Dancing With Ghosts

The tenth of January is Traditional Religion Day here in Benin, commonly called Vodoun (Voodoo) Day. Though Christianity and Islam, the two largest monotheistic religions on the planet, are the faces most readily portrayed to the outside world by the Beninese, it is clear to all that the life-blood of the nation's religious activities is, and always has been, Vodoun. Vodoun is actually just the Fon word for it. Throughout West Africa it is much the same, the worship of multiple local gods and, most importantly to the locals, ancestors. Vodoun lacks much of the theological complexities of the large Western religions and opts for a smaller more filial setting for its practices, placing food and drinks on the tombs of one's forebears (generally buried under the family house to be closer to home) and telling stories about where one's people came from. That being said, one can't help but thrill at the mention of Vodoun. Thoughts of African mysticism and bayou charm, the slaves from present-day Benin brought their beliefs with them to Haiti, Brazil, and Lousianna, are instantly conjured up in one's mind at the thought of it. The day for me began with a visit to a friend's father's birthday party, a man who passed away in the 1970s. Shots of sodabi, distilled palm wine, were liberally passed around and raised to an imposing portrait of a large man in tradtional garb, his visage daring anyone to smirk at his judging, stern look. Pounded yams with peanut sauce, a local staple, was then consumed in great quantity followed by more shots before I was graciously allowed to head back home and nurse my swollen belly and swimming head, it was not yet nine o'clock in the morning. Adventursome young lad that I am, the rest of the day was spent visiting local temples to particular local dieties, the lightening goddess, the mountain god, and the chameleon goddess. This required a lot of eating to counteract the effects of the alcohol given out, one could compare the day to a pagan St. Patrick's Day in this regard. The culmination of the day was a joint dance party with all of the different temples and the head families meeting on a dusty clearing, the stomping dancers churned up the dust until one could not see and our tongues were caked with Africa's red soil. It's always interesting to talke to Africans with traditonal beliefs, oftentimes these beliefs go hand in hand with their families recent adoption of Christianity or Islam. Is it real? or what do you actually believe in is a common theme that comes up, and it seems like the villagers of Aklampa don't usually think about it on a grand scale like that. To many no one can claim to know what God is like, to pretend to know what is after life seems the height of folly. What is known and accepted is that when you die, you don't leave the family, and who can't find any charm in that? So next time you have a nice glass of wine, why not pour out a sip for Great Grampa? Who knows, he might appreciate it.