-Randy Komisar-
We had a pretty busy day planned for today. We were doing a half day tour of the
surrounds of Grand Popo and then this afternoon we were off to a small village
in Grand Popo to see a voodoo ceremony.
It’s nice when you are in a place for 2 nights as you don’t have to pull
down your tents when you take into account your wake up time. Pat and I have pretty similar internal body
clocks and so far this week we have woken around the same time and always
before the alarm clock goes off. We were
up at 7am, and it was my teams turn to cook and we had a cooked breakfast of
scrambled eggs with baguettes and personally delivered to each person in their
chair. Oh yes, Cooking with Gas is a
classy cooking team for sure! With
breakfast served, some washing handed for 300CFA (.80c) an item, and the food
packed away we were ready for our morning tour at 9am. We met our guide for the day Matais, who
would be looking after us as Zoe and Sam were staying with the truck to try and
fix the fridge while we had some time in one spot and Matais also knew someone
who could help, so with all that happening we left for our trip.
We walked 25 minutes along the coast road and branched
off at a small village we had to walk through to get to the Mono River and our
waiting boat. The Mono River is the major river of eastern Togo. Approximately 400 km (250 mi) long, and
draining a basin of about 20,000 km2 (7,700 sq mi),
it rises between the town of Sokodé and the border with Benin, and flows south.
Along the southern portion of the river towards its mouth, it forms the international
boundary between Togo and Benin. The river drains into the Bight of
Benin through an
extensive system of brackish lagoons and lakes, including Lake Togo. Only the part of the river nearest its mouth
is navigable. Most of the river's basin is cultivated for maize, yams,
and cassava. The river is dammed 160 km (99 mi)
from its mouth by the Nangbeto hydroelectric
dam, a partnership between Benin and Togo completed in 1987.
We cruised along in a boat similar to yesterday but there
were 2 main differences. One it had a
cover if the sun decided to come out (it was a little overcast) and we were
under a roof and two it had a motor!!!
Big plus and we could have a guilt free trip and not have to feel bad
someone poling us around for a few hours.
We went and had a look at some of the mangroves of the Mono River and a
motor past some of the homes located on its banks. I do have to admit once you have seen one mangrove,
you have pretty much seen them all, but I enjoyed looking at their unusual
formations of their roots and we also saw some crabs to boot climbing on some
of them. Our next stop was to see how
the locals catch shrimp in small baskets with Mathais pulling out a few that
had frightening long pinches and you had to be careful taking photos that they wouldn’t
pinch you. We also got off the boat here
to taste some coconuts and see how the young guys climb the coconut trees and
to see them shimmy up the tree with no ropes, shoes or devices was pretty cool
and once they had knocked off a dozen or so coconuts they then slide down the
trees like they were poles. Our guys
gave it a go, trying to climb the trees and with not much luck I have to
say. The coconuts were then opened with
a massive and very sharp machete for us to drink the milk inside and then
handed back for the guy to open them so that we could get the flesh out to eat
with a scoop made from some of the chopped off coconut husk. I have done similar things in the
Philippines, Seychelles and Sri Lanka, but it was nice to meet some of the
local people and able to give them a few tourism dollars while we were in
town. They weren’t too receptive to the
photos but after Matais said a few words we were allowed to take them. The boys that were at the fishing spot were
all young, the oldest would have been around 15 and they don’t live there, they
just use the place for the catching of fish, shrimp and crayfish, and then head
home of the evening time.
