Where the Hell Are We? Part I, March 8-10: Travel in West Africa is HELL

March 8: Getting to Burkina Faso

Benin à Burkina Faso à Mali

Tanguieta  à Ouagadougou à Bobo à Mopti

The tro-tro (overloaded van) picks us up in Tanguieta at 3 am and we are on our way.

After a few stops in town we head north-west toward the Benin-Burkina border.  We had already purchased our Burkina visas so the border crossing was quick and easy, and we arrived in Ouagadougou around 11 am, then decided to continue to Bobo, where we were told that onward transport to Mopti (in Mali) would not be a problem. 

Arrived in Bobo before nightfall and got a taxi (no zemijans outside of Benin) to our hotel, Casafrica.  We ate dinner near our hotel and decided to spend the next day in Bobo, because we were promised by friends that Bobo was a cool town to hang out in.

March 9: Day in Bobo

We set out early to check out the marché and search out some strawberries.  Burkina folks (Burkinabé) are a lot more relaxed than the Beninese.  Nobody in the marché tried to grab us or get really aggressive, though there were a few creepy guys who followed us for a little bit at one point.

After the marché we went looking around for bus tickets for our onward travel the next day.  Unfortunately Bobo does not have a central bus station so we ended up walking all over the city to go check out all the different bus companies, but nobody went to Mopti.  We could not find a tro-tro and got really frustrated, but then we were saved by an adorable little old French man who moved to Burkina in 1976 when he worked on a Moringa project with the World Bank and just kind of stayed there.  He drove us around in his ancient, busted-up Peugeot 505 to a few different places to secure our bus tickets to Mopti; we were promised that the bus would leave at 9 am the next morning and go direct to Mopti, no problem.

Our savior in Bobo, with Erin

We met an interesting French guy at our hotel who works 4 months a year driving trucks and spends the rest of the year split between Cuba and Burkina Faso, and a very interesting family who live in Germany in the Spring/Summer and spend the Fall/Winter traveling around the world in a van.  The couple have two small children and are able to finance their trips through a combination of some rental properties they have and the money that the German government gives them for their small children. 

They have traveled from Germany to India and back again, and are currently on their way to Ouagadougou to fly back after driving from Germany and visiting places in West Africa.  They have a website, www.ourvan.de.

March 10: Travel in Africa is HELL

We got tickets yesterday but didn’t pay for them, just in case something better came up.  That the bus direct to Mopti would leave at 9:00am seemed too good to be true so we had a sinking feeling that something would go wrong.  Oh yes.

We arrived at the bus station where we had made our bus reservation at 8:30am and reluctantly paid for our tickets.  Now they had us locked in.

We were directed to a different bus station, where we were told that we would be the first folks on the bus and avoid the crush of folks getting on at later stops. 

Note: the buses in Burkina Faso and Mali are basically big bush taxis.  They strap luggage to the roof, overfill the inside of the buses, and stop every few minutes to let people on and off.  They are also in HORRIBLE condition.  Grâce à Dieu for Benin’s reliable, modern-ish buses!

Inside the "bush taxi" bus

It was there that we were told by different employees that the bus leaves at 10am; wait, no, it leaves at 12pm; actually, it’s not going to Mopti at all…it goes to Bamako but it’s ok, the road to Bamako and the road to Mopti are the same road, and the bus will let you out at Bla (a town between Bamako and Mopti), and you can catch a bus to Mopti from Bla, no problem.  And the bus will arrive in Bla by 5:00pm at the latest.

We were flexible; we didn’t have to be in Mopti until the next day, so we waited.  And waited.  One hour passed, then two.  Then three.  At noon they began loading the bus, strapping all sorts of luggage (and a bicycle) to the roof, since the undercarriage was already full.  At about 1:15pm the bus finally filled up with people and even more baggage, and we are off.

Burkina has relatively good roads but terrible transportation options.  We would learn that Mali is the same way.  Our bus was probably 40 years old and when it sits stationary and idles, the inside fills up with clouds of smoke and fumes.  As it kicked and sputtered down the road, most of the fumes exited out the windows, but we were always breathing in those fumes.

