Oh Africa. Africa Africa Africa.
This week has been good and crazy and well, normal Africa I suppose. Spent Sunday having lunch with my boss, her husband, my colleague Jean, his wife and their 3 year old son who has the coolest little fro!! He's a little king, and he's about to be de-throwned cuz mommy's pregnant. We ate Fou-tou which is basically yam pilé, just different. I can't quite make the difference between all the different kinds of pâte.
Next time I see them make it, I'll have to shoot a video cuz it's really cool. It's a pestol/mortar concept, except in huge format. A big wooden bowl/barrel and a big wooden malette, or two, and they pound the yams into a fine flour by throwing their whole body into it. Add water and voilà! Again, I'm not sure on the process or anything, but I'll report back when I know more. If you google Yam Pilé you could probably find a YouTube video.
They opened a couple bottles of wine, a bottle of champagne to celebrate my arrival, served couscous AFTER the mountain of fou-tou and veggies and an appetizer of cucumber and onion salad with a mayo dressing... these people EAT. She served me Nescafe instant when I agreed to a cup of coffee.
When I got home I called a new friend, Mathieu, to take me to the beach. Yes, Mathieu has already proposed marriage, but he drives a really nice motorbike and has a great smile so I think I'll keep him around for a bit.
La Plage des Cocotiers, as I mentioned before, is awesome. Obama beach can be rented to hold special events, which totally peaked my attention (peak peak!). I can't be in West Africa for a whole 5 months and not throw a huge party on the beach. What kind of raver would I be if I didn't??!
Anne called me while I was there. Talking to my girls back home is unbelievably hard... Slowly but surely I'm making friends here and everything is falling into place, but I think of everyone at home often!!
(Dernièrement, beaucoup à mes collègues au Ministère. Jean-Guy m'a envoyé les nouvelles sur Dodine... mon coeur a brisé. Je vous envoie tous beaucoup d'amour!!!)Tuesday after work I got the idea that I wanted to see where Mathieu lives. He's an interesting guy, into Kung Fu, weight lifting, Chinese philosophy, and Bob Marley (and R Kelly, which he sings along to HORRIBLY cuz he doesn't speak English, but I can forgive him that), and said he lived in the same area that I work in, so I thought, maybe I can check out his place and then we can go hang out at the beach for the evening.
I txt'd him my thoughts and he called to ask, "Do you want to see how poor I am? Are you looking for a reason not to marry me?"
Honey, you should see where my brother lives. (Montreal ghetto reprazent!)
He said that his mom has a gift for me, and speaks very highly of his mother. He worries about her getting older (she's 64 and he's her baby). He said she heals people. That people from around the world come to her for it.
His motorbike took a sharp and awkward turn off the main road just before the bridge in the Fidjrosse neighbourhood and we were suddenly driving past huge piles of garbage and had to honk a woman (with a baby on her back) out of the way so we could get by. Oh Africa.
Then, old cars, chickens and chicks, goats, sheep, people, more moms with babies on their back. He pulled up to a concrete house, like every other concrete house, and shut the motor. He's very proud of the fact that when his mother got a big chunk of money, she entrusted it all to him to arrange for the house to be built, trusting that he wouldn't take any of it for himself and would have everything done properly (unlike his older brothers).
Everyone lives together in Africa. The "house" is huge, a long hallway on the outside, like a hotel in the Carribean, with doors leading to individual apartments. There's a large platform on the end for a sitting area and cooking area. Each little apartment has its own sitting room, bathroom and bedroom. Only one or two have their own kitchen. There was a small coal-fire burning outside one of the doors too.
There were a couple toddlers walking around, one little boy (one of twins, I later discovered), one little girl with a bum leg limp, and one with one earring. All naked, wearing beads around their waist.
First I met Mathieu's older sister, whose name I forget (he has 6 brothers and sisters). She had a couple kids hanging around her too.
