Top 10 Pictures from Benin: #10

Posted by Gaurav On Sunday, July 31, 2011 2 comments

10
And so it begins… the beginning of the end. I thought of this new feature, “Top 10 Pictures” while keeping in mind that my time in Benin is slowly drawing to a close. For the next 10 days, I will (do my best to) post the countdown from #10 to #1 of what I believe are the top 10 pictures from my time here in Benin. By the end of this series, my time in Benin will pretty much have come to an end. 

I have taken more than 3600 photos during my time here in Benin so far. If my math is right, that’s operating at a clip of about 49 pictures per day. So although it will be quite tough, we’re gonna narrow it down to the top 10. The panel (me) will be selecting the photos based primarily on artistic sentimental value. Thus I will be choosing a group of photos that complement each other well and then ranking them.

However! If someone with a keen eye has any suggestions for how I could’ve made it a better picture, I’d really appreciate your advice in the comments! 

Anyways, let’s kick this off with #10, shall we?

#10

This picture originally squeaked into the top 10 contenders list based purely on sentimental value, but now that I look back at it, there are minor subtleties to it that made it too good pass up for the list. I call it “The Silent Plead”. Let’s take a bit of a deeper look into this picture and what it tells you about my time here in Benin:

The Expression

The first thing you might notice about this picture is the expression on my face, and rightfully so. They say the eyes are the window to a person’s soul, and that could not hold truer in this context. It was taken after my first week in Benin, with the initial intention of taking a weekly picture to monitor the progress of my trip (lol). 

This is the kind of expression I would imagine a prisoner in a cell uses to silently communicate their deep heartfelt “Get me the hell out of here!!” to everyone that passes by. Fortunately, I was not in a cell in this picture. I was in my bedroom, a simple structure made of four reinforced concrete walls, with a nice window (although with bars on it) and part of a larger complex walled by reinforced concrete, with the only exit being a heavy gate that I didn’t have the keys to. “Not a cell, not a cell, not a cell” I told myself throughout that first week.

It was a tough week that had me crying for mommy by the end of it. The first couple weeks were tough like that, but I can laugh at it in hindsight knowing that now I only feel like that 5 of out 7 days a week.

The Hair

There I was, so eager, yet so foolish in my inexperience with that hair of mine. It would’ve been wise to come to Benin bald to minimize the impact of the heat, but there I was, with a full head of hair. You can see my hair matted to my forehead with sweat and the unbearable heat that came with my first couple of weeks in Ouidah: unfortunately, this was a couple minutes after I had dried myself off from a shower.

It’s not only the hair proper that tells the story here, it’s the dishevelled facial hair – normally, I do the dishevelled facial hair much better than this, but that difficult week had reduced me to producing a meagre patchy beard worthy of being placed in the same league as a Sidney Crosby playoff beard. Shameful.

The Obscure Objects in the Background

Only further complimenting this picture, we’ve got my classic sky blue mosquito net hanging in the blurry background. Those were back in the days when I still needed a clothes pin to put my mosquito net up. Still the attempt was feeble, you can see how it hangs in a loose parabola... I’d say that’s like a 5x squared even. Sad. I was young, I have learned. Soon after, my expertise with the mosquito net would quickly eclipse any other skill I would learn during my internship for the months to come.

Finally, we’ve got the bottle of sunscreen with the conveniently blurred label. The best part about this bottle is that it still sits in that exact same position that it was in on that day. I haven’t used it since coming here. The problem is that the heat here welds the sunscreen to your skin so that when you take a shower, it doesn’t come off and you have to scrape it off your body like dirt afterwards. That being said, I probably should’ve used it anyways. Sunscreen offers protection from skin cancer, and I’ve had experience this summer with neglecting to properly use things for the prevention of diseases coming back to bite me (literally).

Stay tuned for picture number 9 tomorrow!   


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Lokossa and Possotomè

Posted by Gaurav On Monday, July 18, 2011 4 comments

                Although I did spend the majority of my time being sick last weekend, I did also get a chance to head out to the city of Lokossa and Lake Possotomè on a day trip with my host dad, Melissa, and Aristotle. It was surprisingly fun despite not feeling so well.


