Taxis, Shrimp, and Bob

Last week I was feeling pretty beat. I have a general idea of the work ahead of me in the next 2 months, but everything keeps changing and moving around (infuriatingly so, but I’m breathing), so when I found out that contrary to my original belief, I didn't actually have to work on Easter Monday, I called Mathieu and told him to pack a suitcase. "I made a reservation; we're going to Grand Popo."

I asked my boss how one gets to Grand Popo, because following the falling-asleep-on-the-motorcycle trip to Ouidah, I figured we should take a bus or a car or something.

"You can take a taxi from Godomey," she answered. "It shouldn't cost you more than 1 500F CFA ($3.50)." Sweet!!

We finish work early on Friday, and I got the work driver to drive me home and wait for me to get a few more things together, change quickly and drive Mathieu and I to Godomey, which is on the outskirts of Cotonou, so we could catch a taxi.

When we got there, there were 5 or 6 random cars, unmarked except for the fact that they were all old cars, falling apart, with drivers shouting out different destinations. Lomé, Ouidah, Lokossa, Abomey... Of course, when they see a white girl they want to know where she's going and if they can rent out the car. 8000F to rent it out. Still cheap, you might say, but way more than 1500!!

We found a driver that would take us for 1300F and waited for the car to fill up. When we left, there were 4 of us in the back (a bigger girl, an older man, Mathieu and I) and 2 people plus the driver in the front (a student and a young military man). Wow, after about 45 minutes I was wishing I'd shelled out the $20 for our own private car, or at least a bit more so that there would only have been 3 of us in the back. Live and learn.

We drove along quickly and I managed to snap some fun pictures along the way of this village built entirely on the lakeside, or in the lake... boats and people milled around everywhere, even in the water.


There were a few scheduled stops and when we did the ladies selling nuts, water and other random food would swarm the car. I kept praying that the driver wouldn’t try to cram someone else in with us, but it seems no one else needed a taxi.

The military man up front got out first and left the 4 of us in back. Happily there was only about 20 minutes left to our trek, and soon the taxi was leaving us on the side of the highway in Grand Popo to continue on its way to Lome, Togo.

We stopped at a restaurant because I'd gotten off work at noon, packed, found a taxi, waited for the taxi to fill up and drove to Grand Popo ... and we arrived at 5pm. 1500F for fresh fish and a local pâte which is different from the stuff we found in Cotonou, grainier and red. Except when she got back from the kitchen, suddenly the price had gone up to 2000F. She let out an "Ah!" of disbelief when we accused her of changing the price because I was Yovo... but regardless, it was delicious.

Sidenote: they don’t speak Fon in Grand Popo, they speak Mina, the language they also speak in parts of Togo.

Then Mathieu and I got on a scooter in search of our hotel. La Maison Blanche had quoted me 25,000F CFA or $57ish for a bungalow beach-side for the night, negotiable, and Mathieu thought it was outrageous, so we went in search of something else. Having called around, I already knew that everything else was booked solid, but I let him try and we drove up and down the Grand Popo strip, Mathieu, the driver and me, on a scooter that had definitely seen better days.

On the way up and down the strip I noticed a raggae bar painted brightly in red, green and yellow... a definite stop during our weekend, I thought.

The Auberge, an old colonial house, was full, but there was a pool we could swim in for 1000F and a nice restaurant we thought we might eat at. Back down the strip to L'étoile de Mer, also booked, and not that nice anyway. Finally we went to La Maison Blanche (the website doesn’t do it justice and I didn’t take any pics of the bungalow itself, sorry), where we pretended not to have a reservation, and the manager (who also turned out to be a great chef) let us know that the rooms are both double, and are 25,000 for a family, but 15,000 or $35 for a couple. Sweet!

Mathieu was worried about security, and asked if they had any guards. Two, apparently, although I never saw any. Regardless, according to everyone Mathieu asked, Grand Popo is pretty sleepy and quiet and no one makes any trouble for anybody. "This isn't Cotonou," they'd answer.

We had a little look around, the beach was much more sea-shelly, less fine than Cotonou's or Ouidah's. I think I prefer Ouidah actually, but Grand Popo had more of a touristy feel. More hotels and places to hang out on the beach.

After sunset we had a bit of tea and pulled up some chairs to watch the many many stars come out, only to see the moon rising on the ocean. Sweet!

I wanted to go for a walk along the water, but Mathieu was worried we’d get attacked and asked a young man at the hotel to join us for our walk. Mathieu likes any excuse to talk to people, and started asking the young man a bunch of questions on Grand Popo, its origins, and what there is to do here. The young man, Godfreid (his mother is Nigerian, but he doesn’t speak English), was more or less knowledgable/helpful. Apparently he’s the chef at a local restaurant, and has been for a whole 3 months!

Saturday we had an omelette and some instant coffee with some pineapple juice, fresh, of course. Then we played in the waves a little, but the lack of any life guards or anyone who can really swim prevented me from diving into the water. I’m an okay swimmer, but the ocean is merciless.

We decided to walk down the beach to check out the menu at the Auberge restaurant and passed by some fishermen and their wives collecting the catch from their nets. Didn’t seem like their catch was much to write home about, but what do I know. One of the fishermen objected to my picture taking – “you should ask permission before you take someone’s picture.” I should know better!!


The menu at the Auberge was expensive and getting to the Auberge was difficult! The sand was burning hot and we had to run from shady spot to shady spot! OW!

On the way back we decided to jog because we’d ordered a shrimp lunch for noon and god only knew what time it really was. We sat down and ordered a tall bottle of water and were so pleased to see our shrimp arrive – super tasty too! Garlic shrimp! The seafood was probably the best part of the trip (except the crab Mathieu had that night – no meat).


Then it was time to go back to the beach to sit under a palapa with some beer to watch the waves and look for seashells from our shady spot.



After a while I started to realize that my skin was pretty burned. I haven’t had a sunburn in Benin yet, despite my time on the beach, so… I kinda stopped wearing lotion. The burn wasn’t too bad, but still owwie.

