The End of the Bénin Blogging

It’s my personal belief that you have to be somewhere for at least a year before you can claim to have lived there. Any time spent before that is just “staying” somewhere. So after having stayed in Bénin for only 2 months, I’m hesitant to write as an authority on the culture, the country, or even working with a Béninois NGO (non-governmental organization). All I can relay to you is my experience and what I learned from it, and I hope I’ve done that through the last few months of blogging.

I’ve been back in the U.S. for almost 2 weeks now, and in that time there have been many things that have made me happy. Seeing my friends is the first to come to mind, but fast and free internet is a close second. I can actually upload every web page in its entirety and look at my friends’ facebook pictures within seconds. I also like being allowed to wear shorts in public without offending anyone. I appreciate being able to speak fluently with those around me, especially my co-workers. I love coffee shops, indoor plumbing, and blackberries. I enjoy having a job where I actually feel like I’m accomplishing something. But most of all I love anonymity. I fit in everywhere, I can walk anywhere I want without children announcing my arrival, men harassing me, or people asking me for money.

But I miss populated streets, where my ten minute walk to work consisted of greeting at least 25 people, sometimes more. I miss how alive the streets are with mechanics, women selling food, neighbors sitting outside their gates watching the world pass by. In Bénin everyone is part of the community, but here in Arizona, while most people are incredibly friendly, there isn’t much interaction between strangers. Life is individualized.

I also miss the bright colors. Clothes are usually muted here (the majority of my wardrobe is unfortunately not an exception), but in Bénin the clothes were almost as beautiful and vivid as the tree-covered hills.

I miss the kids and their enormous, sincere smiles.

I miss the music. Everywhere. Pouring out of restaurants, bars, hair salons, and houses at excessive volumes. It’s almost always upbeat, especially at church. I was sitting in church last Sunday and couldn’t help but be distracted and disappointed by how slow and boring all the songs were here in America.

I daydream about the fresh tropical fruit- the mangoes, the pineapples, the bananas, the coconuts. I loved that there was food everywhere, and that it was always flavorful, natural, and homemade. It’s all so fresh and organic that it doesn’t last very long, prompting one of my roommates to make the insightful observation of, “It’s nice that when you’re hungry you just have to go outside to find food, but it’s annoying that when you’re hungry you have to go outside to find food.”

Those are a few of the things I loved while I was there, but what did I learn?

I learned about the realities of NGOs in Bénin, which may provide a fair representation of NGOs in Africa as a whole, but I’m not positive about that. A lot of people who manage NGOs are actually working full time jobs elsewhere and tend to their NGOs on the side. Projects and programs are created once funding is found, rather than looking for funding to support projects and programs that have already been put in place. I learned that with my personality, I wouldn’t feel fulfilled working in a local NGO if it were similar to the one I just worked in, since I was viewed by my NGO as more of a resource for getting money than anything else. I didn’t really learn any skills, since the staff I was working with barely had enough training and experience to run the NGO. But I gained invaluable experience, so I’m not too disappointed.

In fact, I left Bénin with very mixed feelings about NGOs, foreign funding, and the development field in general. NGOs like the one I was working with wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for foreign funding, so should they even exist at all? An entire system has been created that revolves around training Africans to adhere and submit to the whims and methods of European/America/Canadian donors. But at the same time, there are lots of foreign and local organizations who are doing a lot of good within that system. So for the majority, it’s an unnatural, one-way relationship, but not one than I can write off as being solely villainous. But now I’m not so sure I want to go into it as a career.

Also, it was reaffirmed for me that I will always be a foreigner in Africa, simply because my skin is white. Even if I become accepted as a local in the community or town I’m in, any time I travel outside of that group, the people I encounter will see me as an outsider. No matter how much I try to dress and speak like the people around me, my skin will always set me apart.

Despite several frustrations, I’m inexplicably glad that I spent the last two months in Bénin. I got two more stamps in my passport (Brussels & Bénin), as well as a realistic idea of what working in a Béninois NGO is like. I got acquainted with another region of Africa, improved my French, and acquired a better understanding of the development field.