Large-scale garden projects on the side of the road

Every 10 minutes the bus stopped to pick people up.  Fortunately, we had no problems crossing the Mali border.  We tried (and failed) to purchase Mali visas at the border, which almost caused us problems later in the trip.  The officials at the border had us fill out a visa application, then took them and stamped an entry stamp in our passports, sans visa.

As day turned into night we started to wonder if we had missed our stop in Bla and were blindingly hurtling towards Bamako.  We made a nice Togolese friend on the bus who explained that Bla was not far away.  We finally (at 9:00pm) arrived in Bla and were dropped off at a Carrefour in the middle of town.  This was the crossroads between Bamako and Mopti, and where we would have to catch our next bus.

Their “bus station” is just the road next to the crossroads where we were dropped off.  A few guys tried to hustle us into overpaying for a private car, but we were saved by a bus that pulled up after only a few minutes and, lo and behold, it had just 3 places available, so we piled in.  A few hours later we FINALLY arrived in Mopti, at 3:00am.

Total travel time (including the wait at the bus station): 18 hours.  Total distance covered: about 500 kilometers (about 310 miles). 

We took a quick (and expensive) cab ride to our hotel to sleep for 3-4 hours before we were to meet our guide, Oumar, at 7:30am.

Makin' Babies Fat

    

I started planning a nutritional recuperation program back at the end of October with two of my work partners.  One of my work partners was supposed to scope out the malnourished babies during her normal 9 baby weighings that she does all over the community and in December, we would invite 50 malnourished kids with their mothers to a program that would recuperate them in January.  I planned the program like this as kind of a test to see how I would do working with these two without the help of my supervisor because after she leaves to continue her education, I wouldn’t have that option anyway.  Well, Gisele, the baby weighing woman, did not do her part at all and I originally cancelled the entire program because after all, if we don’t have any malnourished babies to recuperate, then it’s pretty impossible to continue with the program.  I didn’t want all of Isidore (my other work partner) and my hard work to go to waste though, so I enlisted the help of my supervisor and we got the program back on track with a postponed date. 

February 6^th is when the program started.  Each day, the women and their malnourished kids came at 9am (theoretically) to prepare the food (peeling potatoes, dicing fruit, grinding onions) together that we’d be using that day.  Then we’d weigh all the babies and I would keep track on my form that I made how each one is doing each day to see if there are improvements, then we’d discuss what we were making that day and why it’s good for the baby and how much the ingredients are, and then right before the food finished cooking, we would teach them about something that is related to preventing their malnourished children from becoming malnourished again.  The topic was different every day and they usually coincided with what we were already doing. 

Overall, the program was a great success and the majority of babies gained weight, although not as much as I would have liked.  The biggest problem that we had was that about half of the women took the program very seriously and came on time every day and participated during the cooking sessions and listened to the lesson and were active all week.  The other have did not.  They came late (sometimes by more than 2 hours), did not participate or seem to be following what was going on, and one women actually was force-feeding her baby right after we talked about force-feeding and why it’s bad.  These women were just in it for the free meal and probably lived close by so they could walk and didn’t have to invest anything in attending the program.  These women also didn’t seem to give their kids any other meal that day.  It was obvious when each day their child was actually loosing more weight and most of them admitted that they weren’t feeding them breakfast or dinner. 

This was incredibly frustrating for me because I really wanted to help them and definitely put a lot of effort into making the program happen, but it’s not possible to make the women care about their children and I can’t care double for their children in hopes that they would take it seriously.  One woman who came from an hour away had a really malnourished child.  He was a year and 4 months old but he didn’t look any older than 4 months.  She couldn’t afford to come to the program every day and when I talked to my supervisor about her situation, she gave her a voucher to go to the hospital that specializes in malnourished children to recuperate her child for free.  When I asked her if she was going to come back and take her baby to the hospital, she said she had to think about it because of the costs of coming back.  I found out from my supervisor that a lot of women here do not get attached to their kids like we do in America and think of them as replaceable.  They say, “Well, if this one dies, I’ll just have another one”. 