It was time to get in from the sun, and I went it to take a shower, which was hot because the reservoir is black on top of the bungalow… I haven’t had a hot shower in months! Very nice. I patted myself dry and we decided to nap for about an hour and then go take a walk around town to check out that Raggae bar I saw on the way.

It was a great little place called Lion Bar. There are rooms for rent and there were tents pitched sea-side. There was an elevated concrete dancefloor with lights all around and I thought it would be a really fun place to come for Bob Marley’s birthday on May 11th – a big deal for the youth in Africa.

The owner/DJ was playing some funky little tunes. We had already been drinking beer all afternoon and their cocktail menu was too fun to pass up. We danced a lot that afternoon. The tunes were fun. The owner was happy to have us.

Then Mathieu asked if the SDB or sodabi on the menu was the real stuff… Eau de Palme… the local hard stuff, but it’s actually very nice, very soft. The owner, insulted that we would ask if it was the real stuff, immediately poured us a couple shots, which we sipped, with our cocktails, and our beer. Geez.

One of the shot glasses was from Québec, and when I asked if someone had given him a gift, he said that his wife was from Québec – that she was coming on Tuesday and that he couldn’t move with her to Québec because he has children here in Grand Popo. Very thoughtful for a father, I thought – but Mathieu says that he must be a polygamist. Who knows. Oh Africa.

The idea of Rastas and Rastafarian tradition is interesting. He had a nice mural that talked a bit about the Rasta relationship to the Bible, and a quote by Hailé Sélassié, an Ethiopian Emperor (whose title at one point was Ras Tafari)… check out the wiki en français et in English.

Drunk and late for dinner of disappointing crab and more shrimp, we called our scooter friend who drove us home in time to sit to watch the stars come out and order another big bottle of water.

Again the moon rose on the ocean, and I had the brilliant idea of order a half liter of white wine with dinner.

There was no walk on the beach that night. Actually, I’m not sure I remember much of dinner.

Slept well though and woke up with the worst dry mouth and really achy skin!!

On Sunday we decided that we’d relaxed enough. We packed up our things and had one last jog and breakfast by the sea, and then decided to go hang out at the Rasta bar until we felt it was time to leave, except when we got there, our friend was no where to be seen and there was no music playing, everyone was having breakfast since it was only 11am… a little bummed, we just decided to catch a cab home.

We got to sit in the front on the way back, which was nice – roomier, although there were only 3 people sitting in back. When we sat down, Mathieu asked the driver if he had any music. He scoffed as if to say, “As if I have music in my car. Have you seen my car?”

I have music! (This device has paid for itself many, many times over! So handy!)


Note to travellers: Never go anywhere without a Best of Bob Marley and the Wailers album. It will get you through anything. He’s so easy.

On the way back I took more drive-by pictures and Mathieu pointed out a small grave just outside one of the toll booths. Remind me to tell you the sad story one day.

Sunday we hung out at Mathieu’s mom’s house and went for dinner in an “expensive” restaurant where I ordered pizza with mozzarella on it! Happy Easter! I had rabbit for lunch on Tuesday, and that’s about as “Easter” as I got! No chocolate bunnies or eggs here!

The traffic to and from the beach in Cotonou on Sunday and Monday was unbelievable. There were people everywhere, on motorbikes, in cars, on foot... I decided I didn’t particularly want to partake in the craziness, so we stayed in.

Rained all morning on Monday… Sigh… Life’s a beach!

Tons more pictures in my Flickr set…

Weekend: Kids, Art, Bats and Salsa

Was a pretty good weekend, all in all. Was feeling extra tired on Friday, and my stomach was unhappy with something or other (part women’s troubles, part the-fish-I-ate), so I left work a little early (noon) and went home to sleep it off.

Mathieu was at his mom's house. On Thursday night, (keep track now) the daughter of Mathieu's brother's wife (from a first husband), had fallen really ill and was brought to the house, perhaps in the hopes that Mammy could help. The little girl died shortly after her arrival. Mammy wasn't home; she's got a client that's been keeping her very busy these days, to the point where she's even spending nights at the clients' house.

I've never met the little girl. Apparently she was around 10 years old. I don't know the circumstances of the death, whether or not she was sick, how she died... frankly, the less I know, the better. A kid dying is just sad.

Friday evening Mathieu and I stayed in since I wasn't feeling well... until we could stay in no more, and he took me to a restaurant he'd been meaning to check out. I figured I felt well enough to sit in an air conditioned restaurant. We went under the premise of ice cream (after the Casa del Papa lunch, we had ice-cream-on-a-stick and he's become a little addicted to ice cream!) but discovered that they had cheeseburgers and pizza at reasonable prices (small pizza was $8, cheeseburger $3.50). My appetite suddenly returned.

The cheeseburger was actually really good! The owner is Lebanese, and they put fries, coleslaw and lettuce on the burger. The pizza was cooked in a nice fire oven and quite tasty, but you could tell all the ingredients were canned: artichoke hearts, mushrooms, olives... bah. Oh, and the ice cream was good too (500F or $1.25 per scoop).

On TV, a West Life karaoke DVD. So we got the music and chorus of most of the West Life musical collection. I hope never to hear the full songs. :rolleyes: I prefer the old school ‘90s version of More Than Words, thank you very much!

On Saturday, Mathieu took me to Maman's and the whole place smelled of campfire. Outside I met little Aisha crying her eyes out. I would have asked her why except that she's not in school yet and doesn't speak French, so all I could do was tickle her a little, wipe her tears and ask her, "ça va?" before giving her a little kiss on the head and making my way into the house.

I mentioned that Maman's been working, which means some sacrificin! YUM! Lots of sheep and chickens getting butchered. Mathieu laughed that when he was at Maman’s on Friday a chicken laid an egg right in front of him.

There were a few shaved hens that the kids were carrying around and at one point one of the boys took a large knife to one of the hens as I was walking by. HOLY CRAP DON'T KILL A HEN RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME PLEASE!!!!