Thanks for following my adventure and I hope you’ve been able to live vicariously through me at least a little over the last couple months. The blogging is now officially over, since I’m not going to attempt blogging about my life in Arizona. If I did, I would only publish posts sporadically and they might not even be interesting, because as a grad student, surviving an insane schedule and remembering to eat/sleep/maintain basic levels of hygiene take priority over having an interesting life. I would write things like, “I went to class, and then I went to work and sat at a computer, and then I went to the library and ploughed through some of my readings for class, and then I went to bed.” But in May I graduate, and am off to the next adventure. So, check back in a year, if you feel like it, and hopefully there will be interesting news up there.

-Jenn

p.s. I have full albums of my pictures from Bénin up on facebook. If you would like to see them, the link for the first one is:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.730608447928.2249484.27711297&l=659339dcd7&type=1

and the second is:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.738907616328.2253204.27711297&l=0958410b14&type=1

The Trip Back To America

When traveling, especially internationally, you should always give yourself a cushion of time if you can, and carry lots of cash. My original itinerary last week was: Leave Cotonou 8pm on July 12, layover in Brussels, layover in Newark, arrive in Atlanta 5pm on July 13, drive to Lillian, Alabama with friends on July 15 for our friend’s wedding on July 16, have a great time, fly to Phoenix July 17, and start back at work July 18. That sort of happened.

Last Tuesday, I left Cotonou and arrived in the Brussels airport the next morning, where I thought I would only be staying a few hours, but instead, thanks to a bird getting caught in the engine, I was given a 24 hour layover. At first I was irritated at the change of plans, but then the adventurer within rose up, and I mentally thanked that poor bird for sacrificing his/her life as I got another stamp in my passport and set off to explore the town. This was my first time in Belgium and I didn’t know anything about Brussels, so I spent the afternoon wandering around aimlessly, impressed by ancient architecture and eating waffles. It was lovely.

Exploring Brussels

The next day was frustrating because when I got to the Newark airport I had to get a new connecting flight to Atlanta. And I discovered that my suitcase had decided it wasn’t done hanging out in Brussels. And my credit card didn’t work, because I forgot to tell my bank I was leaving the country. And I was going on 6 hours of sleep in about three days. But around 2am on July 15^th, I finally showed up at my friend’s house in Atlanta, and after a few hours of sleep, we were on our way. Instead of trying to chase down my suitcase for the next few days, I had the airline send it to Phoenix, and I grabbed a few essential items at Target and enjoyed hanging out with my friends.

About to leave for Alabama

 

So, when you travel, you should always carry extra cash, because if you don’t, you might show up in America and have no way to buy toothpaste or contact solution. Or you could just call your bank before you leave, and let them know about your travel plans. It’s up to you. And you should always give yourself cushion time, because otherwise you might miss your friend’s wedding, because you never know when a bird might fly into the engine of the plane you’re supposed to go on. Thankfully I made it to my friend's wedding with plenty of time to spare, but I was on the verge of stressing out a few times along the way.

When I showed up in Phoenix on July 17, was my suitcase there, since the airline said it would be? No, of course not. Clearly, four days was not long enough to get it from Brussels to Phoenix. (Not that I’m still irritated to the point of being sarcastic or anything). But it showed up the next day, with all of its original contents, so everything ended up ok in the end.

So, here I am, back in Arizona. My suitcase is here, my credit card works again, I’m mostly recovered from jetlag, I’m back at work, I’m mostly settled into my new house, and I even managed to cook last night. It looks like life has strangely returned to normal, which is a hard adjustment after living in semi-survival mode for the last week. There are some things I already miss about Ouidah, like my fellow volunteers and the fresh fruit, but at the same time, I am very thankful to be working in an office again with indoor plumbing and I can't get over how fast the internet is.