I also had an issue with one of the mothers who, not only thought this way and didn’t seem to care about her child, but who thought it was funny to cause trouble in the program.  She was one of the ones who lived nearby and came for the free meal and never helped out and every day she would ask me for money for herself to buy food or for an empty jar or for clothes.  After a few days of this, on top of her having no respect for myself or the program, I took her to see Sakina, my supervisor, so that she could translate into local language that I was going to kick her out if she didn’t shape up.  That seemed to help, but the last day of the program, a Saturday when all staff were gone, lightening struck twice.  Her and another woman got into a blow-out fight because the other woman was feeding one of her kids who wasn’t malnourished and they were insulting each other.  Then, when I was literally in the middle of my last lesson of the program, a grown man strolled into our area, interrupted me to tell me that he was hungry and to give him some food.  I politely explained the program and that it was for 0-5 year olds, then he decided that it’d be funny to say that he was 4 ½ and also malnourished.  When he wouldn’t leave, I started to get upset and basically threw him out of the area. 

I’m glad I did the program and it definitely helped the children whose mother’s took it seriously, but I do not ever want to work with adults again.  They are difficult!  I am going to stick out the last bit of our contract working with kids in our clubs and camps and leave it at that.  There is hope with the kids.  It’s not too late to try behavior modification and to mold them to have better life habits, but I can’t say the same for the adults. 

The Great Beninese Gas Crisis [UPDATE]

The Great Beninese Gas Crisis of 2012 is over--mostly.  In the face of protests that nearly shut down the country, the government of Nigeria decided to partially reinstate its gas subsidies, which ended the general strike and resumed illegal gas exports to Benin.

Gas stations are back to empty, and roadside gas stands are back up.  Rather than up to 1,400cfa (about $3!) a liter, gas is back down to a more manageable 475cfa per liter, though still more than the 300-350cfa per liter that gas was going for before the crisis.

Zem prices are still slightly inflated, but we have found that if we travel in packs and gang up on zem drivers we can get a better price, though taxi prices are still quite inflated.  To wit: the price from Bohicon to Cotonou used to cost 1500-1800cfa, but now costs a minimum of 2500cfa each person, each way.  We do not travel much between town and we generally ride our bikes within our city so this has not impacted us too much, but it was quite a shock to pay so much to get down to Cotonou last week to take the FSOT!

Heather has her Nutritional Recuperation project going on this week and I am getting started on creating a Beninese-friendly Excel training course for budding entrepreneurs who already have some computer knowledge (I am not reinventing the wheel, mind).

It is still hot.  Harmattan is about over, which means that chaleur is about here.  Mango season is almost upon us.  Rainy season will commence in a few months, and we are anxiously waiting the relief that it brings.

Cheers.

The Great Beninese Gas Crisis of 2012

Benin does not produce any oil.  Nigeria, our neighbor and biggest trading partner, however, does.  In fact, Nigeria is the largest oil producer in West Africa and Benin imports close to 100% of its petroleum from its large, overpopulated neighbor.  Talk about being addicted to foreign oil!  Much of Benin’s economy is concentrated in what is called the “informal sector”, which means that most people who work do not get a paycheck like we do in the United States with taxes taken out.  Instead, employers (and employees) in the informal sector get paid in cash only.  Examples are women who walk around and sell food, men who grill meat on the side of the road, women who sell vegetables at the market, and people who sell gas on the side of the road.

Wait, gas?  Yes, every city has a thriving informal gas market, brought over illegally from Nigeria and sold in stands on the side of the road.  Well, that is until last week when the Nigerian government ended its domestic oil subsidy that kept the price of oil down and affordable for everyone.  Protests have erupted in the streets of Nigeria and illegal roadside gas stations have disappeared in Benin since the end of the subsidy last week.  Roadside gas in Benin is no longer affordable; long lines are popping up at the few legal gas stations in the country.   Roadside gas used to be 300 cfa per liter (about 60 cents), but has now skyrocketed to more than 1,000 cfa per liter (about 2 dollars), almost triple the price of legal gas offered at (likely state-subsidized) gas stations. 

