museums, merry go 'rounds and music

So I mentioned in my last post that I managed to take 16 kids to both the Zinsou Museum and to the Village de Paques (which is also known as the Village de Noel, in December), an amusement park. I won't say too much on the day and will let the pictures do the talking. The kids had a great time and want to know when the next outing is going to be. I'm not sure I would take the wee ones next time, or if I do, I'll invite the other parents along so that they can help manage the crew. The little girl twin peed all over the floor of the bathroom of the museum, and my shoes. oops.

First, they all got dressed, which I've never seen. I tried to take as many pictures of them as I could in that state. The bus/van was a half hour late, and Mathieu and I went to the house an hour early to make sure they were all ready... Tania's mom had dressed her in a fancy dress, which wasn't appropriate and she was really uncomfortable, so we got her into shorts and a tshirt and she was much better. She hasn't been feeling well lately, so the dress must've just been torture. But more on her later.

I didn't think we'd all fit in the bus, but it worked quite well. I guess when you don't have carseats to deal with, piling 3 little ones makes it easier to squeeze everyone in.





We drove around for a bit because a lot of these kids don't get out much beyond their school and the house. We took them to see the Stade de l'Amitié (a big stadium in Cotonou) and l'échangeur (the grand new overpass built a couple years ago). Little Boris, Diana's little brother, was able to spell "échangeur".

The Museum was more or less kid-friendly. The guy showing the kids the exhibit did it in a very "school" type way, which was very informative of him, but when you have a group ranging from ages 2 to 16, you shouldn't really be spending too much time on each item, asking questions and trying to drag the answers out of the group. The got to colour, which was nice.





From there it was off to the Village de Paques. The museum was free, the park was not. And there were 18 of us!! Still really cheap comparatively. Entry 200F ($0.50), $9 total. Then, a little something to drink, 200F each, another $9. Plus one for the driver, of course.



And a little something to eat, popcorn, 100F or $0.25 per bag, either salted or sweet.



Then everyone got to pick one ride, 500F or $1.25 for a total of $22.50. Most of the boys picked bumper cars, the girls picked the swings on the merry-go-round (so did I, and my stomach turned for hours afterwards), and the little kids were relegated to the cars-on-tracks, much to the dismay of the older ones... I let Mathieu make the executive decision of who was too young...







After that, the crew was getting restless and our time with the van was running out so we hit the road (we paid 18,000F or $45 for 5 hours with a driver - and he helped with the kids), but not before everyone scored a second or third MTN hat. MTN is a local cellphone company.

Everyone was really happy with getting a free foam visor... and we all wore them proudly for the group pic (the oldest guy is missing, dunno where he went) once we got back to the house. Of course, I didn't manage to get the group picture before half of them were out of their clothes already...



Maman was just beaming at me on our return. She was very happy that I was able to do something like this with them and thanked me.



The kids thanked me too, but I told them we had to record a message for my parents who sent me the money to take them out. I recorded them a few times, they're so funny. One time, they said, "Merci Monsieur et Madame Le Blanc!" LOL! I repeated my parents names and they said it properly the second time. Too funny. Then they started rapping in French and everyone piped in, even the girls. It's actually really good.

Goes to show, kids are kids - no matter how rich or how poor, they all have favourite artists and sing them obsessively.

That seemed like a good idea... FOR ME TO POOP ON!!

The title is a reference to Triumph the Insult Dog.

One thing my mother warned before I left: Don't mess with voodoo.

There are many things in this world that we don't understand and therefore don't believe in. Ghosts, for example. Witchcraft, sorcery, voodoo, hoodoo... lots of people dismiss it as bullshit... but I live in Benin. No one dismisses it here.