I’m going to publish one more post in the next few days as a wrap up to my trip, but for now, the

Porto Novo

Like many countries, Bénin has an official capital, Porto Novo, where not very much happens, and then it has the real capital, Cotonou, where everything important, such as businesses, embassies, and the airport, are located.

My roommates and I visited Porto Novo on Saturday with the intention of seeing three things- the Da Silva Museum of Afro-Brazilian culture, the park with monkeys in it, and a mosque that our Lonely Planet guidebook claimed to be “the most colorful mosque in West Africa”. We also decided we were going to walk everywhere since our agenda wasn't packed and we wanted to see as much of the city as possible.

We left our house and walked a few blocks to the “international road”, which starts in Lagos, Nigeria, crosses through Bénin and Togo and terminates in Accra, Ghana. We started walking along this road and as we walked by a few people sitting on an unmarked bench they asked us, “Cotonou?” We nodded in agreement, and they greeted us and motioned for us to wait with them. A few minutes later a van pulled up, the three of us were herded into the back row, followed by another person, and the four of us shared three seats, as is custom. The rest of the van gradually filled up and we were on our way with 11 people in the 8 person van. Fifteen minutes outside of Ouidah, one passenger was dropped off, and there were two people waiting on the side of the road to take his place. Since the van was “full” the apprentice (the teenage boy who collects everyone's fares, runs errands for the driver, and is in training under the driver to one day become a driver himself) gave up his seat and took his new place in the back with the luggage. We made a few more stops like this along the way, and eventually got to the station in Cotonou where we took similar transportation to Porto Novo.

Our first destination was the Da Silva Museum, since we actually knew the name of it. We took a tour, took a few pictures, and then headed off to find lunch.

(Two of my roommates and me- left: Natalie, center: me, right- Makeda)

Down the street we found a place with tables and chairs, and a few women sitting next to some cooking pots. When we asked what there was to eat the response was, “There's rice, there's pâte (paste made from ground up corn and manioc), there's sauce with fish, and there's sauce with sheep”. Then lids were lifted revealing that the rice was actually gone (which they already were aware of, so I don't know why they told us there was rice in the first place, but I've decided to stop trying to solve that mystery), so we settled for pâte and sauce with fish. After lunch we asked the cooks for directions to the mosque with lots of colors, and got our first taste of the confusion that we would be dealing with the rest of the day. We got only blank looks, since there are many mosques in Porto Novo, and the idea of one of them being known for its display of color didn't register with anyone, but as we explained it more they finally understood what we were talking about (or at least gave the impression that they did), and their first response was that we should take zems (scooter taxis) because it's a long ways away. After we explained that we wanted to walk there so we could see the city, they finally gave us directions.

It wasn't long before we were lost, and had to ask for directions again. Same procedure. Blank looks at first, and after a lot more explaining on our part, we were told we should take zems, but after we explained we wanted to see the city, directions were willingly provided. We also asked about the park with the monkeys, and since that seemed closer, we headed over there first. We arrived just as it began raining, and as we took cover under their gazebo were informed that since the monkeys were free to roam wherever they wanted, they had sought protection from the rain somewhere out of site, and no one knew when they would be returning and visible. So when the rain let up, we left the park a little disappointed, but with new directions to the most colorful mosque in West Africa, after, of course, going through the direction-asking procedure we were getting really accustomed to by now.

10 minutes later we were lost again. We asked a man guarding a government building, and went through the same directions-asking procedure, and then went on our way. After getting distracted by a wedding, a shop selling fabric, and a few other fun sites, we ended up in the middle of a market, where we tried getting directions again. Same procedure. After we went through the directions-asking process with three more groups of people we finally gave up on our goal of walking, since we were running out of daylight and our legs were tired. We found a few zems, which is what everyone had been telling us to do all day long, and after going through the same directions-asking procedure, they gave the impression of knowing where they were going, and we were on our way.

