Chaos and Colors of Africa

I like Africa. There is something about the dysfunction, the dust, and the heat that paradoxically draws me to her. I’ve heard West Africa alternatively called “the real Africa” or “Africa, Africa.” Cotonou is at the coastal end of Benin, a phalically shaped sliver in West Africa. The first thing that struck me about Cotonou, asides from the heat, was the chaos and colors. People are everywhere in their elaborately colorful dashikis, made out of traditional wax cloth – teeming around the streets, or piled several bodies deep on motorbikes, often with a tiny child wrapped tightly to her mother’s back, the little head bobbing off the back. The structures all seem shoddy and impermanent, slapped together out of whatever material was available, and trash piles and the smell of burning plastic are ubiquitous.

Even the places deemed safe enough for me to hang out seemed to spring organically from the earth. After driving down what I would categorize as a dark and sinister alley, a bar or restaurant would appear, a bright beacon nestled in among the shambles where ex-pats and “well-heeled” locals would gather and listed to an African band cover American classic rock or sing reggae. There were also surprises, such as a posh, open-air boxcar bar, pulsing bass lines and neon light into the sultry night. At that bar I met a group of Peace Corp volunteers celebrating a bachelorette party, all wearing dresses custom-made from the same bright pink fabric, twirling with shuttle-cocks. The ex-pat community, lively gatherings of unlikely people, came to be one of my favorite things about West Africa.

West Africa is a little short on tourist attractions, but one of the few outings I went on was to place called “Ganvie”, a stilt village built on water and accessible only by boat. The thirty minute ride out and back under the intoxicatingly blue and vast African sky took us past the bustling Grand Marche and many fishermen, casting their nets in and out of the water. I felt a little self-conscious to consider this village where people lived and worked, selling piles of produce right out of their boats, a tourist attraction. The villagers didn’t seem to mind for the most part, many of them smiling and waving, even taking pictures of us as I took pictures of them.

Stay tuned for Africa Part 2: Lome, Togo.