THE GHOSTS OF OUIDAH

He reached Ouidah after an hour of travelling from Cotonou. It is an old settlement having been established in the 15^th century by Ahoho who worship Dangbe the python. The air and relics speak of the legends from the past; of a shameful history that enriched the colonial powers of old Europe at the expense of millions of Africans. Ouidah was a slave trading post.

While the tourist bus wandered and the driver and the tour guide argued on where to go, he feasted on the flashing images of Ouidah: colonial designed houses with whitewashed walls of packed red earth, cobbled streets and neat little shops, ramrod straight and bare breast women walking and balancing heavy loads on their heads, the occasional Caucasian tourist in shorts and sandals and de rigueur camera. Then it popped out from nowhere, a beautiful anomaly in the movie he was watching.

The dominant and elegant Basilica of Ouidah is definitely French in the style of the Rheims Cathedral. He never knew it was there, and the suddenness of its appearance transformed the next moments into a surreal experience punctuated by the maniacal clicking of his Nikon D40. Until a hissing sound woke him from his moment of stupor. He felt the dry wind prodding him, outside the churchyard, across the street, to a decrepit enclosure. He found himself in an ancient Vodoun temple which the imposing Basilica failed to exorcise.




That is when he saw them: a bare young boy huddled in a dark corner with his almost naked mother and father. They started walking down the street, the man carrying his son and followed by his wife. He started walking too, amused at the eerie and light feeling that suddenly enveloped him but confused by his helplessness. He was led into the market where those that he followed disappeared into the maze of humanity before showing themselves again as they enter the gate of the Portuguese fort. He was drawn inside too, enjoying a moment of sanity in the shadows of an old chapel before going into a burst of fleeting exhilaration which transported him to a giant tree where he saw them again --- the man and his wife --- walking around, as if lost, as if in a soulless trance.



Then they picked the sleeping child and went their way, disappearing for moment in a patch of complete darkness, reappearing like ghosts, and continuing their journey until coming to another tree where they again performed the odd ritual of going around it. He was about to ask about the child who is no longer with them but a thousand tiny pythons came off his mouth as he tried to speak. That is when he saw the heavy manacles bruising their wrists and ankles, and the silent tears that poured from their empty eye sockets. They walked to the sea behind an invisible door that slammed the past behind them. Forever. The salty water parted to take them in. He strained his eyes to their journey until they disappeared. He felt cold…

PHOTOS (top to bottom):
(1) The Basilica of Ouidah was built in the early 20^th century in front of (2) the Temple of Pythons where a Vodoun priest regularly commune with the spirit of Dangbe. The voodoo practice of the Caribbean was introduced by slaves originating from what is now the Republic of Benin

(3) The chapel of the old Portuguese fort was built in 1856. The fort is one of the 5 that were built by the Portuguese, the French, English, Dutch and Danes as their slave trade posts. Only the Portuguese fort remained and when the newly independent state of Benin asked for a discussion of the fort’s status, the angry Portuguese burned it to the ground in 1961 during Benin’s first independence day celebration. It has been restored and is now the Historic Museum of Ouidah.

(4) The slaves would circle the Tree of Hope 3 times in the hope of coming back. It is the fifth stop in Ouidah’s La Route des Esclaves (The Route of Slaves) that commenced in the slave market where the slaves are sold, then the forts where they stayed in dark rooms called Zomais to prepare them for their sea journey to the Americas, then the Tree of Forgetfulness where they went around 9 times (7 times for the women) to symbolically forget everything about their origin. Those who will not survive are buried in the mass grave before the Tree of Hope.

(5) The Door of No Return leads to the ships that took the slaves across the Atlantic Ocean. (6) A voodoo temple now stands guard in the hallowed grounds of the Door of Nor return that has been declared as a UNESCO heritage site. Slavery was proposed by a priest and adviser to the Spanish court, Fr. Bartholome Las Cassas, to provide the labor for developing the New World of the Americas and was authorized by Pope Nicolas V on 08 January 1454. It was abolished in all of the English colonies in 1833, in all of the French colonies in 1848, in the United States in 1865, in Cuba in 1886, and in Brazil in 1888.

