10.12.2018
The night was peacefully quiet, only the waves crashing at the beach in the distance could be heard. I did get up quite early and sat on my porch to write some before breakfast. We had a late breakfast – only at 08:30 and departure was at 09:00.
Breakfast was good, the view as well. The hotel had a nice open air restaurant with a bar, which was however not very busy last night.
There was a polished Peugeot 403 sitting in the parking lot behind the hotel. The vintage car was evidence we were still in former French territory. The Peugeot 403 is a car produced by French automobile manufacturer Peugeot between 1955 and 1966. On the American TV series Columbo, starring Peter Falk, the shambling hero, detective Lt. Columbo, drove a shabby-looking 403 cabriolet dating from 1959 or 1960, by the way.
We all piled in our bright blue van and were on our way. – Maha, are we going to see a chicken die again today? – Ahhh, let me think ….. No, not today! Anyway they always die happy! In a trance! Or by magic! No problem!
The first thing we did was a photo stop at the town sign for Grand-Popo. A photo session there was a must – that is probably only funny for German speakers, though … We could not laugh enough about this name for a town. Only Natasha was miserable and stayed in the van once more …
Then the others indulged me by agreeing to go find another geocache with me. There was one hidden in Grand-Popo near the Centre de Recherche de la ville Karo. The purpose of the centre is to improve awareness and promote the cooperation between Finnish and African artists and researchers and to support the cultural contacts between Finland and Benin. Villa Karo issues grants to Finnish professionals of cultural and societal fields and acts as a cultural centre.
The others got more excited than I did when we got there. I found the box quickly. Our guide was concerned that the couple of neighbours who were watching would compromise the cache, but I think they knew exactly what we did. This cache is a – for Africa – frequently visited one. My first geocache in Benin! Yipeee!
Getting back on the road we also stopped at the road marker with Grand-Popo on it. We had to take a photo of my Grand Popo in Grand-Popo!
That done and dusted we drove along the RNIE 1. There was much to see along the road, which was nicely paved and traffic flowed quick.
Soon we reached Lake Ahémé, which is with an area of 78 km² in the dry season which expands to 100 km² in the rainy season, Benin’s second largest lake. The road skirted the southern side of the lake for some time.
When we reached the southern most tip of the lake, we took a quick walk along the road and across a bridge to look at the village on the lake.
The lake is 24 km long and has an average width of 3.6 km. The Couffo River drains into the swampy north end of the lake, while the 10 km-long Aho Channel connects the lake’s southern end to the Grand-Popo Lagoon on the Atlantic coast. This channel flows south during the wet season but reverses direction in the dry season, which causes the salinity of the lake’s southern end to increase. The Pedah and the Ayizo are the two main ethnic groups living on the shores of Lake Ahémé. Fishing and agriculture are the main economic activities in the area.
There were boatmen who ferried goods and people between the islands with the houses and the mainland and there were also fishermen standing in the lake – it did not seem to be very deep – casting their nets to fish.
In the village below the main road and the bridge there was a bunch of children who their jaunty little song – Yovo, yovo, ça va? Yovo, yovo, bonjour. Cadeau, cadeau! – In Benin, if you look like a foreigner, people will address you by calling you “yovo”. Yovo is the word in Fon – the most prevalent local language in Benin – that means foreigner or person with white skin. And of course, the children – most of the time not only the children – are always asking for gifts in Africa. And no, we did not give them any …
Walking for maybe 15 min and taking lots of photos, we passed street stalls where women were selling smoked fish the men had caught in the lake. Everything was nicely piled up on trays for all passing people to see and inspect.
Around 11:00 we reached the town of Ouidah which is supposedly the capital of Voodoo in Benin. Our guide had to take a stop at a mobile shop and we took a little stroll in the mean time. Here are many of those “gas stations” were they sell gasoline and diesel in glass bottles. The fuel is much cheaper on those stalls than at the regular gas stations, because they bring it – probably smuggle it – from nearby Nigeria, where fuel is cheaper. Again, I noticed – at least they use glass bottles for the fuel … If they are save there standing in the scorching sun, is a nother matter, however …
Mind you, fuel is very cheap here compared to Germany. Here at the regular gas stations the liter gasoline is CFA 550 which is less than € 1. And on those glass-bottle-stations they only ask CFA 350. Imagine that. I noticed the price varying and increasing with the distance from the Nigerian border, though.
While Maha sorted his bosses mobile phone issues out, we hung around a bit and looked at the stalls next door. A woman was selling rice and corn. Her cute baby daughter was totally afraid of us white-noses – she probably had not seen many of us yet. Poor kid was terrified and trying to hide from us in plain sight.
