The first thing I fell in love with about Benin was the zem. A zem is motorcycle taxi and is the main means of inner city transportation. A person can get almost anywhere for around .25 to $1. On the morning that we left Nigeria and crossed the Beninese border by bus, I looked out of the window into a vibrant sea of motorcycles. I saw women driving them and women riding them with babies strapped to their backs. I saw small children sandwiched in between adults. I saw 2x4s riding between handlebars and strapped to saddles. I was captivated. So when Mat told a zem driver the name of our guesthouse, I didn’t hesitate to hop on the back. I was surprised by my lack of fear. I copied the posture of the people I saw (back straight with one hand on each of my thighs not touching the driver), and relaxed into the ride that was the beginning of the adventure of our fourth country.
A sea of zems
My first zem ride in Cotonou, Benin
Mat probably should have been holding on, but he was taking this picture
The second thing I feel in love with about Benin was the food. Maquis are street food spots, with spaces as small as one long wooden bench or as large as a small restaurant with a few tables. Regardless of the space, the food we found at maquis was unfailingly delicious. Fresh fish, rice with a tomato stew, greens with egusi, and spices that remind me of Nigeria made my heart sing. On our first day in Cotonou, we discovered a maquis a few doors down from our guesthouse owned by woman named Francesca. We stopped by to enjoy one of Francesca’s delicious meals every day that we were in Cotonou.
We ate at Francesca’s every day we were in Cotonou. Here’s Francesca in her kitchen.
About to devour fried fish, tomato stew, greens with egusi
Fish, pounded yam, and a soup we could never get the name of. We only saw people cooking outside a house here and asked if they were selling. The bench was our table.
Everywhere we went people addressed me speaking Fon, ignoring Mat until they realized that Mat was, as a French speaker, the person who could most effectively communicate with them. First, Mat spoke to them in French and then they would respond to me in Fon. After drawing a polite, uncomprehending look, they would look at Mat to see if I was deaf. And Mat would take over and explain that I’m American, I only understand French if you speak slow, etc…and then we would all laugh and get on with whatever started the interaction.
In Cotonou we visited Ganvié, a village that rests entirely on a lake, so all the buildings and homes are on stilts. Residents transport themselves on boats between the buildings. Fishing is the main industry. We rowed around for nearly an hour witnessing this unique way of life.
A floating store in Ganvié
I love the hats women wear to keep cool in the sun. Another floating business.
A typical home in Ganvié
Off to school
Home life in Ganvié
Our guide, Thiery, is 21 years old and is the co-founder of a non-profit for orphans and at risk youth from Ganvié. He is a student studying computer science, but he is taking a semester off to save money because he can’t afford the materials required for the program. He speaks French, Fon, and a bit of English. He is clearly worthy of many a college scholarship, but where is the assistance? I wish that weren’t a rhetorical question.
The village is small, and many aspects of life that people in the West would consider private are done in the open, so it is hard to not feel like an intruder. I try to be careful that my picture taking is not invasive, but even so I can tell that some people do not welcome them. Thiery says that it is because people come to take pictures and put them on postcards for profit, but the people never see the money.
After Cotonou and Ganvié, we move on to Ouidah to try to catch what we can of the famous Voodoo fest. We get in a bush taxi full of people making the 1 hour trip to the sleepy town of Ouidah. In Ouidah, we stayed at the Le Jardin Secret, a small guesthouse owned by Pasqual, a Frenchman who built the place after making a 5 country trip through W. Africa on his motorcycle.
The motorcycle Pascal drove through 5 countries before settling in Ouidah.
When we arrive, we take a 45 minute walk to the beach and see the aftermath of Voodoo festivities (we missed the main ceremony). Later, we saw people walking through the streets dressed as eguns (ghosts) and I danced with a young girl dressed as an egun at a local bar that night.
Dancing with a little egun
When we got to the beach, I was struck by a monument called “The Point of No Return” which was built to commemorate the place on the shore where many African captives saw their last of African soil. I stood with tears in my eyes as I posed for a picture.
I was nervous about The Dahomey Museum that we would visit in Abomey. We were given so much information by the guide that by the end of the hour and a half, my mind was swimming with images of the powerful kingdom, the obas on their stools, Amazon women warriors fighting for the kingdom, and the unfortunate people who were sold into the slavery to support the kingdom’s prolific wealth. I grilled the tour guide about the amount of education students receive about slavery in school. He insisted that they are well educated, but I am distrustful. Every bone in my body is asking that the brutal history of slavery not be forgotten, and I feel it is being skimmed over.
The next thing I loved about Benin is not a thing at all, but a person. Her name is Edith. She owns a guesthouse of 4 rooms simply called Chez Edith. We bonded instantly, leaping across a language barrier as if it didn’t even exist. She speaks French and Fon. Instead of just speaking to Mat in French and relying on him to translate, she spoke to me in French very slowly and deliberately. I was able to understand and respond—also very slowly and deliberately. And that is how we became friends in less than two days. When it was time to say goodbye, we hugged with tears in our eyes.
With my sister friend, Edith
Keeping Edith company while she cooks
Chez Edith’s
Our room at Edith’s
It was time to say goodbye to Benin a week later. In our final week in the tiny country that stole our hearts, we went up north to Natitingou where we did two days of Safari at Pendjari Park.
Monkeys relaxing
The elephant was ready for us to move on and began to charge
The family remains still while the mother advances to protect the group
Elephants crossing
Mat checking out the elephants
Magnificent birds everywhere
Antelope
A hippo sunbathing
The termite mansion. Yes. That was built by termites.
Monkeys crossing
On our final night in Benin, we stayed with a couchsurfer, Hermione, in Natitingou. We made a delicious dinner together and played cards. She practiced her English. I practiced my French. We laughed over nothing in particular and said goodbye in the morning. We were on our way to Togo.
Pounding yam with Hermione
The market in Abomey
In an underground village in Abomey
Truth And Travel 