On our way to Lokossa, we stopped by Comè to visit a friend of my host father who works for the government. Although he was not home, his wife let us in and I felt surprisingly reminded by my visits to aunts or uncles houses: being seated, brought drinks and snacks by the daughter, chatting with the mom, and saying hi to the son who awkwardly steps through the door and tries to get away as soon as possible. Their house was magnificent: I learned that it belonged to the government and their family moved cities every couple of years based on where the government positioned the father.

After this short and pleasant detour, we continued on our way to Lokossa. It is a small city of about 50,000, 2 hours northwest or so of Ouidah. It was by far the cleanest town that I have visited in Benin, outdoing even the capital Porto Novo that has a reputation for being well kept. We went to Lokossa to visit my host dad’s niece who is studying at the U of Abomey-Calavi campus there. She offered us a tour of the campus. Although much smaller than the main campus, the campus of was very pleasant. We got a tour of the dormitories, some classrooms, the cafeteria, and study room. All in all it was interesting taking in the similarities and differences between university life in Canada and Benin. Once out of the campus we drove around a bit of Lokossa and visited the city centre. Lokossa is built on a region with rolling hills and so some of the views from the town are quite gorgeous. The name of the city means “place around the giant tree”, but since it is hundreds of years old, no one quite knows which tree. It has probably been my favourite town in Benin so far.
Me  posing for a rare picture in the walkway to the restaurant on Lake Possotomè.

On our way out of Lokossa, we saw a sign for Possotomè, and my host dad decided it would be nice to visit before heading back. Possotomè is the most famous lake in Benin because of the never ending hot water geyser that is the source of Benin’s most popular brand of bottled water, also called Possotomè. The company that bottles the water has made a fountain from the same source for the local people, and it was nice to see people using the water for showers or filling drinking water nearby. The lake itself is quite small, and surrounded by thick foliage on all sides, except for a small hotel restaurant that juts out on to the lake. The restaurant structure, which rests on the water, was made entirely from wood. We rested there for a bit and took in the lake (and of course drank Possotomè water). It was serene.

So that was last weekend! All in all, it was great. Just reinforces that sometimes the best days are unplanned and spontaneously happen as long as you are ready to get up and go for it!


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10 Things I Learned this Week, Edition 8

Posted by Gaurav On 1 comments

Boy, have things ever flown by fast eh? Here we are in the middle of July, halfway through my 10th week in Benin and already the 8th edition of this post. For things I learned points 70 – 80, I was as not as stretched to find as you might think, there always seems to be something new to learn. So here is my collection from the past week:


1. Although locals might find it cute when you say hello in Fon, make sure you also know the term “I don’t speak much Fon” as well, because they usually revert to their more comfortable language otherwise.

2. Made my first trip to the police station, and it wasn’t a visit. A senior officer stopped me while I was walking to the orphanage around 8 in the morning, and demanded that I show my passport to prove my Canadian citizenship. After quizzing me on visa specifications he figured it was ok to let me go. Odd.

3. Staying on the subject of police, I saw my first up close and personal bribe when a policeman stopped us and saw that my host dad wasn’t wearing a seatbelt (no one here does). He refused to issue a ticket, instead insisting that we help him pay for a couple of beers tonight.

4. My leg hair is by far the most interesting thing about me to the Beninois. I wore shorts frequently last week and was fielding questions from the kids at the orphanage about it at work, and then at home when I returned.

5. As a result of personal observation: kids become sneaky around 2 and a half. Aristotle tries to convince Alberique to go eat with the rest of us so he can play with the Nintendo DS: “Rico, va manger no?”
Delicious slice of birthday cake for Mama's birthday. Iced cake is significantly more expensive here compared to other food, but they personalize the icing and it was scrumptious!

6. The Beninois generally don’t resent their socialist history as much as many other countries in the world. Many previously government owned farms that produced vegetables and livestock are now just overgrown patches of useless land.