Once Maha was done we went on with our sightseeing program – Ouidah, formerly the Kingdom of Whydah, is located on the coast of Benin and has a population of approx 76500 people. In local tradition King Kpasse is supposed to have founded the town. This probably happened towards the end of the 16th century. Ouidah saw its role in international trade rise when the British built a fort here in 1650. The Portuguese, English, Dutch and French all constructed forts in the city to protect their interests in slaving. The Portuguese had reached the town which they called Ajudá in 1580. In the 1940th the population of Ouidah was about 14600. By then the town had a railway. It was a center for production and trade in palm kernels, palm oil, copra, coffee, manioc, beans, tomatoes and onions.
Once we arrived in the town center the first stop we did was the Temple des Pythons. There is an interesting story behind how the Temple of Pythons came to existence.
The temple is facing Ouidah’s basilica – The Basilique de l’Immaculée Conception – Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. It is a Roman Catholic minor basilica and was dedicated on November 9, 1989. Why does that date sound so familiar? … Oh, let me think … the same day the Berlin Wall came down …
The adoration of pythons started in Ouidah after a war that took place in 1717 when the kingdom of Dahomey still existed. During that war Ouidah was defeated. King Kpasse, ruler of the kingdom of Ouidah, fled the town and took refuge in a big forest in order to not be captured by the notorious Ghézo warriors. The legend has it that during the search, many pythons started to come out of the forest therefore protecting King Kpasse of Ouidah from his capture. Hence. the python is a respected deity in Ouidah and the temple now seems to be a place where all the pythons in the town chill and get VIP treatment.
I am not a snake fan at all, I just do not like them – but I am not so sacred of them that it would have stopped me going into the temple itself – I just would not go too close to them. A local guide showed us around the relatively small courtyard explaining some of the voodoo history behind the pythons. There were some fetish altars and an ancient fetish tree which was granting wishes – of course for a small fee … Natasha was the only one of us who placed a wish and Maha was pulling her leg afterwards by asking if she wished to be the next German Chancellor.
The main hut was only for the pythons. First the local guide got one of them out for us to see and touch and hang around our necks. While I have seen and even once touched a big snake at a snake show in Thailand, I had never had them put it around my neck, though. Once at one of those snake shows one huge python had peed all over a tourist when he had it hanging around his neck.
Flo pulled the whole thing off today – she carried that python around her neck like a collar while strolling around St. Tropez! Not only Oliver was well impressed …
The others all did it and even though I hate snakes and did say I do not want to even touch it, in the end I did it and had them hang that relatively small python around my neck. It was …. Grrrrr … It just hung there and did not move – maybe it was in a voodoo trance as well? Good! It felt very cold to the skin. – Quick quick! Take that photo already! Do it! Now! Quick quick! …. Done? …. OK, take that thing off me, NOW! Quick quick, take it out! NOW!
“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.” – Frank Herbert –
We were allowed to go into the sanctum of the pythons. I was not going to go, but in the end I also did that. It was shoes-off-territory, but for once I kept my socks on – you never know what to expect in a snake temple! I had visited a rat temple in Rajasthan near Bikaner once in 2011. The entire premises had been crawling with thousands of rats. There we had to take our shoes off as well and walk around everywhere barefoot. There I did take my shoes off and I did not have a problem with the rats running past my feet – mind you – I was happy they did not run over my feet! But snakes …. Snakes are an entirely different story! And this temple was very small and there were like a hundred snakes and maybe 10 people crammed inside and it was rather claustrophobic – I do not like snakes! Quickly I took my photos – basically I just pointed the camera with closed eyes – and out I was again!
The guide told us, the pythons only eat once a month and not at the temple. They do not get fed here. But once a month the doors are opened and all those snakes walk … ? … out the temple and find food in the town. Some go far, some stay close, some come back by themselves, some are brought back by villagers, some are collected. They eat rats or chicken or whatever.
The question about animal welfare came up, of course. But very clearly the temple man stated – The python are part of our religion! This is their life, they live here, what are animal rights activists going to do? It is tradition! Do some white-noses want to interfere with our religion? …. The pythons here are holy and they even get a proper burial in a coffin with a tombstone in the adjacent cemetery. Unfortunately it was not allowed to visit that cemetery …
However – not surprising – there was a small souvenir market right next to the temple and the way there was properly marked with exit. They did have the regular African carvings and things there, some voodoo dolls and such. I made myself a birthday present and bought a little foldable table carved with elephants and rhinos. It will hopefully fit in my backpack. And when I go to India in January and February I am sure I will find a nice Shiva statue to put on it. Natasha bought a voodoo doll to torment her miserable ex-husband with …
Next stop was the Foret sacree de Kpasse – The sacred forest of Kpasse. In West Africa, by the way, the K before the P is silent – the King’s name was Kpasse and is pronounced Passe. The forest seemed to be a somewhat touristy park. There were cool murals on the enclosure walls, though.
