On January 11th, and the week before, the Bariba people all across Northern Benin celebrated Ghani Fete. I don’t actually know what the significance of the holiday is. But I’ll give it a shot.
Once upon a time, there were two brothers. The elder was a king. He settled onto a bit of land, and his village became known as Birni. Well, the other brother wanted kingship as well. He settled into a village called Kouande (about an hour east of my village, on a red dirt road, by moto. My PCV friends Genesis and Laura are posted there). There was a squabble of sorts, and as time went on, Kouande became a very large and developed village. Today, it is the commune-head, and Birni is a village in the commune of Kouande. I don’t really know what happened with the Kings, or whatever. Ahh I don’t know. Ghani fete is some kind of celebration for their heritage and history, and something to do with the King. I’ll ask Geneis to tell me the story and I’ll post it at some point. (Ha). The big party was in Kouande, complete with a king’s procession, dancing horses, a fashion show, and a soccer game. Next year, I’m definitely going to Kouande. But this year, I decided to party with my villagers.
Anywho. My Scholarship Girls (Bariatou and Samirath) and I decided to get matching outfits made for the fete. Samirath’s mama made the dresses for us for free. On the day of the fete, I, along with my neighbor Isabelle, her 7 year old cousin Mounira, and my 16 year old student Barikissou, hiked up the little road over the mountain to the village of Birni-Marrow. Bariatou and Samirath decided to meet us there, as they weren’t ready. Thank goodness for Isabelle. ( I know I don’t mention her very often.) I followed her lead at the fete, as I’m still leaning traditional cultural norm.
She was wearing a beautiful shiny silky blue bomba, or a long skirt, a matching embroidered shirt, and head wrap. It was absolutely beautiful. The material came from Mali, and I hope to someday get something like that made. She is very suave, and modern.
We arrive at Birni-Marrow, the village of the King, and walk to the large group of people seated in a circle, in the shade of a large tree. Everyone from clothes-less babies, half-dressed kids, and well dressed adults were in attendance. The Chef d’Arrondissement, the other politicians, and the Gendarmes (all wearing more modern looking clothes) were sitting on benches on one side of the circle. On the other side, important traditional people (wearing traditional Beninese clothes with the traditional Muslim headscarves) sat on mats. Isabelle and I went around the circle saluter-ing and saying hello to everyone. I met the family of the King (there are A LOT of people in his family). The King was sick, so he wasn’t in attendance. Isaballe and I got the two open seats on the end of the bench next to the Gendarmes. People crowded around the edge of the circle, perhaps 15 people deep.
The entertainment commenced. Men in white wife beaters, red or green athletic shorts, tutus, hats with horns, and jingling bells danced along to the sound of blowing whistles and drums. Then, the girls came out to dance. The girls are in 4ieme, or the equivalent of 8th or 9th grades (maybe ages 13-17). They carry wooden batons, and click them together while dancing. I love watching the girls dance at the various village ceremonies.
During the dancing, a pantless three year old boy made his way into the center of the circle. He started shaking his little behind and stomping his feet to the drums. His little hands flapped wildly as he moved around. 2 mins later, he stops, and while the dancers were taking a brother, and amidst 300 spectators, this little dude pees right in the middle of the dance floor. Then he resumed his butt wiggling dance. No one blinked an eye.
Just as I was leaving the fete, I caught sight of Samirath and Bariatou. We looked good in our matching dresses! They had just arrived, and I stopped to say hello. It was kind of obvious they wanted to fete with their friends, so I wished them bonne fete and walked back down the mountain with Isabelle and the girls. On the way down, they stopped to show me a small natural stream. Since rainy season is long over, it was only a trickle. Off to the side, a small concrete basin was built for ease of water collection. A bypasser stopped and told me that I should give them money to build a water pump so that they could get more water out of the spring. Sometimes it angers me when people just demand money like that. Just because I’m a stranger, doesn’t mean I have pockets full of money to dish out. Whether its getting ripped off at the markets, dealing with idiot Zemi drivers, or people demanding large funds for projects, it’s a stereotype that we all have to fight everyday.
Okay. Scholarship Girl update. One of the girls was suspended from the program. The reason being, she was in a relationship with a professor.
Right after we picked out matching fabric for our outfits, we went to eat ignam pilee for lunch together. It was a good morning, and I was feeling great about things. We stopped under a tree at a food mama stand, and a few people were mulling around the big cook pots. We get our plates and just as we are about to sit down, a man comes over. Bariatou introduces him as ‘grand-frere’. I froze for a moment. ‘Grand-Frere?’ I could instantly guess what was coming next, and my heart sank. You see, Bariatou is the oldest in her family, and she doesn’t have a big brother. I used the ‘my French still isn’t that good’ routine, and asked her to clarify. She then told me that he is her boyfriend and they’ve been together for a year. And that he is a professor at the school.
Well. Well well well. My heart hit the floor. I knew that she would no longer be able to participate. She is 18 and can make her own decisions, but the program could no longer financially support her. Girls who participate in the Scholarship Girl Program are supposed to be role models in their community, and for other girls. They need to consciously make healthy decisions for themselves, and strive to finish school. Being in a relationship with a professor is not only illegal, but it doesn’t fit into the program.
Since this took place just before Christmas holidays, I wanted to take time to discuss with the PCV Directress of the program on the steps to take. As this can be a very sticky situation. It was concluded that she would no longer be able to participate in the girls’ weekend, nor would her fees be paid for next year. But I could still be a resource to her if she needed me. I was disappointed, of course. This particular project hadn’t been going very smoothly for me (I don’t know if I will participate next year) and this just made it that much worse. I became very disheartened, and disappointed. We had just gotten matching outfits made. Luckily, the other girl will continue with the program.
Unfortunately, this situation is very common here. Students being in relationships with their professors. I do not want to talk much on the topic, as I don’t have much to say, and because of a certain tragedy that occurred a few years ago here in Benin. But it’s very unfortunate, and it does happen. And what’s even worse is it’s more common than you would think. Young girls are taken advantage of, and they get stuck.
Since I am just getting started with really diving in and learning more about the community and the problems that girls here face, I will leave it at that.
But, to leave on a more positive note! I do have some projects in mind for the girls of my village. And I am very excited about them. Now, we’ll just have to wait and see what unfolds!
Meaghan in Benin 