world.

Sindou Peaks

12/13 February 2011

Sindou Peaks

Another TCV bus (I’m a convert) to Banfora, and on arriving decide that as I’m already packed I’ll keep on heading south down to Sindou for the night. This is the home of Sindou Peaks – a landscape unlike anything else Burkina has. Very ‘other wordly’, and all in quite a compact area. I get there in plenty of time to get a traditional hut to stay in, a guide and an energetic walk into the peaks to witness a gorgeous sunset. No animals save a few pigeons, but I fear they won’t be long for the pot! The encampment is part of local community tourism, and has a little shop with purple tie dye (1 for me and 1 for you Franya), jams (perfect for the boring baguette)  all manner of jewellery and music instruments all created locally and with proceeds going directly back in to the community. All very feel good, and of course I love supporting ventures like this. Meet a french couple staying for a few weeks here, who have brought the village a set of computers after fundraising and organising electricity a few years previously. I called them heroes and I reckon if you can manage power for a whole village, then that’s exactly what you are! Next morning brings a lovely sunrise amongst the ‘cones’ and then a local mini bus back north to Banfora.

FACT: Burkina Faso was known previously as the Republic of Upper Volta. Like Mali, it’s a landlocked country in west Africa, surrounded by six countries: Mali to the north, Niger to the east, Benin to the southeast, Togo and Ghana to the south, and Côte d'Ivoire to the southwest. Inhabitants are known as Burkinabes

Bobo Dilassou

10/11 February

Very poor children live here

Feel sorry for this captured owl

DInky baskets for your bill

Thursday is a day of leisure to rest my hand that was cramping after hanging on tight to the throttle and brake all day yesterday (only occasionally in panic)! Wander about town, lunch @ a local restaurant w/wifi, check out their very good mud Mosque and wander the Grand Marche. Not forgetting the obligatory nightclub for live music with cold beer. There are a few ‘famous’ nightclubs here in town – Les Bambous, Le Bois d’Ebone, Le Moonlight etc and as a dutiful tourist I feel I should at least have a look see (and a beer) to check out the great music on offer at each one during my time here. Just for comparison, of course. AS well there is a naming ceremony for a new baby happening across the road from the where I’m staying, and that goes all day & ALL night!! Much music dj’ing and continual dancing from the women, and of course they’re pretty stoked if a babou joins in, which of course I do, as I walk past during the day. I buy some fruit for the very poor kids next door – I reckon the youngest will be dead within the year – very listless, malnourished etc etc. But mum will go on bearing babies cause that’s just what you do here if you’re poor, hmm

Friday I try another venture on the roads touring the countryside via the now more reliable mobylette - I have lost count of the all the helpful blokes who have at one time or another tinkered with said conveyance! I ride out the 20km to visit Foret de Kou, a designated ‘forest’ that is a delight to wander its many kms of paths. Nearby is the Kou river, although they want 500cfa to swim in VERY shallow water, where locals are doing their washing – I give it a miss and head safely back to Bobo. Tonight there is good music at a local bar – if you buy a beer, you get a ‘ringside’ table. After a couple of hours of energetic drumming, dancing and general merriment another day passes easily here.

FACT: The death toll for kids under 5 in West Africa is estimated to be in the millions, and usually from preventable & curable causes, well drownings are notorious along with malnutrition. One in every six children in sub-Saharan Africa will die before his or her fifth birthday. This region is described by UNICEF as the most difficult place in the world for a child to survive

Off to Country number 5, Burkina Faso

7/8/9 February

Bobo-Dioulasso

How do they sell all this stuff?

