Benin

I just got back from a week in Benin. For those you who never heard of it, it is a west African country near the equator. I have heard it is also where voodoo originated. Since the Gambia is mostly Islamic with few animist practices, I decided to go to Benin for the international voodoo festival.

I really liked Benin. It reminded me of Brazil. When I stepped off the plane I was hit with a wave of heat and humidity (apparently it is the cool season. I cannot imagine how hot it would be during the other times of the year). Walking around town, I saw women carrying pineapples on their heads and cooking plantains on the sidewalks.

I visited Grand Popo, a beach village. We camped on the beautiful beach, and watched a local NGO release sea turtles with school kids. We took a boat trip in the lagoons visiting fishing villages and watched fisherman throwing their nets for fish.

We next went to ouidah for the voodoo festival. We almost missed some of the voodoo idols because all around town are these cement mounds. We figured they were left over cement, but we saw men kneel before them and we found out the mounds protected spirits. We later went to the beach for the voodoo festivities. We saw a lot of dancing, drumming, and haystack spinning (local gods). We also saw men cutting their arms and heads with knives and then pouring alcohol on themselves. It was crazy.

Spinning haystack

We travelled a little up country hiking in the hills around Dassa, and visiting a restored king's palace, which had a throne resting on skulls of his enemies. Cotonou, the largest city, was a lot more developed than The Gambia with an extensive system of traffic lights, roads, and sidewalks. Unlike the Gambia there were a lot of cars, but in the cities there are no taxis. Instead people ride on the backs of motorcycle taxis. We received helmets from the peace corps office, but i was still a little nervous riding them. They would make left turns into sea of cars, trucks, and zems (as they are locally called). Many times I thought we were going to crash, but always as if it was the parting of the red sea, a hole would open up and we would dash through it.

Kristina and I at the beach with our motorcycle helmets