But they didn't really know where they were going, and we showed up not at the most colorful mosque in West Africa, but at the headquarters for Islamic culture. Two of the men who were in charge of the headquarters were standing outside, and after asking them for directions to the mosque, we went through the same procedure, which surprised us a little considering that these men were involved with the Islamic culture of Porto Novo. They gave the zem drivers directions to the biggest mosque in Porto Novo, which they proudly described as having 4 minarets, and which we were hoping was the same as the most colorful mosque in West Africa.

It was not. While it was an impressive structure, and very nicely painted, it was in fact only two colors, and was clearly not a building that could be described as the most colorful mosque in West Africa. We decided that the Lonely Planet guidebook must have deemed the site far more significant than everyone in Porto Novo did.

(The biggest mosque in Porto Novo, which is not the most colorful mosque in West Africa)

 But it was starting to get dark by this point, so we finally gave up completely on our mosque quest and decided to get home. How does one get from Porto Novo back to Ouidah? You get back to the international road, which passes through Porto Novo, and wait on the side of it until a van going to Cotonou drives by. Once you get to Cotonou, you walk a quarter of a mile down a crowded street until you reach a place with a gas station and a bunch of vans, and try to find a van that's going to Ouidah.

I've also included a couple pictures from church, since I finally remember to bring my camera this week. After much insisting, I convinced the woman in charge of the seating to let me sit in the back, so my camera and I wouldn't be too distracting. Here's the view from the back row:

How Béninois Are You?

 

I've created a quiz that will allow you to assess your inner Béninois, and see how well you would fit in here:

1. You have just opened a hair salon, and are deciding on a name for your new establishment. After much deliberation, you decide on:

A. Good Clips

B. Hair Salon

C. (Insert your name)'s Hair Salon

D. The Joy and Peace of our Great and Loving God Hair Salon

2. You are a taxi driver, and make your living driving a car that was created to seat 5 people, including yourself, and you make continual trips all day long from Ouidah to Cotonou. On an average trip you transport:

A. Up to 4 passengers, but they must be in the car and prepared to leave on time. Time is money, so you will leave promptly when you planned, regardless of whether or not your car is full.

B. 4 passengers and yourself, making 5 in total, because that's how many the car was designed to hold.

C. Usually 4 passengers, but if a fifth one wants to come along, you can squeeze him/her into the middle section between yourself and the other passenger up front.

D. A minimum of 6 passengers, 4 squeezed into the back seat, and 2 up front with you, and you won't leave the station until your car is full. The extra $1.20 you get from each of the two extra people more than covers the $1.00 fee/bribe the gendarmes (highway police) might charge if you get stopped for having too many people in the car.

3. You just inherited a TV from your uncle, and would like to receive a few channels on it so you can keep up with some of your favorite soap operas and watch the latest music videos. You acquire these channels by:

A. Buying a cable that you plug into the cable access already built into your house.

B. just watching these shows online on your computer, since you have internet in your house. You save the TV for watching movies.

C. Buying a satellite dish.

D. Attaching a metal receiver and some wires to a very long bamboo shoot, which is connected to your house and your TV. Why pay for an overpriced satellite dish when this is cheaper and works almost as well?

A whole community of bamboo satellites.

4. You are an elderly woman and you run a fruit stand where a customer has just purchased a coconut, which she has asked you to open for her because she doesn't know how to do it herself. You:

A. Refuse, not wanting to violate any federal health codes, insisting that she should open it herself at her house.

B. Gently cut it open with a kitchen knife.

C. Grab a machete, and chop it open with a few swift and efficient strokes.

D. Cheerfully comply, and repeatedly slam the coconut on the sidewalk (which many people have used as their bathroom) until it finally cracks open. Then you take a knife and pry out the meat from the shell, and place it neatly into a plastic bag. Your method has just motivated the customer to become self-sufficient and start opening her coconuts at her house, in order to avoid having them opened on the sidewalk/public bathroom.

