There’s no place like home, even when home is a hot semi-desert

The past couple of weeks, I went on vacation with a couple of other PCV’s. It was relaxing at some points, exhausting at some points, and filled with interesting characters, stories, and GREAT FOOD! We traveled to Ghana, Togo, and Benin.

Ghana – The 28 hours of straight transport to get to our beach destination were exhausting, but not as bad as it sounds. As soon as I took my shoes off and sunk my toes into the lovely soft sand and watched the waves crash onto the beach, it was worth it. We stayed at a secluded beach place for a few days and spent our time swimming in the ocean, exploring the surrounding “jungle” and beach area, and eating delicious sea food.


A view of the beach where we stayed


Fish dinner!

After we left towards Togo, we stopped to spend a day in Accra. Compared to Ouaga, Accra is overwhelmingly developed. We felt like small town girls in the big scary city. However, this scary city DID have wonderful food (you’ll notice that a large part a PCV’s vacations revolve around food). We had sushi for dinner and it was awesome. It was definitely the highlight of Accra.

Togo – We had a terrible time crossing the border, due to some border police who very clearly wanted some money to add to their pockets. After a very long fight over our visas, we gave up (quite reluctantly) and paid the extra money which we watched the man put directly into his pocket.

While in Togo, we only stayed a couple days in Lome (the capital). We went to the market in search of pretty pagnes. Then we went to eat at a beach bar (these coastal countries rock) and hung out the rest of the evening. Togo was mostly just a stop on the way to Benin.

Benin – Benin was great from the beginning. We had no trouble at the border and got to a village called Gambie by nightfall. The interesting thing about this village is that it is in the middle of a lake on stilts. We took the 8 km boat rate to the village and got to our hotel. The next day, we rented a canoe and paddled all around this amazing village. Their markets are on boats all grouped together in the middle, children paddle to school, it is ridiculously cool. Although all 3 of us had successfully maneuvered canoes or kayaks in our life, we had a difficult time with these boats. In the beginning, we were running into people’s houses and boats; it was a mess. But we got much better. It was a great lesson in teamwork.


The stilt village, Gambie


Paddling around the stilt village

After the stilt village, we headed to Ouidah, a town on the beach. We took a tour illustrating/commemorating the different steps in the slave trade. It started in the spot where the slave market was held. There were other stops including a mass grave, the Tree of Forgetting, the Tree of Coming Back, and ending at the Door of No Return. Slaves being sold had to walk around the Tree of Forgetting and it was supposed to make them forget their past, families, and country so they’d leave more submissively. The Tree of Coming Back (a phrase which sounds more elegant in French) was walked around so that even though the bodies were being taken away and they were mentally forgetting their home, their souls would return to Benin. The African king who sold the slaves was willing to sell bodies but not souls.


The Door of No Return monument

In Benin, the people are very into voodoo. We saw many voodoo spots where people sacrifice things (we did not see a sacrifice). We saw “revenants” which are spirits according to Beninese. For a lack of better description, I will describe them as looking like people wearing crazy (sort of scary) costumes. They ran around and tried to hit people. If they hit you, you were supposed to die (I can not verify this because I was careful NOT to be hit!). We also had a tour of different palaces and voodoo sites. Our guide told so many interesting stories which were far more interesting than the actual sites. One stop that was very cool was the voodoo market. If you want something from a voodoo priest, he tells you the ingredients he needs. For those things that aren’t found in every day markets, you can go to the voodoo market where you’ll find all sorts of dried animal parts – horse heads, snakes, gutted cats and monkeys, dogs, etc. There were also a few live snakes and chameleons which we were allowed to hold.


Holding Voodoo market merchandise


A voodoo hut

Over all, the vacation was amazing. It was relaxing in the beginning, intriguing in the end, and fun throughout the trip. But the three of us who travelled together agreed that getting back to Burkina feels great. Even though there are many similarities among francophone West African countries, we're in our own territory now. We know what's going on. It’s good to be home.

Things We Hate Until We Love Them

In Burkina, a lot of time things seem impossible to get done. Things are hard to find. People are hard to talk to or hard to understand. A lot of times, they see a white person (or other clearly non-Burkinabe) and assume they can take advantage of us because we don’t know anything (a lot of times true…). It doesn’t help that if someone is difficult or rude or blatantly not doing their job, there is little we can do about it. We can’t call their supervisor or someone nicer to help us. Basically, things can be difficult.

But sometimes, this works in the opposite direction. Someone recognizes you or knows someone who knows you or came from the village where you live and they help you out. And when I say “help you out” I don’t just mean they’ll point you to the stand that sells what you need to find. They will bring you to the place you need to go, tell people what you need and then bargain for you. Sometimes, they won’t bring you. They’ll sit you down in the shade and say, “Wait right here.” Ten minutes later, they come back with what you need.

An example of this occurred a couple of days ago. It wasn’t to the extent I just described, but I still really appreciated it. I headed to a place to get a Togo/Benin visa for an upcoming vacation. I had been warned that to be VERY prepared because the people are grouchy and not helpful. We walked in and stood around awkwardly trying to figure out where to go and who was supposed to help us. People who seemed to work there just glanced over at us and then went back to their work (or more often, talking to the person next to them). Great, it seemed like the rumors were true and the service would be awful. We bumbled around to a man in the corner who suddenly looked up at us and said to me, “You’re Peace Corps? What village are you in?” I told him the name of my village and he said “I used to be there! I was one of the police who worked at the border check!” He continued to talk about the village, the previous volunteer (of whom he had a picture of on his camera), found out I was neighbors with his friend, and that I (and the other people I was with) spoke Jula. Suddenly (in concurrence with one of the other volunteers giving him her pen), he was our best friend. He was smiley and friendly and VERY helpful. We had so much fun talking to this guy and left the visa place smiling and feeling like the experience was kind of fun and not at all frustrating.

It’s all about who you know and where you’re from. And sometimes what language you can speak. A pain in the butt until it’s really helpful.