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.

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.

Take Me Dancing

Upon my return from Bohicon on Saturday night, I called Ludvert to make sure we were still going dancing. "Do you want to go just the 2 of us, or do you want me to invite my friends." OH MY GOD INVITE YOUR FRIENDS. (I had to have a little chat with him that night about my not being interested in him, because it was getting to be too much and he really wasn't taking a hint. I made it abundantly clear, but he still kept trying - but that was much later in the night.)

He came to get me around 11pm and we went to Diana's restaurant where a few of his friends were drinking some "eau de palme" which I could compare to Canadian Eau de Vie -- really strong booze that could probably double for rubbing alcohol. They soak herbs in it for flavour. Tasted awful but certainly woke me up.

After Diana closed up her shop we went to her boyfriend's house so she could change and then we all piled into his car and drove off to a club where there was some live music.

The music was so awesome! I wished Gordon was there, cuz he really woulda gotten a kick out of it. It was Beninese music, except it was salsa! The Motherland truly is the motherland of everything. I keep forgetting that slaves were brought throughout South and North America, and Spain, Portugal... and they brought their music with them. One of Lud's friends Mathieu said that the Spanish and Portuguese made the salsa dance and music better... different perhaps? Not necessarily better!

So it was me, Diana, and 6 guys. The boys were all dancing like crazy, loving every minute of it. They certainly aren't as prudish as the boys back home, girating and moving their hips, and dancing with each other. I've never seen guys dance like that and I've seen a lot of guys (gay, straight, black, white) dance.

We left that bar around 2am and went to another place where there was supposed to be "techno". We didn't end up going inside, but instead left for another club near the airport.

There were a lot of white people there. The bar is owned by a Lebanese dude -- apparently there are a lot of Lebanese people in Benin. The music was pretty crappy (very top 40 house music with some traditional tunes thrown in for good measure -- oh! there was a remix of Aline! "Et j'ai crier, crier! ALINE! pour qu'elle revienne..."), but the company was fun.

I found the DJ booth and was happy to see that they have CDJs. I'll try to go again this weekend, perhaps even alone, to see if I can talk to a manager or the owner. I don't necessarily want to spin when they're open, I just want to be able to use their CDJs to get some practice in and hear some good beats every once in a while. Then again, who knows. Maybe upon hearing that I'm a promoter from Toronto, they might be interested in some business. Guess it depends on whether or not they know anything about the scene.

This is where the night went sideways, and annoyingly so, but awesome in another way. We all piled back into José's car (Diana's boyfriend) and they were all speaking Fon and I was just staring out the window so I missed the actual conversation. I *think* José offered to drive me straight home, since the club is just on the other side of the airport and pretty close to my house, but instead Lud insisted that they go get his motorbike at José's on the other side of town, have his friend Zee drive the motorbike back to Lud's house (they live next door to each other) which is just outside of the city and then Lud would drive me home on his motorbike.

Of course no one told me what the f#*k was going on and only said that we had to make "a stop". We sat waiting at José's when Lud explained that they could've driven me home but didn't and that we had to go somewhere else before I went home. Already, not impressed.

When we got to Lud's house I had to get angry because I didn't understand what was happening and suddenly José was driving off, leaving me in some far off place with a boy I didn't want to have to spend any more time with.

I had to be stern and express my anger, "mais QU'EST-CE QUI SE PASSE? On est OÙ?" Which is when I realized that Lud had gone to great lengths to be able to show me his house and then drive me back to my house when I could already have been in bed. I scolded him and his friend - "you have to WARN a girl before you take her to some strange place outside of town." Neither of them had thought of it, and Zee agreed with me. Lud was probably upset that I wasn't happy to be at his house.

By now it was 5:30am and I was mad. I was tired and confused and felt like I was being taken advantage of because I didn't speak their language.

Not only that, but he was about to abandon me to sit in his waiting room/living room while he went on his motorbike to drop off his friend Zee next door (next door is around the block and down the street... we were kind of in the country or a suburb).

So he let me inside the house and introduced me to his brother, although you never really know if "brother" means "brother" here, or if it means cousin or best friend.

I felt really out of place, but his brother was really good looking in a 17 year-old kind of way, and he didn't sit with me and force me to have a conversation with him, so that was good.

I asked for a glass of water, and then realized they probably just gave me tap water, so I just had a couple sips and put the glass down - I didn't want to get sick.

Lud came back and said he had to change because he had to go to the sports arena to play some soccer at 7am. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed, and again he was being annoyingly lovey towards me, despite our "conversation" where I blatantly told him I was not at all interested in anything.

He invited me into his room to chat with him while he got ready, and I politely declined, saying it was too hot to be indoors and that I would wait in the courtyard to get some air.

