Yovo, yovo, bonsoir!

May 20, 2011


That is the adorable song all the Togolese and Beninese kids sang as we passed by. It goes “Yovo, yovo, bon soi. Sa va bien? Merci!” It’s nice because that’s about the level of my French, so I was actually able to understand what they were saying to me, and it was also super cute.

Kayla and I started in Kpalime (Togo), where we met Anna, Hannah and Julie, who were finishing their weeklong trip. We popped off the tro-tro, got on our first motorcycle taxis, and landed at our hotel. I was convinced I’d never ride a motorcycle in the U.S., let alone in Africa where helmets are virtually unheard of and roads are pretty much dirt paths with mud puddles and divots every which way. Turns out I was wrong. I probably rode 12 over the course of the week… and I think I liked them. Strange.

My Beninese Husband.. you'll meet him later

After trying, and failing, to visit a Benedictine monastery the next morning, we settled for what we thought would be some nice hiking. In actuality, it was more like a village tour, but they showed us some cool plants that leave tattoos on your skin (well, actually, they
don’t really work on oboruni skin because it’s a white powder, but theoretically they leave cool tattoos) and dye things and things like that. We saw some coffee plants and cool views and such so after a chaotic morning, it was nice and relaxing.

From there Kayla and I went on to Benin. That was the intent, anyway. First change of plans. No cars to Benin that day. Of course.

After a brief episode that involved me nearly passing out at a practically abandoned tro-tro station, we re-routed to Lome, the capital of Togo. We got in a shared taxi for a comfortable ride, Kayla and me in the back, plus one passenger in the front and one driver. By
the time we got to Lome, our number had grown to eight: four in the back, two riding shotgun, two in the driver’s seat. Really safe, I promise.

In Lome we met Francis, a Cesar-esque guy who spoke English, so we adopted him as our guide. Anna and Hannah had told us about him, because they met him too, and after about five minutes of talking to him, I knew it must be him. He took us to the fetish market, where I’m pretty sure we insulted the gods because we refused to pay 8,000 CFA (26 cedis, about $20) for a piece of wood. Oops.

(Note: fetishes are objects that represent voodoo spirits, not fetishes as we non-voodoo believers might think.)

We headed back to our hotel, but before we arrived, Francis asked us a favor. Ten minutes later, we were in an internet café, sending business e-mails for him because he can’t read, but he’s trying to operate a business connection with the UK. If you’re interested in secondhand clothing in Togo, I gotcha covered: Francis is your guy.

That night we ran into Nick, Graham and Dan (other CIEEers) at our hotel, so we had dinner and exchanged stories, mostly about how we had both encountered Francis. Then Nick asked for a toothpick and the waiter came back with a plate full of peanuts. Gotta love that
language trick.

Onward to Benin, we stopped at an art museum in Cotonou on our way to Abomey, the seat of the Dahomey Empire in its heyday. It was another seven-person cab ride on our three hour journey. The Beninese we were with couldn’t understand a word I said, nor could I understand them, but they certainly laughed every time I jumped because the two chickens in the back started clucking away.

In Abomey we tried to tour on our own, but after an hour of wandering, we realized there was no way we would find what we were looking for and despite our attempts at French, there was no way anyone would understand our questions. So we called Marc, who was an English-speaking guide we had met the night before at our hotel.

We saw lots of bloody sites, as head-chopping and sacrifices of 41 slaves were regular practices of the Dahomey kings, and then we headed to the twin fetish. Twins are sacred in Benin/voodoo culture (okay, the actual word used was “lucky,” but I like to think that with
translation issues and such, he totally meant sacred), so I obnoxiously pointed out I’m a twin wherever it was mentioned.

The twin shrine

The visit with Marc ended when we were back at the hotel, where he stations himself, and he was dismissing Kayla to go take a shower so he and I could make love. This came just after he told us the long saga of the son he abandoned. Needless to say, at that point, we said
au revoir.

The next day we headed to Ouidah, which is the voodoo equivalent of the Vatican, and the site of a Portuguese slave fort. We did all that history stuff, got in a fight with some zem (motorcycle taxi) drivers and called our trip a success!

