Natitingou to Boukoumbe
Trip Start
Jul 15, 2007
1
3
5
Trip End
Ongoing
Boukoumbe,
Benin
Monday, July 23, 2007
After breakfast of beans, manioc powder, and hot sauce, we climbed the two km hill out of Natitingou to the road to Boukoumbe. Not having biked since last summer on the Katy trail in Missouri, my legs were throbbing and the hot sauce haunted me, but this would set the tone for our trip's first leg--up and down like biking in the Ozarks. After the second hill I couldn't take the beans and hot sauce any longer. I brushed my teeth. From this point on, my legs submitted to the punishment and the scenery distracted from the pain
01-Tata-Somba
.Rolling hills on an overcast day, the dull green shocked my eyes; a stark contrast to the endless drab of sand. An hour into the ride, we came upon our first Tata, a three story, banco castle once used by the Somba people to protect from Danhomey slave raiders. They keep their animals on first floor, use the second for storage, and live on the third. They use the roof for drying grains and thatched roofed turrets for storage. Fifteen to twenty foot walls connect the turrets with a heavy door at the entrance. As we road, the thick red mud houses interrupted the endless green at pleasant intervals and clouds dampened the sun to keep us cool.
The Betammaribe people, as I'm told they are more properly called, are perhaps the most ancient and isolated in Benin. They became famous in the fifties for their lack of clothing and primative ways. After pressure from the Beninoise government, they've started to wear clothing, although not much. Animism is as well established as their subsistence agriculture despite forays by both Christianity and Islam, evidenced by foreign churches, mosques, and schools built to compete for their heathen souls. Evidently they've had little success, at best convincing people to include Christian and Muslim practices in their animist worship
02-Farming
.After another hour, we finally reached the top. The next fifteen km would be a comfortable descent. From here, the countryside opened before us in a swath that rose and fell as a stormy, oceanic landscape painting. Somewhere around was the tallest mountain in Benin, although not distinct enough to recognize. On our bikes again, we pushed off and coasted into Boukoumbe, with the interruption of some hills and the subsequent pain.
For the rest of the afternoon, we searched the uninteresting town for the resident Peace Corps volunteer, Sara from Oklahoma City. It took us all afternoon, but when we finally found her, she greeted us with cinnamon rolls. Never had I met a better welcome. The last few afternoon hours we planned the evening, dinner, activities, and then, unplanned as thunderstorms doused the concrete outside her kitchen where we were preparing dinner.
The inactivity, however, turned out for the best, as I woke up early the next morning with only lip-tightening pain in my legs and butt rather than an impulsive grimace. I expected it since I bike so infrequently. Quickly after more conversation and cinnamon rolls, Kathy hopped back on her bike while I gingerly eased on to mine, and we set off again
03-About to go down
.Twenty km from Boukoumbe, we finally stopped for a break in Manta in front of a terrifying church. Spiky and circular, turrets guarding the sides topped by black thatching, its red banco suggested Mary, gracing the door, called from another world. Small square windows formed larger right triangles that patterned the walls. It looked unused, enough to scare away it's members. The native influence seemed a consilitory attempt by the Catholic church to lure animists.
Nothing else held us in Manta, so we continued to Kathy's village, Tayakou. Tucked under the Atakora mountains, I was immediately jealous of Kathy's site. A simple farming village, her half-naked family greeted us from under a nearby tree as we made our way to her house. There I relaxed in her three room house while she cooked spaghetti, insisting she didn't need help. After eating, we relaxed more and finally pushed toward Tanguieta around four.
The road followed the mountains and became increasingly filled with traffic as we neared town. I began to notice the relative solitude we'd enjoyed in the countryside and was sorry to leave. My body, however, was not. Knees, hips, hands, legs, butt all reminded me what happens when I ride, but the pain was worth the experience. Again, Kathy allowed me to see much that I never would have. I felt that I had thoroughly explored NW Benin and was looking forward to a restful, six hour bus ride to the South, Abomey.