**warning: gross stuff ahead. if you've just had lunch, or are faint of heart, don't read this!!!**

I was waiting for Mathieu to pick me up after work on Friday and I was reading the paper. The headline on page 11 of La Nation reads:

Les "gourous" de la mort -- Le fléau mystérieux qui décime la gent féminine (The Gurus of death -- The Mysterious Plague that is Decimating the Female Race)

The article goes on to say that women in love are being killed. Not by AIDS, not by cancer... I have to quote it for you to believe it:

Des prédateurs, ce que les Ivoiriens (de la Côte d'Ivoire) appellent les "gourous", ne sont que des personnalités mues par un souci effréné d'entretenir leur fortune qui font succomber à coups d'argent, leurs victimes en quête de gain facile et gagnant donc leur manger à la "sueur" de leurs cuisses. Le mode d'emploi trouvé par ces gros bonnets, les "grotos" comme on les appelle ici, est tout simple. Pour assouvir leur dessein lugubre, ces exterminateurs contemporains sans scrupule demandent à déféquer ou à uriner sur des filles ou vice-versa après avoir satisfait leur libido avec elles, en échange de faramineuses sommes d'argent. Quelques heures ou quelques jours après, les victimes commencent à sentir des malaises; une maladie "bizarre" s'installe et prend plusieurs formes. Puis, la suite, c'est le trépas en douce.

To translate basically. Rich and powerful men who want to keep or improve their richness and power, get intimate with women and then offer them absurd amounts of money to let them or ask the girls to... well... relieve themselves on the man or let the man do it on them. Days or hours later, the women fall mysteriously ill and die. DIE.

A "marabout" or powerful sorcerer is quoted in the following text, the article's continuation:

D.S., un marabout et exorciste à Abobo BC, très sollicité par bon nombre de footballeurs, d'artistes et de personnalités ivoiriens, a reconnu que "ça existe vraiment" et explique : "C'est une pratique que certains féticheurs (voodoun)conseillent à leurs clients. Soit, la personne défèque sur sa copine ou il demande qu'elle défèque sur lui. Ca peut paraître dégoutant mais, je vous assure que c'est un moyen infaillible pour avoir de la puissance et pour consolider sa richesse". Evidemment, cela n'est pas sans conséquence : "La fille qui accepte de se faire ch... dessus, est, dans 98% des cas, vouée à la mort. Ca peut prendre du temps. Mais, elle finira par mourir", confie le féticheur.

He explains again what I explained earlier, that in Ivory Coast, some clients of voodoo priests come to them for riches and power and they recommend this practice of not-so-golden showers to give them riches and power. The girl dies in 98% of cases, data which I'm sure has not been scientifically verified.

They quote one girl who politely declined a man's requests, despite the offer of 10 million francs or $25,000. Another girl whose friend died mysteriously discusses how they had laughed when she said that her boyfriend wanted her to pee on him:

"Moi, je soupçonne fortement son amant, une grande personnalité du pays qui lui offrait tout ce qu'elle voulait. Il y a un mois, AD m'a confiée que son amant lui avait demandé d'uriner sur lui après qu'ils eurent fait l'amour. On a bien ri. Mais, c'est depuis ce temps que ma camarade est tombée malade..."

They also quote doctors who looked at these patients and declared these diseases as "mal mystique".

How do you convict someone of murder?

I asked Mathieu how these guys can be punished since there's no way to prosecute them in any modern courts, and he assured me that karma's a bitch, although of course, he never could put it that way. I picture their faces shriveling up and them falling into a pile of dust, like in an Indiana Jones movie.

Anyway, I'm sure I've grossed everyone out thoroughly. Voodoo may or may not be a thing of the past, but certainly shouldn't be taken lightly. West Africa, and Africa in general, is very powerful.

The modern world underestimates itself greatly. We pride ourselves on our "intelligence" and our ability to make machines "Go", but these people can cure disease with plants and can create wealth with magic... poop.