The Sacred Forest of Ouidah is – nevertheless – spiritual place. It was the rest place of the King Kpasse, the First King and founder of Ouidah. When he felt that he was going to die, he told his children that he did not want people to see his body. One day he just disappeared. By his recommendation before he died, each year a spiritual ceremony is held in the forest in his memory apparently till today.
Nowadays the setting is more like a park than a forest, but it lived up to being sacred – complete with statues of voodoo gods and sacrifices mixed with wild and enchanting tales. The official entrance is flanked by leopard statues and a leopard mural, the emblem of the royal house of Kpasse, symbolizing power.
One of the first statue we saw was the one of Legba, the guardian of towns, homes and villages. Legba sat on his traditional throne with his hands on his knees. He stood out for having a penis nearly as long as the horns on his head. Oliver and me had great fun figuring out the angle for the best photo of that …
There were many concrete statues of gods and a few other representations. All were in different states of decay – time and weather had taken their toll. Some statues had broken and were laying next to their base. Oliver remarked – OK, we saw our dead body today! Let’s move on now!
In the park were many huge old trees. Some sacred huts were scattered around and in some of the trees was a fruit bat colony and there was quite some noise coming off it.
Walking along a small path flanked by god statues among those huge trees, we then stood before a hut marked “entrance for the king”. People are not allowed past it, they said – It is the sacred part of the forest.
We also saw the sacred tree – supposedly the tree fell down in the storm of 1988. The tree then declared its sacredness by blinding the two men who came to chop it down and then it just straightened itself up again. Further back was the most sacred tree of the sacred trees – King Kpasse himself. Tall, grey and handsome with a thick trunk, the king stands between the broken chambers his brother built for him after he moved into the forest. At this tree you can make a wish – this time nobody did, though.
Our next stop was at the Historic Museum of Ouidah. It is dedicated to the Portuguese tradition. Fortunately, we did not actually go inside the museum. I think none of us would have had the energy, because it was a scorcher of a day again. But we walked around the premises, saw the buildings and many old cannons.
The Fort of São João Baptista de Ajudá – Fort of St John the Baptist of Ouidah – is a small fortress built by the Portuguese in 1721. The Fort, built on land given to Portugal by King Haffon of Whydah, remained under Portuguese control from 1721 until 1961. The fort had an important impact in Benin, greatly contributing to both the Portuguese and African slave trade. Its importance is attested by the fact that the Portuguese language was the only foreign language that the Kings of Dahomey authorised. Portuguese descendants were also important in the political structure of the kingdom. In January 1722 the pirate Bartholomew Roberts “Black Bart” sailed into the harbour and captured all the 11 ships at anchor there, by the way. Following the abolition of the legal slave trade in 1807, the fort, which had before been one of the major slave ports, gradually lost its importance and although Portugal continued to claim it as one of its possessions, formal occupation and administration were abandoned on several occasions. It was only when French presence in the region started threatening Portugal’s interests that the settlement was again permanently manned. This didn’t prevent the French conquest of Dahomey 1891–1894, though. After this, São João Baptista de Ajudá – now reduced to the territory actually within the walls of the fort – lost what remained of its importance.
Until its annexation in 1961, São João Baptista de Ajudá was probably the smallest recognized separate modern political unit, initially around 1 km² and later reduced to only 2 ha, at which time it had 5 inhabitants and, at the moment of the ultimatum by the Dahomey Government, it had only 2 inhabitants representing Portuguese sovereignty, who tried to burn it rather than surrendering it. When the fort was captured, they were hastily escorted to the Nigerian border and expelled from the country. Only in 1975 did the annexation of the fort by Dahomey – now renamed Benin – gain official Portuguese recognition. This was followed by the fort’s restoration, which was paid for by Portugal. The fort is a small square with towers at the four corners. It comprises a church and officers’ quarters. The Fort of São João Baptista de Ajudá now houses the museum.
Outside at the parking was a kid selling coconuts. The French of West Africa is very hard to understand sometimes. While the local guides who deal with tourists often speak a rather clear French – at least it is easier to follow – the locals have a different slang, I think. Frankly, I do not speak much French, but I do get along. But that kid with the coconuts – damn, if I did understand … I gave him CFA 500 for a coconut. Seemed a regular price … I was not thinking in the midday heat, though. I downed that coconut and it was so good. Then came our Maha and he asked again for the price and then … I understood it! That kid had said – cent cinquante – 150! I did understand only something with cinque …. – Maha made the kid give us all back our change, thankfully. Not that it would have put us in bankruptcy, but out of principle …
On the way to the Route of Slaves we stopped at the city center bazaar at a wood workers shop. For the last couple of days I had been saying, they have to buy a little footstool to bridge the big step up into the van. Natasha had big problems with getting in and out of the van – mind you – she had problems with anything and everything – but this was one that could be solved. I really pushed it and we stopped and for CFA 2000 the guide and driver bought a little stool and it made it so much easier for everybody to get in the van! Now we just have to teach the driver to always put it out at every stop. Customer service ….
