10 Things I Learned this Week, Edition 8

Posted by Gaurav On Monday, July 18, 2011 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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