We were then back on the boat for the 10 minute ride to
Matais home village to have a walk around and shown a few things of how a
village runs in Benin. We visited one of
the small villages along the riverbank as part of our boat trip on the Mono
River. This village was called Heve,
with a population of 600, and as our boat approached the landing area the group
of children standing on the bank watching us approach grew into a small crowd. They followed us up the path into the village
running around us and shouting. Obviously visitors are not so common here. At
the entrance to the village we passed the Legba and a temple - signs that this
village follow the traditional religion of Voodoo. We entered the main village square where
families were sitting and many children were running around. The villagers were semi friendly; they didn’t
seem to be welcoming us with open arms, even though Matais was from here. The children, as usual, all wanted their
photograph taken and crowded around the camera. They always seem to think they
need to get as close as possible to the camera to get a good picture. After a
few attempts, we managed to get some reasonable photos of them and they were
happy when they viewed them. Matais
pointed out where the village medical Centre was, the small shops, some of the
voodoo gods, he was very knowledgeable of the plants and their medicinal qualities
and also their scientific names and he showed us a particular leaf that could
heal 360 different ailments!!! There
were plants for malaria, plants for itches, plants for stomach pains, plants
for diarrhea, you name it there was a plant to cure it. His village is very much into voodoo religion
and we were shown one of the most sacred trees that is quite famous in their
culture and it was called the Heve Tree and as we were standing listening to
the story of the tree, a guy in a short sarong came out of one of the homes and
flicked what looked like blood onto the tree and then there was a chain on the
ground and he flicked some of the ‘blood’ onto that and rubbed it in and then
went back inside. Matais explained that
they were currently doing a ceremony and that the blood was indeed that, blood
from an animal and it was mixed with palm oil and the significance of the chain
was to give thanks to the founder of the village who was a fisherman by
trade.
Our last stop of the trip was to see these animals that
they call in English ‘Grasscutters’. We
first heard about this little creature on our first night in Ghana when it was
listed on a local menu as bushmeat. When
we asked what bushmeat was he said it was a grasscutter and when we asked what
that was, he said it is an animal that looks a little like a rabbit. Well he wasn’t too far off with this
description when we arrived at somebodies home there would have been 8 cages
with these grasscutters in them and Matais opened the doors to the cages and
gave them long green reeds to chew on and the noise that emanated from them was
the sound of a lawn mower cutting grass.
When you watched them eat it was like watching a cartoon character, as
they striped of a long piece of the grass and then held that in two hands and
then like a piece of wood on a saw, just got smaller and smaller until it had
finished that piece and then would start again! Also known as the greater cane
rat, it is one of two species of cane rats,
a small family of African hystricognath rodents. The cane rat lives by reed-beds and
riverbanks in Sub-Saharan Africa. Cane rats can grow to
nearly 0.61 m in length and weigh a little less than 8.6 kg. It has
rounded ears, a short nose, and coarse bristly hair. Its forefeet are smaller
than its hind feet, each with three toes.
Cane rats live in small groups led by a single male. They are nocturnal
and make nests from grasses or burrow underground. Individuals of the species
may live in excess of four years. If frightened, they grunt and run towards
water. As humans expanded into the cane rat's native habitats, the cane rats
likewise expanded from their native reeds into the plantations,
particularly the sugar cane plantations from which they derive their name.
Their tendency to adopt plantations as habitat, where they feed on agricultural
crops such as maize, wheat, sugar-cane and cassava,
often earns them the label of agricultural pest. However, the peoples of the
region also utilize the cane rat as a food source (as bushmeat),
considering the meat a delicacy. Consequently, grasscutters (as they are often called in Ghana and other regions of West Africa) are
beginning to be raised in cages for sale.
They looked more like an overgrown guinea pig to me, but they were cute
and after a few minutes, we left them to their dinner and rounded back to the
boat after seeing some more voodoo gods on our way out. Even though the sun wasn’t 100% out, the day
was still muggy as hell and we were all a little sweaty by this stage. One our way back to the boat, there was a man
walking down the road and he had on a pair of shorts that had Australian flags
on them, so I asked if I could have my photo taken with him, which he was more
than happy to oblige. Imagine, being in
Benin, in Grand Popo, in a small village off that and seeing the Australian
flag on a villagers shorts! Is it a
sign? Of what, I don’t know-but it was
pretty awesome all the same.
We were back to the truck at 1pm and after lunch we had
some free time until 4pm. I sued the
time to go for a walk along the beach and get some photos and then I spent the
rest of the time sitting on the truck getting some blogging done. Some people went for a nana nap and Sam and
Zoe were half way through tackling the fridge.
I think on this section of the trip, well besides when we head north in
Benin, it isn’t as imperative to have a working fridge as it will be when we do
the second leg at the end of the month as we really get to some off the track
places and a fridge will definitely be of use then. So as the afternoon wore on there was an
urgency to get it fixed as we needed the truck to take us to the afternoon
voodoo ceremony and also because we were leaving tomorrow morning. As it worked out, it wasn’t just a gassing
issue with the fridge, but a cracked pipe that had to be taken out, resouldered
and then reinstalled back to the truck.
