The next morning we left the auberge and trekked to where the bus station was on the map. It had obviously moved and so we each took a moto (with full backpack and daysack) through the streets of Porto Novo to the relocated site. We were coming towards the end of the trip, and were not up for anymore stressful journeys, rammed in the back of a falling-apart minivan, so we booked a private taxi and had an enjoyable hour or so drive to Ouidah - home to the biggest Voodoo celebration in the country (more than 60% of Benin practices Voodoo, which is admirable as this is where the strange religion has it's roots).
We arrived at Hotel Oasis, sans reservation, but were able to be fitted in because we were a few days early; the festival started on the 10th and we'd arrived on the 8th. The hotel's dimly lit corridors reminded me of The Shining, but on the plus side we didn't pay for air-con as they were broken, but Barney worked his (Voodoo?) magic and got it working. Sweeeet!
We spent the first morning having a wander around Ouidah, a small town that has become as famous for Voodoo as it has for being one of the most famous slave routes across the Atlantic. The Dahomey kings (from Abomey) sold thousands of slaves here, and the most well known 'middleman' was Francisco Felix de Souza, an African-Brazilian, whose house and family are still in Oudiah.
We visited the old Portuguese fort, that had been turned into a museum for the area. Slaves were held at the old, whitewashed fort, before being sent down the 'Slave Route' - a 3.5km trudge in full shackles in boiling heat before being loaded onto the ships at the beach. Inside the museum we were shown around by a guide speaking in rapid French (none of us understood any of it), but there quite a few interesting Voodoo pieces on the ground floor - art and statues. Then, as tourists, we were shown round the shop and 'artisan' market. We got chatting to a guy who spoke English, who said he'd take us on a guided tour of the Slave Route for an extortionate price. We decided to just do it ourselves the next morning before it got too hot.
That afternoon we were wandering around when we heard, and then saw, a Voodoo ceremony! A few hundred people had gathered in an opening just off the main road. In the middle were two giant haystacks, which had people in (sorry to break the Voodoo dream) who span around very quickly and in random undulating circles. The locals seemed to be petrified and scattered whenever the spinning haystack came near; flailing strips of string/hay like a dancer's dress that spins horizontally.
Barney went to take a photo and a fat man in a revoltingly tight, white tshirt came over and began shouting at him. We calmed him down after a while and he said we'd have to pay 10,000 CFA to take photos! That was about £13. We agreed not to take any. There were so many tourists about snapping away that we could easily just get some off the interweb when we got back. It made us think about the authenticity of the festival. They must be raking in thousands of pounds from all the tourists around taking photos and videos. Also the people involved in the haystack dance were playing up to the camera, drinking gin and posing in front of the stacks... It was still cool to see the dance though, and we hoped for a lot more things like this in the coming days.
That night we had goat brochettes (kebabs) whilst sitting at a bar on the roadside. Ghanaian service from the bar - no soft drinks and no beer, although we'd witnessed a delivery that day - but fantastic service, and price, for the kebabs. Sooooo good and for almost nothing at all. Still cracks me up thinking of kez eating kebabs with her fingers, picking off each piece and picking it apart!
The next day we walked the Slave Route (after a huge breakfast of an omlette AND porridge, due to a communication breakdown!) at about 10am. It was getting pretty hot already, and the walk wasn't made easier by the loose sand underfoot - that'd be fun on the moto drive back! We walked past a supernatural healer's place with a voodoo statue outside, palm trees, and a number of dubious statues relating to the slave trade. There were plinths at the side of the road, some with 'modern' art on, and others with overgrown deities on top. There didn't seem to be any info, and some plinths were without anything on top.
Crossing a river, via bridge, we saw the beach unfold before us. It wasn't as spectacular as we'd heard (rumours of one of the best beaches in the country), but it was nice to see a beach. As we walked off the sandy road we had dozens of hawkers shouting at us, banging drums and ringing bells - "my friend, my friend". We carried on and had a look at the Gate of No Return, a huge gateway engraved with carvings symbolising the slaves' struggles; it was pretty impressive. Walking along the beach (with litter) we saw the Door of Return - an equally large statue that had a cross in front of it, and the 'doorway was carved in the shape of Benin. Pretty cool. We sat in the shade to try and get out of the sweltering heat, and drank some milk from the coconuts...not sure if we were meant to eat them too...
We decided to get motos back, after having some drinks in a bar, as it was too hot to do the return journey. As usual we were asked to pay about 800% of the going rate and began to walk. Some of the moto drivers backed down and offered us a normal price, and so we took a scary ride back, drifting across the sand! Back in one piece, we had a nice cheap lunch and then decided to get the rest of the touristy sights out of the way so we had a full day to enjoy the Voodoo Festival tomorrow.
Firstly we went to the Python temple. We had been warned about this, but thought we'd better go see it regardless. We paid about £2 each, and had a guide. He took us into a courtyard, showed us a big tree, a spherical sacrifice block and then opened the 'temple'. There were about 50 pythons (harmless) inside in pretty drab conditions and barely any water. The guide put some pythons round our necks, we took photos, pythons were returned. Then he asked for a tip. That was it. Tour over. Absolute rip off, but very funny nonetheless! Probably the single worst tourist attraction I've ever been to!
Then we got motos to the edge of the town and went into the Sacred Forest (oooooooooooo - meant to be a ghost sound). Our guide showed us some statues that were depictions of Voodoo gods and explained them quite well in English. Then we saw a tree that, according to legend, a king had turned himself into to escape from his enemies. It was said that if you put a gift down for the king (i.e. money) then you could make a wish. I'm a sucker for things like that! Hasn't come true yet...
Tomorrow - Voodoo Festival!
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