(7) A Beninese in a pensive mood along the Atlantic coast of the Door of No Return, as if waiting for those who went and never came back many years ago.

(8) Petrol or gas is sold on street stands like this beside a colonial era Beninese house in Ouidah.

(MAIN REFERENCE: Martin de Souza’s “Ouidah: A Bit of History”)

SLEEPLESS IN BENIN

Finally, a non-Asian visa.

I was invited to attend the Africa and culminating round of the International Network of Alternative Financing Institutions’ (INAFI) global conference on microfinance, migration and development on 4-13 November of this year in Cotonou, Benin. I was also a participant in the previous Asian round that was held in Tagaytay, Philippines in 2006, and would have given a foot to attend the Latin American and first round that was held in Zacatecas, Mexico in 2004.

I did not sleep much on the eve of my departure and have to perk (and treat) myself to a despedida lunch of soya chicken mami on my way to the airport the following day. It is a special occasion for me having fulfilled 3 longstanding wishes: (1) to be out of country at least once a year, (2) a non-Asian visa finally pasted in my passport, and (3) going to Africa. (These are actually a great leap from my single pre-2002 wish of having my passport marked before expiring, which I upped to having a visa because all my travels before 2005 were in southeast Asia that do not require one, which led me to my non-Asian travel wish. Yeah, I just upgraded my wish list to include travels to Europe and North/Latin America and Australia and Antarctica because the aim now is to have the bragging right of having been to the 7 continents). The mami did not fit for the occasion but it is pansit so it will do.



It was a long and sleepless flight. Manila to Hongkong is almost 2 hours and we have to kill 3 hours at the Chep Lap Kok airport for the connecting flight to Paris. Which is a good thing because we stumbled on the Taiwan Beef Noodle restaurant, self-proclaimed King of Beef Noodles with a prominently displayed 2006 King of Catering medallion, where my boss treated me to a huge bowl of beef spare ribs noodles. Then a 13-hour haul shooting across 7 time zones which tested the flexibility of my body clock. The Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris was a disappointment because the restaurant in our terminal do not have noodles in its menu. And we have 7 hours to count off before the plane to Cotonou.




There is not much in Cotonou but Hotel Du Lac where we stayed is along the Oueme River as it empties into the Atlantic Ocean offering a great view on all sides. The Cotonou time zone (-7 hours to Manila time) is yet to sink into my psyche so I pulled through my first night surfing the French language TV programs, counting the lights of the ships moored in the Atlantic coast, reading Harry Potter’s encounter with Sirius Black, and answering the crossword puzzles I brought along. At 5 am, I went down to the al fresco restaurant and took my first photo of a fisherman in a boat crossing the river mouth. The buildings across the river are still asleep and the lights of the Ancien Pont Bridge is faintly etched on the water.

The next nights are not any better but the daily 10-minute nap during the ride from the hotel to the Palais des Congres where the conference was held is enough to recharge me. Perhaps it is the energy of the century-old Notre Dame des Apotres across the bridge, vibrant and noticeable in its alternating red and white color, pulsating through my sleeplessness every time I passed through. Or the pansit that was served on the second day of the conference which tempered our protein-heavy fare.





My body clock finally adjusted to the Cotonou time. But then, it’s time to go home…

PHOTOS (top to bottom): (1) Soya chicken mami at the NLEX, (2) my boss working on a bowl of noodles at Hong Kong’s Chep Lap Kok airport, (3) the sun rising at Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airport, (4) the mouth of the Oueme River and Atlantic Ocean as seen from Hotel Du Lac, (5) pretty Beninese mademoiselles who served as conference ushers, (6) Beninese lunch with pansit, and (7) Cotonou’s 105-year old Notre Dame des Apotres.