He was just cutting the rope that was holding both hens together. I almost had a heart attack. Part of me wants to watch them kill something (so I can become a vegetarian?) and part of me just doesn't want to know.

Spent the rest of the afternoon playing with Tania, Aisha's little sister who’s about 2 years old. We play "slap my hand and I'll try to grab it", a game I used to love playing with my dad. We play peek-a-boo. We play “make weird noises”. We play "honk my nose". And finally, we play, PUT THAT DOWN. Wooden matches (which she totally knows how to light), machetes, glass. Oh Tania. Maman tells me I can take her with me. She's a riot. (AND she fits in my suitcase!)

The kids like to hang out in Mathieu's room (not that they ever dared go in his room before I got there) because he plays the music really loud and watches TV. They come in and dance, which is the funniest and awesomest thing ever, as anyone who has ever watched babies dance can attest.

After a bit of dancing, I was sitting on Mathieu's bed and Tania leaned her head on my knee. I started giving her a little baby back massage. Poor kid has a bum leg so she has to limp all the time. I can imagine it must wreak havoc on her back. Of course she was out like a light and drooling on my knee in no time.

I put her on the bed and watched some more TV. The only thing cuter than a kid dancing or laughing is a kid sleeping.

Mathieu kept coming into the room and giving me random pieces of meat. Delicious. The kids were running around trying to avoid the big patches of smoke and it reminded me of sitting around a campfire with Aimée saying, "I don't like white rabbits!" trying to coax the smoke in another direction.

Eventually Tania's mother came and got her and I took my own nap until Mathieu was ready to leave. I took home some meat! mmm...

After a quick shower to wash off the smoke, I asked Mathieu, "what next?" Ice cream on a stick, of course! I better get to the gym soon. We tried a different kind than the one we'd tried before, but we both prefer the ones with the almonds in the chocolate. I'm happy they don't have Hagen Daaz here, otherwise it would be game over!

Then, WE WENT TO AN ART EXHIBIT! weeeee! ART! La Fondation Zinsou is an NGO here in Benin that promotes art. The founder of the foundation is the niece of ex-president Zinsou (1968-69) of Benin. The President's brother married a white lady. Their daughter is very cool and the exhibit was very awesome and made even more awesome by the fact that it's free to visit.

The exhibit displayed African art by 5 collectors (if my memory serves) including the Zinsou parents. Some art was very old (BC), some very contemporary, all very cool, very inspiring. Then again, going to museums and art galleries is always inspiring. There were a lot of “masks”, which I quote because they’re massive and ornate. There were quite a few talismans and fortune-telling devices. In the “contemporary” section were photographs and more abstract art.

I couldn't take any pictures, but the joy of the internet is that you can click the link above and check some of it out for yourself. You'll probably have less of a hard time loading the page then I do.

I'm hoping that next weekend I can borrow the company car and take a couple of the kids from Maman's house to the exhibit. They have kids' activities from 14h-16h on Saturdays and those kids probably never get the chance to do that sort of thing.

After the exhibit we were travelling down Jean-Paul II Avenue when I saw this flock of birds... they just kept coming and coming -- a never ending stream of black birds! So impressive!! Wait. THOSE AREN'T BIRDS!! eeeep! BATS! Hundreds if not thousands of them. I tried to snap a picture, but it was dusk. Mathieu said that this is their migrating period. Gross and cool, I wish them a happy migration, wherever they're going.

Then we’d planned to go to the Centre Culturel Français (CCF) for a concert. I didn’t know the artist playing and Mathieu hadn’t really done a good job on selling me the show. He was saying that the dude was playing his father’s music, and that his father was much better than he was… gee, sounds like fun.

But I hadn’t been to a concert since I got here, and I really wanted to check out the CCF because they have a poster outside announcing “Les semaines de la photographie” and I love photography! (awww! the website says I missed my chance! the exhibit was over on Saturday, the day we went too late! booo!)

The photography exhibit was closed after 19h, so I hope to go back soon to check it out. The CCF itself is a very cool place with a library (which also loans DVDs) and a membership card only costs 3000F ($7), so I may get one, we’ll see. Inside the CCF is a large courtyard with great trees and crazy birds that I’ve never seen or heard before. I really felt like I was in a jungle somewhere. In the courtyard there’s one small stage and a large one for concerts that sits about 100 people. We grabbed a small beer and waited for the show to start.

The concert ticket was 2000F ($6.75ish) and well worth the price. The man may be imitating his dad, but he’s got a great set of lungs and is a very good dancer. Gilles Gnonnas & les Dadjés (his father Gnonnas Pedro). He did both traditional and salsa music, which is also traditional African music, FYI.

I had to google the origins of Salsa and Son music… those slaves I tell ya…

To find the roots of Cuban music we look to West Africa where the slave trade thrived. The Yoruba, Congo and other West African people created rhythms in ancient times to call forth various gods. Sadly, these wonderful rhythms were brought over to the New World under dire circumstances. One drummer named Ijibwa was taken captive and placed on a slave ship for America. He was forced to play on deck to keep up the spirits of the prisoners so that the "merchandise" would arrive alive.

I may as well have titled this blog entry: Everything Is African.

Pictures, Ouidah, so sleepy...

I'll be posting more pictures soon, I promise! Work has been busy, weekends have been busy... I keep forgetting my camera at home to upload my pics on the computer here at work (excuses excuses). EDIT! I'VE ADDED PICTURES BELOW! Also, visit my Flickr site to see all the photos I added. I'm having trouble rotating some of the pictures in Flickr... I'll try again when the computer decides to be cooperative.

Went to Ouidah on Sunday with Mathieu. My dreams of living the Motorcycle Diaries have been dashed! Sitting up straight on a motorcycle for 30-40 minutes is HARD! The trip home was non-stop and my ribs are KILLING ME! Not to mention I kept *almost* falling asleep on the back of the bike. (I've turned into my mother, able to fall asleep anywhere!!)