7. A large portion of the Nigerians living in Benin are refugees of the Ogoni ethnic minority in the Niger Delta area. Read more about the conflict here.

8. The reason why using two hands to eat in Benin is frowned upon is because traditionally, one hand was used to eat, and the other used to wipe your butt.

9. The school system here, based on the French system, requires that the Beninois learn two languages in addition to French in school. That’s aiming for proficiency in 4 languages, including their local one!

10. The Beninois opinion of France is generally very low, but the country relies very strongly on France (as the most powerful Francophone country in the world), for everything from international news to financial aid, so it is an interesting love hate relationship.

And that’s all for this week! Hope you enjoyed and lease leave a comment or two of feedback, as always! Are these starting to get stale??


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Ten Things I Learned This Week: Malaria Edition

Posted by Gaurav On Saturday, July 16, 2011 1 comments

So, as some of you might already know, there’s been a combination of reasons why I haven’t posted a blog in more than a week now. Firstly, the internet connection has been down in Ouidah since that big storm about two weeks ago that I mentioned in my previous TTILTW post. The internet only returned yesterday. In the meantime, I had to make do with my cellphone internet, which is only reliable enough to use facebook and google (my previous posts I put up during a trip to Cotonou). Secondly, that trip I took to Cotonou was to the hospital because I was feeling sick. I had learned that I had malaria, along with, um, digestive track issues caused by a bacterial infection. Needless to say, it was tough, but I also learned a lot from the experience so let’s not delay:


1. Malaria is the tropical equivalent of the flu (the illnesses are very different, but I mean the local people’s perception of each). Annoying, happens often, and it is relatively harmless if identified and treated with medicine.

2. Likewise, The Flu would probably kill as many people as malaria does if it was present in the tropical areas of the world: the problem isn’t so much the disease as it is the lack of prevention, identification, and treatment.

3. Day trips are slightly less fun when you feel like crap. Malaria makes you feel dizzy and weak, aside from an occasional fever and painful gums, I didn’t show any other symptoms. It was a weird adjustment being sick without the customary cough or runny nose.

4. Malarone is an adept beast. It is a preventative medicine that can be used in the treatment of malaria as well, just by changing the dosage.

5. The local herbal remedy for malaria is called Tizan (tease-ann). It is a tea made with the leaves of a certain plant. After much pressure from my family, I decided it take it on the 4th day of my sickness. Does it work? Maybe... it might have been the Malarone finally kicking in or the Tizan, but I got better soon after.

6. Tizan is the most bitter tasting thing in the world. Honestly. I got some pineapple and grapefruit juice in mine to counter it, but I tried some of Yannick’s (he was also sick later on), and he wasn’t as lucky.  

7. I saw another government ad on TV: this time about how each family can pick up complimentary mosquito nets and how important they are for preventing malaria.

8. Middle class Beninois people are kind of resentful of the developed countries media portrayal of complete poverty in Benin (especially malaria and disease), as it glosses over their existence. It will be interesting to see how this impacts the culture as the middle class continues to grow.

9. Malaria (carried in your bloodstream), stays in your body for 6-7 days after the mosquito bite that carried it before showing any symptoms, so it’s not even possible to point to a mosquito bite and say, “This is where I got malaria”. I was looking forward to that.

10. The digestive problems turned out to be more of a pain than the malaria (they were unrelated). I didn’t really stop feeling those until a couple days ago whereas the malaria was gone by Monday.

And that’s all for this edition! I hope you were able to take a little bit away from this post, specifically how much the media has the power to warp our perception of things. I was mortified of getting malaria when I first got here because my only knowledge of it had been seeing headlines like “2 million die from malaria” in the news. Now, I know it is relatively harmless as long as you’ve got some medicine (the pharmacy has lots of medicine that has scientifically proven to work, and it’s actually cheaper than the stomach ache stuff I bought here just because of the high demand). Take care until next time!


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Ten things I learned this week, Edition 6

Posted by Gaurav On Thursday, July 7, 2011 2 comments

This week, I had to think hard about what to include and what not to include. It was a week full of travel and sightseeing, new experiences and lessons. I am now more than halfway through my trip to Benin. I hope you enjoy this edition!


