The Pottery Village

The word "Africa" most often evokes images of dusty cities, naked children and some romantic tale of "rough-ing it" on a coffee plantation in the bush. Oh, and lions. Lots of lions. I have seen most of these things (sans the coffee plantation, but best leave that to Meryl) during the past 6 weeks and much, much more. But my own personal "African dream" had more to do with riding on the back of motorcycles and learning traditional pottery techniques from experts in mud-brick buildings (yes, yes, I know...hipster alert). But this Sunday it happened.

This glorious Sunday afternoon, after church, my roommate, Chrissy and I found ourselves on a tour of the artisan-pottery-village down the road from our dormitory. After learning about the process in which the pottery is made (quite fascinating but not enough time to describe here) and chatting in broken French with the potters, we chose pieces of our own and caught a moto ride back home. It was lovely.