On the way there we stopped by the cemetary to visit Mathieu's dad, except he couldn't find the tomb because the cemetary has changed so much in the last few years since he's been... it's unbelievably crowded and over grown with shrubs, plants, weeds... the person who normally keeps the books wasn't there on Sunday, so we'll have to go back some other time. He says his sister knows where it is, so hopefully we can come back with her.


Took Mathieu to have lunch at the 'fancy' hotel in Oudiah, Casa del Papa. It's a nice hotel, but I haven't seen any of the rooms. I really should've asked. It seems like a pretty big complex, with rooms on the Lagune side and rooms on the ocean side, pools, conference centre, tennis courts, etc. (Sounds a lot like Cancun, doesn't it!)

He had the spaghetti carbonara, I had pasta with seafood. Pretty good, was really nice to have some alfredo sauce!! Worth the $30 for lunch just for the taste of alfredo! Water was 3x what we're used to paying. There was, on the 7 groups having lunch, 1 black family there. Mathieu recognized him as a politician. I think it was his birthday, as we were leaving I heard them singing "Joyeux anniversaire, joyeux anniversaire..."

One lady had her little ugly French dog with her. The kind where their hair is way too long and if you're not careful you might step on it. It kept chasing after the lizards.

Mostly French-from-France people from what I could tell. A cute little blond boy collecting sea shells and singing to himself. Apparently a lot of people who live in Benin come spend the weekends there.

The most impressive thing about the beach in Ouidah are the palms trees. They line the beach for miles and miles... Mathieu says that at one point the king of the region commissioned their planting. They are all lined up. Not sure how long they've been this way, they're huge!


Drank some local brew on the way there (made out of Mil?)...


bought some local cheese on the way home. I love the cheese here. They fry it and put it in with the peanut sauce... YUM. Can't wait to fry it myself at home.

TONS of crabs running around the beach in Ouidah! TONS! So fun to see them scuttling about, and watching Mathieu run after them in the hopes of grabbing one.

No success.
Pics tomorrow?
Your breath is bated, I'm sure.

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"...

What day is it??

Too many kids in the street today... I find myself squinting my eyes at them thinking, WHY AREN'T YOU IN SCHOOL???!!!

Then I realize it's Wednesday afternoon and kids have Wednesday afternoons off. Doh!


Work finally got me a map of Cotonou... except when we looked at it closer, we realized it's from 1995. They're still selling 15 year old maps! Cotonou has changed a LOT since then!

Hoping to get a map of Benin for my office too... y'all know how I love maps... they're handy when you want to know where you are. And here, often, I wonder!


Oh, and I realized something I miss from home... I MISS NORMAL. I don't miss snow though, and I hear March is offering no respite, so I don't want to come home just yet. I offer my sympathies to my Canada-peeps suffering the end of despair/Winter. I'm with you... but happily only in spirit!!!


I might have to move out of my apartment. The inside walls look like they're getting wet, and it's only rained twice. I noticed a lot of condensation in a doorway yesterday and there are dark spots in corners in the bedroom that are getting darker. Oh yay mold!

Plus there are holes big enough for lizards to come into my house, so I can't wait for it to start raining for real and for other creatures to find respite in my home. So maybe I'll move... not sure yet. My landlord is shady and doesn't seem to care too much about me. I'll stay for March I guess. We'll see what I'll do for April. I have to talk to the guy at work about it and he's in Ghana for the rest of the week!

Also, I'm kind of out of the way. I wouldn't mind being within walking distance of work/the beach... or at least a decent market so I can buy groceries daily rather than once a week. Doing big grocery trips with Mathieu on his motorcycle is pretty funny! Backpacks, holding a bag of eggs and a 2-4 infront of him while he drives! eep! Talk about driving carefully!

Cooking more now... checked my bank account and realized that eating out may be cheap here, but it ain't cheap enough!! I can get lunch for about 2-3 dollars CAN, but dinner's more around 10.

Made the most delicious french fries last night! YUM! I love peanut oil!

Je suis sirène

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!

Tastes Like Chicken

This morning I saw a man taking the fur off a dead pig on my way from work to the Cyber (internet café) down the street. A nice lookin pig too. He smacked it and it made a good blubber sound. Made me wish they made bacon here. (The internet at the office has been down for a week and a half, so I have to go to the Cyber to check my email. Everyone in the office is very frustrated and the internet provider says they're doing maintenance, but the Director's admin assistant says that they're probably having trouble with their supplier.)

As I sat in the Cyber which is on the 2nd storey of a building, I could see him gut the pig. One of those situations that makes me shake my head and think, "Wow, I'm in Africa." Luckily the Cyber is far enough that I couldn't really see too much, just that he was lifting innards out of the pig. I saw him empty out the intestines - and I only know that's what he was doing because I've seen my dad do it to make sausage.

mmm sausage. I could go for some nice italian sausage right about now. I miss Italian food!

A few nights ago I went to Diana's restaurant for a drink with Ludvert, because I wanted an excuse to hang out with Diana a little. She's really cool and owns her own little restaurant, and I think she would be a good person to get to know, except I think I'll have to lose her in the Ludvert divorce.

Anyway, I told her I was hungry and asked her what she could make me since I didn't really know the food they make that well. She asked if I wanted fries! SURE!! And chicken? SURE!! Yay something "normal"!

Fries are fries no matter where you are in the world. Good old trusty fries. The chicken, however, ain't your Maple Leaf chicken breast.

Ladies and gentlemen, chickens have lots of bones! And unless they're from a bountiful canadian farm, they're not very meaty. I had a lot of trouble getting the meat off the bones -- you really have to get your hands dirty when you eat meat here, because the meat is tough and you really have to rip at it with your teeth and your fingers.