1. How the dread feels when you eat a delicious mango, only to inspect the plate and see tens of tiny white worms wriggling around the inside of the peel.

2. Zangbeto, the Voodun god of the skies and thunder, has a cruel sense of humour. On the day I wanted to try my new swim shorts out at the beach, it rained for 7 hours straight and a pool of water formed inside my room.

3. Being caught in the middle of a mom – dad argument is significantly more awkward when they are not your mom and dad.

4. After about 50 days of setting up my mosquito net, it has become so routine that I can do it in pitch black darkness... that’s going on my CV.

5. How to say “no” in the local language, Fon (“EY-yooo”). It’s helpful for the market when people won’t understand “non, je ne veux pas ça”.

6. You pretty much have to walk through the market saying “EY-yooo” at regular 2 second intervals.

7. The largest university in Benin, Abomey-Calvari, has an absolutely dreamy main campus, tranquil off the side of a busy road. It is larger than any campus I’ve ever seen and is about 80% green space.

One of the roads in the expansive university campus.
8. University students are the same everywhere. Saw “Vive la revolution” spray painted on a couple of buildings on campus. Vive la revolution indeed.

9. The people of Ganvié, “The City on Stilts”, have to leave their homes for land every October because the water level rises about a metre and a half and floods their houses, about a metre deep. Every year.

10. The unlimited mobile internet that I’ve been lead to believe exists by the posters plastered across Cotonou doesn’t actually exist, it’s just false advertising, as calmly explained the service provider representative.

Here’s to hoping this week is just as active. It got off on the right foot: today when Aristotle and I were having lunch he looked at me and said, “Gaurav... c’est chaud” with wide eyes, as if to say be careful. (this coming from a guy who couldn’t speak a word of French when I arrived here in early May). The cutest thing this kid has ever done lol. Anyways, as always, leave one. Peace!


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The City on Stilts

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The veil of opaque water trembled as our guide’s paddle made contact with its static surface. I watched in silence as the ripples began to augment, soon lapping at the side of our wooden canoe and rocking it ever so slightly. Above us, the tattered cloth tied to a wooden pole that served as our makeshift sail also did its part to carry us ever so closer to what has been called the Venice of West Africa: Ganvié, the Beninois village of about 30,000 people – built entirely on water.



One of our guides steering on our way to Ganvié.
There is something uniquely charming about canoeing. Perhaps it is the fact that it is such a basic method of transportation and lends some old world charm, or maybe it is because you are so close to the water, and you can feel its pulling and tugging strength so intimately. But my favourite thing must be how humbling it is to propel yourself metre by metre through still waters in a world full of automatic pedals, 0 to 60 in a couple of seconds, and instant gratification.
The city approaches.

My mind churned through these thoughts while taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of life on the lagoon as the canoe turned a corner, and there it was. An entire village of houses and buildings: each supported by a number of tree trunks that extended about a meter above the water before plunging into its murky depths.
Ganviéans literally eat, sleep and work on the water. Within the city, canoes are the main method of transport, and instead of roads there are water ways with self regulated traffic. Going to a friend’s house means hopping down from your home into your canoe, rowing your way there, and tying it back up at their place. Fish and marine agriculture are their main source of income, and there is a daily market at the port closest to Ganvié that sells fresh seafood, often still wriggling around in the shallow plastic basins where they are put on display. There is no absence of vendors in Ganvié itself either: they roam the waterways in canoes full of their products. We passed by a health clinic, school, nightclub and mosque in the city, among other things. The people of Ganvié pass most of their day on the water and climb back up to their homes when it becomes too dark and mosquito infested to navigate. 
Here, a young Ganviéan demonstrates both sleeping and working on the water.