5. You need to type up a document and print it out. You perform this task by:

A. Turning on your personal computer and printer, and doing it all yourself.

B. Heading over to the local library where you can use the computer for free, and print it yourself afterward for a minimal fee.

C. Using a computer at the cybercafe, which may or may not work.

D. Going to the nearest “Saisie” where there will be a woman with at least a middle school education who can type up your document for you as you dictate it to her, and then print it out for you afterward. But since the electricity just went off city-wide, you'll have to wait for it to come back on before you bother going over there.

6. You are a Béninois child, and are playing on the side of the street when a yovo (white person) walks by. You react by:

A. Ignoring them, as you are very self-involved and don't care about what is happening around you.

B. Being uninterested, since there are white people everywhere, making this a common occurrence, and nothing to get excited about.

C. Smiling politely and waving as you great them with a “Bonjour”.

D. Interrupting what you were doing and frantically announcing this person's presence by shouting, “YOVO!!” at the top of your lungs and waving as hard as possible. This is the most exciting thing to happen to you today, and you don't want anyone within a half mile radius to miss this wonderful moment. Then you and all your friends who are with you start grinning and singing a song you and every other child in Bénin seem to have known since birth, “Yovo, yovo, bonsoir! Ca-va bien, merci!” (White person, white person, good afternoon! I am fine, thank you!)

For every question you answered as “A” or “B”, give yourself 0 points, for every “C” give yourself 1 point, for every “D” give yourself 2 points.

If you got a score of 0, you're adjustment to Bénin is going to be pretty rough.

If you got a score of 1-6, you'll have a good time, but you'll probably still get frustrated occasionally.

If you got a score of 7-11, you'll fit right in.

If you got a score of 12, you've reached “local” status, and if you're not already living in Bénin, you should be!

Dahomey

On Saturday, my parents and my roommates and I visited the city of Abomey, which formerly served as the capital of the Dahomey kingdom, whose power lasted almost 300 years- from the beginning of the 17^th century to the end of 19^th century. In fact, after gaining its independence from the French, Bénin was originally named Dahomey, but ultimately it was changed to Bénin for the sake of unifying a country whose citizens' did not all trace their lineage back to the Dahomey kingdom.

After enduring a three hour car ride, half of which was on very rugged dirt roads, the six of us and our driver gratefully pried ourselves out of our 5 person taxi that we had been “cozily” wedged into during the ride, and began our tour of the Historic Museum of Abomey. As we were led through a maze of courtyards and ancient buildings that had previously served as the kings' royal court, our guide explained the purposes of each one, as well as the significance of the artifacts stored inside some of the rooms. As it always is with historic sites, it was hard to imagine such a serene and vacant location had been teeming with life less than a hundred years ago. There were also some pretty cool artifacts, such as 11 of the 12 original thrones for the kings, the oldest one dating back to the early 17^th century.

Some of the interesting facts I learned about the Dahomey Kingdom:

There were corps of female soldiers in the king's army known as the Amazonians. They were so good at their job that they were often favored over male soldiers when going to war. One of their most infamous tactics: if they were in danger of losing a battle, they would seduce the soldiers of the enemy, sleep with them, and then kill them.

The Dahomey Kingdom was bloody, brutal, and very involved in the slave trade with the Europeans, causing them to be disliked by neighboring kingdoms. Most of their slaves were captives from wars with groups to the east, in the area now known as Nigera, and the Dahomey kings would frequently offer these captives to the Europeans in exchange for canons, guns, and bricks. The practice of human sacrifice was also favored, of which the prisoners of war were generally the unfortunate victims.

There were 14 kings of Dahomey in total, but two were banished after selling their own relatives into the Transatlantic slave trade, so only 12 are represented in the museum.

The founder of the Dahomey kingdom was originally from the kingdom of Ashanti, which was located in the region now known as Ghana.

Despite being defeated by the French, the tradition of having a Dahomey king has been upheld through the present. Our guide was a descendent of King Glèlè (who ruled from 1858-1889) which allows him the privilege of living in the current king's house, which is located somewhere in Abomey.