Bobo's lovely mosque

Upon advice I’d booked the day before on the TCV bus – and it was a heavenly trip completed in less than 8 hours. Air con, clean, reliable – WOW . Even the frontier formalities were completed tout suite  (how good is my french now!!)  Now I’m in Bobo-Dilasso, a secondary city of Burkina Faso. With its sandy streets in the town centre and staying out of town a bit at Le Zion in a quiet neighbourhood, it’s a great few days rest up. I’m camping on the ‘terrace, comfy and snug in my little tent again. After a couple of days finding my way around town, and knocking back numerous guides, I enquire about renting a mobylette – think of a lawnmower engine with a seat and 2 wheels. Light and noisy they are ever so popular here. Le Zion has a couple to rent out, and I ask lots of questions about ways out to the places I want to visit. Staff are encouraging (or would that be disbelieving?) Wednesday sees me on a vividly decorated mobylette and immediately after buying the 8% essence the chain comes off. And of course this leaves me open to more advances of guide offers.. I get the chain on, get started again and get lost! All without leaving the neighbourhood I’m staying in! No one will tell me the way to Dafra ¸they'll only offer to accompany and guide me, which means I’ll end up paying double as well as paying Guide fees. I change plans, give up on Dafra (I mean who really wants to see fat chicken eating fish?)and start to head out to a small village, Koro . After negotiating Bobo’s version of the Geelong Freeway and quizzing lots of folk along the way I make it out there. I buy an ‘entrance’ ticket and and am immediately assailed by children who want to walk with me. Why didn’t I realise this really meant guiding me. But still here was a village set amongst huge boulders, with life going on as it had for hundreds of years,,, And as you climb higher amongst the boulders the view across the country side was amazing. Well worth the trip and the following tussle at the botttom of paying small children for walking along with me. Let alone a guardian fee for parking my bike under a tree!! Hmmm I set out back for Bobo, find my way accidently back to the city centre and lunch at eau d’vie – a restaurant run by a french order of nuns – heavenly. I had the best french onion soup and glace. Back out on the bike, I try heading out on one highway but after about 20Kms, I gather I’m on the wrong road. Back to the petrol station to fill up again, and try another road. This time I’m right and get to Koumi eventually. But it’s late afternoon now and most of the men there are tanked on millet beer – what else is there to do there? This village is renowned for its traditional 2 storey mud brick dwellings. I pay my entrance fee but knock back the camera fee and parking fees. Soon enough comes the tussle with locals about being guided. I reassure them that if they can produce an english speaking guide, then I will happily pay up. As they push a few blokes forward with ”he speaks english” the said bloke is pleading with me that “I don’t speak english” All a bit of farce really and soon enough after producing my ticket, I’m left alone to wander a very poor village with plenty of folk about, happy to say hello and chat.  Back to town, then on to Le Zion for a relaxed evening knowing that I managed to get out on my own, tackled the traffic etc and lived to tell the tale! Woo Hoo!!

Festival of the Niger

4/5/6/7 February

 Easy 4 hour bus trip to Segou and find a hotel with a terrace (read flat roof) for camping. Head off to the post office to try to post my parcel which turns into no mean feat, I can tell you. Firstly the woman at the desk inspects my box, which we both agree may be strong enough to post. I tape it together, pop the things in and another woman weighs it. All good so far and I’m directed into a back office where a kindly man quotes the cost after we establish that I want the parcel to go by sea mail  Still all good until he talks about the Douane – what the heck is the douane? He shows me another parcel with a form filled out and stamped. Ok, I can do that. I fill out the form listing everything (well nearly everything) that goes back into the box. Then we establish that the Douane is at the other end of town and they are the ones who do the stamping. Hmm an official office on a Friday afternoon may be hard to deal with – a lot of praying and visiting of mosques to do on Fridays. I find the Douane, and get passed from office to office, eventually finding the correct office, but yes it’s closed until she returns this afternoon. I lunch @ the Douane cafeteria next door and then settle back in their cool offices to wait. I downloaded February’s Monthly mag, so am content to catch up on some reading with a cool breeze. Hours pass and I am beginning to doubt that Madame may even return ( I certainly wouldn’t if I was her - no one is counting hours worked here!). I give a few guys a bit of a treat with my questions in french,and they find a new place for me to sit! Not accomplishing much but I figure they’d tell me to go away if there was no hope, wouldn’t they? After another hour or so folk begin to appear, and one bloke in particular is followed up by my new friend in reception who explains what I want. Within another hour he has found the stamp, he questions my honesty with “so I sign for 32 items, are there 32 items in there?” I say yes, but am beginning to realise that no one is particularly interested in what I have in there, only that the two totals add up on paper. Much nodding, repacking and finally taping the box closed, I have the stamped douane in my hand. Woo Hoo. Post office is closed now so the parcel will have to wait for Monday. Next thing is to contact Abou for my sleeping bag that I left with him in Timbuctou. He collects me and we head out to an afternoon concert. Very relaxing until the friends