On our way to our hotel we visited most of the stages of the Route des Esclaves – The Slave Route. The Slave history is a huge part of West Africa and they had set up some interesting stations here. Unfortunately most of them seemed neglected for a while, but nevertheless, it was interesting.
The Slave Route basically traces the final 3.5 km walk made by thousands of men and women who have walked it chained, leaving behind their villages their families and their freedom for a future marked by privations, torture and forced labor. The Slave Route is somewhat a way of the cross – along the path there are 5 stations. Considering the heat at midday, we drove the stages in the van.
The first station was Place Chacha – where the market was held – men and women were led under the large tree that was planted in 1747 by a Dahomey King and is still in the center of the square – here the auction took place and European and American buyers sought to buy those who they thought were the best for the use they would have made – slavers bartered for example 15 male Africans for one cannon.
The square was overlooked by the palace of Don Francisco De Souza, the famous slave merchant – originally from Brazil and of humble origins, he came to Ouidah to seek his fortune with the slave trade and in a few years he became the most important slave merchant of all Western Africa. After being bought, the slaves were branded in order to be able to recognize which buyer they belonged to and subsequently they were led to the Tree of Forgetfulness – the Oblivion Tree.
This tree does not exist anymore, it died long ago. In its place, there is now a statue that remembers the place where the slaves were led to forget their origins and their history. The buyers made them believe that the tree had the power to erase their memory and remove their spirit, the dramatic ceremony consisted of turning clockwise around the tree – 9 times for men and 7 times for women. The purpose of this ritual was to get empty bodies void of spirit.
The next step was segregation – slaves were chained into large dark rooms called Zomai – it means “where light does not go” – they were imprisoned here for a few weeks, sometimes for months, to deprive them of their rebellious will and to lose their perception of time and the alternation of day and night, so they would be disoriented once they were brought out. The strongest were held for 2 weeks locked in the same position, chained and with a bite in the mouth in order to tamper and weaken them to avoid possible rebellion or alliances with other prisoners.
Many slaves, malnourished and abused, have died while waiting to be taken aboard the ships, within these dark huts and their bodies were thrown into a common pit where now stands a memorial – the Memorial of Memory called also the Wall of Lamentations, because sometimes people were still alive in the pit.
The survivors were led to the Tree of Return – this tree has survived over the centuries and it is still visible on the Street of the Slave. Here a ceremony was held which ensured the slaves the return of their soul home, in the form of spirit, after death. The ritual was quite simple, men and women had to turn around the tree 3 times clockwise.
After completing this ritual, the slaves were taken to the beach, at the point where today is the monument of the Door of No Return, and they were loaded on the sloops that would take them to the waiting slave galleons bobbing on the horizon. The most combative or desperate, would prefer to commit suicide by throwing themselves out of the boats and drowning or trying to swallow their tongue in the act of suffocating themselves, rather than going to the unknown.
The slaves were then stowed on the ships, up to 500 per vessel, the men were slammed down to make it more difficult to rebel while women were slumped on their backs, so it was easier to abuse them sexually. They remained in this position throughout the journey, about 3 months of sailing.
It is estimated that 15 mio slaves have arrived in the Americas, to which millions of men and women who have lost their lives before leaving, the sick and wounded who were left to die, are added, the rebels who were killed and to these the number of those who committed suicide must be added, it can be assumed that Western slave trafficking involved about 30 mio individuals. Benin was involved in the slave trade for over 200 years and the last trade took place in the mid 19th century. Approximately 2 mio departed right from the port of Ouidah, which was the second most important slave port in West Africa after Luanda in Angola. Many of them exported their Voodoo culture to colonies such as Brazil and Haiti.
This Porte de Non Retour – The Door of No Return – was the most impressive of the monuments. The concrete and bronze arch, which stands on the beach, is a memorial to the enslaved Africans who were taken from the slave port of Ouidah to the Americas. Inaugurated in 1995 by the Beninese president, this monument, which is designed like a gate, is the symbolism of the departure of captive slaves leaving their ancestral land. Several artists and designers collaborated with the architect to realize the project. The columns and bas-reliefs are by Béninois artist Fortuné Bandeira, the freestanding Egungun – Yoruba masked, costumed figures – are by Yves Kpede and the bronzes are by Dominque Kouas Gnonnou
.