Passing through the city, looking up at the buildings towering over our heads was quite the experience. The structures are modest in Beninois terms, and probably would be considered shacks in Canada. Still, their strength and durability is impressive, and what the city lack in flashiness it makes up in rich history and wonder. The habitants of Ganvié are descendants of a kingdom of people who lived on the present day border shared by Togo and Benin, close to the coast. When the slave trade in West Africa brought war to their land in the late 1770s, they left their homes to become nomadic. One day their king and leader received a spiritual message from a messenger eagle and crocodile that the people should settle on the lagoon and there they would remain safe. Thus, Ganvié is the French interpretation of the word in their language meaning “place of safety and peace”.

It is remarkable how people can live, and furthermore find happiness in such different manners. I can’t imagine how my life would be if most of it was spent on water, as much as many of them must not be able to imagine how life would be if most of it was lived on land. The people of Ganvié live a simple life: many of them don’t have more than the basic necessities, but most have what they need to live happily, and that’s what matters. This city on stilts not only offers a view of the incredible adaptability of humanity, but also a view into how there is a wisdom in the way people of more humble backgrounds find happiness in their lives. Appreciation of the little things in life: who would’ve thunk it?


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Dantokpa: Navigating the Largest Market in West Africa

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The endless blaring of horns. Fumes from a moto that just barely missed your arm as it whizzed by. Claustrophobia as you realize you can’t step aside for the girl with a basket of fish on her head because the man holding wooden statues in his hands to your right is backed up by a group of children selling cookies and a woman bartering with a merchant in front. Squinting to avoid getting the dust that perpetually blows through the market in your eyes. Being constantly convinced that I need a new belt, a bar of soap, a baggie of peanuts, a keychain, Gucci underwear, or something neither I nor the vendor know the exact purpose of.

It's difficult to get a picture of the market as a whole because of the risk of taking out your camera. This fruit market wasnt as densely populated.

This is a small sample of the strain involved in navigating Dantokpa: a behemoth of a market sprawling the ravine through downtown Cotonou, where the equivalent of 5 million US dollars changes hands every day. The bustle of the market is unlike anything I have ever experienced: it is a sensory overload and it takes a toll on your body just to walk through it. While the smaller markets might be comparable as less organized versions of flea markets in Toronto, Dantokpa is a whole other story. I spent a good 4 hours just walking through the market and probably only covered about 20% of it.

Spend a day at Dantokpa and its a guarantee that you will come out of it having bought something you didn’t want, purchased at least one delicious frozen beverage from a Fan Milk vendor, and gotten out-haggled by someone who does it for a living. The busy nature of Dantokpa is also a great way to lose your wallet to sticky fingers well versed in the art of pickpocketing if you’re not careful enough. Equivalently, it’s a great place to meet and talk to people.

Wait, what? Yes, the thing that sets Dantopka apart from other chaotic environment I have experienced in my life is that amid all of the insanity, the merchants and vendors are often calm and approachable. This is not a stock exchange, or Bay Street, where you don’t get a second look from other people unless you’re a good friend. Numerous times during my trips to Dantokpa, I stop by a stall and use my broken French to engage in conversation with a merchant pertaining to just about anything: where they are from, what types of prices I can find for other things in the market, their perception of foreigners, and even simple stuff like the weather. Instead of being upset with me for “wasting their time” by chatting, they are delighted to take time away to engage in conversation, asking me as many questions as I pose to them. 

Is it ironic that you can find peace and kindness in the middle of chaos and commercialism? Maybe back home, but it is the norm here. The vendors at the market don’t just work at their shops, they do it for a living. Yes they are passionate about making sales, but the majority are also naturally charming and brilliant speakers, even when they are not trying to sell you something. Back home, it’s difficult to find that kind of intimacy – not because there aren’t enough flea markets – but because it’s fundamentally a different commercial culture and a different mindset.    

So maybe I did buy a belt that I didn’t even like at double the going rate. So what? The vendor was fine with joking around with me whether I bought it or not. He had emotion, he was human, and that is what is so amazing about Dantokpa. Admist all of the currency changing hands and motos nearly running people over, if you really spend some time there, it is clear that the whole place has a distinctly human feel. It’s not just a market: it’s a living, breathing, hub of emotion – and that is truly spectacular.  