Why, then, with all their magic, haven't they dug themselves out of the proverbial hole they're in? Perhaps for the same reason we have an economic crisis, or why we can't seem to put even a small lid on our consumerism to help out our environment... because there is good *and* evil in the world. The Good understand that using magic and powers for your own advancement will not lead to anything durable. And until the Good stand up to the Bad, until women stop taking money and gifts from men for "fecal favours" (lol, i slay me!)... until we really and truly stand up and speak out against that which we know to be evil... then evil will always win.

A little preachin' for those who made it to the end of this post.


In other news, I took SIXTEEN kids to the museum and to the amusement park this weekend. :) More on that, and pictures, tomorrow. SIXTEEN. Started with 8, and then the family got wind of it. You know, I think I'll miss the kids most of all. They're pretty adorable! And really sweet! And very well behaved! I was impressed!

Le français au Bénin

Tout le monde sait qu'une langue se parle de différentes façons. Mon français n'est pas celui de mon frère à Paris, ni celui de ses amis à Dax dans le Sud de la France, qui n'est pas celui de ma cousine à Montréal, qui n'est pas celui de nos amis en Acadie, etc etc.

J'ai pensé essayer de faire la liste des particularités béninoises... je ne sais pas si je vais réussir, mais bon:

Doucement! = Fais attention! ou Regardes où tu t'en vas. Si tu trébuches sur quelque chose en marchant, par exemple, ou si tu t'accroches sur quelque chose en débarquant d'une moto, on va te dire, "doucement!"

Bonne arrivée = Bonjour, bienvenue chez nous, bienvenue n'importe où dans l'fond. Dans un resto, au bureau, peu importe.

Bonjour = ce qu'on dit le matin, entre 6h et midi.

Bonsoir = ce qu'on dit à tout moment, mais surtout après midi et en soirée. Si tu dis "bonjour" après midi, les gens vont te répondre "bonsoir". Ce concepte m'a confuse pendant un bon moment -- MAIS IL FAIT ENCORE PLEIN SOLEIL!!!

A tout moment: on le dit souvent aussi, pour dire "n'importe quand". Cela remplace souvent l'au revoir.

On se coince: on se rencontre quelque part. Souvent, dans un bar.

Tu quittes déjà? = Même quand je quitte le bureau tard, je quitte "déjà".

Un maquis = un petit resto/bar qui sert le menu basic du Bénin: frites au poulet (non, ce ne sont pas des lanières de poulets, c'est du poulet servi avec des patates frites), riz au jus (jus, voir ci-bas), poisson, fromage (fromage local, frit dans l'huile, trop bon) avec sauce d'arachide (mmm! mon plat préféré!), et diverses pâtes. Défois spaghetti blanc servi avec piments, onions, tomates. Les breuvages: Coca, Sprite, Fanta, bières diverses.

Pâte: pas des pâtes/pasta, de la pâte. Igname pilée, pâte noir... c'est essentiellement de la farine de maïs ou de la farine d'igname (on dirait toujours qu'ils disent de la farine de yam, et ça ressemble en effet aux grosses patates sucrées) avec de l'eau qu'on mélange et qu'on bat avec un gros baton pour que ça devienne de la gélatine. Très bon.

Jus: On met ça sur du riz - tomates, oignons fris dans de l'huile d'arachide. C'est très bon.

Un pressing: Là où on amène le linge à faire laver. Je l'ai fait une fois, ça coûter beaucoup trop cher ($25!!!)

Une von: une rue. "Tu prends la deuxième von à droite..."

C'est pour toi? = C'est à toi? J'ai mis quelque temps à la comprendre, celle-là. Pour moi? Comment? Aujourd'hui dans la voiture, il y avait une enveloppe par terre et mon collègue a voulu me demander si elle m'appartenait et il m'a demander, "C'est pour toi?"

Ou bien = N'est-ce pas? Une autre chose qu'on dit souvent ici, à la fin des phrases.

Tu as fait un peu? = Tu as bien travaillé? Tu es entrain de faire quelque chose?