From there it was not far to our hotel – Diaspora Hotel Jardin Brasilien – right at the beach. The check in was quick and we got a big bungalow each – a fair distance from the beach but actually on the beach with coconut palm trees in front of the porch.
By now it was like 14:15 and we were all ready for some lunch – I was more ready for a cold beer! There was a huge restaurant-pool-complex on the beach – it looked like socialistic baroque – but no guests were there. There was only us and a couple more people who seemed to be French military or peace corps personnel on some R&R.
The view from the restaurant was good enough – of course we had taken the best table. That first cold beer went down like nothing and then I chose pamplemousse au fruits de mer to eat. It was a seafood salad with grapefruit served in the grapefruit shell. It was surprisingly good. Very French, though. Considering Benin was also a French colony … no surprise.
After another beer I went back to my bungalow and lay on the bed in the AC room and promptly fell asleep. I woke up just before 18:00 and sat on my porch with another beer from my stash.
Dinner was at 19:00 and I made my way shortly before to the restaurant. The bungalow next door was Natasha’s and when I passed it, she was standing at the porch calling for some staff, because she could not get her key out of the door. I am a nice person and tried it for her, too, but could not fix it either. So I promised to find somebody and send them to her. – Later she would tell the story leaving me out and saying she called them all by herself. – Yeah, right! You do not have to thank me for helping you!
Again there was only us and the French from lunchtime in the restaurant for dinner. We had preordered our food, so it came quickly. Starter was a very good Avocado Tuna Salad in the avocado shell.
For main course I had chosen Brochettes de Escargot with couscous. Now, I did not expect – of course – Escargot de Bourgogne! I did expect it to be the snails I saw in Ghana on that tro-tro in Volta being sold on skewers. We also had seen the actual snails on a market yesterday. They are those big snails from the forest. I knew that!
The African giant snail – Achatina achatina – is also known as the giant tiger land snail, is a species of very large, air-breathing land snail. The specie is believed to be native to West Africa, within 160 to 300 km of the coasts of Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ivory Coast, Togo, Benin, Ghana, and Nigeria. These very large snails are kept as pets in the Western world, where owners prize their large size, distinctive markings, and rarity. In West Africa they are just eaten! They actually are considered a potentially serious pest, an invasive species that could adversely affect agriculture, natural ecosystems, human health or commerce.
Our Natasha obviously did not think and she obviously expected French escargot. She did dare to return the snails and made them cook fish instead for her… I was quit ashamed … This is West Africa! And it is not the fancy restaurant at the Champs-Élysées! Maybe that info had not yet reached her? But then again … She had been complaining from the first day I met her. I have not heard a positive word from her, she more often than not stays in the bus for various reasons – to hot – my blood pressure is down – I am old – the usual … And my theory of – The devil always shits on the biggest pile! – has come true once more! – Who had a broken AC in the room? Who gets run over by a dancing Voodoo dervish? Who cannot get the key out of the room door and literally orders me to find staff to help her? … I am on vacation! From tomorrow on, I will ignore her!
I ate my snails – they were very tough and chewy with a strange earthy taste to them, but with the spicy chili sauce and couscous they were not all that bad. I probably would not want to eat them every day, though, but everything needs to be tested at least once!
While we waited for Natasha’s new food to arrive – of course it took long, because it had to be prepared from scratch and the now big group of French was being served ahead of her – Flo, Oliver and me chatted along. Once Natasha’s new food arrived – she did not even eat it! – imagine that – she picked on it for a few minutes and then left paying her drinks bill at the counter. The 3 of us looked at each other bewildered and all decided – if this negativity does not stop tomorrow, then we would say something!
After a last beer we all called it a night – well I sat posting photos – WIFI was great because my bungalow was relatively close to the reception hut – and clearing SD cards and writing a long while on, though.
11.12.2018
This morning we had breakfast at 07:30 in the hotel restaurant by the beach. Again we were almost alone, only a few of the French were here at this time as well.
At 08:30 we were ready to leave – now we would be leaving the coast and go North. It was the dirt track from the coast to Ouidah town and then the main road leading North. The main road was rather busy and we drove for approx. 1 h.
In Abomey-Calivi we stopped at the wharf for the over-water stilt village Ganvié. There were many wooden boats propelled by poles and some with small outboard engines as well. Next to the jetty was a fish market. We saw mainly women and children here on the boats, on the market or getting ready to move out to the village. It was a sea of colour and a bustle of a market. Men were only manning the few somewhat bigger boats which mainly ferried passengers.
