Sean O'Keefe's Stories About Benin Africa

Stories. Featured here are stories and observations by Volunteer Sean O'Keefe. Experience with him defiant adventures in a strange, foreign land of Benin, Africa.

Fete de Chicotte

Fete = celebration. Chicotte = whip. Tomorrow is the Fete de Chicotte, a rite of passage ceremony for the boys to be men in this and many nearby villages. Although I am technically beyond the age of participation, I have been granted acceptance and relish in the opportunity to prove I am worthy. At this point there is little to be said as any experience is best described by retrospect rather than foresight. So as my neighbors are fond of saying, "belebe - chille," until tomorrow....

The Market!

Here in Benin the marche must be the strongest thread common to every community and, as a foreigner, it is of endless fascination to me. To explain the reality of the modern African market to someone without first-hand knowledge would be a task of great difficulty. In an attempt to present the clearest picture possible of the marche here in Ouake, I have decided to do a series of studies on the market..

One Thousand Bricks of Mud

...It occurred to me that since this is a stark contrast from the American notion of a home that it was an important aspect to investigate. As will happen sometimes just as I was considering who would be a good person to ask about the specifics of construction my soon-to-be neighbor came looking for water so that he can start building his house about 150 yards from mine.

The Termite Roast!

...I noticed that the tap had grown into a roar, I looked to my right to see the corner under the light to be crawling with more than a thousand winged termites. I was completely panicked, not even knowing what kind of bugs they were, if they were dangerous, or even if I was going to be swarmed.

The Slave Road of Ouidah

I took a symbolic journey today and with each step I drew closer to the final monument of a once-grim destination. The journey, which I traveled by foot, led me over roughly four kilometers of dry dusty road meant to represent a stretch of 100 that was once known as the Slave Road of Ouidah.

Here Come the Youos

We ride through the dusty street of this place where we live some weird breed of bird flying foreign skies. We ride as if we were kings and queens mounted on bright green mountain bikes that cost more than anyone around here makes in a month or more. Small children line the sides of the streets with delight and sing out as we pass. They are excited to see our bikes, as they have certainly never seen such beautiful new bikes, but even more excited to see us. For we are the Youos and are a novelty indeed. The color of our skin sets most of us apart for the first time in our lives and the young and old alike are at the very least amused by our presence.

Saturday Night Ouidah

They call it the "suir" and it fills just about the longest part of my day. Starting at noon, it lasts until dark which falls like a blanket at about 7:30 at night. It's now a little after 5 o'clock on my third Saturday night here in Ouidah and, as we near that point of transition, I bask in the listless sorts of chaos that surrounds me at every turn.

Thoughts on the Subject of Time and the Nature of Change

In the name of change there is much work to be done and, as it is with the nature of change, much of the work will not be done on time. The concepts of time are as vast and varied as are the concepts of right and wrong, life and death, or any other set of parallels one would care to entertain. This being the case, meanings and degrees of importance among individual values are prone to vary greatly from one culture to another

*One Thousand Bricks of Mud*
...It occurred to me that since this is a stark contrast from the American notion of a home that it was an important aspect to investigate. As will happen sometimes just as I was considering who would be a good person to ask about the specifics of construction my soon-to-be neighbor came looking for water so that he can start building his house about 150 yards from mine.

*The Termite Roast!*
...I noticed that the tap had grown into a roar, I looked to my right to see the corner under the light to be crawling with more than a thousand winged termites. I was completely panicked, not even knowing what kind of bugs they were, if they were dangerous, or even if I was going to be swarmed.

The Slave Road of Ouidah
I took a symbolic journey today and with each step I drew closer to the final monument of a once-grim destination. The journey, which I traveled by foot, led me over roughly four kilometers of dry dusty road meant to represent a stretch of 100 that was once known as the Slave Road of Ouidah.

Saturday Night Ouidah
They call it the "suir" and it fills just about the longest part of my day. Starting at noon, it lasts until dark which falls like a blanket at about 7:30 at night. It's now a little after 5 o'clock on my third Saturday night here in Ouidah and, as we near that point of transition, I bask in the listless sorts of chaos that surrounds me at every turn.