Going to Benin wasn't originally part of my plan for this trip, but like so many things in life, the unplanned and unexpected can be the most enjoyable! I had just landed in Togo, where I planned to relax on a beach for a few days before returning to wintery New York. My driver, Anatole, picked me up at the airport and was eager to rustle up some extra business, so he told me about all the exciting tours and trips he could take me on. Despite the language barrier, he could sense my lack of enthusiasm. After all, I had just wrapped up three weeks of fairly intense travel in the Horn of Africa and wasn't looking for adventure so much as a lounge chair. But then, he casually mentioned that Benin is just a short drive away in case I wanted to visit the Python Temple and a Vodun priest -- I was sold! Who could say "no" to that?!
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| Atibon Legba at the Enchanted Forest, 2020 |
Two days later, we left Lomé, Togo, en route to Ouidah, Benin, some 100 km away. After about an hour and a half, we reached the border, where I jumped out and passed through a series of small rooms with men in important-looking uniforms. On the Togo side, they glanced at my passport and stamped me out; on the Benin side, I paid CFA 10,000 and had a shiny new visa in my passport in less than five minutes. We continued driving for about another hour before reaching Ouidah, the historic center of the Vodun religion, where we proceeded to the tourist office to pick up our English-speaking guide, Geoffrey.
I signed up for a half-day tour of the slave route and then privately arranged with Geoffrey to do some off-the-menu Vodun sightseeing. Our first stop: the Sacred Forest, where we prayed to King Kpasse Loko and made offerings to Atibon Legba, the young and virile trickster deity, better known to fans of American Horror Story as "Papa Legba." As we walked around the Sacred Forest, Geoffrey taught me about Vodun cosmology and explained that many traditional beliefs and characters had been syncretized with Christianity and Islam. Atibon Legba, for example, merged with St. Anthony, St. Lazarus, and St. Peter despite having a devoted space in his own pantheon of Vodun deities.
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| Symbols of Africa commemorated on the Slave Route - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| L'esclavage c'est la mort - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| Men, women, and children shackled on the Slave Route - Ouidah, 2020 |
Next, we retraced the final 4 km of the slave route from downtown Ouidah to the coast, where unfortunate individuals would be crammed into ships at the Door of No Return and sent off to the New World. This was a particularly gruesome period of human history, and Geoffrey described it all in painful detail. More than one million slaves were exported from Benin, then known as the Dahomey Kingdom, but it's estimated that for every slave shipped off, at least three died before boarding the boats. Men, women, and children were beaten and tortured, had their hands tied and mouths gagged, and were locked in windowless rooms in the tropical heat for weeks. The lucky ones were fed one meal of bread and water every two days; the others starved. Finally, the dead and dying were piled high in mass graves and buried with their hands and feet still shackled.
Geoffrey told me these stories as we walked around town, and the more I heard, the more aware and uncomfortable I became with my skin color. As far as I knew, my ancestors never traded slaves, but as a white person walking around one of the epicenters of the trans-Atlantic slave trade, it felt distasteful to be a tourist gawking at human suffering. At one mass grave, Geoffrey asked me why I wasn't taking more photos, and I just looked at him, unsure if I could say anything that wouldn't sound ignorant or disrespectful. Thankfully, once we got to the beach at the Door of No Return, there were a few dogs to play with and souvenir sellers who helped lighten the mood before lunch.
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| The Door of No Return - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| Beach pup - Ouidah, 2020 |
In the afternoon, Geoffrey arranged for me to consult with a Vodun priest and oracle. I have a long history of dabbling in different religions, somewhat casually and sometimes with shamans, medicine men, and the occult. I always approach these interactions with positivity and curiosity as I seek to understand the world, my place, and what the future might hold if viewed through different belief systems. It had also been a long time since I'd had a spiritual consultation, and I wondered if this might shed some light on the parts of my life that I felt weren't going in the right direction.
We met the priest at a local temple; he was barefoot and had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. After some brief introductions, he handed me eight cowry shells to throw into a bowl for him to read. But, first, he had me lift the shells to my mouth and whisper over them a question about life I sought to answer. He urged me to be clear and concise for the spirits' sake. I tried my best to focus, but it was hard to not get distracted by the exotic statues and pungent smells surrounding me.
I threw the shells into the priest's bowl, and he quickly rearranged them as he divined my message from beyond. I would receive neither good nor bad news, merely confirmation that my life is my own, and I need to take control and reset the imbalances that I've allowed to take root. As the priest told me, "You are like a crab with no head... If you're happy, it's because you make yourself happy; if you're sad, it's because you make yourself sad." This was a clear answer to my question, even if it sounds vague to anyone else.
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| A jar of magic, prepared by the priest's grandfather - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| Idols and offerings at the Vodun temple - Ouidah, 2020 |
To reset the imbalances in my life, I would need to perform a purification ritual involving the sacrifice of a rooster, a hen, a pigeon, and a crab to Atibon Legba. I'd also have to give snacks and cookies to local children after the priest blessed them with my and my mother's names. It was a bit more than I'd signed up for, but there was no backing down now. Before I knew it, the priest and oracle began preparing the ceremony, and outside the temple, a chicken squawked.
I sat directly before the oracle as he prepared for the ritual by grinding chalk balls on a large wooden board. He drew shapes and lines in the white powder while repeating my name and calling for the spirits to come and join the ceremony. On the ground between us were three items we'd be offering to Atibon Legba: a crab shell, a mound of rice, and some cake. The oracle instructed me to lift each of these items up to my face, elbows, groin, knees, and feet to link myself to the offerings. Next, I picked up the rooster, hen, and pigeon, pulled out a few feathers from each one, and laid those on the chalky white powder. The oracle mixed the feathers with the chalk and then rubbed some on my hands and forehead before depositing the feathers on top of the three offerings. A splash of bright red vegetable oil over my hands and offerings completed his preparation. Now, we headed outside the temple, barefoot, to an altar for Atibon Legba. Here, we laid down the offerings, along with more oil and chalky water, and asked Atibon Legba to oversee the resetting of balance in my life.
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| An idol at the Vodun temple - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| Guardians of the Vodun temple - Ouidah, 2020 |
By this point, it was already late in the day, and Anatole was getting nervous about the drive back to Lomé in the dark. But, there was just one last step in the ritual: a cleansing bath in a nearby river using magical soap. I stripped down to my birthday suit on the riverbank, swallowed my fear of encountering a poisonous snake, and stepped into the murky water. I quickly scrubbed myself from top to bottom with the magical soap, trying hard to think only good thoughts while I worked up a thick lather. I splashed water on my face and body to wash away all the negativity in my life, literally and figuratively. My last step was to throw the soap out into the water, as far as I could, so that it could take away all my negative thoughts. I wish I'd had a towel, but the weather was warm, so I just threw my clothes on and left.
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| An idol of the mother protector at the Vodun temple - Ouidah, 2020 |
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| More idols and statues at the Vodun temple - Ouidah, 2020 |
We were finally done for the day, but Anatole took me to the Python Temple before heading home. I was expecting something grandiose and magical, but instead, I found just two cement rooms: one with a bunch of snakes and one for the temple priest, their caretaker, and guardian. These snakes were also Royal Pythons, much more docile and considerably smaller than the Burmese Pythons I knew from Southeast Asia. I'm not a huge fan of snakes, and even though I knew these guys were harmless, I didn't enjoy having one unwillingly placed around my neck. After a few seconds, the snake turned its head and looked straight into my eyes; I could feel it was just as unimpressed and uninterested as I was. So I sent him back to his room, and Anatole and I left to drive to Lomé. It was a long and eventful day, and I had much to reflect on.
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