MORE baguettes anyone?

and numerable cups of green tea we head back to the festival where I take my leave with blanket in hand. I head into the festival later to relax with an evening of music by the river, with beers in hand. And a great night’s sleep under the blanket for the next few nights! lol The weekend follows a great pattern of easy breakfasts, wander past all the souvenir sellers  to whom I become known as Madame Tranquil! Then watch whatever cultural dance is shown or listen to regional musicians. Lunch gets tough choosing between many cheap and yummy restaurants, then rest up to late afternoon to wander along the river to a far stage

A persistant islamic rasta!!

for music and a few beers as the sun sets. Get a lift back to town, puchase a ‘festival bracelet’ at an exhorbitant price and head back to the river for the night’s main concerts. Plenty of food and cold beer available here too. I’m afraid my african diet has gone to pack here in Segou. Most tourists head off on Sunday, but after all my hard work in securing a doune (only applicable here in Mali) and I’m heading to Burkina from here, I stay an extra day to see my parcel off successfully. A big market today in town which is really interesting but I also have trouble shaking off one particularly persistant rasta who wants to be my friend – he must be desperate and I'm the only tourist left in town,as most tourists left town today!

most

Making tea - Mali st

Fact: Festival costs are certainly geared to milking the Internationaux –one days costs me 40 euro, but Nationaux only 8 euro. I do understand the politics of it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t smart paying out.

If anyone has any ideas about what this is, please let me know - 

I think it looks like a peanut with a tumour!

Onwards to Mali once more

1/2/3 February

Baguette anyone?

GOOD LUCK

I use my one and only advantage of money to buy 2 seats in today’s sept place. This gives me all of the front seat (read death seat) and a seat belt that works for the proposed 8 hour trip! We wait several hours for petrol again this morning, but by midday we set off for KanKan. Having the whole front seat makes  makes the trip actually ok, although I was assailed by slight twinges of guilt whenever I thought of the poor 9 other folk squashed in behind me. I overnight at the Catholic Mission which doubles as a bar in the evenings!! I’m shouted beers just because I’m the best novelty that has turned up all evening, I’m sure. Too bad the beer isn’t cold as there’s no electricity here even though KanKan is quite a large city centre in the north of Guinea. Final run back across the border to Bamako, Mali the next day on a great road! But alas this sept place that couldn’t travel faster than about 60kph as that would have forced the implosion of its badly ruptured windscreen. I did hold out vague hopes of making the Burkina Faso embassy today, but not to be. Instead I hope to get the visa in the morning, and still travel to Segou’s Festival of the Niger tomorrow.

Traditional CURES?

Find the embassy @ 8am next day but alas the best laid plans still go astray: apparently whoever will sign the visas doesn’t bother coming in of a morning and I’ll have to wait till 3pm to pick up the visa – at an exorbitant cost too! But the woman does remind me that it’s half the price here compared to buying the visa at the border. So a last lazy day in Bamako – shopping and parceling up stuff to send back. BUT after pricing DHL who wanted more than $100 per kg I plump for the post office, but I miss them by ½ an hour after looking for the shop that sells boxes. I’ll try again to post in Segou tomorrow. My last night in Bamako, sleeping soundly when I awake to hostel staff showing someone in to the dorm. My light goes on and off, then the next room’s light goes on and soon there is such a commotion with swearing in english language etc? What the? I peer through my mossie net and watch as 2 hostel staff carry out a hinged wooden thing followed by a tiny dwarf bloke with a couple of minders. This bloke was not short on the abuse, as the staff tried to wrestle the thing open and I really couldn’t believe I was seeing such a thing happen. Eventually the little man was satisfied and everyone headed off out the front carrying the wooden thing away. All @ 1am in the morning! I was sure I must have been dreaming, except that I had seen this wooden thing in the dorm earlier in the day, and next morning it wasn’t there. Another thing I will wonder about forever, I guess.

