The slave trade

Wow today starts my last week in Benin. It is a bit sad. I am not ready to leave yet and I have met so many great people I may never see again in this life so saying goodbyes is a sad prospect. But on a brighter note I am meeting one of the aussie girls in Paris on the way home for a day or so which will be lovely.

Yesterday we went to Quidah (said weeda). Quidah was a major port for slave trading in West Africa. The port has a long history of changing hands between many nations and a sad history of the slave trade. It is also the voodoo capital of Benin and one of the largest practising voodoo towns in Africa. Been a very secretive religion the only evidence of it's existence in the town were statues to foreign god's and small huts dotting the lagoon shore and forest where voodoo rituals are practised.

The story of slave trading goes that the King never started the trade though he handsomely gained from it. At the peak an estimated 20,000 slaves were shipped out of the port every year. Of those packed into ships like sardines lying side by side chain in shackles, wallowing in human waste and suffering horendous abuse only 20% survived the 3 week journey. What one human being can do to another is repulsive beyond belief. In typical voodoo style the men had to walk around a tree of forgetfulness 9 times each time forgeting either wife, family or anything to do with thier previous life. Women walk 7 times to forget their past. Then a second tree was walked around- it was so their spirits could come back to rest in Benin after death from what I understand. During the boat trip men were positioned face down and the women face us so they could be abused. On arrival the dead and weak were thrown into mass graves. If the sea was bad during the trip the dead and weak were thrown into the sea- some still alive. At the slave markets those slaves with diahoreal diseases have cloth stuck up there anus's and were propped up against walls etc so the purchasers would not notices their poor condition. We may niavely think this kind of thing doesn't happen today. What about the sex slave industry, the child slave industry, the genocide in Rwanda, the Sudan today and they many places we don't hear about. Thankfully God promises to one day restore this broken world and to bring justice.

At Quidah today marking the slave port is a memorial. It contains a gate of no return. Marking where the slaves left from and a gate of return for their spirits to return through. The irony is that the idea of a gate of return is related to the voodoo spirit world and in the centre of the gate is a Christian cross. The people here live in such fear of spirits and want to appease all spirits so they mix a bit of many religions to cover their bases. Sadly for them there is only one God and saviour Jesus Christ.

The gate of no return for the slaves

The gate of return.

We walked the slave road back to the villiage. Today the beach and road are so beautiful and peaceful. It is a sad irony.

Peaceful view from the slave route.

Below are a few pictures from the road trip home. Often the drive in Benin is as interesting as the point of arrival.

The coffin manufacturers. It amazes me how such fine art can be made in such primative buildings and with simple tools. These people are talented. The furniture here is made and sold in similar road side buildings.

A larger gasoline station. Apparently the gas is imported from across the border in Nigeria.

In typical aussie stlye we had a great bonfire on the beach last night. For most of us it felt a little like home. We played frisbee and volleyball, toasted marshmellows and drank coke. It is nice and really important I think for all of us working here to take some time out for rest and relaxation. It was a fun night with a beautiful sunset and a starry sky with a spectacular moon that lit the beach up.

Au Re Voir

Love

Naomi

Wow. It has been ages since I have written- apologies. It has been a bit busy of late. I only have a week and a bit left. I am not ready to leave. I'm loving it and have really settled into the community life on board, found my feet at work and gradually started to figure out the cultural differences and learn to work with them- both with those on board and those in Benin.

We have had our little sailing excursion to get fuel- not without it's drama's. African time and logistics is an amazing thing. Firstly we had been re scheduled numerous times over the last month. The fact that we are not paying port fees probably means we can't argue too much about that. We were to move at 8am Sunday morning as the final set time. The tanker before us had a dispute over how much fuel it received so we moved at 2pm. Aside from the deckies who were working away most of us were able to enjoy the spectical from deck 8. The able body patients also enjoyed the activity.

I had the joy of securing the lab. Do you think I could make the rachet ties work. Nope. I bit my pride and went to find someone who knew what they were doing. Thankfully the deck crew were still in dining hall. Problem solved. The sail was so smooth it seemed unnecessary anyway.

Up goes the gangway!

Patients enjoying the sail.

The tug in action.

I've had some of the mysterious fun that happens when you get a tailor to do some sewing. Having been pre-warned of some of the unusual creations that can result I went to the tailor armed with photos from the internet of what I wanted. My tailor spoke not a word of English nor I a word of French. Yay for translators from post ops who helped out. The African style is to be tight and very unflattering around the hips- so I asked him to make it big big not small small when pointing to my hips. He is a good listener- I got it big big- too big with some extra creatvity of his added to the bottom of the skirt- it was actually quite nice with the extra pattern though.

I had a dress also- not too bad either except for the ribbing been in the wrong spot. The funny part was he took the liberty of using the left over material to make a few bags then he sold them back to me. 2 were very nice the third was a camera bag fashion to the camera size of another crew member who requested the tailor the same day. It seems they have the idea that all us white people want the same things made. Funny experience. He was very good though so i'm about to have a few more things made- could be exciting to see the outcome.

