Woolly says – We were sat ready for our nine o’clock pick up, even more exciting our new friend Pillevette (apologies if this isn’t the correct way to spell it), who runs our hotel has a day off and has never been to today’s destination, so she is joining us.
As we sped off and out of Lome it was interesting to see how the landscape changed once we had left the hustle and bustle behind us, the coastal road started to remind us of the D400 from Antalya to Alanya in Turkey with its small banana plantains and square block buildings sitting alongside the small roadside stalls.
Arriving at the border other than standing in queues we were processed quickly and stamped out of Togo and into Benin.
Benin, officially the Republic of Benin is also known as Dahomey, a country in West Africa. It is bordered by Togo to the west, Nigeria to the east, Burkina Faso to the north-west, and Niger to the north-east. The majority of its population lives on the southern coastline of the Bight of Benin, part of the Gulf of Guinea in the northernmost tropical portion of the Atlantic Ocean. The capital is Porto-Novo, and the seat of government is in Cotonou, the most populous city and economic capital.
This region was referred to as the Slave Coast of West Africa from the early 17th century due to the high number of people who were sold and trafficked during the Atlantic slave trade to the New World. France took over the territory in 1894, incorporating it into French West Africa as French Dahomey. In 1960, Dahomey gained full independence from France. As a sovereign state, Benin has had democratic governments, military coups, and military governments. A self-described Marxist–Leninist state called the People’s Republic of Benin existed between 1975 and 1990. In 1991, it was replaced by the multi-party Republic of Benin.
Almost immediately after leaving the border the landscape changed to one of lush green fields in every direction, dotted about on the fields you could see people planting and harvesting their crops, it was a treat to behold after the dryness of a lot of Africa.
As we motored along, we passed a lake where the houses and buildings were either in the water or right next to it with residents paddling canoes around.
We were aiming for Ouidah, a small town which on arrival seemed to be having every one of its roads re-laid at the same time, even with the orange sand everywhere it held quaint charm. Finally, after what seemed like a long drive we pulled up at our first port of call.
The Temple of the Pythons is a voodoo sanctuary located in Ouidah, in a place where the existence of a snake cult (Dangbé) – a particular form of voodoo – has been used since the end of the 17th century. Now given that Jo is petrified of snakes I had thought this to be a strange place for us to visit but there is nothing like living dangerously, I guess. Having paid over our money our group of four entered the snake’s lair.
Originally, the temple grounds covered several hectares, but its area has been seriously reduced by the pressure of urbanisation. It was in fact a very small area. A nice gentlemen came over and introduction himself and told us about the snakes and the shrines around us including a large stone ball which was used as the main part of the rituals and the small ancient temple which we weren’t able to see inside.
We were then led to the actual home of the pythons where he explained that once a month the snakes were realeased into the village so that they could feed on local chickens and eggs. Jo’s face was a picture of the image this conjured up and she nervously asked if they returned themselves or had to be found and caught, the guide explained that most of them would come back but that villagers were used to returning the more reluctant.
This was the point where an actual python was brought out, I could almost hear my humans heart beating out of her chest as our two companions both washed their hands and had one of the reptiles put round their necks. I quite fancied trying it but as Jo was trying to hide behind me that didn’t seem like a possibility.
We were all then directed to a small round building to go and see where the snakes lived, I raced in and took a moment to admire the paintings on the ceiling before turning my attention to the large pile of serpents were snoozing on the ground. Jo took the quickest picture ever and ran for the exit.
Leaving the temple behind we crossed the road to the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception, the city’s main Catholic place of worship. A fine looking building with large golden bells at the base of the steps.
We wandered around the courtyard admiring the gold bas reliefs and a large painted memorial to the Catholic popes.
A large altar area had some sheep heading towards Jesus and I wondered if anyone brought their sheep to be blessed from the area.
Climbing back into the car we headed through the town and onto a complicated system of beach roads which eventually found us at the beach which was golden and full of tourists.
The Door of No Return is a memorial arch. The concrete and bronze arch is a memorial to the enslaved Africans who were taken from the slave port of Ouidah to the Americas. It is thought that more slaves passed through here than in any other part of Africa.
It was a splendid monument with each side boasting some lovely iron work and set just in front some strange looking statues.
We all walked towards the Atlantic Ocean which looked even to a water hater like me very inviting given the temperatures and blazing sun overhead. Having taken our fill, we headed back to our car and set off to find some lunch.
Pulling up a small French eatery we tucked into the biggest gambas I have ever seen and chatted amongst ourselves enjoying the interlude from the heat outside.
Full and refreshed we got back into the vehicle and headed to our last stop of the day.
The city’s sacred forest serves as a major pilgrimage site for Vodun adherents who frequent the wooded garden for their ritual practices, divine inspiration and even initiation ceremonies for the younger members of the community. Officially named the Sacred Forest of Kpassè or Kpassè Zoun, the semi-wild woodland is dedicated to King Kpassè, the 16th century ruler of the African kingdom of Whydah that once encompassed the area of modern day Ouidah.
We entered the park to be met with a variety of strange statues.
Legend has it that in the midst of a brutal conflict with a neighbouring kingdom, the king fled for his life after hundreds of ferocious warriors were ordered to capture and kill him. With no other choice, Kpassè ran into a close by forest, where he turned himself into an Iroko tree, known scientifically as Milicia excelsa. The legendary tree which allegedly holds the spirit of the famed monarch now serves as the centrepiece of the forest. It has been told that during his hunt, the Dahomean ruler’s troops who were looking for Kpassè, suddenly faced with an unexpected challenge, when massive swarms of pythons attacked them and ultimately halted their offence as they made their way into the sacred forest where the fugitive king was hiding. I quickly checked round in my role of Jo protector to check for snakes but failed to find any.
The holy jungle originally covered more than 30 hectares of pristine woodland, however, as the surrounding town encroached on the forest, it shrunk in size to a meagre 4 hectares. Fortunately, the Beninese government recently passed a legislation that protects the historically significant site, along with the country’s other 3,000 sacred forests.
We found an interesting passageway with decorated doors and some interesting carvings in its stonework, it also seemed to mark the end of the forest. We stood for a moment listening to the jungle sounds around us and the cries of birds that we couldn’t see. It was a weird place and reminiscent of the Tiger Balm Villa we had once been to in Bangkok but not quite as unsettling.
With a long drive back, our little group settled back into the car for the ride back to Togo. We had all enjoyed Benin immensely and although very basic it was perhaps the most charming place we had seen in Africa, it would be lovely to return one day and see some more of the country.