Djougou, Benin stopover - December 2016

Baobab Express: "Move and win together - it's good."

As mentioned in our post on northern Benin (as with most west African countries, the share of Muslims in the population rises as you head north towards the Sahel), some Beninois were unimpressed by the relative religiosity of the residents of Djougou.

Former cinema, Djougou.

Our driver and front-seat passengers (a total of four people up front if you count the toddler, but nobody does when considering occupancy) remarked that the people of Djougou were too strict - they looked askance at drinking alcohol or incorporating traditional practices into Islam. To be fair, our taxi's occupants also criticized exclusive fidelity to Christianity too. There was indeed a marked difference between Djougou and other parts of Benin both to the north and south. More women wore hijabs and in some cases also covered their faces and feet and even hands, and buvettes (bars) were harder to find.

"The drum of modern times in the Donga."

In addition to what our fellow travelers had to say, Djougou is also known for a vibrant handicraft trade. We inquired about jewelry and ended up walking a winding route to the blacksmiths' section of town, where Blair picked up a couple of large bracelets made from camions casses - broken trucks.

On the way to the metalworkers' district.

Next we went to Espace Tissage, where apprentices learn to weave fabric out of cotton. The pieces are up to 16 meters long; the cotton slowly makes its way across the floor to the loom. Apprentices (all of whom were female the day we went) work at the center three days a week, and are at home the other days. Our taxi driver, Manaf, noted that many of the apprentices are from outlying areas where they may have limited opportunities (and would likely be working a lot around the household when at home).

Considering the relative conservatism and roaming many dusty roads to visit blacksmiths and weavers, Djougou definitely seemed more like The Gambia than anywhere else we've visited in central Africa.

Cheese in stew with igname pilee at right. The cheese was so delicious.
Below: cheese for sale.

Manaf's car died a couple of kms from our hotel. While I shopped for flip flops and we prepared to walk the final stretch a relief car arrived. It was a sea green Peugeot 505 station wagon, of the kind that have delivered francophone west African passengers to their destinations for decades. This may have been among the first post-independence transports - the gentleman who brought it said it was fifty years old, and the interior looked original (and about that age). Said Peugeot holds nine passengers in Benin (it was built for six), but Manaf and the procurer were shocked when I told them that in Guinea they squeeze in a 10th (not to mention the roof occupants - scroll to Part IV).

"Who am I?" Transport

A statue of Ahossou Soha, the first king of Savalou,
greeted us as we passed through the town.

You say cucumber...

September 6

While travelling in Sierra Leone and Liberia, I've been impressed by the amount of cucumbers for sale. More impressive still has been the fact that Sierra Leoneans actually eat them.

This past year, when we did a pretty decent job in the Njau school garden, my headmaster elected to sow a half dozen beds with cucumber seeds. Master's reasoning was that the "kacoombas" (as it is pronounced in The Gambia) could be sold to Donald the French proprietor of the nearby hunting camp that has a very brief, sparse but profitable stint every dry season. Conveniently, we could send Gui Jahanka kids to peddle our kacoombas and other veggies, as the camp's not far from their village.

Unfortunately, Donald often pleaded poverty or lack of guests, so sometimes the cucumbers just spoiled. They could not be foisted on me, as I don't like them, which proved problematic for Master's next gambit.

With a bucket-full of cucumbers and one purchase in Njau, it was time to give them away. We'd had a PTA Committee meeting with a respectable turnout, so Master decided to act. At the conclusion of the meeting, he doled out the kacoombas to the bewildered old pas and the couple of matriarchs in attendance. It was left to me to explain the virtues, and eating/preparation, of cucumbers to the dubious audience. Pa Musa Jeng then asked me if I liked them, and I had to be truthful. No one reported back as to whether the kacoombas were enjoyed and cassava was transplanted into the beds as the hot season was upon us.

There was a thriving trade in cucumbers in Salone, by contrast. Whenever our poda-poda or sept-place stopped at a junction or village, we were besieged by girls and boys hawking water, roast/boiled corn, bread, groundnuts, and cucumbers. Just inside the border from Guinea, though, the kids were shouting "Come-cuber!" as they sold them. Indeed, they were very popular and invariably a few passengers were eating come-cubers or saving them for their families' travelling gifts.

A nighttime drive through the forest

July 31, 2007

Our vehicle from Mandar, Senegal to Labe, Guinea left around 5PM, after everyone had had their fill of the lumo (weekly market). So before long it was dark as we muddled along. The forest enveloping the road reminded me of when I first visited my English grandparents, as we drove through the New Forest that night. So this nighttime drive was evocative of that 1988 visit, notwithstanding the washed out road, frequent breakdowns and eventual retirement of our vehicle (we transferred to another station-wagon the next morning).

Quotes from The Gambia and wider travels

As I sit in a cyber cafe in Ghana, I wonder how much of West Africa's internet usage is young African men posing as women and exchanging emails and instant messages with white men overseas. Hopefully the fiscal returns justify this...

First, a couple of quotes from a headmaster/principals meeting way back in March, discussing logistics of a prospective Cluster sports day and other issues.

Headmaster #1: "So it's agreed - three schools will contribute a sack of rice, the other eight will sell theirs and contribute the money."

Headmaster #2: "Don't forget to put the rice in another sack or the bitiks [stores] will try to cheat you because they know you shouldn't sell it."

Later, Cluster Monitor: "And, by the grace of God, your school will have a [football] field."

Headmaster of Bati Ndarr Lower Basic School: "God - sometimes he ignores things."

CM: "You! You are a Fula!"


August 1 - On the second day of our journey into Guinea, the driver took advantage of the rain and tossed some Omo powdered soap onto the windscreen. He then turned on the wipers to administer his improvised washer fluid. As I laughed at this display (carried out while driving), one of the passengers exclaimed, "C'est Afrique!", a familiar refrain after our night of breakdowns and washed-away roads.


August 3 - Exchange overheard on our abortive first attempt to reach Mali(ville).

Passenger: "Are we turning around because of the accident?"

Driver: "No, no, this is a different engine problem."

The accident in question took place just a couple of minutes after we left the car park/garage as our driver inexplicably veered off the road and into the gutter. We all got out and literally lifted the car out (gutters are deep in West Africa). Some time later the engine started acting up and the driver elected to return to the garage.


Sierra Leone

"I hear that in America they call the African a 'sex machine.' Is this true?" Fellow passenger on the road to Bo, while the driver attempts to fix the axle.


Liberia

Christiana, from Sierra Leone: "What you're doing is illegal."

Liberian police officer: "Just give me something small."

All ECOWAS citizens are officially free to travel through member states without visas or paying fees. As the ride from the border to Monrovia demonstrated (with 10 police/immigration stops on a 150 kilometre trip), this often matters little to low-paid officials. As far as extracting bribes, the Liberians on this stretch of road are the worst I've seen in my West African travels.


Christopher, a Nigerian in the car that was hit up so often for bribes: "Ghanaian taxis are really comfortable - only one person sits in the front seat."