My Last Day In Benin

The next morning I caught a tro-tro from Ouidah to Cotonou the capital. Although my final destination was Ghana to the West of Ouidah and Cotonou was to the east, I had to go back and out of the way to get to a bank, again I was cashless. It was one very crowded ride where my very presence caused some conflict.

I had been perched on a box with my back against the driver’s seat facing the stares of the 14 other passengers. One woman sitting directly opposite me spent was staring me down with the filthiest look on her face. She announced something to the bus, obviously directed toward me, and an argument ensued. Thankfully the driver stopped the bus and interjected and the squabble ended. The woman continued to stare me down though, and quite frankly I couldn’t blame her, if I were her I’d resent white people too. The woman beside her, her fiercest opponent in the fight smiled and winked at me reassuringly.

After a half hour of me averting her fiery stare and winking back at the kind lady beside, her I tried to buy some water from a street seller through the bus window. A satchel of water is 25 CFA, I only had a 200 CFA coin and the woman had no change. A hand reaches out the window and pays for my water. It was the woman with the filthy face. I couldn’t believe, or understand why, she had just bought me water. I tried to give her money but she brushed my hand away and stared out the window. She still had a look of hatred on her face like she wished she had poisoned the water first. I said “merci beaucoup” but she ignored me. The nice lady winked again.

Getting out of the crowded van was awkward, it always was for me, and no one ever moves to make it easier. I stumbled out the side of the bus hitting every annoyed face with my rotund buttocks, and nearly crashing face first into the pavement. I wanted to say goodbye to both the nice lady and the one who bought me water but was too embarrassed to face the irritated passengers that were still grunting from my not-so-graceful exit.

I went through the same saga as always, riding on a zemi I may not be able to pay for, from ATM to ATM until finally one gave me money.

Back at the same hotel I first stayed in, I was checked-in by Davy. He showed me my room and stood by the door nervously fumbling through English words to ask me if I am married. I lie about my fiancée waiting for me in Australia, I divulge by saying how in love I am and swoon over the fictitious wedding plans. He begs me to see him later. He asks me to buy some beers and tells me that he plans to sneak away from the front desk to join me in my room later.

So I go for a walk and buy two beers. I’d prefer his company over another night of my own. Just before 10pm there is a soft knock at my door and he sneaks in. We sit on my bed and sip the beer and struggle to understand each other through slow broken English. I find out he is only a year younger than me, I thought he was much younger, he is studying law and dreams of moving to Canada.

He then tells me he is very sad.

“Why?” I ask

“Because you have a fiancée and I am in love with you”

“You love me or you like me?” I try to clarify

“Love” he says “it is very much love”.

I ask him what else he loves: Jesus, Benin and Gaddafi. I can’t believe I am on a list with Gaddafi!

He then asks if I will help him get to Australia. I explain that he needs a passport and a visa and I can’t get them for him. He then asks me to buy him the plane ticket to Australia. I tell him no, but that if he does ever get there he can stay at my house.

“You look tired, you should sleep” he tells me and I agree that it’s time for bed.

“I will sleep here too” he says.

“No you won’t!” Although he is handsome enough that the offer is not at all repulsive.

He leaves without anymore attempts at persuasion and thanks me for my company.

He really is sweet and I hope that one day he is a court judge in Canada like he dreams of becoming.