Happy 50th Birthday, Benin!

On August 1, 2010, Benin became “over-the-hill” as it celebrated its’ 50th anniversary of independence. Celebration here, as you may have imagined, is very different from the traditional Fourth of July I am used to. Parties and social gatherings are private and the parade is composed solely of the military. The president, Boni Yayi was present as well as various other leaders of Western and Central African countries. A celebratory futbol match was held in the afternoon. My family and I watched the thrilling parade on television; I thought my eyes were going to bleed from boredom. I would close them when my Maman wasn’t looking. It was about three hours long, and Maman’s favorite military march was the last, naturally. The soldiers marched in slow, melodic procession in which their arms would swing opposite their legs and freeze for 2 seconds with each leg extension, then step, freeze, and step. My Maman was giddy with excitement at the sight of them. I failed to see the fascination, but enjoyed watching her laugh and smile broadly as her eyes were pasted to the television.

On Saturday, Independence Day eve, my host sister and brother took me to the Beninese equivalent of Miss America: Miss Independance. It was scheduled to start at 8:00 PM, but in true African tradition, began at 11:30. The most surprising part about “African time,” is that everyone seems to know exactly when things will start, despite the deviance from a schedule. Everyone except those who are yet to acquire the “African clock.” I’m working on it. We arrived at about 11:15, and the crowd came in ten minutes later. Just in time. As we entered the museum where the show was being hosted, a towering man in a metallic silver shirt grabbed me by the elbow and led me away from the flow of human traffic, signaling to my host brother to come also. He began speaking to me in French far too rapidly for my novice level of comprehension, failing to see my expression of grave confusion and preparedness to flee the scene. It turned out that he thought I was there to give a speech at Miss Independance and to act as a judge for the competition because I was white. My sister said, “She doesn’t even speak French!” The man looked at me with a look of “Then why are you here?” and finally released my elbow from his tight grip.

This experience so far has made me more aware of my skin color than I have ever been. This is not surprising, but has created a sandstorm of thoughts regarding race and the value assigned to a person based on the color of their skin. My sister watches music videos on television here, and almost all of the women in the videos are light skinned or white. The same can be seen in the States and it is interesting to see the overlapping issues within society and the social pressures placed upon people, women in particular. While differences between American and Beninese life are certainly abundant, the struggles of daily life are, fundamentally, very similar.

Every day is something new and leaves me with a perpetual wide-eyed and fly-catching mouth expression. There is a lot to learn, always, and I am eager to see what comes next.