You can see how the end of the gas subsidy not only affects Nigerians but Beninese, as well.  Add to that rumors of a rumored 35% devaluation in the price of the franc cfa used by 13 countries in the West African Economic Union, and there is a possible disaster on the horizon.  My work partner, Arimi, makes 30,000 cfa (or about 60 dollars) each month which supports him, his wife, and small child (his wife also works and makes 20,000 cfa per month, so together they make $100 each month).  Gas prices have just tripled, and soon he will make essentially 10,500 cfa less each month if the rumored devaluation happens.  The local mayor’s office pays his salary and since the mayor’s office refuses to even give us a $400 marketing budget for this year, I would be surprised if they would increase salaries to make up for the devaluation, if it happens. 

So, what will happen to Arimi if the cfa is devalued?  Well, with the gas issue I have heard other volunteers complain that their work partners will not go to work until they can afford gas for their motorcycles.  Arimi would have to find some way to cut back on expenses, which would be a stretch for a guy who already essentially lives on $1 per day (the other dollar he makes per day goes towards recurring expenses, such as rent, electricity, water, motorcycle upkeep, and, of course, gas).  What will it mean for us?  The price of transportation has already massively increased.  Zemijohn prices have doubled, bush taxi prices have gone up 20%-50%, and it seems as if bus service has declined.  Rumors abound that buses are now installing a bench in the aisle of the bus to pack more people in, plus slightly increasing the price of fares, to make up for the difference in gas prices.  With more people on the bus, the bus is heavier and more difficult to navigate through the slalom of potholes that litter the main north-south corridor and can cripple a vehicle.  I imagine that we will see more bus accidents as they continue to become more and more overloaded with passengers and more difficult to maneuver.  

Higher gas prices have also driven zemijohn drivers to literally fight for business: zem drivers have been pushing volunteers off of the back of other zem’s motorcycles to try to literally steal their business.  It is not difficult to see the social and economic consequences of the new gas prices and we cannot imagine what will happen if the cfa franc is devalued, as well.

Travel is less safe and more expensive.  Crowds swarm to legal gas stations while the thousands of people who once made a little money selling illegal gas now must find another profession.  There are no jobs here, no craigslist or monster.com to search for jobs, a poor education system, and shoddy, crumbling infrastructure.  It feels like the country is literally falling apart in front of our eyes.  But people will find a way to get through it.  The roadside sellers of gas might make and sell charcoal instead, or grill meat.  People may ride bicycles instead of motorcycles.  Without any help from the government, everyone will need to find a way to scrape and save and find money for their next meal.  As Arimi is fond of saying to me, “C’est l’Afrique.”  That’s Africa.

**Update: Nigeria reinstated their fuel subsidy last week, albeit at a lower rate than it was previously.  There are still problems with zem and food prices, but they are becoming part of "normal" life now.  Check out this line at the gas station!

click me to see me larger

Fête de Vodoun, 2012 edition

We passed the holidays at home in Bohicon with local volunteer pals.  Big thanks to Kev & Danielle, Tim, and Cherise for the Christmas packages!  We are so fortunate to have great friends and family that supply us we goodies from Americaland.

On 10 January, Benin has a state holiday for Vodoun (Voodoo).  Minutes and untold minutes of research have led me to believe that Benin is not only the only country in the world that has an official state holiday for Vodoun, but also the only one that has state holidays for three different religions (Christian, Muslim, Vodoun).  Technically referred to as "Traditional Religions Day", the Vodoun fête day is celebrated with dancing, drinking (heavily), offerings to vodoun spirits and/or deities, singing, dancing, having fun with vodoun characters (such as Egunguns and Zangbetos), and dancing and drinking.

