Togo or not Togo

Yesterday, I went to Togo for the first time. It literally is over the river and through the woods (or rather, palm trees). It’s actually pretty cool – we went down this little path I have always seen but didn’t know where it led, and suddenly there was a tiny river, maybe 20 feet wide, and a little boat ferrying people back and forth. I maintain that it couldn’t be that deep and you could probably walk across, but I did not take up my friend’s challenge to try it.

We went to Agba Na Ke, which is where the king lives. Though he’s in Togo, he is the monarch for the people of Grand Popo. GP is a weird little inlet on the map into Togolese territory, and it was only at independence that it was really considered part of Benin. So, as is the story with so many former colonies, the Xwla and Xweda people were divided between two countries, though the language, culture, and religion are the same and they are separated by 20 feet of water. There are some who now dispute the monarch’s authority in Benin, but most people acknowledge that Agba Na Ke is an important site in the history of the people of this area.

In any case, we did not go to see the king. Instead, we went to what I thought was a funeral, but might just have been a party. It was very cool – It can be hard for me to access “traditional” Beninese culture in Grand Popo because there are so many tourists and so people either assume they know what foreigners want to see or they just ignore my presence. Plus my house is situated in a pretty barren stretch of land – mostly hotels and overpriced restaurants directly around me. Anyway, it was cool to be able to experience a little bit of the fete culture of Togo. For example, when we arrived, they poured a little bit of alcohol on our feet to welcome us from our voyage. Hosts always offer water, so we took a sip of that. Then it was time for a shot of gin (at least it wasn’t sodabe). And finally, a plate of food (nevermind that it was only an hour or so after lunch).

Then, someone brought out a small statuette and I got excited – maybe I was going to see a real live voodoo ceremony! He then brought out baby powder and sprinkled it in what looked like a very ceremonial and occult fashion. Then, he very seriously placed the statue in a bucket and a towel over the blanket. The ceremony began…and ended with him miraculously pulling candy out of the statue. What I had taken to be a ceremony imbued with meaning was in fact a magic show. He proceeded to do tricks making money appear and disappear. He did a really gross trick in which I had to spit on my hand and then he made the spit move to the other side of my hand. I just hope that it was my spit that we were working with the whole time (I think saliva is gross…this was not my favorite trick). It was almost comical because he took himself incredibly seriously – one would think that David Blaine himself was there. In the end, he finished up and left and we all danced (including me – shocking, no?). Americans automatically look dumb dancing to traditional music. No two ways about it. But it’s a great source of entertainment to others so I swallowed my pride and flapped my arms with the rest of the women.

And that is the story of my afternoon in Togo. Borders are still strange to me because as Americans, we think of borders as things that are really far away and/or sites of heavy-handed state control and/or places of illegal activity. But borders can really be little strips of river that people don’t really pay attention to (except for the time change between here and Togo, which seems ridiculous) and crossing can be as normal as going to the weekend market on one side of the river or the other. Ok, enough philosophical musing. I’ve gotta go do real work (meaning reheating my dinner from last night and hoping I don’t give myself food poisoning…food storage is a bit tricky without a fridge in 90+ degree heat).