Fact; Staying at The Sleeping Camel in Bamako, is a wonderful place to land in Bamako for a few days. Run by a pom and an aussie with local staff , it’s comfortable, clean and well set up for overlanders as well as backpackers. And lots of reliable info.

I'm in heaven in Guinea

29/30/31 January

Hassan showing off HIS country

The Kitchen

Two wonderful days of hiking in the Fouta Djailon with Hassan Ali. I had been told that this would be worthwhile and all I can say is GO to Guinea Conakry. Beautiful waterfalls and rivers to swim in.  Amazing slot canyons and pristine countryside soon help to fade yesterday’s hardships. The countryside is gorgeous, and only women and children walking here for miles from markets to their villages, toting all manner of goods on their heads.

Another day, another swim in waterfalls

I struggle up some of these mountain paths and that’s without a big bucket of water on my head! lol There are hills, cliffs, rock formations and many paths crisscrossing the landscape, all framed by small villages. Truly relaxing here, more so than in Mali’s Dogon Country where we were badgered at every village by tuobob, tuobob (white skin) and cadeau, cadeau (gift, gift) by the children. Here we are mostly

5 Star accommodation

acknowledged with laughter, Bonjour, ca va?? and then ignored. I learn lots about Scott (In Guinea until the problems then Benin) and Joseph (Burkina Faso) who have both finished their 2 year Peace Corp service. Both going onto more tertiary studies overseas (read not back in the US!) and they are both very comfortable in each others' company (read into that what you will). All meals are provided here at the encampment, being both simple and filling including one sauce made from sweet potato leaves mmm. No power here so candles are provided which add to the general restfulness of the place. Hassan is a very well informed ∧ interesting guy who is so passionate about his local countryside which he knows like the back of his hand.

Guinea has recently had its share of troubles but after a couple of coups in 12 months things (politics?) seem to have settled down. Once returning after a day’s hiking we are all stopped by a bunch of blokes in unmarked uniforms demanding IDs from us. Of course we had none on us and Hassan was really hard pushed explaining to these blokes (thugs?) the reasons why. They were really only interested in what they could get out of us, which of course was nothing, as we didn’t have money on us either! Slightly laughable, only because they eventually headed off up the dusty to pursue more unfortunates than us! But it take a good ½ hour of hard talking for Hassan and the 2 peace corp vollies to fend them off! I just stood in the background like all good women should in these situations! lol

 Really hard to drag myself away after a couple of days there nestled in Guinea’s Fouta Djailon, but all good things must come to end, if only to lead on to more good things. Leave the peaceful encampment of Hassan Bah – for a 2 hour trip back down to Pita. The peace corp boys head over to wait for a Labe taxi and I find the Mamou taxi. Now generally the ‘taxis’ are sept place & here in Guinea the same car becomes a a nine seater. However today in Pita it’s a 2 door 6 seater meaning they are not expecting many passengers  – this is not a good omen for filling up up and heading off any time soon. I wander off looking for lunch – nothing of interest bar a baguette (how can they sell these hundreds each day?) and a couple of tomatoes. Travelling through to Mamou for an overnight stay I am again ‘subcontracted’ to different cars a couple of times – once in Pita and again in Dalaba – where we were all forced to a long holdup waiting for petrol. Get to Mamou and turn up at a forestry school looking for a room – they’re a little bit surprised, but acquiesce after I reassure them I can manage without electricity for a night. I’m given a whole block of rooms with kitchen, dining room etc. Great digs for the night and I dine on sardines and coleslaw after discovering cabbages in the market yesterday. Great to eat raw vegies which are usually not on anyone’s menu ever here. I have no idea what anyone does with all the vegies for sale in the markets, cause they certainly don't serve them up in meals!

