A Real Voodoo Experience (near Ouidah, Benin)

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The truck driver said that it was only half a kilometre down this rough dirt track. Distance was often a vague concept in this part of Africa and I could only hope that he was accurate. It was only nine in the morning and already a searing day. As we walked, debate was strong on whether this one of our more stupid ideas or a trip highlight.

In the main city of Ouidah, this small village came strongly recommended as a good place to see an authentic voodoo ceremony. Most people questioned thought it a strange request and looked at us oddly, but the story seemed to check out fairly consistently.

After an hour of walking (well beyond the estimated half kilometre), shirts drenched in sweat and legs caked in dust, we ventured apprehensively into the village and asked for the village elder. We gave him some eggs and vegetables as gifts bought at the local market in nearby Ouidah and were invited to stay and view the ceremony. Disappointingly, there was to be absolutely no photography (something to do with the spirits) but the welcome was overwhelmingly friendly. Though being the only westerners, it seemed the chief’s blessing made the entire village open and friendly.

The mere mention of voodoo back home conjured up images of the occult, black magic, juju men, pins being stuck into dolls and human and animal sacrifice. I guess there were small elements of some of these aspects, but voodoo appeared far deeper and more spiritual. The Ouidah markets were full of fetishes for sale including animal foetuses and skeletons of local wild animals. The sight of crocodile or monkey skulls glaring back was upsetting but remains an active ingredient into the population’s life.

Locally, they called it vodoun, being an official religion of Benin and Togo. An estimated 60 to 70 percent of the population follow some variant of vodoun. With the slave trade, this religion migrated to Haiti, Cuba, other Caribbean islands and parts of USA and Brazil. Somehow, it was renamed to voodoo during the migration.

Directed to some elegantly woven straw mats, we sat spellbound as offerings of food, chickens and blood to appease the spirits were made. These spirits governed the villager’s life, providing sustenance, good weather, protection and well-being. The vodoun ceremonies appeared to serve multiple purposes from celebrating the birth of a child, a wedding, significant dates, successful crops and to ward off bad omens.

After the offerings, the women started to dance to the rhythmic beating of drums. Slowly first, dust sprayed from the rapid-fire steps and swaying of the bodies, the dance growing ever more energetic and vibrant. The dance culminated with the women shaking uncontrollably, consumed by the spirits. Arms flailing helplessly, they lost control of their bodies before being guided into a spiritual hut.

Several women went through this same experience as the sun sank lower in the sky. Thanking the chief before returning to Ouidah, priests had prepared some potions for us (for a modest fee!), their benefits hidden by a deep-throated French explanation. We paid him and departed, somewhat alarmed at the thoughts of what could be inside these wrapped leaves.

We never rubbed the strange ashen offering into our skins nor kept the tiny objects, but left uplifted and bewildered by this complex spiritual experience.

There was almost no conversation on the road back to Ouidah, both lost in our own worlds having lived a day in a completely different world.

Notes
In respect, no photos were taken that day.
Photo Sources: 1,2

Living on Stilts (Ganvié, Benin)

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Precariously balanced in tiny wooden canoes called pirogues, we poled and paddled a few kilometres around the stilt villages of the tiny West African nation of Benin. These unusual travel wonders were created over three hundred years ago when the local tribes moved into the shallow Lake Nakoue to avoid capture and enslavement by the dominant Dahomey people whose spiritual beliefs forbade them from venturing into the lake.

As we approach, the awkward wooden and bamboo huts perch on posts only a couple of yards above the lake surface, their thatched roofs sitting atop like unkempt hair.

Most of the men are fisherman. Fishing is a combination of traditional throw-nets along with a carefully managed system of fencing off parts of the lake with local reeds. The fences are moved and the areas reduced to corral the fish into small areas to provide an easy and ready source of food. The extra fish is taken to market and traded for other necessities.

These water pens are like fields of a farmyard, taking large expanses of the lake leaving narrow roads or channels for navigation around the lake. It is quite an operation without the need for bullocks, ploughs and planting.

Meanwhile the women go about their every day life as if they were on living on land, tending to their family’s laundry, meals, childcare and the typical daily chores of home life. Often hidden under oversized hats, the women trade fish, fruit and vegetables with other villagers treating their pirogue as a veritable floating market. Few houses are connected with walkways so any business away from their hut requires paddling to another wooden building.

By far the most popular of these stilt villages is Ganvié which to my mind is far too touristy to be enjoyable, or even comfortable. There is an ugly tourist shop and café while the children clamber around yelling “yovo, yovo” (which loosely translates as "stranger" or “white man” in a friendly way) and demanding “cadeaux, cadeaux” (gifts). Some try to sell primarily tourist tat at inflated prices, though some of the local colorful patchwork is impressive. Others pose for photos (handstands in the pirogue is a popular trick though you have to admire their balance given that sitting in a pirogue is enough of a feat) and ask for money in return. That being said, the funds they collect from visitors have built Ganvié up and undoubtedly improved the health and well-being of the villagers.

A number of other far less visited villages also populate the lake and have not yet acclimatized to the wealth of visiting tourists. These small settlements were far more pleasant to spend time in, with the villagers going about their every day business, provided you can keep your travel and photography habits respectful and quiet (many of the women do not like to be photographed).

Ganvié is sometimes described as the Venice of Africa which gives a very false impression. However, it is an interesting insight into an unusual life bred from personal safety several centuries ago. Don’t get your expectations too high for a truly cultural experience but enjoy Benin’s stilt villages as an African travel wonder.

Footnote

The aerial photo (lead photo) is sourced from here.