Monday 28 March 2011

Back To The Beach

So, good news for all. Photos! So I'll keep the chat brief.

Lake Ahéme, on the road to Grand Popo

Local transport. Luckily we have our own car...

The Gana Hotel, Grand Popo
On the beach again. Left to right: Fishing boat,
women carrying a fishing net, and Patrick
Iris and Vincent
Patrick mastering a traction kite
Me, flying my kite from the sea

A bit of lift-off....
The was an eagle who was fascinated by the kite, he kept following it around.
Luckily no attacks...

Enough practice. Here are Raf and Patrick getting the
Big Boy kite ready...
Ready for launch!
And there she is, sports fans. Complete masterclass.
This kite has serious pull so you're strapped in to a harness.
I got a little nervous if I thought about what that
meant if the wind picked up....
Patrick flying the big one, under Raf's
careful supervision

 

Monday 21 March 2011

Photography (without the photographs)

So the topic this week: Photo blog. At least that’s what I had planned: thousands of photos of little African children. Nothing sells a blog like cute photos.
BUT. I’ve failed again.
As it turns out, taking photos is not that easy – there’s a reason that Benin doesn’t figure highly on the Japanese tourist circuit. Cameras are not well received. Particularly big cameras. In fact, the bigger the camera, the poorer the reception. Which puts me at a disadvantage with the particular model I chose to bring out here….
WHY?
Most people coming out here are aware of a cultural resistance to photography and put it down to Vodoun (aka voodoo) superstition. “They think it’s stealing their soul. Oh bless. How very primitive”, is basically the thought process.
I’ve only come across a Vodoun-related excuse when in a traditional village, and a procession of “devotee” women were walking by. They spend the entire adult life in a convent devoted to a particular Vodoun god, and only come out on these processions very rarely. They are considered very holy, so fair enough.
But leaving aside such particularly sacred examples, the major reason they give for their dislike of photography is money.
ALWAYS WITH THE MONEY
“You will take my photo, then go back to Holland,” they claim.
“I’m from ENGLAND,” I point out.
“Yes, Holland. And you will make lots of money”.
Yep, all white people with cameras are professional photographers who make their riches out of coming to Benin (for those who read my last blog “The White Man”, sorry this point should really have been in my “what the locals think of white people” list…).
“So if you want my photo, gimme money”.
Granted, this does allow me a way of getting photos. But it’s not exactly candid – what normally follows is that a group will get together and pose, badly. It’s awkward.
TRY THE OTHER SHOE ON
The concept of strangers photographing me doing everyday things is not completely alien to me. Back in my student days, our college would be packed with tourists, all desperate to take photos of students (particularly if you’re sat looking a little bleary-eyed outside the library during exams – apparently that makes for a great shot…).
And it did get grating. VERY grating at times. But the parallel can’t be drawn to the people here: there, tourists would visit to admire the splendour of it all, thinking us creatures of privilege.
Here, the “everyday things” are earning a living. Surviving through miserable economic conditions. I struggle not to think myself a little voyeuristic just strolling through an old traditional village.
You can justify it to yourself in many ways – it’s not the poverty; it’s the people, the colours, the shapes, the love of life, the beauty of it. But deep down you can’t shake that feeling.
For the people here, your very poverty is a tourist attraction, which at worst will be exploited by photographers when they get back to Europe.
And you react negatively. Or try to make some money out of it. You can be photographed, but on your terms. Fair enough. It puts the power of choice back in your hands. (But it doesn’t make for fun pictures!)
So there it is. I don’t take many photos, out of respect for those who might be in them. I hope I can learn how to effectively break down the barriers and have them be comfortable with my camera, but so far not much joy I’m sorry to say.

But I can't leave you completely empty handed...
Here's my new discovery: the Benin Marina hotel, in Cotonou. Pool, tennis, golf - very "Africa", don't you think....?


Thursday 10 March 2011

The White Man


WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just to clarify, this is the sounds of a small child bursting into tears at the first site of me. And once again it’s the sound that welcomes me as I enter a Beninese village, accompanying the loan agent to make sure my training has stuck.
“Ha ha. Yovo yovo yovo yovo”, exclaims the mother (Haha. White man white man white man). And picks up the child to force her closer to me.
WWWWWWWWAAAAAAHHHHHAAAAAHHHAAAA!!!!!!!
Smile. Yes, very funny. Haha. At least the whole village is now surrounding us and laughing along. I guess this is one way to break the ice – frightening the young children with the White Devil (even I’m starting to call myself that these days…).
Oh well. Let’s get down to business. The loan agent explains my presence, what Kiva does, and what’s needed to take a Kiva loan (a photo of the group). And the questions begin. Some tough ones in there too.
“I want a loan for less than that. Does Kiva not care about me?” (We have a minimum value here because anything less is just not worth the cost of the extra work - which would be passed on as higher interest rates).
“Can you give us a machine?”. No, that’s not what I’m here for, I’m helping to provide loans.
“Can you give us a bigger loan for a machine?”. No, your credit limit will increase following good repayment and let’s hope that one day you can get that machine.
“When you go home, ask your friends to give us a machine”. Ok, fine, if it’ll stop this line of questioning, I’ll see what I can do. That’s four village groups this week who’ve asked me this. Let’s hope my friends are feeling generous.
You see there are still some very clear rules of thumb that accompany a white man in Africa (well, in Benin – I won’t speak for the rest but I have a feeling…). They were explained to me nicely by Gilles, the credit agent in Allada, a rural town north of Cotonou.
1.       Everything that comes from the white man is good. “If you come with me and talk, they will say yes, even if they don’t understand. If it’s from the white man, they will agree. Next time when I come on my own, they will refuse”.
2.       Everything that comes from the white man is free. “If we tell them this loan comes from white people, they will think ‘great, this is aid’ and not pay it back”.
3.       The white man has A LOT of money. “Not all white people are rich?”. Depends by whose standards, but looking around here, yes, probably.
And just before I leave, the mother tries once again. For luck, I suppose.
WWWWAAAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAWWAAAAA!!!!!
It’s become something combining both crying and laughing. Sometimes I know exactly what she means.

Now, there’s a lack of photos to add to this story due to the negative reception to whipping out a massive SLR in the middle of a village meeting (I’m hoping to write my next post on the cultural factors around photos and loans generally, so more on this later). All I can do for you now is link a couple of publications I’ve made in my time here so far. Click on their names to see the full profiles!
     
Leontine


 
Mariette


Maria