FACT: Guinea Conakry is very undeveloped – electricity only 7pm – 7am (if you’re lucky) in the towns that I visited and transport all in private hands so no buses etc. But GO, GO, GO if you have the opportunity – it’s gorgeous, and folk are so friendly, especially when they’re not wearing uniforms!

GUINEA Conakry (not Guinea Bisseau nor Equitorial Guinea)

27/28 January

Up bright & early at the gare routiere and one guy is going all the way to Labe, which is where I want to go. It would be great to get there in one go without a night in a one horse town, Koundara, of which I've heard a horror story of getting stuck in for days. Car fills up, we’re off and then 2 hours later we stop & park @ Velingara. Apparently this is the transport town to Guinea. As we arrive there was a car waiting for 1 more passenger, the bloke I was talking to races in and they’re gone. So I get to wait for a new car to fill up. After 3 hours we have enough passengers, and upon advice, I take a back seat. And then we’re off at midday, 15 of us including kids. And we go & we go & we go. There is a couple of blokes cadging a lift on the roof, and one of them can speak english. He reckons we’ll get there in the morning. I’m hoping late tonight. The border formalities are long and drawn out, due to many passengers not having correct, or no, paperwork. We finally pull into Koundara, Guinea, around 5pm for dinner and then start on the road to Labe. We finally arrive in Labe after a numbing 19 hours, at 6.30am. I am absolutely ripped and can’t believe I actually put myself through such a ridiculous trip. Twice they got lost, meaning more back tracking on the WORST road I have ever travelled on, including that one in Cambodia that the Chinese had abandoned after getting so far. But I am also so relieved that it’s over. I head for a Fouta Trekking rep to organise transport straight out to a very small, remote place called Doucki. I get mucked about a bit, then finally say good bye to 40 euros (I am still unclear who actually got paid for this trip!) to be driven out by two young guys in a late model mercedes benz! I knew that the road wouldn’t be good, so I did question the owner about this to be reassured with “this is a good car”. Yes, I know that but think that if he breaks down, there will no roadside assistance for a Mercedes where we’re going. Before heading off we stop by his house! To pick up petrol (why he has gallons of petrol in his home, I have no idea), and I wait in the large lounge room, which has a blackboard explaining in french the downfalls of colonial mentality etc. Not too sure who is lecturing to who here or why. And I’m not asking why – just too hard in french! Well his Mercedes Benz certainly got a baptism of fire along with a battering on a shocking road out to Doucki, the home of the Fouta Djailon. After last night’s effort today I get transported in real style with a whole back seat to myself. Arrive late afternoon to be greeted by Hassan Bah effusively, made welcome and settled into my very own hut! @ peace corp vollies have also arrived this afternoon so I’m in time for a short introductory hike out to the edge of the Djaillon at sunset. We head back through small villages & peaceful evening meal preparations. We stop by another hut to talk to other tourists here OMG – Its Caitlin & her boyfriend who I’d met in Mopti & again in Timbuctou with Fillip. Great couple who are studying Ghana & trying to fit lots of travel in before heading back to another semester @ uni in Acra. They both have an amazing attitude to travel – nothing fazes them & their up for any adventure - they got stuck in Diaobe (town before Velingara for 3 days trying to get transport into Guinea. Perhaps my 19 hours was actually a quick voyage??!!

Fact: The current president has only recently stop televising every night. Previously TV news each evening featured Moussa Dadis Camara telling Guineans of the previous government’s misrule & revelations of corruption. It was familiarly known as the Dadis Show, but apparently is not missed.

World Vision visit, Kaffrine, Senegal

25/26 January

This child obviously needs a sponsor

Head off early to get back across to Senegal, then up to Kaffrine. Stay overnight with no power, no mossie net and paying top dollar. L Walk through town to find the World Vision depot for tomorrow’s visit – Tim Costello would be proud – at least 7 4wds, and at least a dozen motorbikes are garaged there! Get to the depot, and no the coordinator, Momath is not here. Finally he arrives around 9.30am and I make myself clear – this not what I expected. Poor Momath tries explaining himself, especially when we head off in one 4wd (w/mp3 player!) & soon pull over in town to change to another car…. But when we pull into another World Vision office, brand new, with accommodation etc I meet Viviane who explains that this is the only their 2^nd sponsor visit in 6 years.