Lake Nokoué is 20 km wide and 11 km long and covers an area of 4,900 ha. It is partly fed by the Ouémé River and the Sô River, both of which deposit sediments from throughout the region in the lake. The lake, in large part, is a lagoon and with the surrounding low-lying topography, the lake is expected to double in size and flood as the current global climate change gradually affects the sea level. This development carries a risk of future salinization, which will make the freshwater lake more brackish and potentially change its ecology. Different sections of the lake currently alternate between freshwater and brackish ecosystems at an average depth of 1.5 m. The lake is also a site of deposition of both pesticides and heavy metals from upstream industry and human habitation. Though the pesticides are only present in fish at less than toxic levels, the heavy metals in the waters however can reach levels in fish both unhealthy for humans and the fish.
On the northern edge of the lake is the town of Ganvié. With a population of around 24000 people living in bamboo huts on stilts, it is probably the largest lake village in Africa and as such is very popular with tourists. The village was established in the 16th or 17th centuries by the Tofinu people – on the lake because the Dahomey’s religion forbade the Fon warriors from entering water, therefore the lagoon was a safe territory for other tribes. Originally based on farming, the village’s main industries other than tourism are now fishing and fish farming.
It was rather cloudy today, but still humid and hot. We got on a somewhat bigger passenger boat which had luckily a roof for shade. The boat was hired solely for us, had an outboard engine and we moved along some sort of channel. There were many fishermen in their boats here. Each boat had one fisherman and one child – the same we saw by the wharf with the women – there was always the woman often with a baby on her back and a child watching the boat.
We learnt that the fishing on the lake is done in different ways. One is that people buy a plot, then put twigs of trees in the lake bottom like fences or rows. This method is called akadjas and stakes and bushes in the shape of open circles or triangles are driven into the bed of the plantless lake. Those then lose their leaves and in the rather shallow water this creates an environment loved by the local fish. Seeking shelter among the foliage they come here to breed and maybe 6 month later the fishermen come and fish the area which now hopefully has lots and lots of fish.
There were many water hyacinths blooming on the lake as well. The channel was free however. The entire area seemed more like swamp land, though. It sure was not much deeper than maybe a meter or so. At some of those fence-like fish contraptions we saw men in the water up to their chests working on the contraptions.
Further along the channel towards the villages we saw many net fishermen. They had handheld circular nets with a weight line on the outside. They would fold the net up in their hand and then cast it in a huge throw. It would fold out – the weight line pulling and forming a circle – and then it would settle on the water and sink down.
The men were holding the line attached to the center of the net and then slowly pull it back in. They were picking and shaking out the tiny fish they caught in the net, then sort of wash the silt out of the bottom of the net and cast it again. A very laborious work, but apparently it was profitable enough to live on it.
We soon saw the stilt village of Ganvié in the distance and reached it after maybe 45 min boat ride. The village is almost entirely built on stilts by the Tofinu people.
The Tofinu base their economy on fishing and are famous for having been able to devise a clever plan to escape the raids of Dahomey’s armies in search of slaves. They originally lived within the country, on the banks of a river and have always been skilled fishermen and traditionally have had a good relationship with water and its spirits. Exploiting the fact that the Fon, the ethnicity of the kingdom of Dahomey, had no connection with water and also the fact that they did not know how to swim – the Tofinu moved along the coast and built a village on stilts at the center of the Lake Nokoué, accessible only by water. In this ingenious way they managed to escape the raids of the Fon, who were always in search of new prisoners to be sold as slaves to Europeans. Legend has it that the village was built thanks to the crocodiles that helped the Tofinu to carry the material to the center of the lake.
There was a lot of ferry-boat traffic along the channel – apparently the main channel to reach the village – we came. As we reached the entrance of the village there was already a small floating market. It was mid-morning by now and already getting hot, so the market was not busy. It was still cloudy, though.
The main “road” in the villages is called the Avenue des Amoureux. They say in the evening here young men and women meet up in their boats for a tête-à-tête.
We saw many women with goods to sell on their boats – anything from clothes to household items. Also there were women selling food – like a food-truck = food-boat.
The main channel in the village was very busy. it was like a small city, but instead of minibuses and cars there were pirogues and dug-outs everywhere. Boats were the main means of transport here. Only a few small islands are in the village. We saw the church and the mosque – both located on an island.
The villagers did not really like to be photographed. When they saw the boat with the white-noses coming they already turned their faces away, pulled their straw hats down or made frantic waving gestures, even if they could not see the cameras. I got the distinct impression that tourists were not too welcome here. No amount of waving was helping – some did wave back, but nobody smiled – other than maybe some of the children. They just did not seem friendly at all. Do not get me wrong – we did get some waves and not every single person was scowling, but there was just an under-current vibe that was not friendly.