An older lady was sitting at the end of this long concrete outdoor corridor, dressed all in white with a beautiful blue and white beaded necklace on, and about 5-6 beaded bracelets on each wrist. She saw me and smiled and got up to greet me.
"C'est maman?" I asked.
She laughed and I told her I can see where her son got his smile. Mathieu laughed. She hugged me tightly and invited me into the parlour, which was piled with stuff like a lady who shops at Walmart too much. Pots of various sizes (unused), pans, plates, random stuff. She doesn't speak much French so I had to rely on Mathieu to translate from and into Fon. I told her I loved her bracelets (they're beautiful) and Mathieu said that this is the gift she wanted to give me. She told her son to hand her a silver purse and she pulled out tons of beaded necklaces, bracelets, and waist beads.
I can feel Giannina's jealousy from here! WOW. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I ask if she sells them (cuz I could make a fortune back home) and it takes a while for me to decifer what she does.
She said she gives them to the people she heals to help with their healing (gri gri? talismans of sort?). She said she's healed diabetes, anxiety problems, cancer even. People write to her or call from all over the world apparently. She sends them remedies, they send her money or gifts. She once got a car. She makes money how she can and orders these beads, herbs and who knows what else. She used to travel a lot to get her remedies all over Africa, but doesn't really anymore.
I've never been one to dismiss this sort of thing. I wonder to myself if she's got anything for this cold.
She asks me about health care in Canada, and if anyone there can help with her eyes. She's getting old. We talk about how hospitals kill people, and I say that it's the same everywhere in the world. Prevention is the best medecine.
She says that when I marry her son she will come visit us for a few months and we'll take her to get her eyes checked. I say "yes" because I've learned that when you say "yes" here, it means more "yes, I heard you, and God willing it will happen" and not so much, "yes and let's draw up those papers right now."
Kids of various ages keep coming into the parlour, bowing politely to me, to Mathieu and to maman, saying Bonsoir and repeating themselves when they don't get an answer, leaving the parlour and putting their flip flops back on, only to show up later in various states of undress (some in their undies, some in shorts and a tank top, but it didn't seem to matter much). It's Africa. Naked is normal.
Apparently maman takes in stray kids, kids with no parents, kids with parents but no money. She has remedies that help children get identification papers fast, remedies that will help you pass your exams. Remedies that will bring you money and success. All the children are fascinated by me. They come hang out in the parlour and whisper to each other. I ask some of them what they're learning in school.
I really begin to realize how important my work is.
The cell phone rings and it's Mathieu's sister in Paris. Aimée. He hands me the phone and she is happy to speak to me. I tell her my oldest brother lives in Paris too, and I hand the phone back to maman. Aimée married a "white African", from the North, which isn't white at all, but it's all good.
Maman takes out the photo albums now to show me Aimée. She is very proud of her daughter. She's beautiful.
The phone rings again and this time it's his brother Alphonse, one of a set of twins (who is the dad of the twin I saw earlier). Again the phone gets handed to me. He laughs easily and is very nice, very polite. Everyone in this family seems to have an easy smile.
I tell maman that my dad's name is Alphonse. She asks me if I have both my parents, I say I do and she says that's good. Her husband died a few years ago. She lost her oldest daughter, too. I learn that Mathieu's oldest sister was my friend Diana's mother. So Mathieu is Diana's uncle, even though she can't be much younger than he is (he's 26).
Mathieu tells me that he told his mother how much I love the ocean and the beach, and how I could spend all day and all night there. He says that she's like that too, that she loves it as well. "Moi, je suis sirène" she said, pointing to herself, "moi sirène. Toi, sirène?"
Who
ARE these people?? This is all so awesome I think I might burst.
But do I want to see her altar?
It's not voodoo, he says. It's medecine, she has a gift. I ask but no one else in the family has this gift. An old seer who lived to 150 saw her gift and helped her cultivate it.
