Gogo Dagbe

Where do I even begin? I had to play interpreter last week and spent a lot of time "in the field" because when we have guests, we spend a lot of time showing them around. Translating is exhausting work. I'm pretty good at it though and the work is much appreciated -- it even got me some face time on TV because I got to translate what our guests were saying to journalists for the news! I'M A STAR!

We went to visit a school for the blind with our group. I fell in love with this one little boy there. The games he gets to play through the work my NGO does was making him so happy, clapping and swinging his head around. I can't imagine being blind and I sure as hell can't imagine being blind in Cotonou. The motorcycles and cars don't care who you are or how good your eyesight is. GRATEFUL MOMENT as I think about all the beautiful and amazing things that I've seen in my life... I can't imagine never having seen the moon rise on the ocean in Cancun, or the beach I saw on Wedesday in Ouidah. (More on the amazingness of Ouidah later...)

At the Ministry of Education in Toronto I was working for a Division within which was the Provincial Schools, or schools for deaf, blind and deaf-blind kids. We visited one with a group of managers in April 2008 and I remember being so impressed with the kids and what they were capable of, despite their disability (or, to be politically correct, their "differing" ability). This school in Benin didn't have half the equipment, faculty or resources that the kids back home do, but the Director of this school for the blind was very hopeful, stressing however that they only had a tiny part of the blind population attending their schools. They also have a section for the older folk who lose their eyesight.

Picture the most remote village in Africa, accessible only with the most rugged Land Cruiser (mmm Toyota Land Cruisers), and then imagine surviving to be elderly in one of these remote villages, while your children and grandchildren all move to the city, leaving you behind, when you start to lose your eyesight. There's no Shoppers Drug Mart next door to buy a pair of cheap reading glasses. There's no optometrist down the road. You might not even have a phone or a neighbour.

Some NGOs try to go around to every village and do awareness gatherings, and try to find those with the most need to bring them to these centres for the blind. The numbers are sad though. About 20,000 people are blind (a little or a lot) in Benin, and only 300 attend these schools.

And just when you think you've gotten a handle on all the problems a society can have... you find a new can of worms.

So Wednesday we took the gang to Ouidah. This city is known as the tourist city because it has a python museum and a slave-trade route. Of course my camera's battery died about 2 hours into the day, before we even got to Ouidah, but hopefully I'll go back.

The python museum was really cool and we each got to have a big ol' snake wrapped around our necks. The people whose tribe revere the python have 10 scars on their faces. Two on each cheek, two in the middle between their eyes, and four more tiny ones on the forehead. The pythons are their protectors and gods. They let them roam around freely... it's considered good luck for one to make its way into your home. They're harmless (but freaky and huge!! eep!).

The slave route was depressing, as you can well imagine. One King resisted the temptation of the Portuguese Ambassador, De Souza, and even imprisonned him for wanting to sell the African people, but the next King wasn't so nice. The men sold were robust and strong, prisoners of war that the King was able to capture thanks to the weapons provided by the white folk who wanted the slaves. Handy, no? Land and power for the King, slaves for the Americas, for France, Holland, Portugal, Spain...

When I said the beach was supposed to be nice, I understated. Holy crap it's gorgeous. Row upon row of palm trees and clear clean sand with huge waves... gorgeous. I could've stayed there all day and all night. A long sandy road took us past a bunch of huts built from tressed palm leaves where the fishermen live with their families. I don't imagine many of these kids go to school considering it's a 30 minute *drive* to the city. But if there's one place I'd want to live the simple life, it's there. I'm not sure I could live on fish, but to live there, I'd certainly give it a try.

I'm currently writing a report for the work I accomplished in February and I'm actually quite pleased. I have tons of great ideas that can hopefully help... here's to hoping I have the time and the ingenuity to get them up and running in the next couple months.

oh, and PS: Thursday at lunch, my colleague Jean-Paul joined me and had rabbit head in some sort of sauce. Crunch. They eat everything here... not the skull mind you - although he really did bite right into it - but the eyes, ears, nose... yum? I couldn't watch. Happily the TV was on.

Burned myself a little on the tailpipe of Mathieu's motorcycle. Reminded me of the time Stephanie charred her leg on some boy's bike and showed up for my sweet 16 all bandaged up. No bandage needed in this case, and happily I have polysporin.

Mathieu's nieces bought me a dozen tomatoes for 300 West African Francs (or $0.70) and 18 eggs for $4... Life's good when you know where to get your food. And I now know how to say, 'eggs', 'peanuts' and 'nice bum' (see blog title) in Fon... ;)

I now no longer wonder why they're called "gogo dancers"...