This was no easy task as Zoe and Sam had to take out 2 of the trucks
seats and open up some of the floor to get to where they needed to and as I was
on the truck watching, there were some tight places for them to fit and again I
was glad that Zoe spoke French to converse with the fridge guy and that
secondly I was glad that they both knew what they were doing. Every tool that they were using was all manual
and I bet they would have killed for an electric drill when they were undoing a
bunch of screws at one point.
As it worked out, the fridge people were still working at
4pm, so we weren’t able to use the truck and Matais called in a few boda boda
(motorcycle taxis) to come and get us so that we were still able to make the
show. We looked like a very tame Hells
Angels as we all sat high on our motorbikes for the 10 minute ride to the
village. I am not really a motor bike
person, especially on sand and loose rocks, but riding with 8 of my buddies,
there was a sense of freedom with the wind in our hair and me clinging tightly to
my rider in front of me, which I am sure he didn’t mind in the least. When we arrived, the bodo boda’s paid, there
was a small percussion playing with beating drums and large what seemed like
large cow bells getting hit and it had a rhythm to it that was awesome. We were directed to a concrete bench that was
the edge of an undercover shelter as we waited for the voodoo ceremony to
begin.
The villagers were late (se were we so we can’t complain)
for 45 minutes and then the show begun.
It wasn’t a ‘show’ put on for us, this was a proper ceremony and they didn’t
‘play’ up to us at all. They were in a
zone and we just happened to be there to watch the spectacle. The word voodoo conjures up many images to the average
Westerner, all of them markedly unpleasant. Secret rituals celebrated around a
hellish fire, in which participants possessed by demon god’s dance with total
abandon to the hypnotic beat of tribal drums. Spells intoned by crazed witch
doctors, who impale pins into dolls representing intended victims. Zombies, the living dead — those sightless, mindless toilers of
Caribbean fields, wickedly revived from the grave to continue existence in a
hideous twilight state. The sacrificing of animals (and, sometimes, of humans). A dash of cannibalism completes the “witches’ brew.” These images are the raw material from which
nightmares are spun. They are images that have, to be sure, been exploited with
some success by the producers of Hollywood horror movies. They also happen to
be essentially true, for the reality behind such films is just as lurid, just
as shocking as its cinematic likeness. It was nothing like that at all, even though there was a
wild moment where a live chicken was produced and given to one of the twirling
fetishes, it was out underneath this massive cone like structure and a few
minutes later a cooked chicken came out that was feed to the villages that had
congregated around us, and they were animalistic in getting a piece of that
voodoo chicken and it was boiling hot and we were given some of the stuffing to
eat and not wanting to offend I had a small piece. The band did not stop the whole 2 hours we
were there, but they were drinking palm wine to keep them going and people
switched over on the instruments to give others a break.
There were a few more ‘black magic’ tricks including the
lifting of the large fetishes to show us that there was nobody in them and then
they would run around a large space with ‘watches’ clearing the eye holes and
making sure that they didn’t run into things (but there was nobody inside of
course). There was a black magic trick
of a basket moving on its own, which none of us know how that was done and also
a smaller fetish moving its appendage on its own which general consensus was it
was done with string. There were women
dancing, children dancing, children running scared from the large straw dancing
fetishes and the village started to come and watch as well. At 7pm it was time for us to leave as we were
having a hosted dinner at the hotel and after ‘contributing’ some money to the
voodoo gods in the form of a small wooden bowl, we waved, our bikes were at the
ready for the 10 minute ‘Grand Popo Angels’ heading back to camp. Later at dinner when I asked Matais how they
did the magic tricks, especially the vanishing act of the person under the
large straw fetish, he truly believed that there is no-one under them and it is
the spirits making them move, and he was serious. So I stopped there, there is no point arguing
religion with someone that is a believer of their own faith (and nothing wrong
with that either) but somebody knows the truth as there has to be people that
wear those costumes and the people that help them get into them. The pull of religion.
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