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures in the museum, but here are a few from the trip back to Ouidah, which was just as cozy and rugged as the trip to Abomey. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures capturing the dirt road on which we spent half the trip:

You Don't Like My Head?

I'm not fluent in French, but I'm definitely functional. I can never remember where to place my reflexive pronouns when I'm conjugating a verb in the past tense, and I can never keep straight the genders of most nouns, but I can still converse with the people around me just fine. But a lot of people like to throw in slang phrases directly translated from the local language, Fon, which make little sense outside of the Fon context. I've tried having people explain to me what they're asking whenever I hear a new phrase, but I've stopped doing this since they usually just repeat exactly what they just said, assuming I'll start to understand them if they repeat it enough. And if I do this with kids they increase their volume with each response. So as entertaining as it is to have a kid shouting a confusing phrase over and over as loudly as possible at me, my new tactic is to provide a noncommittal response, and ask someone later who I know will be able to give me an explanation.

Some of the phrases I've learned are:
“Tu as fait un peu?” (Have you done a little?)- This is a greeting, and a way of asking someone if they've worked today.
The first person to ask me this was a stranger I passed while walking home, and I couldn't figure out what he was asking I had done a little of or why he cared. My next dilemma was knowing how to respond. Does someone actually want to know if I've worked today? Will they think I'm a liar if I say yes, and they later find out that I've done nothing today, not even a little? Apparently, there's an expected response, like answering “fine” when someone in America asks how you're doing, and I've learned how to both ask and answer this question in Fon.

“Tu es en train?” (Are you in the process?)- My boss always asks me this when she walks into the office and I'm working at my computer. At first I expected her to finish this question by indicating what specific process she was referring to that I would be doing, but since then I've figured out she's just casually asking me how work is going, and answering with a simple “yes” satisfies her.

C'est gratuit. (It's free.)- The first person to tell me this was a staff member at the orphanage as he handed me a plate of papaya intended for me to eat. I told him thank you, and he responded, “C'est gratuit,” which led me to wonder if I should normally be expecting to pay for food offered to me there. I've since learned that that's just a way of saying, “No problem/Don't worry about it.”

I also get asked questions that catch me off guard, but not because they originate from Fon. The most recent question I've been asked that I didn't understand, I will hopefully never be asked again, because I still have no clue how to answer it.
My neighbor three doors down from me, Geraldo, was nicely offering his services as a tour guide for my parents during their stay in Ouidah, and I was politely declining said services, when suddenly he asked me, “Ma tête ne te plait pas?” I looked at him, not knowing what to say, so he asked me again, this time in English, staring at me forlornly, “You don't like my head?”

What did that mean?! I could see nothing obviously wrong with his head, and I tried to provide a satisfactorily vague response that wouldn't get me into trouble as I mentally analyzed the situation.
There's so much involved with a head! Was he asking me if I questioned his intelligence and didn't think he was smart enough to be a tour guide for my parents? Was he asking if I thought he was crazy? Was he asking me if I thought he was ugly?

A few nights earlier his sister had invited me over to their house, where I discovered that her actual intention was not to hang out with me, but to set me up on a date with Geraldo, so I endured an exclusive dinner and conversation with him in the living room for what felt like an eternity, as the film Hotel Rwanda played in the background and the rest of the family, of which there were about 10 of them, barely said a word to me. Awkward. Very, very awkward.
That being said, I didn't know what or how much was being implied in that question, and therefore I didn't know how to respond, because if I offended him, I would still have to deal with him each time I saw him, which is fairly often since he's my neighbor. But if I assured him that I thought his head was fine, he might have taken it the wrong way, and the awkward date might have a sequel.
I couldn't think of a good answer, so I used the ever-successful, and slightly cowardly, tactic of changing the subject, and told him that since my parents had lived in Africa for a while, they would be fine, and didn't need a guide. Thankfully he didn't press any harder for my opinion of his head.

