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So we thanked the lad and trudged along to a small one-room house not far from the bus station. After depositing our bags in a corner, we left again for the market to buy some edibles, while the youth left to get some smoke, which we had asked him to and given him some money for. | ||
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When it was time to turn in, we were given to understand that our hosts were to sleep in the only bed, and we should sleep on the floor beside the bed. Not a problem really, we were tired and didn't mind. | ||
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with our hosts in Parakou |
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We immediately found a truck ready to leave for Cotonou, the driver agreeing to take us there for the usual fee and, after exchanging addresses, we said farewell to the two lads. To our consternation, the one who had invited us to his place the evening before started to mumble something about a "cadeau" and asked us how much we'd have spent if we'd have slept at a hotel. | ||
Pretty much annoyed, we answered that we wouldn't have gone to a hotel at all, but slept at the roadside, and climbed up onto the truck. Having shared our food and grass with those two ingrates, and also having left them a generous amount of the latter, in our opinion was enough payment for a night spent on the hard concrete floor. | ||
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It was far into the night when we reached Cotonou, and we were glad the truck driver allowed us to sleep on his vehicle. After rising the next morning and finding a well for a wash, we asked around for some village on the coast; and were told directions to a place called Chetih. By bus we got to a rather big village, where the district chief handed us a letter of recommendation for the Chetih chieftain. | ||
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Soon it became evident why it hadn't been possible to continue by bus: There was no more road, just a narrow path through an environment that started to look suspiciously like a swamp. | ||
A few kilometers further on, our drivers refused to go on, and we had to carry our heavy bags for the last part of the way ourselves. Not a pleasant undertaking in the heat of a tropical noon; the great humidity caused rivers of sweat to pour down our backs and fronts, while we didn't even have our hands free to ward off the swarms of attacking mosquitoes. | ||
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typical Benin village on stilts ; photo: web |
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distrustful looks for the foreign devils |
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the chief and his first wife in informal attire |
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As a young man, the chief told us, he had been fighting for the French in Europe, ending up as a prisoner of war in Germany. He even spoke a few sentences of German, like: "Deutschland schoone Frollein". | ||
Talking about local life and customs, we learned that the villagers, of course, all were of Christian faith, with nobody believing in sorcery. Though for a good Christian, the chief himself was a bit too eager to get some magic potions from us. :) Throughout the countries we visited in West Africa, sorcery and magic were, and still are, very much a part of everyday life, a fact even a mere visitor cannot fail to notice. | ||
We had amongst our possessions a small bag containing ashes from the grave of our deceased Sufi friend Baba Barkat Ali Sain, from Lahore, Pakistan. The village head was very pleased at being presented with a handful or those ashes, to be used as a protection against any evil. Baba Barkat Ali would have chuckled to himself. |
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Chetih fishermen |
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After having eaten lunch with the chief's family, we all sat on the front porch to relax and take a few pictures. We didn't sit undisturbed for more than a few minutes though, as soon as we got spotted, eager villagers descended on us like locusts, as word about the magical ashes had gotten around. Saving a small quantity for ourselves, we distributed the rest. | ||
The way we looked distinctly different from both the average Arab or European often caused Africans to imagine us being in possession of powerful occult knowledge. | ||
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with the chief on his porch......... |
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........and with one of his wives |
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Often hardly interested in communication, many West Africans nonetheless possessed a certain amount of curiosity concerning our physical characteristics. I remember a group of young boys following X going to take a leak and quickly running up to look at his member. Or the unforgettable elderly lady, somewhere else, getting, through my skirt, a secure hold of my pubis and shaking it in a testing but friendly way, probably her way of saying "Hello sister". | ||
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local ladies and X |
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curious Chetih villagers following us around..........
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While being conducted from one hut to the next, the group following us grew constantly. Every few minutes it got dispersed by our escorts, only to instantly gather afresh. | ||
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.........and being chased off |
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Having spent a restful night at the chief's house, protected by the fumes of a few "mosquito coils", a chemical incense-type mosquito repellent, in the morning we took our leave, without even being asked for a present; a pleasant change from what we were used to. | ||
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