On my roadtrip over the weekend we had chicken and fries again, and my colleague's friend Max actually had to help me get the meat off the chicken (with his knife and fork, not his fingers!) because he's more used to it. I acted like I wasn't hungry anymore, and invited him to eat off my plate, and he kept putting all these big pieces of juicy white meat on the side telling me to eat them... YUM! I think I need someone to follow me around and help me eat, cuz there were huge chunks of meat that I would have completely ignored, probably hidden behind a bone.

Another thing they eat are the sheep, which is what I had stuck in under my tooth the other day. Really tough meat, and they only ever serve it in small chunks and sometimes the chunks are all bone and fat. There are no steaks here. I very, very rarely see beef on the menu. One restaurant had burgers, and I ordered one, but they had pre-made patties that they heated in a toaster-oven. Mmm.

Along the road to Allada where the ladies sell the food, one lady had this weird BBQed rodent meat. Made me realize that the food here actually LOOKS like what it is. The chicken gets served with the ribcage and when you order the fish, you get the whole fish, and when you want fish sauce, you're sure to have a head in there too.

It made me realize how disconnected we are from the food we eat. The chicken is force fed to be huge and flavourful, with a little MSG for some added umph. We buy baby carrots in resealable bags... all they are are big carrots cut down and blanched so that they stay nice and orange. Who needs reality when you can have carrots from Mexico?

Everything here is fresh and "organic", except maybe the rice. The rice is always crappy white rice, which is surprising. It's not like they have rice farms or anything, and rice is cheap (thanks China!)(then again, what do i know, maybe they do grow it here) so I guess it's not that surprising. They eat more pâte which is yams or maïs pounded into a flour with water added to make a gunky gelatinous paste. Root veggies seem to grow well here. Carrots, yams, potatoes, corn (not that corn is a root veggie, but they seem to have a lot of it).

Anyway, I guess I just wanted to say that eating chicken here actually makes me think about the chicken I'm eating and that it once had a life. It's not something I thought of back home.

So Much to Say

I have so much to write about I don't know where to begin. Too much even. I hope things start to become "normal" soon... it's all so inspiring/crazy and I want to tell you everything!

First I guess I'll write about what's most on my mind: the fact that I'm really going to have to find new friends. At first it was cute that both Roger and Ludvert were so smitten, but now it's very annoying and tiresome and puts me ill-at-ease. Despite trying to be nice and even not-so-nice about the fact that I am NOT the love of their lives and indeed not even attracted to them, they persist and insist and it's getting to be too much. I guess they think I need convincing? What I need is to get away from them!

It's a real shame though, Lud's cousin invited me to attend a voodoo funeral (his wife's 95 year-old father died... 95 year old FATHER? She can't be more than 30...) and Cérémonie des revenants (a ceremony where the dead come back to life). Apparently the father was really high up in the voodoo priest world, so it will be quite the party, but I can't imagine having to spend an entire weekend with Lud and his family bugging me to make beninese babies with him. There's nothing worse than a guy you're not attracted to trying to be possessive of you around his friends and family. Gross!!

So I guess I'm gonna have to go back to the friend drawing-board. I'm trying to think of opportunities where I could meet some cool and fun people. In Toronto I met a lot of friends clubbing, so perhaps there would be the same opportunity here. I also hope to catch some concerts or art shows. I'll have to ask if there's any college newspapers to find some student art shows or something. Maybe some theatre. Again, going places when there are no street names is hard. I have to depend on people to get around and it's pretty frustrating. I need to buy a map of Cotonou!

I have no choice but to be patient and hope things will just work themselves out. I've only been here 2 weeks and it feels like I've been here forever.

So, otherwise, my weekend was jam packed with crazy experiences. I'M IN AFRICA!!! and sometimes it's unbelievably surreal.

Friday, I went with my colleague Jean and his best friend Max to their hometown of Bohicon and Abomey. They said they wanted to take me to do a little tourism. What they didn't tell me was that we were in fact going to visit a bunch of their friends and family and that they were going to their hometown to attend a party at a funeral -- this omission almost made me cry when we arrived at the party and everyone was all dressed up. I was wearing a tank top and a pair of jeans!! I was SO MAD. I couldn't believe they didn't tell me we'd be going to an event like this. I scolded my colleague for not telling me and tried to hold back my tears. Everything is intense here and my eyes well up at the smallest thing.

They kept assuring me that what I was wearing was fine. Apparently white people can get away with wearing whatever they want, but I felt so rude and disrespectful - I wanted to hide in the car. I could just imagine my grandma looking down on me from above being ashamed of her granddaughter showing up to a funeral dressed inappropriately.

I'm not sure if it's because I'm a girl or if it's because I'm a guest that they don't tell me anything, but it's getting frustrating. The men keep taking me places without saying where we're going, or keep making pit-stops without saying that we're making pit stops. So I think we're going to one place and we end up in another, and suddenly I'm meeting entire families of people with no time to prep my brain for what I'm about to encounter. It's very disconcerting. And when I ask where we're going or what we're doing, they act as if I don't need to know and that it's funny that I'm even asking. Don't I trust them?

It's not a question of trust, dumb ass, it's a question of MAKING ME FEEL COMFORTABLE. I'm in a new country, far from everything I know. I don't have a clue what's going on half the time, and the other half of the time they're speaking Fon and then I really don't have a clue. So I guess I don't have a clue 100% of the time. Bah!

They just go with the flow here, so pit-stops and deviations from the original plan occur often without anyone seeming to mind. It's amazing anything gets done.

So I barely got to do any tourism. A highlite of my trip was my colleague's friend Eric (hilarious dude who kept singing along to the tunes and telling me what they meant; he reminded me of Jayski because of his sense of humour and his belly, but less scrapey! And he didn't hit on me, except jokingly, which was great!) who came out of his hotel room in the morning wearing his boxers and a white tank top, drinking a glass of whiskey (the men here drink ALL the time - drinking and driving is not an issue, it's pretty scary). I told him jokingly/not jokingly to put some pants on, but he didn't. Then later when he asked me why I didn't hang out with them while they were drinking, I said it was because he wasn't wearing any pants. He got all dressed up in traditional clothes for the funeral (not that I knew until we got there that that's why everyone was so dressed up) and he looked very dapper.