The language difference can also be seen in the music, which comes from all over West Africa and is rarely in French or English, so my roommates and I can't understand it, but that doesn't keep us from enjoying it. There's music playing all the time, flooding out in excessive volumes from either houses, restaurants, or hand-held radios, giving the city a festive and care-free feel, which I love. Here's the “music video” (there's no actual music video for this song, so it's just a slideshow of pictures of the singer trying to look cool.) of my new favorite song, which comes from Côte d'Ivoire. It's a call for peace in response to the violence that has accompanied the recent Ivoirian elections. Fortunately for me, it's also the favorite song of most people in Benin, so I get to hear it anywhere from two to twenty times a day. The song starts slow and dramatic, and if you're with friends, it's customary to wave your hands back and forth in sync together, and when it speeds up about a minute later everyone starts dancing. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIWmkJM9ukU&feature=related

(If the link doesn't work, go to google and type in "Rien Que La Nation" and the video should show up. The artist is Debordeaux Leekunfa.)

Rain & Cheap Oil

It's rainy season right now in southern Bénin, and when it rains, it doesn't matter what you were planning to do, or what you needed to do, or what you wanted to do- everything gets paused until the rain stops. Because when it rains it's not usually a light sprinkle or drizzle, it tends to be a downpour that will soak into your bones within 10 seconds. Traveling very far in the rain isn't really an option, since cars are rare here in Ouidah, and having your face pelted with rain at 30 miles/hour while riding on a moto is not appealing. The occasional brave or desperate person can be spotted making their way through the storm, but mostly the streets are deserted as everyone dashes into their houses or businesses and the roads gradually transform into lakes and rivers for the next few hours. Life stops for a while, as the entire city mutually understands that nothing will happen until the storm is over.

Friday it rained harder than I had seen it rain since I got here, so my roommates and I spent the day trapped inside, watching low-budget films produced in Ghana and taking pictures of the people passing by who had the misfortune of getting caught in the storm. Definitely a relaxing day, but when it finally cleared up late in the afternoon, leaving the house was a welcomed option.

Saturday was spent in Cotonou, the business capital of Bénin, shopping at some of the markets and picking up my parents at the airport, who flew in for the week from Mali where they normally live. Cotonou may have a few more luxuries than Ouidah does, like Lebanese restaurants and ATMs, but the pollution and traffic were so bad that I spent the day really glad that I'm living in Ouidah instead.

One of our stops was the fabric market, where we were stunned by the vivid colors and spent a lot of time haggling with the Indian and Nigerian shop-keepers, who evidently hold a monopoly on the fabric industry here.

In fact, much of Bénin's economy is impacted by its Nigerian neighbors. Nigerians have lived up to their reputation of being business minded and even have their own market in Cotonou completely Nigerian-run, where most of the interactions are in English, which is the official language of Nigeria.

The oil industry here is also influenced by Nigeria. If you've ever read stories in the news about oil being stolen out of the oil pipelines in the Niger Delta and wondered where that oil went, I have an answer for you! Ok, you probably haven't actually pondered this subject much, but I still have an answer anyway.

It's smuggled across the border into Bénin, where it's sold to merchants who line the roads and sell it to the moto and car drivers by pouring it into their vehicles through funnels. Since the entire industry is based on stolen oil, gas is cheap here, resulting in lots of pollution, especially in Cotonou, and little incentive to improve public transportation. And as long as public transportation is insufficiently meeting the needs of the public and oil is cheap and available, personal vehicles will be driven in mass, which continues the demand for cheap, illegal oil, which helps continue the supply of cheap, illegal oil. But at the same time, the “legal” oil companies in Nigeria, who are mostly foreign-owned, are not exactly pure and innocent either, which means the profits from much of the Nigerian oil does not go back to Nigerians.
The industry is fairly complex, and is only one example of how fluid the borders are around here, with people and their goods crossing them regularly.

Gas waiting to be sold: