Benin

The border control post was only 20 metres past the Togo border which was very convenient. We had been getting used to searching for border controls in unmarked, rural locations. It seemed that for the locals the border wasn't much of a problem. People passed freely to and fro and the coconut seller found us easily on both sides of the border!

We were soon driving next to a gorgeous beach on the way to Grand Popo. There are camp places all along the road. We stopped at one. It had a stunning beach, long, white sandy shore and beautiful sea, which looked a tad rough. We carried on and camped at L'Auberge de Grand Popo a colonial style building next to the sea. On entering the water our legs got whipped out from underneath us and sand and stones deposited inside our swimming gear. Sitting on the beach seemed a calmer option although Slade was definitely in his element in the waves.

It was here that Slade made the first potjie of the trip. He'd been talking about his South African cooking pot and how it was the best way of cooking meat for months. Four hours later, saliva dripping, he dished up a very tasty meal. Apparently the German Schnappes wasn't a good substitute for Old Brown Sherry.

The Benin centre of Voodoo, Ouidah, was just down the road. It would have been interesting to find out more about this culture which dominates this part of West Africa. Most of the people be they Christian or Moslem still practice Voodoo and are superstitious. Unfortunately the History Museum, in the old Portugese Slave Fort, which explains all about the culture was closed. In fact it seemed to be closed for most of each day. The Temple des Pythones was open. Heike, Didi and Tubbs had a look around, had snakes wrapped around their shoulders and were shown a little room were the revered creatures stayed. There were dozens of large snakes inside and extremely large spiders. Krissys worst nightmare basically and she had wisely stayed in the Landie.

When we were at Fort Bou Jerif in Morocco Peter the manager had given us a delivery job. He wanted us to take some photographs to a friend in Cotonou. We had said no problem at the time but faced with the horrendous Cotonou traffic, comprised mainly on scooters, one memorable one was carrying a fridge freezer, we felt a little daunted. All we had was the name of a place and an area of town. There was no way we would find it alone so we stopped one of the motorbike taxis and followed him. Luckily for us he not only seemed confident that he knew where the place was but he was wearing a pink hat so we could pick him out from the hundreds of other motorbike drivers. However, it soon became apparent that he had no idea where the place was. Mr Pink Hat stopped at a hotel to ask for directions. It was all looking a bit hopeless until Slade brought out the photographs which generated a lot of interest. Suddenly someone identified a man in one of the photographs, almost unbelievable seeing we were in Benins most populated town. Turned out the place we were looking for was a restaurant which had just changed names. We confidently drove on and eventually reached the restaurant. Krissy spotted a man quietly eating pasta in the corner and yelled 'thats him' The poor man suddenly confronted with 5 people walking towards him, smiling, waving photographs and talking in a mixture of French and English looked somewhat startled and disorientated! There was no escape for him. Once he'd worked out what was going on he seemed genuinely pleased with our efforts to give him the photographs and he organized for us to stay there for the evening. His name was Dominic. He also arranged for us to visit a village on stilts in Lake Nakoue and offered a place for us to stay at the plantation he ran in Allada. Mission accomplished.

A taxi, long boat picked us up from the jetty the next morning and took us out to a series of villages balanced on stilts. It was like Africas answer to Venice minus pizzas, Piattzas and pigeons. The lake was busy with fishermen casting nets and women and children paddling boats between the houses and to the mainland. Some men were diving out of their boats and collected sand for building purposes from the bottom. The little boats were just about bobbing above the waterline they were so heavy. The people here were poor, as in most parts of the country but somehow seemed to be living well from what the lake could offer them. The houses were small and basic but most seemed to be quite sturdy supporting the weight of lots of children and the occasional goat or pig. Some however had succumbed to the stresses of water and children and hovered at crazy angles above the water line. People still lived in them though, the children leaning out to scream hello and of course ask for cadeaux.

The Plantation Sadah owned by Dominic was 56km from Cotonou. Driving up to it was like driving through the south of France again. Rolling hills full of maize led up to a very grand looking white Guest House. There was no one there except Joe the Guardian as the visiting season had not yet started. We had the place to ourselves. Apart from Maize Dominic grew tropical flowers and pineapple for export. However, what was once a good business was now more of a headache due to the high export costs. When the season was right it was more profitable to take people hunting, we guessed for Boar and Dominic seemed happy to entertain guests and do this. We were happy to sit and take it all in although we wished we had a nice bottle of wine to fit the mood rather than the more raw cardboard boxed Don Simon of more dubious vintage. Its hard on the road....

The last sightseeing we did in our whirlwind tour of Benin was in Abomey. Before the arrival of the French colonists the Abomey Royal Palace was one of the most impressive structures in W. Africa. The compound was meant to be enormous as every king since 1645 built a palace next to his predecessor. The palace had housed over 10,000 people including harems of up to 800 women... The whole place was burnt down by the 10^th king as he fled the advancing French forces. The French built their administrative buildings there instead. We visited the two remaining palaces at the Abomey History Museum. It was an interesting place, the palaces were a shadow of their former selves but there were lots of relics of the past to look at including thrones supported by humans skulls, weapons and art work. Slade seemed preoccupied during the tour and it turned out he had spied a man in the courtyard selling hammocks and he had to have one. The first price was given which seemed reasonable but before Slade could open his mouth the man dropped the price by 2000 CFA, Slade hesitated and the price fell again! Slade was very happy he had a hammock at a great price and didn't have to haggle.

We had to make kilometers, Didis favourite saying so we drove the 240km to Parakou, slept the night and drove the remaining 300km to the Niger border the next day. As we went north we could see the landscape getting dryer and dryer and the return of nomadic cattle and sheep herders.

At the border there was over a mile of parked up lorries waiting to cross. Luckily we arrived just as the officials returned from a break and we went straight through. From the way the lorry drivers were sprawled out under trees and their lorries it seemed they had a much longer wait on their hands.