So here I am, back at ISH, my last African adventure complete. I guess it’s time to study… weird.

New Roommates

May 10, 2011


I think I’m living in a room full of lizard poop, which makes things quite interesting. I’ve found little clumps of some sticky brown substance in places too impractical to be dirt. There are a couple stuck to my walls, some on my desk, the crack on the window screens… ick.

I’ve also caught the little critters scampering in my room a couple times, but they’re too quick to catch, and I’m really not sure how to track them. So I guess I’ve acquired a new roommate. Flora has essentially moved out, so I guess the plus is at least I’ve got company at night.

Exams are underway and I am 40% complete with my University of Ghana education! I took my dance final last week, which was hilariously disastrous, as I was in a group entirely of oborunis. Out of 26 groups, only three were 100% foreign students, and just my luck, I was in one of them. It was a sight, that’s for sure.

On Sunday, mefaa me nhyere Twi. Mesuaa mpoano so. Eye fi. Yehyiaa nnamfo na wonkyeree adee. Eye papa.

(On Sunday, I took my Twi exam. I studied on the beach. It was beautiful. We made friends and they taught us things. It was nice.)
…I’m practically fluent.

The weekend before, Anna and I went to the Volta Region for one last Ghanaian adventure. We went to Amedzofe, which is a mountain village where there are some waterfalls and hiking and such. Volta is definitely my favorite part of Ghana, so we were excited to finish our travels there.

We got a tro-tro to Ho, and once again everyone on the ride told us they would take us to their homes as soon as we got to Volta. The woman next to me got quite a kick out of me, I’m not sure why, but at one point she leaned over to show me the pictures she had snapped of me without me noticing. I was doing absolutely nothing interesting,just reading a book, but she thought it was just the funniest thing.

When we got to Ho, we got another car to take us up the mountain, where we were met by Wisdom, the local tourist operator. I can’t say he imparted us with too much knowledge, but maybe some day.

He set us up in the guest house and arranged for his wife to cook us dinner, so when it came time for dinner we walked down the hill and met him at his house. It wasn’t quite ready, so he sat us down and explained to us how God will always protect us, especially when a
storm comes. Since there had been no mention of God all afternoon or evening, it was a little unexpected, especially when he followed with “do you drink alcohol?” and then proceeded to explain that we had to take gin with him to honor his brother, who had been killed some ambiguous time in the recent past. Later his friend told him it was 40 days, so he used that as justification for the necessity of the gin (custom, you see), although he didn’t know that when he first introduced the idea. It was all just a little strange.

We slept fine and got up early to climb “Mt. Gemi.” For those Andover readers, it was about half the distance of Ward Hill. Why it warrants the title of a mountain, I’m not sure, but the cross at the top was very fitting of the area and you could see the hills all around and Lake Volta in the distance, so it was very picturesque.

Mt. Gemi: A Gruesome Hike

we're lucky we survived

Then we went and climbed the waterfalls, which were thankfully significantly less difficult than Wli. We felt a lot like Tarzan and Jane because it was steep enough that we were actually swinging from rope to rope and sliding all about. We were the only ones on the path so it was nice and peaceful.

When we got back to the village we met a Peace Corps volunteer and ended up talking to him for a while about what he was doing and how he found everything, so that was a cool perspective we hadn’t encountered yet.

When it came time to go home, it was of course a bit of a process, since the village is on the mountain so cars don’t come and go very frequently. Eventually a tro-tro did come, and we squeezed so many people in there actually wasn’t enough room for my head—everyone had either a child or a mountain of stuff on their lap. My solution was to stick my head out the window, so there I was, flying down the mountain half in, half out, quite content. I’m pretty sure the people along the way and at the base were a little confused as to why this oboruni head was popping out at them, but I rode right along just fine.

a woman carrying water on the path home

Now I’m in the midst of studying for one more exam on Friday, then a week in Togo and Benin and back to Accra for a week more of exams and final good-byes! 19 days til it’s go-time!