mystery objects

Yes, it's time for some more guessing games! Though I'm afraid anyone who lives, or has lived, in Benin is not allowed to give the answers - that just spoils it for everyone else! So here we go ... I think it goes from easiest to hardest, but we'll see. The final photo is not exactly native to Benin, but is rather abstract!

can cook, will cook

Last weekend our church here in Pèdè held a youth rally – an event hosted each year by one of ten churches in the region. I wasn't able to go to the rally on the Saturday, as both boys were under the weather, so Marc went down on his own. But on the Friday the women of our church were preparing the food – for an estimated 100-200 people – and I went down to watch them. It was so different from the cooking I know that the only helpful thing I was able to do was to get the cellophane wrapping off a box of stock cubes which was giving them difficulty!

It was good to be there – so often I am put off going into the village by not knowing if anyone will be around, and this time I knew exactly where I would find people I know! I can't say I understood all that much of the conversation – which in a group of people who know each other extremely well is not that surprising – but I got the gist of things. I did manage to make a joke, at one point, and despite that being a risky thing to do when you're a language learner, it did appear to be understood and appreciated! I only understood on about the fifth telling when someone joked to me that if I ate their spicy sauce my skin would turn black like theirs!

It was interesting to see and have explained to me what they were doing. They were using enormous cooking pots over their three-stone cooking fires, using wood for fuel. When I was there they were making “akassa” - a starchy food made with fermented corn spooned into individual bags while it was hot (hygienic if not very environmentally friendly!). They were also making soy cheese, made with soya and the water taken from the fermented corn – when it becomes solid it is fried in oil. I tasted some of the akassa with the sauce they'd made (with beans and chilli peppers) – it was very good … and my skin isn't noticeably darker yet!

While it was a positive experience, it did bring back to me just how different my cultural background is to everyone here. They all knew what they were doing – they've grown up helping their mums do it – and for me it was all new. I already knew that I'll always be an outsider here, even though I am accepted and very welcome, but it really made me feel the fact that I am an oddity and that that won't change. It made me a bit sad, but that's just the way it is. It helped, the next morning, to be reminded in my Bible notes that as Christians we are all on a “journey of sacrifice”. And serving God here means sacrificing part of our identity and status. It is worth it!

firstfruits

When Hélène - who works for us - arrived this morning, she told me that she thought the corn was ripe. Simon was very excited to hear this, so she took him and his friends out to harvest some for lunch.

Simon automatically carried it back into the house the way everyone carries things around here:

Steamed for 15 minutes, a bit of butter, salt and pepper, and it tasted gooooood!

Marc thinks that we can call it organic, fairtrade corn ... if we can prove that Simon pays his workers a fair wage ... or any wage at all for that matter! (Don't worry, they'll actually be taking home most of the corn!)

getting cornier!

Simon's corn continues to sprout at an impressive rate! Here is Simon, now able to hide in the middle of it!

An ear of corn forming:

The rest of the corn and the okra, looking a bit like a paddy field after a big rainstorm:

huh?!

When you are learning a language, sometimes you understand the words themselves but not the meaning when they're put together. Today Samuel quoted a local proverb and I just didn't get it! The proverb was:

Prison isn't for sheep.

Okaaaaay...? No matter how much I tried to get my brain round that, it still didn't make any sense to me (apart from supposing that the literal meaning is true!).

So Samuel explained that the proverb is quoted by anyone feeling rebellious. They say that prison isn't for sheep, it's for people, ie. they would feel quite at home there, so the threat of it isn't going to put them off breaking the law.

Although I felt enlightened by the explanation, I still found it rather weird reasoning … but that may well be a cultural thing too! Or just the fact that I have always been very law-abiding :o)

Another culture-learning experience we had was to learn a local card game, having the rules explained to us in Monkolé. It was fun, but I'm not likely to play much. I suspected it would be just the men who play, and Samuel confirmed this, saying that women don't have time to. (This was confirmed by a local woman I talked to later on, and she didn't seem to mind!)

Here are Marc and the pastor playing, with Simon looking on (and camouflaging well into Marc's shirt!).

Simon and the corn stalks

When the okra was planted (see my post of 3-ish weeks ago), the corn was about a foot high. We got back from travelling on Saturday and found it THIS high!!

sur la route...

We are at last home in Pèdè after all our travels. Someone out here told us that a missionary family is always on the move, and our experience seems to back that up!

This time we needed to get our residency cards renewed, which involves a blood test (done in Parakou) and medical, and then a trip to the government office in Cotonou. We made the most of our days in Parakou (waiting for the blood test results) to get some work done on our car, and then the mechanic came down to Cotonou with us to replace our wheels with stronger ones. Given the state of the roads during rainy season, this seemed a good idea!

Benjy was a bit hit in the government immigration office. One woman came in with her meal of traditional Beninese food (akassa) and Benjy started smiling at her and pointing at the food. “Does he like this?” she said, doubtfully. “Probably, “ I replied, and she tried giving him some. Soon he was gobbling it down, with much lip-smacking and appeals for more. The previously stony-faced officials were laughing incredulously and saying he must think he is African! (Children are always good at making friends in high places!)

The Parakou-Cotonou journey is a long day of driving, and we wouldn't choose to do it unless really necessary. But once we were there we enjoyed the opportunity to do some shopping in Cotonou, and to introduce our boys to the hypermarket (they'd been there before but didn't remember). Not that they were very impressed with the idea of shopping - it took the “Baguette d'Or” café-restaurant to reconcile them to big city life! Here's Simon with his dessert – he was disappointed when I said he had to choose just one of the many on offer!

The road between Parakou and Pèdè is worse than the road further south. Here are a few photos taken on my mobile phone. First, the supposedly tarmac-covered road! In this case, the tarmac is still there, it's just covered with mud!

The rain coming down, and the water flowing along the side of the road:

A lorry we saw which was lacking its back right-hand wheel!