Saturday, October 15, 2005
Grand Popo, Benin
As we crossed the border from Togo to Benin, the boys announced that there was a Finnish African Cultural Center in the town that we were planning to lodge for the night. I immediately thought they were playing a joke on me. Those two often try to play jokes to moderate my inflated sense of national pride (or gender equality or any of the other buttons we have all gotten to know so well). To my surprise, this was no lie!
So the next day, along the sea spray besieged coastline of Benin, I met four Finnish artists. One photographer with his girlfriend, a textile specialist and a painter. They were artists in residence at the Villa Karro cultural center in Grand Popo. The architecture and planning of the place was impressive against the backdrop of a relatively sleepy beach village. Demonstrating the Finnish love of culture, there was a library, concert stage, museum and conference center on the grounds. "Tervetuloa" (welcome in Finnish), announced a smiling young African. I giggled like a little girl because this was so out of place. He invited us to a free movie playing in the courtyard at 8PM. On this whole trip, I have never been so surprised. The Director of Villa Karro informed me that the artists may apply to stay in Benin through a special grant program organized by the Finnish Ministry of the Arts.
Returning in the evening to watch a Senegalese short film and an American B movie that weren't nearly as interesting as the prospect of speaking with Finns, I scanned the crowd for familiar blond hair. Before long, we were invited to sit on the porch overlooking the ocean to share a glass of wine. We were perched on pillows in a circle on the floor. English and Finnish were spoken simultaneously, which is something that I am used to from my own dinner table growing up. It is such a rarity to speak our language abroad that Finns will assume that those that cannot speak it will forgive us. Sean and Nate both kindly obliged. I could see that it was interesting for the Finns to listen to my strange accent (irreparably blemished by a childhood abroad). To keep with tradition, we were invited to try the local moonshine that someone had found in a fishing village up river.
The photographer Tapio told me of a study that was recently conducted by a governmental research organization that claims that Finnish émigrés are less likely to admit their country of origin, as compared with other Scandinavian countries. This sounded so strange to me, I would never have thought that this was a widespread phenomenon. Every time I meet a Finn in an exotic place, we treat each other like the best of friends. Every possibility to practice our language is indulged. I feel very strongly about where I come from. I spent most of my childhood outside of Finland but returned every back every summer to visit family and friends. It almost hurt me that a large percentage of émigrés deny their heritage, even while being from a country as unique and distinctive as Finland. Returning to Finland to work is a fantasy of mine.
The surreal quality of the evening never disappeared for me. Since there are only five million Finns in the world, it seemed pretty strange that I would happen upon a whole community of them in Benin. Nate suggested that perhaps Finns were attracted to Benin because of a common love for voodoo; but I think he might be projecting my stronger fascination with magic and the supernatural onto Finns as a group. Both the Beninese and the Finns practice rituals that celebrate a communion with nature. Finns respect and recognize nature; our names are chosen as sky, cloud, sea, forest and wind. While very few places in Finland remain untouched by the influence of Lutheranism, most everyone celebrates at least one pagan ritual or two during the year.
Benin's practice of voodoo is similar, it has not remained untouched by the Muslim and Christian religions. There are pockets where the practice lives on, such as Ouidah, where traditional beliefs and cults co-exist with newer religious cults. From an outsider's perspective, voodoo rituals seem to be a way to rationalize the sometimes uncontrollable forces of nature, such as thunder, lightning and small pox. Nothing we heard suggested voodoo as a means to control nature (or people) in any spiteful sense. Granted, this is a conclusion I came to after having seen tourist sites associated with voodoo, sites that the Beninese have come to understand tourists will pay to see. However, rituals are a part of every African society. Fearing rituals because they are exotic (and not fearing a midnight bonfire in the middle of the forest in Finland) may be due to a poor understanding of local culture. At least for me, I was hesitant and nervous to learn about voodoo because I didn't know what it was all about. In the end, I felt nothing malicious and even gave a token offering for Legba, a voodoo god who is seen as both a guardian and/or a trickster, with the wish that we land safely in South Africa.
The most malicious thing we learned of in Benin was the existence of a warrior kingdom that historically profited from the slave trade. Unfortunately, this is not a rarity; similar kingdoms existed up and down the coast of West Africa. Another malicious event was whe a bean vendor ripped us off by insisting we pay a ridiculously high price for her sandwiches.
