Pomp and Passing in Glazoue

For those haven't received my previous email dispatches, Glazoue is a town situated on the goudron (asphalt road) about 12k from my village. Glazoue is also the head of my “commune” (county). The mayor had died a month earlier of a heart attack. There had been wide-spread rumors attributing his death to Gris-Gris (evil voodoo). There were even some civil uprisings and minor conflicts between the two ethnic groups there. The conflict was, when compared to events such as Kenya's last presidential election in January, very minor. Some businesses were looted, and threats were made. One of my favorite shop owners was imprisoned for making threats after his shop was decimated by rioters. Eventually the military was called in to quell the strife.

A month later I, with another PC volunteer and the two local Japanese volunteers attended the burial ceremony in Sowe, a village near my own. Upon arriving at 7:30AM we were greeted by a crowd of family, friends, and hangers-on. The number of the crowd would eventually grow to thousands. We walked around and I visited with a couple of people I know from the village. Everyone seemed very impressed that we were dressed appropriately.

My guest and I were dressed outfits made in one of the several designated tissus (clothes). Wearing the same cloth is a huge cultural custom here in Benin that people invoke for any number of occasions. This particular ceremony was interesting because of the sheer number of different tissus and their according significance, direct relations wore one tissue, indirect another, political and social ties had their own as well. The outfits were amazing, everyone was dressed to the 9's, knowing that nearly every politically influential personality would be in attendance. I hadn't seen so many luxury cars gathered together since arriving in Benin. Soon it was time to eat a little something before the ceremony began.

In Benin it is custom that the women of the family spend the entire night before a burial preparing food for the attendants of the proceedings. In the case of the mayor, two cows were killed and cooked. In addition to mountains of riz-gras (fat rice) which, as one might imagine from the translation, is just rice cooked with tons of fat. Just the thing to wake you right up for a 5 hour Catholic ceremony spoken in a combination of foreign languages.

Soon thereafter we were seated under massive tents that would make any circus proud. The ceremony was soon under way, speakers were punctuated with musical numbers from one or more of the 6+ choirs in attendance. The ceremony seemed to outlast not only our short Western attention spans but those of the Beninese as well. Soon there were calls from the MCs to limit this or that part of the ceremony. Eventually, after gift giving, dancing, singing, ad nauseum we made our way home to spend the afternoon showing the Jica (Japanese version of Peace Corps) around my village and eating make-shift Mexican.