Ouidah - December 2016

[Belatedly chronicling our visit to Benin...]

Created by the French during the war against the Dahomey (then-rulers of most of Benin), this cemetery was originally for Catholic converts who would no longer bury their dead in their homes/compounds. Soldiers from France and other parts of French West Africa were also buried here.

It had been 17 years since I last visited Benin, with some friends and fellow Vandals from the University of Ghana on a 5 day trip that also took in Togo. In 1999 we visited Lome, Cotonou, Ganvie (a touristy outing to the “Venice Africaine,” given that housing was built on the lagoon), and Ouidah. We were quite impressed with Ouidah and the Porte de Non Retour (Door of No Return), although on account of our short stay we rode zemidjans down rather than walking the Route des Esclaves (Slave Route).

Place Chacha, where slave auctions took place.

Ouidah is a couple of hours west of Cotonou, and was a major slave trading post for centuries. Portuguese slavers traded with the Dahomey kingdom in the interior. We reread “The Viceroy of Ouidah” by Bruce Chatwin which, while rather florid in its prose and fixated on its Brazilian protagonist's fate and suffering, it did describe in detail the extent to which slavery and slave raiding destroyed lives and the political fabric of the region. It's a dramatization of the life of Francisco Felix de Souza (known locally as Chacha), who was installed by the king of the Dahomey in 1818 to manage the slave trade in Ouidah.

The Tree of Forgetting: prisoners were walked around the tree (men nine times, women seven) with the goal that they would forget their past, their origins and their cultural identity in order to become people without the will to rebel. The slaves were also branded here.

The Tree of Forgetting was replaced by a statue of the goddess Mami Wata, who is known in various forms throughout western and central Africa.

Wall of Lamentations commemorating the many people who died while waiting for days or weeks in the Zomai (meaning "where the light does not go") Hut/Cabin before slaving ships arrived.

 After checking into our hotel, we decided to walk around Ouidah and visit Fortaleza São João Batista (the center of the slave trade in this area). After a delicious wakye breakfast, we bumped into Juste, a tour guide who expressed an interest in taking us along the walk of no return. We agreed to meet him the next day.

The governor/viceroy's residence at Fortaleza São João Batista, Ouidah. Built by the Portuguese in 1721, it remained under their control until the newly-independent Republic of Dahomey annexed it in 1961. Naturally, the Portuguese tried to burn it down before leaving.

At the fort we were given a perfunctory tour that bypassed an   of photographs by Pierre Verger, who had chronicled cultural practices in Benin and the African diaspora. The images juxtaposed Beninois ceremonies with those carried out in Bahia, Brazil. The similarities were striking, and contemporary practitioners of Afro-Brazilian religious groups called candombles proclaim the connection to their ancestral roots in southern Togo, Benin and Nigeria. We learned more about the Afro-Brasileiros who returned to the Gulf of Benin at the Casa do Brasil and in our subsequent visit to Porto Novo.

The Tree of Return: signifying that slaves' souls would return after their deaths. 

We walked with Juste down to the Porte de Non Retour (“door of no return”), passing numerous interesting trees, a cemetery, and an old train station that linked Ouidah with nearby Togo. Juste has been working as a guide on the route d’esclaves since 2008, keeping fairly busy as he described most seasons aside from September to November as busy.

Salt collection in the mangrove on the Route des Esclaves.

Compared to 1999, the area around the Porte de Non Retour was much more developed, featuring numerous restaurants and vendors. There’s also a new museum – Porte de Retour – aimed at celebrating the accomplishments of people in the diaspora. It wasn’t very well done, though, only featuring some posters, a few artifacts, and books turned to a relevant page that then had pieces of glass placed on top of them.

La Porte de Non Retour.

While in Ouidah, the Vodoun capital of Benin, we made the obligatory visit to the Python Temple (across the street from the cathedral). The snakes were suitably sleepy, and nobody considered the two religious sites (the temple and the church) to be in competition with one another.

We also visited Fondation Zinsou's museum in an Afro-Brazilian villa built in the 1920s. The museum included historical artifacts, artwork and a beautiful cafe. It was a nice complement to Fondation Zinsou's main gallery in Cotonou.

Mami Wata in the Fondation Zinsou's garden, Ouidah.

At Fondation Zinsou, Ouidah. Letter to chief of security of Bukavu? (in the then Belgian Congo): "Sir, I have the honour of sharing with you photos of Bendelu Mukwalu and Sumaili Bulangi, who are monitors [practitioners?] of indigenous magic. You can see their tattoos, found on their chests and near their left hands. Both can be found in prison."

Casa do Brasil - former residence of the Brazilian Governor.

We visited Casa do Brasil / Maison de Bresil and got a tour of a large warehouse featuring artwork depicting elements of vodoun beliefs. As the caretaker helpfully pointed out, “This God stays in the home to protect it from evil. That’s his penis.”

Cidade Velha

In November 2018 we went to visit family in Sal, Cape Verde, while also checking out Santiago, the main island.

