Okay, this email is only intended for those who can handle it.  If you read it, your not allowed to say, "Lynn you need to leave there" because we're really fine.  But, it's so wild, that I had to pass it on to a few. 

Wednesday, I came into the capital city with 24-yr old Nichole and 18-yr old Julie.  Julie was to catch a flight to France that night, so we were getting her to the airport.  I also had Boris with us.  I dropped the girls off at the airport to check baggage in early, and Boris and I headed to the market.  While we were there, suddenly there was screaming and shouting and everyone started closing up shop and taking off like a mad mob scene.  “The police and the military are fighting - run".  So, amidst the mob of motos, bikes and pedestrians, we ran to the truck.  I assumed a few cops were in a fight about something and since they carry big guns everyone ran.

We got back to the airport to pick the girls up and the plan was to get Boris to the bus station to head back to Yako.  There was chaos in the streets and bumper to bumper traffic.  We'd finally get through a light and find one road after another blocked off.  We were driving in circles trying to get to the bus station and it became dark.  I started clueing in that something more must be going on with the police and military, but really had no idea.  I got to an intersection and saw the road ahead blocked, so I started to turn right when Boris yelled no, go straight.  If I had turned right, I would have driven right into a group of military with machine guns, which is not a good thing.  I had to follow the other cars trying to outrun the military by driving around the concrete barricades and onto the sidewalk.  It was a bit nerve-wrecking because my truck was acting up, it was dark and here I am trying to outrun machine guns, hoping my truck isn't going to die.  We were completely lost as we tried to find the bus station, avoiding military and road blocks.  I finally told Boris, he was just going to have to stay in Ouaga with us and I was going to find my way back to the airport - forget the bus station.  We found the airport and on the next block things were calm and wide open, so we stopped at a hamburger joint called ShowBiz to get a bite and stay put the few hours until Julie's flight was to leave.  Boris insisted on catching a taxi to the bus station, which I was not happy about.  Whatever - stubborn men.  We sat down at the patio tables and ordered dinner. Five minutes after they served our burgers, the owner came running out and yelled "Girls, get inside".  They shoved us inside and started slamming doors and windows shut and turned the lights off, yelling, "They're coming"!  This was the 2nd nerve-wrecking point of the story.  Who are they and what the heck is going on?  The kind owner, a Lebanese man named Omar brought us hot tea "to calm us down" and explained. 

The day before there was a confrontation between a couple police officers and soldiers - some kind of power trip - and they killed one of the soldiers.  So, since 2:00 a.m. on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, the fighting had begun.  At noon on Wednesday, 2 police officers were killed.  Military were burning police cars and eventually destroyed 4 police posts.  About 7:30 that night, while we're hiding out in Showbiz, the gun fire and grenades started going off.  We had to hide behind the concrete partition of the bar and remain silent.  With a peak, I saw soldiers and their machine guns in the street and on the sidewalks just in front of where we were hiding.  It was a short peak as the gun fire picked up all around us.  We did not want to be seen - they could be shooting randomly, not knowing where the enemy was hiding.  That was the 3rd and last nervewrecking point and it only lasted about 20 minutes.  I was able to call my Dad on my cell phone and quietly ask him to get the word out to my Prayer Team to PRAY!  Once I talked to him, I was completely calm.  The military shifted from in front of our building.  The shooting was still all around us, but we no longer had to whisper for fear of them hearing us.  It was between the cops and the soldiers, so they weren't interested in the civilians as long as we stayed out of their way, which I was happy to do.  We contacted the American Embassy to inform them we were there - they told us not to move.  The fighting was going on all over.  Keep in mind just before this all broke out, I had watched Boris head off to find a taxi.  You can imagine my relief when he called to say he had made it to the bus station. 

As the fighting shifted from the front of our building, we began to relax some.  Omar, our friendly Lebanese Showbiz owner started offering drinks for everyone.  By now, we were just us 3 girls, the owner and a friend of his.  There we were, sitting on the floor, in the dark, hiding behind this bar.  Omar kept offering whatever he could to keep everyone calm - beer, cigarettes, tea, even Pringles!  They were so incredibly kind, so we were in a good place. 

The word got out that there were 3 Americans trapped in Showbiz and other Americans started calling to assure us they wouldn't leave without us.  There was a wonderful hotel just across the street.  I had hoped to be able to get us there for a room.  But, each time I would consider it, the gun fire would get closer again.  After 4 hours of this, it was obvious we weren't going anywhere that night.  So, we all curled up on the floor and tried to sleep.  From about 2:00 to 4:00 a.m., there was little gun fire so we were able to get a few winks in.  We thought maybe it was over, but it picked up again at 4:00.  I gave up and tried my best to sleep.  At 8:00, people were out in the streets and it was as if nothing had happened except for 3 white ladies spending the night in a hamburger joint with 2 Lebanese guys.  We headed straight for the Embassy.  We learned several had been killed but civilians mostly just wounded from stray bullets.  The military had released 600 prisoners from the main prison to spite the police.  Effective except that meant there were now convicted criminals roaming the streets.  Oh well - we were able to get a room at one of the missionary houses so we could take showers and have a safe place to stay until we were cleared to return to Yako.  The fighting continued sporadically the next couple days.  But, within the walls of the missionary compound, it just sounded like the 4th of July.  There was a forced curfew at 6:00 pm, but we had access to homemade pizzas and cokes (not bad). 

Looking back, Nichole and I said how it seems so unreal, like it was no big deal at all and as if it never really happened.  We were able to joke about all the funny moments and were amazed that in the midst of what should have been very frightening, we were able to laugh.  Most seasoned missionaries are used to real war, so this really was nothing for them.  I remember the nerve-wrecking moments, but I don't remember the feeling of being scared. 

We finally made it back to Yako.  Poor Julie, the 18-year old, obviously missed her flight and couldn’t leave until Saturday.  That's a major bummer for an 18-year old who has been living in Burkina for 3 months, just wants to see her Mom and had to go through all this.  But, she made it home for Christmas and returned to work with us another 3 months.

My parents are sending out a newsletter about the school etc.  Let me know if you don't get a copy.  It's dull compared to what just happened but far more cheerful!  Thanks for letting me share my story, Love, Lynn