We are in the beginning stages of planning our girls' camp for this year which will take place in June and we have also recently found out that new volunteers who will arrive in July (or maybe June?) are already receiving invitations to come here and have a facebook group already.  Many volunteers are busy facebook stalking them already.

We will try to post pictures from the fete the next time that we have a fast internet connection.  Tried to post a video + pictures here today but it wasn't working out.  Sorry!

Cheers

Foosball

From June, I think, but I forgot to post it.  

...

I arrived to the park on my bike, as usual, in the late morning.  I usually arrive at that time because I take my time eating breakfast and drinking coffee in the morning, and I like to turn up before it gets too hot.  We are in the rainy season now, though, so we have a constant low, dark cloud cover throughout the day with intermittent sun (like San Diego’s “June Gloom”).  It is cool.  I still go to work in the late morning, though, merely out of habit.

When I showed up, I saw Arimi, Denis, and another man huddled around a foosball table.  It was brand new, with the plastic still on and around it, and was still sitting on top of the cardboard box that it was delivered on.  I parked my bike and walked around to where it was situated, across a corner of the concrete slab by the office but still under the overhang.

“Good Morning,” I said.

“Good Morning,” replied Arimi.

“When did we get this?”

“This morning.  The mayor paid for it.”

“Oh, that was nice of him.”

“No.  He is not nice.”

I thought of all the things the mayor could have paid for, such as higher wages for the employees or to print marketing materials.  A foosball table was unnecessary, especially considering that we all had to come to the park early a few weeks ago—Théo, Arimi, Denis, Elie, and I—to clear out weeds because the mayor had not paid the groundskeeper in the past eighteen months—eighteen months!

As they fidgeted with the screwdrivers and wrenches and assorted metal and plastic parts strewn about the table, I started to look for the instructions.  They all looked clueless, so I thought maybe the instructions were in English.  But had there been directions only in English, they would have asked me to help (I hope).

I looked at the dark clouds hanging low, directly over us, and asked what they would do with the table if it rains.  The table looks too wide to fit through the door of the office, and if left outside it would just be ruined, like everything else.

“We will take it inside.”

“Where are the instructions?”

“We don’t have any.  You see, the mayor is not nice.”

Arimi and Denis moved the table to the side of the building, flush up against the wall so it was not visible from the street, and if it rains it would be unlikely to get too wet.  The group walked inside and Arimi and Denis laid down on the benches inside the office which line two of the walls.  Time for a break.  They would finish up with the table later, but for now, the mayor is not so nice.

West African Mania

 Craig had his post visit with his PC boss the day before we left to go south to head to Ghana.  Last year, it didn't leave Craig feeling warm and fuzzy, we'll leave it at that.  This year was a hundred times better.  He paid attention to Craig and what he was doing and saying, what he was working on, and genuinely seemed interested and pleased.  Not to mention that he not only treated Craig to dinner/sodas, but he got some to go for me.  How nice!  My post visit, which was after we got back from Ghana, the day before Thanksgiving, was very similar to Craig’s last year. 

So on the 15^th, we went down south to Cotonou then on the 16^th, we left for Ghana.  We got to the taxi station at 6am, but had to wait for the taxi to fill up and didn’t leave until like 6:45.  I was sitting by a really nice Beninese man who waited for us to get our Togo visas at the boarder with his cute little son.  When we got to Lome, which looks way nicer than Cotonou, he also helped us get a zem to the Togo/Ghana boarder, which he definitely didn't have to do.  Once we crossed over to Ghana, they were wearing really colorful green uniforms, much different than the normal khaki or army green that everyone else wears, and they all spoke English.  It threw me off a bit to have to revert to English since we're so use to speaking French in West Africa.  The two are linked in our minds.  We got into a tro-tro, which is like a minibus, to head to Accra from the boarder.  While we were waiting, I discovered that they sold guacamole sandwiches at the station.  Yum!  From the boarder to Accra, it is about 4 hours. 