The altar is in a room designed for that purpose, except there's an empty wooden bedframe in it, taking up most of the room. The walls are painted with tribal designs and on the floor there's a low table with various statues on it... I can't remember what the statues look like (except that they were all white) because I was distracted by the ceramic unicorn head on the end.
Oh Africa.
Mathieu asks if I want to take a picture but maman says that I can take pictures during a ceremony, it will be better. I can't quite tell if the ceremony will be for me or to bless the union of her son with me
(just go with it) or if it's for someone else all together, but I'm easy - so I just agree. I don't want to be inappropriate.
Then she tells Mathieu to give me a tour of the rest of the house. There's a second floor and a rooftop that aren't finished yet. Concrete randomness with piping that is ready to go whenever more money comes in to finish it all.
We come upon a room when suddenly I hear bêêêêêêê! OH! The cutest little agneau! A baby sheep with wobbly knees, tied to a concrete block with a bowl of milk and stuff to eat beside it. It's excited to have company, and even though Dr. Wise in Toronto would not have agreed, I just had to give it a little pat on the head. It was white with black spots... eep!! Too cute!
I asked why it was tied there; apparently it's mother is dead or eaten or something, and the little one is too small. Something or one of the children might kill it, by accident or on purpose, so they segregate it for a while. Poor thing.
We go back downstairs and maman has put aside some of the necklaces and bracelets I thought were beautiful, and a couple more she thinks I should have. I tell Mathieu to tell her this is WAY too generous, but, um... I wouldn't want to be rude, right?
Update: My boss lady came into my office just now to give me some files, and asked me where I got my beautiful necklace. I told her my friend Mathieu's maman gave it to me, that she's a healer.
"C'est
mammy Wata? Elle était habillée tout en blanc? (It was
mammy Wata? She was dressed all in white?)"
Can I
freak out now? I txt Mathieu quickly and ask him. "Yes," he says.
Boss Lady says that her sister was desperate for some funding for an NGO she wanted to start in Benin and nothing was working. She had consulted with tons of politicans, financers, and then went to the healers and seers and nothing had worked. Someone told my boss lady that her sister should go see Mammy Wata, that only she could help her.
Mammy did a purification ceremony, made her dress all in white. Apparently it worked, her sister got financing from an organization whose name I didn't recognize.
Then when I told my other colleagues that I had met this "
mammy Wata" one said, "Quoi?! Tu as rencontré la déesse des eaux?? Tu es allée chez elle??! (What?! You met the goddess of the waters? You went to her house??!)"
Everyone's mouth hit the floor. We laughed when I said maybe it could help with the work we have to do with the government. Certainly couldn't hurt.
There you go. Maria, Queen of Benin, is making her way up in the world. And is bequeathed to the High Priestess' son.
I asked about all the kids, and Boss Lady says that when you have money in Africa, people send you their kids so that you can feed, house and clothe them while they're in school. In return the kids help you cook and clean. Fair trade, I suppose. Boss Lady says she has 7 kids at her house right now!! I noticed a bunch of kids around her house on Sunday, but wasn't introduced to any of them and didn't think to ask, figuring they were hers, or neighbourhood kids.
It takes a village, or so they say.
AFRICA!!!!!!
PS - maman, le boulot va bien. Je ne peux pas en parler sur ce site à cause que je vais en parler sur le site de l'organisme pour lequel je travaille. Comme partout, travailler avec le gouvernement, c'est frustrant. On avance, mais par la grace de Dieu et le travail acharné de mes collègues ici.
Ma boss est extraordinaire, tu l'aimerais beaucoup! J'ai beaucoup de chance de travailler avec elle. Elle est vraiment le modèle accessible et la mentor que je cherchais!
PPS - You'll notice I updated a link to
Wikipedia's Mami Wata entry. Mammy Wata is a goddess that one might incarnate for a specific purpose, so she's not an actual person... I'll have to ask Mathieu for further explanation!