For lunch we went to Max's aunt's house. She made pâte with a veggie/fish/fried cheese sauce.

I ate with my fingers! It was delish and his aunt was very nice.

I also met this amazingly nice woman named Elizabeth. She was so kind and hugged me like we had known each other forever. At the funeral party she had a little bundle strapped to her back, the granddaughter of the lady who had died, apparently. She had this great big headdress too. I wanted to ask her how she got it to stand up like that, but I barely saw her at the funeral. Hopefully I'll get another chance to see her. I didn't get her picture.

At the funeral party, everyone was eating and talking and drinking -- just like Italians in a church basement. Except at one point all the women in this one section broke into song. I wasn't sure why and didn't ask, but it was really cool.

I asked to use the bathroom and the girl brought me to a bedroom that had a bathroom off the side. There was no door to the bathroom and the toilet had no seat (the toilets never have seats, if there's a toilet at all), and I just couldn't go. Never mind that a lady walked in when I was trying to go.

The kids are always so fascinated by me. Yovo! Yovo! I had my big round sunglasses on, and this little boy at the funeral party was staring at me, so I smiled at him and pulled my sunglasses down and winked. He freaked out and went to tell his friends, and when he came back I did it again. He was so excited, it was adorable.

Did a wee bit of tourism I suppose. We did stop to see the statue of one of the great kings of Abomey. He refused to sign a treaty with the French saying that it compromised his people's independance. They say he was a huge man and the statue certainly shows that he was massive. I realized that there are very few statues of black people, that I'm aware of.


The roads here are brutal. There are so many potholes! And where the roads are new, there are tons of speed bumps -- way too many. So many in fact that my colleague's muffler fell off in Bohicon. I got to experience a Beninese mechanic shop! The work progressed slowly and everytime we came back to see if he was done, the mechanic needed some money to buy another part. Imagine: show up at the repair shop, and when you come back, the mechanic says, I have to buy this part, but you need to give me the money so I can go buy it.

And of course there are roosters and chickens walking around.


The drive back was long, and we kept stopping, because apparently that's what the Beninese do. There are ladies selling fruit, nuts, anything and everything along the side of the road in certain areas. When we got to Allada we stopped and the ladies rushed our car selling pineapples, bananas, plantains, nuts...

It's really amazing what they manage to carry on their heads. Even the children carry really heavy loads on their heads. I didn't realize our heads were so strong!!

I bought some peanuts and my friends warned me that peanuts give you zits. I wonder if their nuts are much oilier than ours and I guess we'll see. They're really good. Wish they made peanut butter!

They were also selling these little snack-bags of boiled corn and boiled peanuts!! Boiled peanuts are delicious!! Apparently you just boil them in some salt water until they're a little soft and then allow them to cool down... delicious!

When the boys were finished with their shopping we continued to make our way back to Cotonou. We stopped at a bar where one of the children saw me and put his hand out like he was begging for change. Another saw the little red ball I have on my bag and said, "cadeau?" (present?). I'd never seen the children beg before. To be fair, the boy who was begging for change looked like he was immitating something he had seen someone else do, to see if it would work. He didn't look very sure of himself. I didn't give him any change, even if 10 cents would have meant the world to him. I'm not sure what I should do in those circumstances. I'm very torn.

In Cotonou the children are more used to seeing the occasional white person and those who live along the beach will ask for a 100 francs or a gift, "Yovo! 100 Francs?" "Yovo! Cadeau!". But it's certainly not the norm and the children are mostly just excited to see me.

It's really hard to see some of the poorer children. At the bar on the road back from Allada, there was a set of twin boys hanging around, fascinated by me. They must've been 6 or 7 years old. They were adorable and had beautiful smiles, but skinny with big bellies and with the belly button sticking out. The only thing they had on was underwear, dirty from them sitting around.

Everything's covered in red earth and dust. The mother in me wanted to take them home with me and get them some clothes, some shoes, some food and a bath. I took their picture and pray that they will be fine.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, making our way back to Cotonou in the dust. They're rebuilding the highway near Cotonou and the traffic is ridiculous. Some lanes are blocked off, some aren't, and it's basically a free-for-all. The car windshield was so covered in dust we could barely see out of it, and we had no fluid to wash it off!

Apparently they started the construction of the road before making sure they had all their financing in order, so the work has stopped.

I have so much more to talk about... but this is already ridiculously long. More tomorrow.

Random Entry, Things I Forgot to Pack (aka the Golden Floss)

I forgot to pack dental floss. I have a tooth ache and figured out I'd gotten food stuck between my teeth. I think it's pork... it must be. Anyway, they serve this dish with a small piece of pork, and it's really tough and you kinda have to rip it apart with your fingers and then chew like crazy and you get tons of stuff stuck in your teeth... I'm really not used to it!

I'm hoping that when I ask them if they know what "de la soie dentaire" is, they won't stare at me blankly. I used the string from a tea bag... lol - necessity, right? As I was walking to the bathroom with my little tea bag string, I thought to myself, "this might be the best or the worst idea you've ever had."

Well, it worked, and I dislodged the chunk of whatever-it-was from under my tooth, then rinsed my mouth out properly with salt water, to disinfect, and I'll keep disinfecting every hour, and see how it feels in the morning. Hopefully I can find floss on my way home from work tonight so I can clean my teeth properly every day. This is not a place I want to have a dental emergency...

update: yup, I got the blank stare. My colleague suggested we hit a pharmacy, and the first pharmacy suggested we hit the mother-pharmacy. So we went... :( I had to pay $10 for freaking dental floss. But I got pizza for dinner so I feel happy again. :)

Week One: I'm being a big baby today, missing my friends!

I can't believe I've only been here ONE week.