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The First Lesson

Posted by Gaurav On Friday, July 1, 2011 1 comments

I gripped the chalk, a grain about half the size of the nail on my pinkie finger, and about as thick – tightly between my thumb and forefinger. My hand trembled slightly as I raised my hand up to the smooth wooden chalkboard. It leaned against the wall behind me and rested perilously upon a wooden bench opposing another one of the same, upon which sat my first ever class of students. Eight pairs of eyes stared up at me eagerly: some familiar, some not, and all clearly waiting upon my next words of instruction. Each of them had already flipped to a fresh page in their books, pen or pencil at the ready. I turned to face the board, and began to write, a shadow of chalk powder trailing my fingers as I sketched out the letter “E”. And so it began.


The class, as of now comprises of 8 kids. Some of them are from the orphanage, and others are from the community around the orphanage. I hope I can find a couple more children over the weekend in bring the number to about 15. We meet at the orphanage from 10am to 12pm, Tuesdays and Thursdays. They vary in age from 10-16 and all have some background in English, but nothing more than “good morning” or “fine, thanks”.        

I am not a qualified teacher. I don’t have experience teaching groups. I’ve never even tutored English. Before my first lesson on Thursday, I hadn’t created a lesson plan, anticipated the interest level of the students, formed a method to gauge the previous understanding of English my students held, or realized how hard it would be to keep everyone engaged when I had such varied levels of comprehension to work with. So you can see why I was nervous right before the lesson.

                Although we started kind of shakily, just like my confidence, the lesson began to settle as I got into a steady rhythm. Before long, it was flowing naturally. The most rewarding thing as a teacher is when you spend 10 minutes explaining something and then a child is able to apply what you said to answer a question about it. Not only does it keep the kids engaged, but it is such necessary feedback for me to receive when I’m up there, just so I know if I need to do a better job of explaining or if I can move on.

                On the other hand, it can be equally frustrating when you feel like you’ve spent your time teaching something and not a single hand goes up when you ask a question. Or when you have to stop mid sentence because it is clear that no one is listening. Nevertheless, after my first lesson was complete, I was feeling pretty good about myself and what we had gotten through – then one of the students reminded me that they need homework. 

                After assigning the homework, I could already see myself thinking ahead to the next lesson, anticipating how it was going to play out. I was kinda excited! Starting these lessons was a great idea – it provides some structure to my day, and gives me a set schedule. And to be honest, its more motivating than grant work because with this you can see the results much more immediately.

                I have a lot of respect for teachers. I always have, even before Thursday, but a little more empathetically now. It is not easy to stand in front of a class full of people and keep them entertained while juggling parenting, teaching, staying patient, being a role model, and always trying to spark some passion all at the same time. However, teachers have to deal with more than just these things. Back home, I have shied away from thinking about a career in teaching just because of all the inner politics that exist within the education system’s hierarchy. It is disheartening how the school can be a truly bureaucratic institution, and that is not something I think I can deal with. What I’ve seen as a student is probably only the tip of the iceberg. I’m glad that I can stay away from that in my small English lessons at the orphanage, but there are those who don’t, and brave the sometimes hostile environment to teach kids who might never realize or appreciate the impact that their teachers often have in shaping who they are. 

So I guess the title of this post ended up being one of those classic “phrases with intended double meaning”  (is that really classic? I kinda just made that part up). I suppose it’s only fitting that I probably learned more than my students during my first lesson, because part of being a teacher is having a constant willingness to learn as well as teach. Teachers deserve a lot more respect than they ever actually get, and in my eyes it’s as prestigious of a profession as the doctors and lawyers of this world can lay claim to. The role of a teacher is so important that becoming one should be just as selective of a process as choosing doctors or lawyers. My thoughts on how little training teachers require in comparison to those two other professions is a rant made for a different post. Here, let me just take the opportunity to thank the teachers that have been such an important part of my life. 

One love to my teachers, if any of you are reading this. And if you just so happened to teach me English in primary school, would you mind if I took a look at your lesson plans quickly? Peace.


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