As we crossed the border from Togo to Benin, the boys announced that there was a Finnish African Cultural Center in the town that we were planning to lodge for the night. I immediately thought they were playing a joke on me. Those two often try to play jokes to moderate my inflated sense of national pride (or gender equality or any of the other buttons we have all gotten to know so well). To my surprise, this was no lie!
So the next day, along the sea spray besieged coastline of Benin, I met four Finnish artists. One photographer with his girlfriend, a textile specialist and a painter. They were artists in residence at the Villa Karro cultural center in Grand Popo. The architecture and planning of the place was impressive against the backdrop of a relatively sleepy beach village. Demonstrating the Finnish love of culture, there was a library, concert stage, museum and conference center on the grounds. "Tervetuloa" (welcome in Finnish), announced a smiling young African. I giggled like a little girl because this was so out of place. He invited us to a free movie playing in the courtyard at 8PM. On this whole trip, I have never been so surprised. The Director of Villa Karro informed me that the artists may apply to stay in Benin through a special grant program organized by the Finnish Ministry of the Arts.
Returning in the evening to watch a Senegalese short film and an American B movie that weren't nearly as interesting as the prospect of speaking with Finns, I scanned the crowd for familiar blond hair. Before long, we were invited to sit on the porch overlooking the ocean to share a glass of wine. We were perched on pillows in a circle on the floor. English and Finnish were spoken simultaneously, which is something that I am used to from my own dinner table growing up. It is such a rarity to speak our language abroad that Finns will assume that those that cannot speak it will forgive us. Sean and Nate both kindly obliged. I could see that it was interesting for the Finns to listen to my strange accent (irreparably blemished by a childhood abroad). To keep with tradition, we were invited to try the local moonshine that someone had found in a fishing village up river.
The photographer Tapio told me of a study that was recently conducted by a governmental research organization that claims that Finnish émigrés are less likely to admit their country of origin, as compared with other Scandinavian countries. This sounded so strange to me, I would never have thought that this was a widespread phenomenon. Every time I meet a Finn in an exotic place, we treat each other like the best of friends. Every possibility to practice our language is indulged. I feel very strongly about where I come from. I spent most of my childhood outside of Finland but returned every back every summer to visit family and friends. It almost hurt me that a large percentage of émigrés deny their heritage, even while being from a country as unique and distinctive as Finland. Returning to Finland to work is a fantasy of mine.
The surreal quality of the evening never disappeared for me. Since there are only five million Finns in the world, it seemed pretty strange that I would happen upon a whole community of them in Benin. Nate suggested that perhaps Finns were attracted to Benin because of a common love for voodoo; but I think he might be projecting my stronger fascination with magic and the supernatural onto Finns as a group. Both the Beninese and the Finns practice rituals that celebrate a communion with nature. Finns respect and recognize nature; our names are chosen as sky, cloud, sea, forest and wind. While very few places in Finland remain untouched by the influence of Lutheranism, most everyone celebrates at least one pagan ritual or two during the year.
Benin's practice of voodoo is similar, it has not remained untouched by the Muslim and Christian religions. There are pockets where the practice lives on, such as Ouidah, where traditional beliefs and cults co-exist with newer religious cults. From an outsider's perspective, voodoo rituals seem to be a way to rationalize the sometimes uncontrollable forces of nature, such as thunder, lightning and small pox. Nothing we heard suggested voodoo as a means to control nature (or people) in any spiteful sense. Granted, this is a conclusion I came to after having seen tourist sites associated with voodoo, sites that the Beninese have come to understand tourists will pay to see. However, rituals are a part of every African society. Fearing rituals because they are exotic (and not fearing a midnight bonfire in the middle of the forest in Finland) may be due to a poor understanding of local culture. At least for me, I was hesitant and nervous to learn about voodoo because I didn't know what it was all about. In the end, I felt nothing malicious and even gave a token offering for Legba, a voodoo god who is seen as both a guardian and/or a trickster, with the wish that we land safely in South Africa.
The most malicious thing we learned of in Benin was the existence of a warrior kingdom that historically profited from the slave trade. Unfortunately, this is not a rarity; similar kingdoms existed up and down the coast of West Africa. Another malicious event was whe a bean vendor ripped us off by insisting we pay a ridiculously high price for her sandwiches.
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