I miss home, miss my friends, miss Toronto. I miss:
- having a Starbucks on the corner
- a GROCERY STORE on the corner (I hope to find one nearby today, it's my mission, for breakfast I had to hit up a street vendor who was selling rice with a chicken wing and a piece of meat-something -- pork maybe? in this spicy-ish sauce and a baguette which cost me 450CFA or 85cents -- because all i have at home is gross gross Wonder-type bread that's too sweet and kinda tastes like soap)
- a 7/11
- a washing machine
- a TV with more than 4 channels
- an awesome internet connection at home
- peeps i can call up whenever i want to (and talk to for more than 20 minutes without it costing me $10)
- being able to cross the street without reciting a Hail Mary
- Toby! ;)
- RUNNING WATER FOR CHRISSAKE!!! apparently the owner is coming Monday with the plumber. geebus.
- a toilet that flushes properly and doesn't gurgle (now i know why my co-workers were saying i should get air freshner for the bathroom... eesh!)
- a shower
- i miss knowing where i'm going at all times... not knowing where i am is disconcerting to say the least!

... ok, enough missing, i'm taking my ipod and hitting the beach. apparently Sunday's the big beach day, everyone comes in from out of town.

when i went to the beach yesterday, this dude Roger (the fact that they all have French names is so weird, cuz it's like Roger Abolomo or something...) started to talk to me (African men... luckily they're very nice) and showed me the business he started, a small bar on the beach. He's got big plans and kept making fun of me and calling me Yovo and making fun of how i pronounced the name of the neighbourhood i live in. Jack-ass!! So I made fun of him back. His friend Richard was really interested in hearing about Canada, and I was very happy to talk all about it. He asked if it was hard to get a bursary to study in Canada... but I have no idea.

I rode a motorbike taxi (they're called Zim) and lived to tell the tale!!!!!!!! It's actually not that scary... I just try to find a bike that looks like it's in good condition, and a driver who looks nice. LOL - cuz who needs a helmet when you look like a good driver?? (says the girl who always wears her seatbelt when she gets into a cab...)

Ok, enough. I'm getting out into the heat and sunshine.

"Let the rhythm take you where you want to be...
Let your troubles all go by...
Release the pressure from your inner life...
Just get your groove on... lose track of time..."

Hope my friends all shook a leg for me last night. I was SO there with all of you.

There's a first time for everything

A lot of firsts this week. Last night Jean took me to try to get money at a bank machine. The thing is, they have bank machines for Visa cards, and I don't have a pin number for mine. Shit. I'll have to call or email the bank to see what they can do. A lady Jean knows who works for a bank says that the bank in Canada can transfer funds to an account in Cotonou. Either that or my dad will have to send me money through Western Union - there's a ton of those here. (update: found a bank machine at the Novotel Hotel.)

So, last night, on the way back from banking, Jean stopped the car on the side of the road because there was a coconut stand and I had mentioned that I'd never had a fresh coconut. They chop the top with a machete and stick a straw in it.

It wasn't as sweet as I'd expected, but apparently there are different varieties, which makes sense. When you're done drinking, they chop it open and give you a hard part of the shell to use as a kind of spoon to eat the mushy inside part. It was gooey and kinda gross, but not un-delicious.

I'd have it again, unlike the pinapple I had to eat this afternoon... I feel bad because it was fresh picked and I should think that it was delicious, but it just wasn't. I'm sorry!! I'll save the 2 that Jean gave me to have on pizza... although I may give one to a neighbour... I'll never eat 2!

My god this week was so action packed I don't know where to begin. On Tuesday they took me to Porto Novo to meet with some Gov officials. A combination of boring and nerve-wracking, cuz, well, they're government officials. You get what I'm sayin? Porto Novo is a cool town, I'll spend more time there and hopefully get to know the town a bit more.

Everything here is littered. I keep catching Jean throwing shit out the car window, even though he agrees that it's gross and unnecessary. "Did you just throw your can of Coke out the window??" :head slap:

I guess it's just not a big deal to them. I put a little plastic bag in his car to avoid him throwing stuff out the window... he looked at me the next time he finished using a napkin and rolled the window down to throw it out. He smiled, rolled the window back and used the bag. We had a good laugh. There's hope for him yet.

Benin is one giant Capacity Building seminar. They need classes on how to do everything. They're uber-eager and very very capable, and their mistakes are totally ignorance-based. I REALLY want to try and find a rake so that the next time I go to the beach I can rake up some crap.

They have the hugest beach I've ever seen and it's covered in litter - including broken glass (won't anyone think of the children??). Of course, the area where the waves roll in is completely fine... The problem is that there are no garbage cans, no infrastructure in place to take care of these things. So garbage lines the streets, the beach...

Today Jean (he's an awesome guy, I'm glad there are people like him in the world) took me to a "manifestation", which in my French means "protest" but in his French means "ceremony"!!

Anyway, it was a graduation ceremony for a career college. They asked me to participate in the ceremony and give one of the students their new sewing machine as they were graduating from the tailoring class and some students who qualified under specific criteria got equipment to use. They asked me to make a little speech, introduce myself, etc. and shake hands with the dude and give him his new kit. Another colleague said he saw me on TV that night! I was sitting in the front row and shiz was going down right in front of me - I'm almost famous! It was cool.

Actually, it was not cool at all, it was boiling hot and in an area of the country that was very open and dusty. I came home very very dirty only to find that... I HAD NO WATER. I would've had to go to the well around the corner to get water, but I don't have a rope for my bucket. I'll have to get one this weekend. I had to open the tap every 5 minutes and let whatever water was there fall into the bucket, and then I gave myself a sponge bath. Aye aye aye... what a life.

GAH I could go on and on there's so much stuff to talk about.

I've been having problems with my power. My landlord happily installed an air conditioner for me, but didn't think to check if the electric box could handle it. So now when I turn the air con on for more than 10 minutes, the power goes out and I have to go around the corner, (right where the well is, actually), and go into the shed where everyone's electricity counters are to click the black button for my apartment.