Accra was pretty impressive.  There are some streets in Accra that you could confuse with a posh street in America somewhere.  It was really surreal.  We went straight to the airport to get Brian.  Dustin was already there so we all waited for Brian together.  When we finally saw Brian, it was a nice reunion.  

We went out for a drink that night to celebrate.  The next morning, we were supposed to leave bright and early for the coast, but we discovered that Dustin never got his Benin visa.  He had some issues with getting the Ghanaian visa since he had to send his passport from Germany, where he recently relocated, to the US to do it and wait for it to come back and it took too long.  He changed his flight to arrive on the 14^th in order to take care of the Benin visa before we even got there, but he didn’t do it.  So off to the Beninese embassy we went when we should have been half wait to Butre.  He did his paperwork and then was told that he can only pick up visas in the afternoon and he’d have to come back.  This really didn’t bode well with us.  I went outside to let Brian know what was going on when I ran into the Ambassador for Benin.  I explained our problem to him and he was very helpful in getting our visa to us within the next hour.  So off to the coast we went. 

It was a really long ride, very pretty though, to the coastal town of Butre.  Butre is a small fishing village and we were just outside of it in this secluded “hideout” called Ellis Hideout that was absolutely amazing and the best part of the trip for me.  It was pretty cheap to stay there, like $6/night/person and it also had a restaurant that served amazing food as well as happy hour.  The beer in Ghana is way better than the beer in Benin, too.  We hung out there for a couple days, enjoying their beautiful beach that made it seem that we were the only ones for miles.  The beach was small and was surrounded by lush green vegetation everywhere, but unlike Benin, there were hills and mountains included in this lush scenery.  It was amazing.    

After leaving amazing Butre, we went to Cape Coast.  There we saw the famous castle that was used to house captured slaves before there departure to the “New World”, as seen in Roots and other movies.  We also took a side trip up about 45 minutes north to a national park that had a canopy walk.  The walk was cool, but there were a lot of people and it was just a circle of connecting bridges a little high up in the trees.  Not really worth the money, in my opinion.  

After Cape Coast, we went back to Accra, changed minibuses, and headed directly up north along the Togo boarder to a monkey sanctuary in a place called Tafi-Atome.  We paid about $12 to have a place to stay, dinner and breakfast, food for the monkeys, and a guide that took us to feed the monkeys in the early morning the next day.  It was really pretty up there and there was actual forest around in the area.  We walked to where the monkeys usually congregate in the morning to feed them.  They were completely wild and we called them with making kissy noises to get them to come closer.  Soon enough, they were jumping all over us, using their little hands to peel back the banana and eat their breakfast.  It was really cool. 

Right after we were done feeding the monkeys, we took a zem to the boarder of Togo, where we had some problems with getting Dustin and Brian a visa.  They had to pay a “guide” to take them to a nearby town where there was a consulate to get a visa since they didn’t give them at the boarder up there.  This took much longer than we thought but the ride there was through hills and forests and it was really pretty.  We waited around the taxi gare for them, getting something lined up to take us across the boarder.  We all got into this tro-tro that was like a Flintstone car.  Every time we hit a bump, the side would sway one way, the back would sway another, and so on.  I thought it was going to fall apart around us.  The road was a bumpy dirt road, which made us very dirty by the time we got half way across where we switched to a taxi.  We thought it’d take 2 hours total to cross the country of Togo (it’s so small!) but it took over 3 hours just to get half way.  Then it took another 2 or so in a taxi to get to the Benin/Togo boarder.  From there, our taxi took us to Azove, which is south of Bohicon.  The night marche in the taxi gare in Azove was crazy and their first look at Benin.  Very different from Ghana and Togo.  By this time it was night, and we were a bit nervous in traveling at night, but the road was good and paved, so it worked out fine.  We didn't get home (after a pit stop for dinner in Bohicon) until almost 11pm at night.  Silly us thought that we may even get home by lunchtime.  That was before we realized that that distinct line on the map that seems like a very nice road was all bumpy and dirty.  