We regularly walk around a circuit for about an hour every afternoon. Regularly we past beggers on the street. They push through the traffic at the lights. Some with out legs others with injured legs scooting around the traffic at ground level seated on boards of wood on wheels- similar to skateboards. Along the traffic islands children lead blind relatives in the hope someone will give. Some of the beggars are rude and pushy. Many are genuine beggars living day to day. Some I am told have maimed themselves as a way of begging to achieve a living. It is a sad world when people resort to that. The sadest I have passed was a couple of ladies and their children. One lady only had a torso- no arms and no legs. She sat on the roadside unable to move. Next to her another lady in a hand pedaled tricycle. The children mingled around. What stuck out to me with this group was that they obviously needed help and yet they didn't beg. They politely greeted us and we stopped to play with the children briefly. They never asked for a cent. I only wish I had money on my when on that walk. I hope to see them again if I walk the same route. They were so cheerful it was humbling and so friendly- whats more it was genuine- their attitude to us didn't change when we left without giving them anything.

We had a weekend trip to a near by village last weekend. It is called Ganvie. It is a stilt village built over the water of the lagoon. The village originated because people didn't like the king and they wanted to escape him. Apparently the king hated water so the people moved to live in the water. Today it is a poor place but amazing also. I had mixed emotions about going as it is promoted as a tourist sight and yet it is home for the people who live there and we are intruders in their backyard. Some people certainly made us feel like intruders- understandable. Others welcome the tourists as we can buy thier goods. Below are some photo's of the village. Every thing is conducted on water. See the market place. Boats full of goods lined up. Children as looking young as 4 command their own canoe with skill. Mothers with babies on their backs or one even breastfeeding whilst manouvouring a canoe laden with goods redefine multi-tasking altogether.

We were at the stilt village on Benin independance day and canoes full of people in their Sunday best passed us as a sea of color. Music and even dance can be performed in a canoe.

In a true show of cultural ignorance we found ourselves in the middle of an array of boats with people dressed stunningly and singing away. We took photo's- then we realised we were in the middle of a funeral procession- they do funerals differently to us. There was more celebration then sorrow visable. One doesn't stop to ask where the body goes in a water surrounded village- in the water we figured.

A fishing boat at Ganvie- The sail is made from hesion rice bags sewn together definate recycling. Some the house walls were recycling masterpieces made from square plastic drums cut open and stretched out and joined together. Though here the environment is not the reason for recycling. Indeed the photo's further on show the huge piles of trash that surround the city centre of Cotonou. The floating market at Ganvie

Home with the washing out to dry

The market in Cotonou on Benin independance day.

Home for some under the bridge pilons in central Cotonou- a picture tells a thousand words. I had thought this degree of poverty was limited but it is how much of Cotonou lives- and this is the nations largest city.

Homes along the river bank in the centre of Cotonou. In front are piles of rubbish metres high. The smell is overwhelming. These tin homes make up a large proportion of the accommodation in the city. Occassional government homes and houses dot the scene.

Some of the amazing girls who make for great company and encouragement. The two to the left are fellow aussies and then Pamela, the South African who has taken most of the laughs and tears with me is next to me.

Fishing boats like this go out in there hundreds from the port every morning. The view from the ship is an ocean dotted with these boats. Some had small motors. Others are paddled by hand. Every boat has a water bailor armed with a bucket- most start bailing from the moment they leave port- a very concerning matter particularly as most of the Africans can't swim!

Life in the lab can be quite or hectic- rarely anything in between. With 3 callouts a night every night this week I was glad to hand the pager onto the next person. In the quite times we have taken to bringing a sewing machine into the lab, or ducking up to the galley to cook something wicked for afternoon tea. You can duck off to the post office, bank, ship shop and cafe- Starbucks as required without getting in the car- Yay for convenience.

Today was a quite afternoon so we had a tour of the ships bridge and bow. Yay for friends in high places- I am blessed to be friends with a fellow aussie who is the second officer- He's a champ and is always looking out for me so he took us on a VIP tour of the usually out of bounds areas. A few pictures below for you.

I did say you undertake responsibility in areas your not familiar with- bet you weren't thinking steering the ship was one of those added responsibilities.

This weekend I am going to Quida. It was the slave trading port. The point of no return for many Africans shipped around the world in the poorest conditions. Seen the movie Amazing Grace- those were the conditions. Apparently only 20% of the slaves even survived the trip. I have been warned to be prepared to be horrified. I think it is naive to ignore history so I whilst I am sure it will be confronting I hope it will give me a better understanding.

Sunday I am touring 4 hospitals in Benin. One of the translators relatives is a president in health so he is driving us and giving 3 of us tours. Again I have been told that I will be confronted and horrified at the conditions. I shall fill you in.

We have the most amazing sunsets in West Africa and tonight was no exception. I would post a photo but photo's never do them justice. Sometimes it is nicest to sit back and enjoy without trying to capture the moment with the camera.

Well I am off to walk to dock with all it's sights, sounds and smells. Even since the ship moved and came back I swear the smells are worse. Between the buffers that prevent the ship from hitting the dock rubbish and human refuse float in mats covering the water thickly. Walking down the steps can be overwhelming but very quickly one's nose adapts so you no longer notice the stench. I do feel for our wonderful Gerka's- Danish guards who stand on the gangway to guard the entrance- they have the smelll all day everyday. Yet they are the happiest and friendliest people- they make my day everyday. Whats more they know everyone's name.

The sights- well last night it included people squating over the edge of the dock doing their business. Canoes full of naked people bathing as the bring thier fishing boats back in and lorries in numbers loading up with cement I think from the ship behind us. Blowing ones nose on return to the ship generally yields black stuff (charming I know). To the environmentalist this is a lost cause. To the average person the pollution is remarkable.
As for sounds- everytime a ship enters of exits the port is sounds the horn and Zimee John motor cycles toot endlessly to signal they are coming through.

So off to walk the dock.

Love Naomi