The lady at the corner store says she knows someone at the city's electricity department who can help me up my amps from 5 to 10 or 15 really quickly, so I'll bring her my bill tomorrow so she can ask her friend. Cuz if I wait for the landlord to do it, it'll take weeks. I love how things work here. People are way too nice. (update: power issues are taken care of! no thanks to the landlord, and thanks to a little under the table cash...)

Spent most of my night on the phone with my parents and I also called my friend Jenny. I wanted to hear about a meeting that was held for the Brenda Foundation, a charity Brenda Healey's family is starting to help pay for counseling fees for the families of victims of violent crimes.

It went really well, apparently. I thought a lot about Brenda today, since I heard that the wife of someone I work with is very sick and may die. Jean was the one who told me about how sick she was. (update: my colleague's wife died this morning at 6am, leaving behind 3 small children under the age of 9. Please send your comforting thought to my colleague and his family...)

We had a really long chat about death. Jean is 37 or so, and has had quite a few friends die over the years.

We are all in between life and death my friends.

(oh! a chicken just started making freaky noises outside!!) ... where was I? Oh death. Ug. I should probably get to bed. Tomorrow's Friday... I think I'll bring what I need to hit the beach in the afternoon.


... death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders, smooth as ravens claws ... Jim Morrison

The Good in Everyone

Aw ya... listening to some Herbie Hancock, rockin the air conditioning, just got back from my first walk to the beach (the feeling I had this morning that I should buy a plane ticket home vanished when I saw the waves roll in on the sand -- home? what home?) and an uber-filling lunch. Oh my gaaaad I can't wait to be more familiar with the food here so that my friend Jean can stop ordering for me. I accused him of trying to fatten me up. "Just a little," he said.

My colleagues here are all awesome. Such thoughtful and hard-working people. At noon today, I thought, "Holy shit, if I have to wait til 1pm to take a lunch break and go for a walk, I will DIE." They work straight from 8h30 to 1pm!! NO CAN DO! Call me lazy, I call it HUMAN.

I asked Jean - don't you get hungry?? No, apparently not. Then again, at the age of 6 he was getting up at 5am to walk 20km to the fields where he spent all day under the hot African sun cutting down branches, pulling weeds and burning stuff only to walk the 20km home afterwards. There is no lazy work-ethic here.

Anyway, as I made my way to the door at noon -- actually, a funny language barrier here. They didn't understand when I said, "Je m'en vais prendre une marche." Apparently they don't "take" walks. It's kind of a funny expression when you think about it. We could just as easily say, "I'm going walking," or "I'm going to walk," which is way more accurate. Anyway, everyone was working, but I found Jean downstairs reading the paper, so I asked him if he wanted to join me on my walk. Once he figured out what it was I wanted to do, he came with me. "Do you want to go to the beach?" EEEEEK! Yay!

We started to walk and a bunch of kids came out of a school nearby for lunch. The children here are SO CUTE!!!

They have a word for "white person" in Fon, the local language, which sounds like YEY-VO (I'll have to ask how to spell it). The children see you and sing a song that goes something like, "Yévo, yévo, Comment allez-vous, ça va bien merci!"

I'll have to learn way more Fon while I'm here. I wonder if I can find a textbook of some sort. SPEAK WHITE, DAMMIT! (kidding, kidding...)

This little boy was hiding in the shade under a bench, playing in the sand while we were walking along the beach. Jean wanted me to try some local fruit... and we bought it from his mother. She had this little bundle of baby blubber straped to her back, sleeping soundly... I wanted to eat the baby!!!! It's hair was all natted with different coloured elastics... holy cuteness! While Jean was negotiating the price, this little boy started to sing to me.

I'm sorry Maria, WHAT?! Yes, I've been eating the fruit here.

Those who know me, know I don't eat fruit... but I promised my friend Dair that although I wouldn't go out of my way to eat any, if any fruit was offered I wouldn't decline. I think my body will go into shock, but we'll see. Speaking of which, I think he left the bag of fruit we bought from the lady at the restaurant we stopped in after -- I should go ask him. In any event, he made me eat some local fried bananas at lunch, so I think my fruit quota has been met for the day. HAPPY DAIR?!

Anyway, during lunch we got on the topic of fear... oh right, because we were talking about how people here talk to each other and aren't really afraid of one another, and how when he went to Toronto, a girl was afraid of him when he went to help her take her bags off the subway, or the time he was walking down Gerard and a girl started to run in the other direction (he's not shady or anything, quite good looking, he's just black). Or how our first instinct is fear (or annoyance) when we go to a bank machine and someone is waiting behind us. It's a crazy world we live in. It's just not like that here. Everyone talks to each other, or doesn't. Whatevs.

We started to talk about how important it is for the good in the world to stand up. The bad in the world speaks very loudly. The good whispers. The news we watch is all bad, all the time. Violence, war, disease, corruption... why? Is it not the minority of events? Isn't there far more good going on in the world?

I wish people would talk more about organizations like UNICEF or Right to Play rather than Al Quaeda. Why not promote these messages of hope rather than the messages of violence? It's important to know about the bad, but far more important to know that there is good. Why not mention that a black man saved a white couple from drowning rather than splatter the headline, Black Man kills White Couple?? Why doesn't the first make the news?

This is why I watch The Hour and not The National. It has an effect on us -- don't think it doesn't.

When was the last time you smiled at someone on the subway? Or said, "Hi, good morning" to the people who work in your building, in the elevator? What happened to our humanity?

Of course our conversation ended with Obama. He is the quiet good majority turned into a roaring lion of hope. SPEAK UP DAMMIT. Make the kind of world you wished you lived in. What's the worst that could happen? Someone will look at you funny for saying hello? For helping them with their bags?

The risk of violence and accidents exists no matter what we do.
So forget the bad for a moment and do more good. Ignoring each other is not good.

Oh my god - 2 of the 4 croissants they brought me for breakfast are staring at me... "we are chocolate and we are delicious!!" oooh my belly is so full from rice and cheese and plantains... Africa's gonna make me fat.