We spent a total of one week in Bohicon, showing them around, seeing voodoo stuff, introducing them to people, and hanging out.  We also went to the local artist's house, Julien, to see his art, buy his art, and make new art with him, which was a really cool experience.  It reinforced what I already knew about myself though; I am not artistic.  Ha!  Everyone was super excited to meet Brian and they all commented on his size compared to Craig.  They would say things like, "He likes the fastfood, huh?"  Ha!  It was funny to watch their reactions.  We all had Thanksgiving together and invited some other volunteers that came from around the area. We had a total of ten people.  I made pumpkin pie, cherry pie, and a brownie cake with a glaze on top, in addition to all the other normal Thanksgiving food that you normally eat (no meat though).  It was delicious!  Right as the dinner was about to be ready, Logan, our CD’s son who is doing film work in Benin, called to say he was in town and wanted to know if we could hang out, so we invited him to join us, which made our tenth person.  And he was a great addition to our group.  Since Brian brought all the food except for some stuff, like potatoes, that we could get in town, we had all the out of towners bring a bottle of wine.  We ended up with 4 bottles of wine, which was just right for 10 of us.  It was great.  Dustin and Brian also got to see both of us in action at work.  Craig gave them a tour of his park and I had a World AIDS Day event, in addition to taking them to our two English clubs so our kids could ask them questions.  It was fun. 

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we headed up to Parakou because they were giving mandatory flu vaccines and we wanted to show them Parakou anyway.  We hung out the first day and on the second day, went on a tchouk crawl.  Like a beer crawl, but with tchouk stands.  The tchouk marche that we went to was the biggest in the world.  It was really fun and much better tasting than I remembered.  The next day, we headed back to Bohicon and had a super fast driver for a taxi driver.  It didn't take the normal 4 hours to get back to Bohicon; it only took 3.  

We were back in Bohicon for a day or two before we headed back down to Cotonou.  The PCVL (volunteer who is in charge of the workstation, basically) in Cotonou was nice enough to let us stay at her house the whole time.  Once we were almost in Cotonou, Craig and I realized that neither one of us remembered to pack our passports.  Craig went back up to Bohicon that evening to get them and came back down the next morning.  That next day, we went to a village called Ganvie.  It’s in the guidebooks and we’d never been so we thought we’d go with our visitors.  We rented out a whole taxi to take us there and when we got there, discovered that the boat ride to the village was ridiculously expensive.  We ended up paying it anyway since we were already there, but it wasn’t worth it in my opinion.  That night, Logan was nice enough to invite us over for dinner to thank us for having him over for Thanksgiving.  It was a delicious dinner with homemade ice cream and pumpkin pie for dessert.  Our last full day in Cotonou, we spent at the beach, then at the Ambassador’s house for swimming, then getting ice cream, then at happy hour, where it was last man standing.  It was a lot of fun.  The next day, we headed to Ouidah, where there is a python temple and the gate of no return and more slave stuff.  They didn’t want to go into the python temple since they were tired, but we saw the gate and continued on to Grand Popo. 

We spent two days in Grand Popo laying around on the beach, reading and relaxing, as the last part of the trip before having to get them back to Ghana for their flights.  We played the “Inglorious Bastards” game, as we call it (where you’re giving a name to put on your forehead and you have to guess who or what you are), but often the geography version, which we usually enjoy more.  It was a lot of fun.    

By the end of their stay with us, we were super low on funds, so I decided to go straight back to Cotonou to save money while Craig took them back to Ghana.  He’s on his way back to Cotonou right now, as I write.  Our time together was great.  We like traveling with Brian and we anticipate that we’ll be traveling with him again soon, I’m sure.  We were sad to see him go, but we realized that we are pretty compatible travel companions and when we saw Brian again, after not seeing him for over a year and a half, it was like no time had passed at all.  Things just fell back into place.  

On a side note, I have been obsessively reading through the Twilight book series.  I finished the first three in 5 days and have the 4^th one waiting for me at post.  I really really wish there were a movie theater here that showed American movies so I could watch it when I finish the book, but I guess I will just have to wait.