Un peu, un peu: On peut dire, "J'ai fait un peu, un peu," "J'ai travaillé un peu, un peu" ou "Elle m'a remis l'argent un peu, un peu" ou "Je me sentais pas très bien alors j'ai mangé un peu, un peu" qui veut dire petit à petit ou tranquillement.

Tu es où?! = LA question par excellence au téléphone cellulaire, qui remplace presque le "bonjour".

Maman: N'importe quelle madame agée de plus de quarante ans, surtout si elle travaille dans un maquis et elle fait à manger, ou si elle travaille dans une école et elle s'occupe des enfants. Ou, n'importe quelle madame qui est vraiment une maman dont on ne connait pas le nom.

Je n'arrive pas à en trouver d'autres... je vais y penser! A tout moment!

Uphill both ways

So now I get it. We used to make fun of our parents and grandparents stories of how difficult it was for them to get to school, but they weren't kidding. I look at some of these kids here in Benin and I drive down the roads they walk on every day to get to and from school, sometimes walking 5km or over an hour to get to school and I wish we could all get together to give them a standing ovation. It's really hot outside. They go home at lunch (from noon til 3pm I think) and work (in the fields or with their mother at the fruit stand or home to do housework) and then go back to school.

Of course, there are kids here who get a ride to school in their parents Peugeot or on their motorbike. It's not rough for all, but for most...

School for the typical Canadian kid is not a priveledge, it's a huge pain in the ass. When I think of the effort my parents had to go through for me to get out of bed... forgive us for we know not what we have.

I imagine being 7 years old and walking to school, proud of the homework I finished the night before, only to get caught in the most torrential downpour during rainy season. No wonder a lot of kids decide to drop out rather than walk to school in the rain, in the mud, in the heat, surrounded by flies and mosquitoes. Uphill both ways.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I got into some really interesting discussions about garbage during my trip on Saturday. The guys kept throwing stuff out the car window and it was driving me nuts. I couldn't hold back and kept telling them not to do it. It really got me thinking about garbage and how we deal with it.

There is litter and garbage everywhere here. Sometimes in piles, sometimes just randomly strewn around. Some yards are very tidy, and next door there will be something under construction/on-hiatus-until-there-is-more-money that is completely covered in litter.

I'm not sure if they do garbage collection here. I'm starting to have a bit of garbage collecting in my house and wondering what I'm going to do with it. I'll have to go see Mme Caroline at the corner store to ask her how it works. I think a lot of people just burn their garbage, but there must be a collection of some sort.

When I scolded Roger for not having garbage bins around his restaurant at the beach, he said that when people buy garbages they get stolen. A lame excuse, I think, since you can always chain the garbage to something.

I started to wonder why the garbage was making me so upset. Sure it's unsightly, sure it could be more tidy in a nice garbage bag... but I realized that we are no more noble because we are tidy. The garbage always ends up somewhere. Just because we stow it away in a dump, or (sigh) in the ocean, doesn't mean we aren't just as bad.

Our street-cleaners and garbage collection services give us the illusion that we aren't polluting the planet. One trip to the Dollar Store should be enough to realize that we are far worse than any African village. Imagine a store like Walmart or Costco and then imagine them in the garbage, then imagine all the Walmarts and Costcos in Ontario, in Canada, in the US.

Where does it all go?? Nowhere. Years and years of consumerism is piling up in our dumps. So much so we don't know where to put it anymore. We incinerate some, we recycle others, but both those processes pollute the planet. Why companies don't bother to even try to make bio-degradable products is beyond me. Cost-effectiveness means nothing if there's no planet for you to sell your products on.

There's a Lebanese restaurant in Toronto off Yonge street a couple streets south of Bloor (on Hayden I think) that serves all their take-away food in biodegradable containers. Even the forks and knives are bio-degradable, made from corn! Cheers to them.

But there *is* something to be said for tidiness and safety. There is glass and oil and animal guts getting dumped, and children (and adults) running around barefoot. It's not very nice to look at, either. There's something soothing about a tidy environment, something unsettling about having garbage and disorder everywhere. Makes you wonder what it is about our brain chemistry that makes us feel that way.