Be a superhero - don't steal power.

About a half hour's drive from Praia, the capital of Cape Verde, is Cidade Velha, the first settlement on Santiago and the former capital.

Fort Real do Sao Felipe and its cistern.

The area was chosen as it had a small river, or ribeira, that provided fresh water. This water was brought up the hill to the fort, where it was stored for use. Cidade Velha also generated income by selling freshwater to ships that stopped en route to the Americas (the archipelago was the last way point before completing the Atlantic crossing). The area was also apparently rich in fruit groves. In both cases most of the work would have been carried out by slaves brought to the island. The riverbed is now mostly dry, although it was much greener than the land above it.

Ribeira Grande, which Cidade Velha was first named after.

Forte Real do Sao Filipe was built with brick from Lisbon following a raid in 1585. It's an impressive viewpoint of the town below. Aside from the fortifications and cistern, there's not a great deal of historical artifacts.

Cidade Velha and the remains of its cathedral, the first in West Africa.

From the fort we walked down to the town itself, and visited the cathedral. The cathedral's construction began in 1556 and was finally finished in 1693 but was destroyed in a pirate raid in 1712.

Remains of the cathedral.

A little up the ribeira from town is another claim to ecumenical fame - the first documented church in the tropics - Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Rosario was built in 1495.

Igreja de Nossa Senhora do Rosario.

Finally, the 16th century Igreja e Convento de Sao Francisco remains in use today. It too was destroyed in 1712 but was restored with help from the Spanish government.

Ruins near the church and convent.

The refurbished church (and convent).

Cidade Velha made for a pleasant day trip. We had some good seafood at a restaurant down by the beach and enjoyed walking around the town. The alugueres/hiaces (minivans) public transport was also quite pleasant, especially given the relatively short distances compared to other places we've visited.

Cidade Velha.

Moulay Idriss, Volubilis, Meknes and Hassan II

Showcasing the attractions of the Moulay Idriss-Volubilis area.
We should have noted the top left!

Our friend, let's call him Hercule, was kind enough to bring our cat from Douala to Casablanca, when our schools had coinciding breaks in October 2018. There wasn't a seamless overlap, so we decided to make a short trip to Moulay Idriss, a hill town about three hours from Casa.

Moulay Idriss has long been a site of Islamic pilgrimages, and in Morocco five visits to Moulay Idriss are considered to equal one Hajj. Given its sacred status, non-Muslim tourists were barred from staying overnight in the city until 2004. In the short time that has elapsed, many locals have taken on an entrepreneurial spirit and offer to squire visitors around the old medina and towards a number of lookout points from which one may admire the town. One such industrious gentleman convinced our friend to come over for snails and later bought our son some birthday cake with his hard-earned capital.

Arch of Caracalla, constructed in 217 AD in honor of the Roman emperor.

Remains of the basilica.

A few kilometers away from Moulay Idriss is Volubilis / Walili, site of an old Berber then Roman settlement. Founded around 3,000 BC, Volubilis later served as a far-flung outpost of the Roman empire from the 2^nd and 3^rd centuries AD. In the 8^th Century AD the settlement revived, this time under the auspices of conversion to Islam led by Idris I, but the town gradually declined as people moved to his namesake settlement, Moulay Idriss.

The trials of Hercules.

While the mosaics are a bit worn and not particularly well-protected, the expanse of the old settlement was impressive and our guide led us around the grounds pointing out the various living quarters, baths, olive presses (58 have been excavated at the site), aqueduct, gates, etc. There were a few other independent travelers, but also several large tour buses that seemed to be stopping in en route to Fes. Unfortunately, it was only after we left M-I and Volubilis that we learned that there's also a vineyard in the area. Next time!

Moulay Idriss at dusk.

View of the Medersa Idris I mosque.

View from the Kasbah of the market below.

We then spent a morning in Meknes getting new rear tires and checking out the Bab Mansour gate (incorporating columns from the Volubilis ruins) and enjoying some bissara soup (made from fava beans, with copious amounts of olive oil and cumin).

Bab Mansour gate, Meknes.

Meknes's medina.

Hercule explored Fes and we returned to work. Once reunited, we went to the Hassan II mosque, an obligatory stop for those stopping over in Casablanca (not otherwise noted for touristy sights). We happened to have the same tour guide as when we visited in August, and again she efficiently led us through the vast main prayer hall and the ablution areas below. Set right on the ocean, the view is sadly obscured by all the saltwater from waves breaking near the windows of the prayer hall.

The main prayer hall of the Hassan II mosque.

Hassan II is the second largest mosque in the world, with most of the building materials sourced in Morocco (the exception being the glass chandeliers, which come from Murano, Italy. Our guide's  line: "To clean them is problem. You can imagine"). It has the highest minaret in the world, armed with a laser beam that points towards Mecca.

Hassan II mosque.

We then headed towards El Hank to check out the lighthouse. This area was in a state of disrepair, and we speculated that this might be due to anticipated development/eminent domain discouraging the current occupants from investing much in their property. El Hank afforded a nice view of the mosque in the distance, although we didn't detect any restaurants or other establishments, and didn't feel like going down to the Corniche/Morocco Mall area.