World Vision Yard, Kaffrine

I’m encouraged to ask questions and I find out that when you sponsor a child, the family nor the child actually get any money –the money contributes to local community projects initiated by World Vision! The letters to & from sponsors are written & translated within the communities by more WV representatives.. hmm Somehow I get the feeling, especially after meeting Mourtalla who barely utters a word, that the sponsors consider the personal contact a great thing when in reality the ‘personal’ letter is dictated by an adult to say whatever.

Mourtalla just doesn't look impressed, does he?

We get to the very small village, Kaur Modou Willane which is miles from anywhere and there is a small crowd waiting – all women & very small children at least. Everyone else is out working, including most able children. I meet Derek Borg’s sponsor child, Mourtalla Willane & give him a small gift of which he is not very interested – I think he really had no idea what was going on. Photos are taken, I meet the grandfather

Warming up the crowd!

who is the head of the village & soon the women get motivated, and drumming is initiated (2 upturned bowls & an upturned tub, hit with thongs & sticks!!). Then dancing, of which everyone has a go, myself included. Lollies are distributed (not too sure where they came from), a few simple games are conducted by Momath, who is very popular. As we leave I am given a gift of 2kg of groundnuts (peanuts in their shell). I accept them as Derek’s ‘rep’, and wonder at how I keep trying to lessen my baggage but seem to accumulate more. On the return trip I ask Viviane about the Koran schools, which she says are a problem, but very popular. I also tell her about the Solar Project in The Gambia that I visited, gave her details & hope that it may come to some fruition for everyone concerned. I have to say that the villages we passed through didn’t have a whole lot going for them except for mosques & groundnuts! Back @ the World Vision offices we have lunch together, and then I finally get my very first ride in an NGO’s shiny white 4wd all the Tambacounda. Heaven!

Monday 24 January

A visit to the Standard Chartered Bank today to negotiate cashing travellers chqs & find they are charging a whopping 500 Dalanis. That is way too much, try the next bank and their charge is only 200 Dalanis. Yeah, I have a win. Calculate the least amount to cash to get me out of the country tomorrow, and then head off for a yummy lunch of Tiébou Dienn ( say cheb -oo-jen) in a baguette – better known to you as black eye beans followed by a green orange & tea – all from different sellers When I bought my orange the seller wanted 50 cfas & his friend said I should pay 1000cfas! I asked why and he pointed to my white skin. I said that he was being racist, but he didn’t seem to think so! We laughingly agreed to disagree & I paid 50cfas. Now the oranges may be green but they are actually very ripe. But what was fascinating was why they are sold peeled of their rind & not the pith – a very fine art, leaving the white oranges atop a nest of green peelings. Today I worked it out (because every time I asked I was answered with a smile and an offer to buy). These are very tough fleshed oranges, but when they are peeled, it is soft to squeeze & allows you to suck the juice out from the nick at the top, leaving the tough flesh behind. Brilliant!

Yamundow picks me up & takes me to Guide Headquarters – only up the road from where I’d been a few days earlier looking at the YMCA. The photos show the Leaders uniforms are tie dyed – very groovy. I am introduced to Guiding here – they run2 year levels of school for girls who have dropped out of mainstream schooling. They are educating them in hospitality cooking, serving & english language. Their current 2nd year has only 27 girls left unplaced for their practical experience, and apparently their reputation for reliable well trained girls is very successful. They are rightly very proud of this program, and the girls are all in a Gambia Guide Uniform. The many guises of Guiding is amazing. I take photos and find that they are battling one of our problems at home – maintenance of their property. They have a small kitchen & dining room shere the girls can provide catering to the many partners who hire out the hall on the grounds. Yamundrow presents me with a gift of a length of their uniform’s tie dyed fabric.
Fact: Gambia was England's claim on a river in the midst of the French colonisation of West Africa. After abolishing slavery, Britain set about capturing other nations slave ships & Fort James (as it was known) was converted from dungeons to a haven.