I wish words could adequately describe the beauty and awesomeness of the scene I witnessed when I walked into the courtyard... let me try to paint the picture:

It's 5:45am and still really dark outside. The whole first floor is one big open concrete room with concrete floors, part of it covered like a garage, with the rest of the house on top of it, and the rest of the yard has no roof but is completely fenced in with tall grey concrete walls. In the middle of the open-air section is a well made of stones and concrete and beside the well is a large metal basin that they carry water in - I've seen many women put those basins on their heads to walk from the well to their houses.

In the garage there are a couple large wooden tables and 10-15 wooden chairs, and it reminds me a lot of my grandpa's mechanic garage. There are a few blackboards with writing on the walls, but I didn't have the time and felt too out-of-place to do any inspecting of what they were. There are short but long wooden shelving units along the walls with a lot of jars in them. The whole place is lite with bright orangey fluorescent lights, so I can't see the stars from the courtyard.

I went to leave Lud's room when I saw that someone was in the courtyard, standing at the well and it wasn't his 17 year-old brother. Not wanting to meet ANOTHER one of his family members, especially not at 6am when I haven't slept, I stood back. It was so quiet, all I could hear was the sound of the pulley at the well and when I looked, I saw a youngish fit shirtless black man in an ankle-length green sarong with one leg braced against the well, pulling hard on the rope to get the water up, using every single muscle in his back, shoulders and arms. Then, from the yard next door, a rooster crowed. And again. And again.

Good morning Maria, you're in Africa.
Holy shit, I'm in Africa.

I immediately ran back into the waiting room so I could write down a note. I didn't want to forget the moment, it was so surreal and beautiful.

Finally Lud came out of his room proclaiming that he couldn't find the tuque he wears to drive his motorcycle. Did I steal it? Or put it somewhere? Oh Maria, what did you do with it? Haha.

I could have punched him, and I'm sure I didn't look impressed. Stop with the excuses. "Just take me home, I'm exhausted." And then on the motorbike... Are you holding on tight? Are you sure? -- I am NOT holding on to you. I'm fine!

The road from his house back to the highway was a dirt road and again made me freak - I'm in Africa. Quite a few people were making their way to church - it was 6am, time to pray. The scenery near his house was beautiful, and I thanked life for having an upside to this annoying situation.

I was pretty nervous at him driving down this sandy road on a motorcycle, but he said, "N'ait pas peur, je suis désert" (don't be afraid, I am desert). The boy does have a way with words.

It's pretty fun to drive around on a motorcycle - fun to be a passenger since I can look around in awe at the scenery. If/when I decide to get my own bike I'll have to keep my eyes on the road and it probably will feel more terrifying than fun (at first)!

I was still afraid though. Obviously he was still trying to convince me of how cool he was and I was sure he would try to impress me with his driving skills.

When he proclaimed that he could make the motorcycle fly, I put my foot down and asked him to cool it. He could show me how fast his motorcycle can go another day, when I've had some sleep (ie: NEVER). Still, a little while later I had to ask him to slow down, which seemed to frustrate him since he thought I was perfectly safe.

When we got to my street he said it was my turn to drive, which would have been super fun at any other time and with any other person. But I realized that finally I'd be in the driver's seat, literally, and was excited to get my ass home. Of course now it meant he got to sit behind me and "help me drive" which made the experience even more uncomfortable. He wasn't a very good teacher and I was a very impatient student, but luckily we were only a minute away from my house.

I gave it too much gas and had trouble gearing up (like I said, he wasn't a very good teacher - "press down on that pedal" isn't an instruction I can follow. WHICH pedal? That pedal. WHICH??! grrr!!!!) but we made it without my stalling it. Except then I didn't know where the break was and tried to stop it like a bike by putting my feet on the ground - which doesn't really work for a motorcycle!! Handbreak Maria! Handbreak!

Well, the next day we went out again because he was going to bring me to a store where I could buy a USB internet key for my laptop and then we were going to go to the beach, except the store was closed, "oh I guess they close at noon on Sundays," he said knowingly. Again, I was NOT impressed - and then he parked his bike infront of his cousin's place without telling me where we were going or who I was about to meet, which pissed me off.

This guy wasn't winning any brownie points with me.

Finally some of his friends showed up and we all headed for the beach. He was getting more and more possessive as he could see how disinterested and angry I was getting with him, at which point I really had to have another conversation with him and then he kept getting progressively more upset with me, which has led me to understand that we can't be friends.

I also had the same conversation with Roger, who also persisted and asked if he could come home with me!!! WTF!! no!

Maybe I'll get a new SIM card and change my phone number. Isn't that horrible? I'm so mean!! (But it really is the perfect/easiest solution to my boy troubles!)

Everyone comes into your life for a reason. Lud has taught me that even though someone can give you everything you want, doesn't mean you have to take them up on it.

You can't always take the first offer that comes your way, no matter how good it is. Sometimes the strings attached will choke you!