View of the Hassan II mosque from El Hank.

The lighthouse of El Hank.

Arik to Benin (eventually)

The title refers both to our transport and my overdue posts – our holiday was in December 2016-January 2017.

Note the original departure time at right. Meanwhile, we
boarded some three hours after we were to take off.

Travel within central and west Africa can be very expensive, so we were glad to find some pretty cheap return tickets from Douala to Cotonou with Arik Air.

Shortly before travelling, though, Blair broke her arm so we did inquire about cancellations. Since none were possible, we decided to forge ahead with the trip and try to minimize our use of zemidjans (motorbikes – the main form of public transport).

Cathedral Notre Dame des Apotres in downtown Cotonou.

The day of our flight I received a call saying that our flight to Cotonou had been delayed by two days. She asked if we wanted to keep our original return date or push it back to maximize our time in Benin. We elected to adjust our stay, and the Arik representative signed off with “Greetings to madame.”

Once at the Douala airport, I called the Arik representative back to see about checking in for the 3:45 PM flight. She said the ground crew was coming soon (it was 3 PM), so we gave them a few minutes. After check-in we headed to the bar with two fellow travelers - a PCV-Cameroon who had recently finished his service, and a Cameroonian PE teacher.

La Beninoise: the national beer.

We ended up having a couple of hours to get to know our new friends. The PCV was based in Batibo, the palm wine capital of Cameroon which, lamentably, we never got around to seeing. The PE teacher was on his way to Mali to meet up with his brother. So he was going to get a bus direct to Bamako (via Burkina Faso) from Cotonou since the flight was so much cheaper than any to Ouagadougou or Bamako. From there he and his brother were going to travel to Guinea, where their grandfather used to run the National Library after he had to leave Cameroon for being a Communist (and was taken in by Sekou Toure).

Our flight eventually left around 6 PM, and we proceeded to the rather laid-back Beninois immigration upon landing. Blair was ahead of me and the immigration officer asked her what happened to her arm. Her colleague in the next booth began pointing/scolding and laughing, saying, “C'est ton papa!” (“It was your dad! [i.e. husband]”) After concluding the round of joking denials and accusations, we got a taxi to the rather nice Hotel du Lac on the lagoon leading out to sea.

[For the record, an unfortunate Holiday Show accident was to blame.]

No Littering sign on the beach in Cotonou.

While we didn't stay very long in Cotonou, a few things did stand out to us. First of all, the Beninois are very well-dressed. While this is not out of the ordinary for the region, what struck us was that most people used local fabric (well, with locally inspired designs at least) for their clothing. There were also a lot of men wearing complets – shirts and trousers in the same fabric. Mono-chromatic Western-style clothing was much less common than say in Douala.

Beach in Cotonou.

A big difference with Douala was the fact that almost every motorcyclist had a helmet. Apparently it's the law in Benin, and to keep up appearances most people wear one (although the strap is rarely buckled). Enforcement of this practice was non-existent outside the capital so there were far fewer helmets there. The near total reliance on zemidjans meant that we did have to ride them more than expected, although there were a couple of taxis based near our hotel and the excellent Benin: Other Places Travel Guide (written by PCVs) listed drivers that could be hired around town and for longer trips.

At an eponymous bar.

There weren't a great many sights in Cotonou, although we enjoyed some beers by the beach and also checked out a Keith Haring exhibit at Fondation Zinsou's Cotonou branch at the end of our stay and enjoyed walking around town. A craft center in town was somewhat uninspiring, especially since I couldn't find a decent Benin national team jersey (they are the Squirrels!).

Part of the Keith Haring exhibition.

At the end of our trip it was time to revisit Arik Air. We got to the airport an hour or so before takeoff so we checked in and then I asked if we had time to go get lunch (like Douala's, the Cotonou airport is quite close to a residential area with restaurants around). We had time – the plane hadn't left Lagos yet.

We returned a couple of hours later to discover that most of the ground staff had disappeared. The flight had not left, and we proceeded to the gate to find out more from the other passengers. We were glad that we'd changed our flight from December 31 to January 3, as the 12/31 flight was completely canceled! One waiting passenger's visa had expired (she was scheduled to leave on the 31^st), while others shared their previous challenging experiences with Arik Air. Once Arik's ground attendants arrived, they were berated over the reason for the delay (it's beggared belief that a Nigerian airplane could be grounded in Lagos due to lack of fuel!).

More from the Keith Haring exhibition.

We were eventually shunted to a defunct duty free shop where we were given styrofoam containers of chicken and rice, as well as a soft drink, for our troubles. We passed the next few hours listening to our fellow passengers share war stories about flying with Arik, as well as ASKY, which sometimes leaves early before partner flights arrive.

The time in between flights was wonderful, and I'll try to do justice to how great a destination Benin is in subsequent posts.

At Fondation Zinsou, Cotonou.