We saw schoolchildren in the beige-brown public school uniform paddling their boats along on the way to school. It was a big school and was also situated on an island. The village also had a small hospital, they told us. I am sure we saw only a small part of the village, but it was rather interesting.
“Travel makes one modest, you see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.” – Gustav Flaubert –
We stopped at an auberge on concrete stilts. There was a restaurant and a souvenir shop. I bought some postcards and then had my eyes set on a big decorative chain made with big glass pearls and a brass mask. I bargained hard for it, but the lady did not want to budge. I was not sure if they actually wanted to sell or bargain. There were no fixed prices and our guide said – Bargain! So, I did!
The lady wanted CFE 12000 which I found of course rather expensive. Bargain customs says start low and then meet in the middle. So I started at CFA 4000 and gradually went up to CFA 7000. But this lady would not budge at CFA 10000 and that was still too much for me – for a chain most probably made in China … OK, no problem, then I do not take it! I have enough junk at home anyway.
Instead we all – except Natasha, of course – climbed the first floor of the auberge and from the balcony had a nice view over the stilt village and the main junction right outside.
Right opposite was the village’s main water pump and boats loaded with plastic barrels and buckets lined up to get water. We were told while the water is free, people pay a very very small fee towards the upkeep of the pump facility. The fee is something like CFA 20 for like 100 litres, or so.
When we came down to embark our boat again, the woman from the shop shouted from inside the house – CFA 7500 for the chain. – Aha! It did work! She did want to sell! – OK! CFA 7500 I can do! I take it!
Passing the main “road” of the village again, we encountered many children. Some where bathing in the lake between the huts, some waved at us from boats or just watched sceptically as the yovos glided past with their boat.
The way back to the mainland wharf was the same as we came and we saw more fishermen casting their nets. It looked cool how skillfully they threw the net so it would settle in the widest possible radius while they watched intendedly.
Once the nets had settled they would pull them slowly back in and take the tiny fish out. It did look very laborious, especially because one constantly had to bail out water from the boat. Here we also saw the first reference to the upcoming Christmas holidays …
The channel was busy with boats – mainly paddle boats – going back and forth. Traffic did look very organized – considering traffic is very slow even with the outboard engines, this did not come as too much of a surprise. Imagine there being bigger waves – most of the small boats would just capsize!
The wharf was as busy as earlier even though the fish market seemed to have finished. But there were still many boats. Unfortunately, most people do not like to get photographed in Benin. They either wave and shout or just simply put their heads down. Fair enough. But some are happy enough to smile in the camera. When we asked, if we could take a photo and they said no, then we chatted with them a little and then they often said OK anyway. So it is all a matter of communication.
We saw mostly women and children again doing the day-to-day trade on the market and on the boats. Supposedly the men were out fishing.
Back on the bus we drove out of town to the north but stopped at a rather big – for Benin standards – supermarket which was surprisingly well-stocked with mainly French products. We had to buy some picnic supplies since today and some of the next days we would not be able to stop for lunch in suitable restaurants. There were no restaurants set for tourists where we were going. I only bought some juices – to dilute the medicinal vodka – and some small cans of French paté. Since the French have been in Benin they left some good food behind – not literally but figuratively speaking. The supermarket offered a lot of the common French canned food items and cheeses. And also French baguette is the regular choice in the country.
In the small town of Serouhe we stopped in a local restaurant for a picnic lunch. First Oliver had complained why we had to buy picnic lunch and why we cannot stop at a proper restaurant – he only ever ate soup for lunch … As we reached the spot he gingerly sat at the pale blue plastic chair looking around himself and said – We were right to buy picnic!
It was just a local bar selling beer and there were many women with their stalls outside selling snacks. They had rice in banana leaves and also the already familiar snails on skewers. I liked the spot – very local indeed. The beer was not really cold, though, but it was good. I tried Doppel Munch this time – a very dark beer. It was good.
After lunch the drive to Abomé followed the main road north and I took my afternoon nap again. Even if I did not want to fall asleep – because there is much to see along the road – I did again. Typical. Me and busses … But I did wake up just when we arrived in the town of Abomey.
Abomey is also the former capital of the Kingdom of Dahomey 1600 – 1904, which would later become a French colony, then the Republic of Dahomey 1960–1975 and is now the modern-day Republic of Benin. The town has a population of approx 90195 people. We visited the Royal Palaces of Abomey, a collection of small traditional houses that were inhabited by the Kings of Dahomey from 1600 to 1900, and which were designated a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1985. Our bags and cameras had to be left in the van – No photos allowed on the premises. I had my mobile phone and small camera in my pocket, though, and nobody cared. But I am a role model tourist – occupational habit – I did not take any photos! – Damn! I should have!