Anyway, I just thought it was funny that I took garbage collection for granted. Toronto's so clean, I've often walked around barefoot after a night of wearing heels to go out. And anyone who's walked down Church or Yonge Street the day after the Pride parade knows that the city's clean-up crew are miracle workers, though nothing gets rid of that beer stank right away.

People who work with garbage are my heroes... I certainly don't want to have to deal with it. Bless them!!

(update: a non-government organization or NGO picks up the garbage in my neighbourhood. there's a big concrete bin at the end of my street where everyone puts their garbage. i can empty my garbage now!)

What Do You Mean, "This Is The Bathroom"??

If I didn't have a proper toilet at home, I think my bladder would explode. This might fall into the "too much information" category, but I can't pee squatting. I guess there are muscles you need to relax when you pee that I just can't relax when I'm squatting. Or maybe it's the unusual environments I find myself in.

They're very laid-back when it comes to bodily functions here. When I was on the beach with Ouade and his sister Yasmine, we were walking towards the water when the little girl just squatted, moved her underwear to the side and peed right there on the beach without a second thought. !!

You really have to watch where you put your hands here, because nothing is really sanitary! I certainly realize how often I (used to) touch my face. No more of that. And I wash my hands at every opportunity.

You see men peeing on the side of the road all the time. Really makes you wonder what the women do when they have their period.

Last Sunday, after a day of drinking beer at the beach, I asked Roger if he could show me to the toilet, "Tu dois uriner?" Yes, I have to urinate. He brought me to the back of the restaurant where there was a kind of alcove with a concrete floor and a drain at one end. No door, no curtain, just 3 walls and a drain.

Um, do you have a real toilet?

Not understanding what I meant, he brought me to his house a block away where I met his dad, and he showed me to their bathroom. Same thing! A freaking hole in the floor! The beach bathroom was better than this one, but I wasn't going to say anything. So I peed a little bit, but couldn't really deal with being there too long, knowing that he was waiting for me outside. Happily I had kleenex with me in my bag and I was wearing a skirt, because otherwise it would all have been too much for me to handle. I admit I threw the kleenex on the ground when we made our way back to the beach because of course there was no where for me to get rid of the paper. I really don't want to know how they wipe. Really.

Later, Lud took me to Diana's to meet some of his friends and I thought, OH! There's gotta be a bathroom here. So I asked her where the toilet was and she pointed to an alcove right off the front patio. I walked in and again, an empty space with a drain in the corner. NOOO!! So I peed a little bit more and put my kleenex in an empty bucket on the ground. The bucket is normally full of water to throw on the ground when you're done, but it was empty so I used it to throw out my kleenex. There was a sink at the exit which I used to thoroughly wash my hands.

At work, the toilet closest to my office has a seat that broke off and is just sitting behind the toilet, so everytime I go I have to put the seat on. I had to clean it off cuz it was dusty and had cobwebs. The other toilets don't have seats. They all have toilet paper, soap and towels to wash your hands, which is great!

I am so not made for this. But I suppose I am. Humans went for a really really long time without sit-down toilets. I'm really glad I haven't gotten a bad case of diarrhea while I've been away from home! I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHERE THEY POO!!

I guess I'll have to practice squat-peeing at home. I have never felt so priveledged/spoiled/suburban. As if I don't know how to pee without sitting down!! What kind of human being am I?

Another thing I took for granted: I flush the toilet, my excrements magically disappear and I don't have to worry about them anymore.

Here the toilets gurgle when you run water in the kitchen sink and when someone flushes upstairs the toilet gurgles downstairs, really driving home the fact that all the plumbing is connected.

Like the garbage though - where does it all go? To a magic poo hell in the depths of the Earth? Honestly, I don't want to know where and if they treat the water here once it's flushed. I'll leave it to the poo gods and hope that when rainy season comes I don't get any drainage surprises.