The Royal Palaces of Abomey are actually 12 palaces spread over an area of 40 ha at the heart of Abomey town. The Kingdom of Dahomey was founded in 1625 by the Fon people who developed it into a powerful military and commercial empire, which dominated trade with European slave traders on the Slave Coast until the late 19th century. At its peak the palaces could accommodate for up to 8000 people. The King’s palace included a two-story building known as the cowrie house. Under the 12 kings who succeeded from 1625 to 1900, the kingdom established itself as one of the most powerful of the western coast of Africa.
The site was hit by a tornado in 1984, when the royal enclosure and museums, particularly the King Guezo Portico, the Assins Room, King’s tomb and Jewel Room were damaged. However, with assistance from several international agencies the restoration and renovation work was completed. Today, the palaces are no longer inhabited, but those of King Ghézo and King Glélé house the Historical Museum of Abomey, which illustrates the history of the kingdom and its symbolism through a desire for independence, resistance and fight against colonial occupation.
The compound was nice – long red clay houses with thatched roofs and reliefs on the walls contrasted with the lush green of the mango trees. The exhibitions seemed rather neglected. No AC in there, no proper lighting. There comes this discussion to mind – about all the world’s treasures that have been taken from places like this and had been placed in museums by former colonial powers – like in the British Museum – and if those treasures should be returned to their rightful countries. In places like this you think – No, they should not! They are much better preserved and taken care of in those fancy museums in Europe and open to all the world. Here in conditions like that they would deteriorate rather quickly.
I did not much listen to the French guides explanations or the German translations of our Maha – even though both were very good. I am not really a museum person. I rather just walk through and be done with it. So I sat outside most of the time enjoying the scenery.
In Abomey there was another geocache and I really needed to find it. The others were with me – they definitely though me being funny! After visiting the palaces we all piled in the van again and Maha said to me – Now, you say where to go! – Well, I do not know! I have the GPS position of us and the box, but where did we come from? I am not sure which direction to go. Best is we just start driving and then I will see and tell! … Once the blue arrow on the mobile screen – us – started moving, it was easy enough – Tout droit, tout droit – Oh, au prochain à gauche – tout droit, tout droit – maintenant à droite – et ici! Stop! – We covered the 2.49 km – as the crow flies – twisting trough the small town roads in a few minutes.
We soon enough found the blue gate which indicated the entrance to the cache. It was a box located on private property, but it stated, there was no problem to go in. So I led my entourage through the open gate. A cleaning lady hurried off to get the Lady of the House when we entered the courtyard and I politely asked – in French – if we can go look for the geocache – Bonjour! On cherche la boîte géocache, madame! C’est possible? – She smiled knowingly at us and waved us on. – Oui oui, pas de problem!
There was a small water tower in the garden and below it behind some concrete blocks I found a glass bottle with a log paper inside. Success! Everybody finds my little hobby very amusing, but I like it. Another point in Benin! I signed the paper and packed the bottle away again. Maha asked the lady if many people come to look for this box and she said yes, quite a few. After all this is in a rather save cache location and if the gardener knows about it and does not think it being rubbish, then this bottle will last a while.
From the cache it was not far to the Hotel Sun City which was located at the outskirts of town and had a nice garden setting. My room was on the upper floor and had a Jacuzzi – but not much water coming out of the tap and I doubted it would work anyway. The water was not even enough to take a shower, so I ended up with a bucket shower.
We opted to have dinner here in the garden rather than driving into town to another restaurant. Our Maha and his boss had a few competence problems this evening and were both a bit miffed, but what the heck. It is always annoying, when the boss is coming along on a trip and then tries to tell you constantly how to do your job. Also a guide trainee had joined us for the next few days. Now we had a ratio of 1 to 1 – 4 guests and 4 guides plus 1 driver.
Dinner was the usual – I had rabid – or hare – with spaghetti today. If there is anything else but chicken on the menu, then I have it. The rabbit was rather dry, but eatable. The beer was cold and Vero had organized a bottle of the local schnapps Sodabi, a clear palm spirit, which we – or rather me – wanted to test.
Sodabi, made from distilled palm nuts, is the traditional spirit of the West African country of Benin. It is a fermented palm liquor and it is very strong stuff! While Nigerians have palm wine, Beninese have Sodabi. It is also known in Nigeria as Sapele water or Ogogoro and in Ghana as Akpeteshie. We did test it – Natasha surprised me by being adventurous – maybe it would help with her stomach issues. Even Flo had a thimble full to taste. It was very strong!
After dinner we all retired to our rooms. WFI was rather slow here so it took forever to upload some photos and then I slept early.
