"LA CLOTURE" Africana

One of the first things I learned while a student in Mexico was the need to build a "barda" or wall, as the first item on a home construction project. A barda is mainly put in place to keep people out and to protect possessions from petty thieves. A barda goes up even if the goods inside the walls consist of a small garden and a pile of bricks.

On my daily "commute" (walk) to my volunteer site, I see dozens of parcels that have started with a barda, or a "clôture," to use the local argot. African construction seems to follow the patterns observed in Mexico, but departs significantly in a way that reveals something of Africa's "fluidity of circumstance" and "complex and fundamentally ambivalent social conditions" as explained in an interesting little book titled, Invisible Governance. 

Mexican bardas are pretty severe, often hosting shards of broken glass set in concrete along the top ledge, an economical and ingenious sort of razor wire security system. Doors separating the interior from the street are typically fortified and outfitted with 3-4 deadbolts. The message of "keep out" is unmistakable.

In Africa, clôtures seem almost superflous. They are often times shoulder height, inviting passers by to look inside the walls and or to scale them in search of valuable merchandise. Gates and doors to the clôtures are often made of flimsy materials and are usually left ajar day and night.

One might think those irrational Africans just don't get the idea of a wall, but that would likely be a mistaken interpretation. The walls probably do function as security devices designed to slow if not completely stop a determined thief. But they also respond to the communal ethos and relaxed environment of coming and going that seems to typify both child and adult life. Locked gates and chunks of broken glass would seem to impede the back and forth, ebb and flow of people running in and out of walled compounds. 

Still, one wonders why go to all the trouble and expense of building a wall when its efficacy is so weak. Many of the everyday behaviors and conversations observed here result in that same sort of puzzlement as expressed in the exterior wall. This is one of the great things about Africa: the challenge it provides to simple analyses and explanations.

    

   

TRENDSETTING MARCHE

Anyone familiar with the history of "development" and "modernization" knows that poor nations are often described by Western experts as traditional and resistant to change (i.e. "Why are "they" unwilling to adopt "our" lifeways, values, and practices?"). Development experts typically blame this resistance for a slew of economic, social, and political maladies such as persistent poverty, illiteracy, and instability. In essence, those poor third worlders are responsible for their own ill fate.

Years later, these same experts often exonerate struggling farmers, merchants, and artisans as forward thinking practitioners. Ouidah's farmer's market might be considered a "cutting edge" example of the highly acclaimed sustainability movement with its fresh produce, local artisans, petit merchants.

The Marché Kpassé is held like clockwork every five days. An astute anthropologist might find that every five days is the optimal time to replenish perishables. Or perhaps the economic elasticity of local families typically extends a period of five days.

Vendors arrive with small quantities of produce, household staples, cloth, and other edibles. No wholesalers or other signs of economies of scale here. Whatever fits on the back of a motor scooter or atop one's head is the extent of merchandise stocked by most vendors.

Fresh, local, and in-season is great in theory, but the practice is a mixed bag. In Ouidah in June and July, you better like tomato, chile, corn, okra (okra!? Yeah, I know), onion, garlic, oranges, and pineapple. The flavors are all pretty sensational and the smells are intense. Another upside of "in-season" is the price. A small basket of tomatoes sell for 25 cents. Pineapples (really sweet and juicy) 40 cents. Oranges run about 5 cents apiece.

On the downside, the range of choices is pretty narrow for the spoiled Westerner. No blueberries from South Africa or summer peaches from northern Europe here. But with a bit of effort, intrepid shoppers can seek out risk-taking sellers who stock green beans, carrots, beets, potatoes, and bananas.

Living in the belly of the sustainability beast is great at cultivating anticipation among cooks and foodies, too. I'm looking forward to experiencing the changing seasons and tasting the next round of fresh and local flavors.

 

    

 SPEAKING IN SIGNS

Commercial signage always says a lot more than is evident on the surface. Signs not only indicate the goods and services of the establishment, but they also convey information about society, culture, and worldviews. And I discovered that they are great starting points for conversation during language lessons. The turns that our conversation took when discussing signs was actually pretty mind blowing. So, let's decode!

What sort of social structure conclusions can be ascertained by these signs? The most evident one regards literacy and language. Benin's literacy rate of tk percent means that business needs to communicate in pictures that clearly convey the goods and services rendered. These graphic devices are silent testimony, as well, to the fact that many Beninois speak no French whatsoever, but may be monolingual in one of the 50 local dialects native to this small nation. If you live in a big city, you might find similar signage techniques in poor neighborhoods with heavy concentrations of recent immigrants or high school dropout rates.

How about on the cultural front? Any insights conveyed here? A hint of gender relations are reflected in these signs. For some reason, one of the most prevalent business in Ouidah is the hair dresser and barber shop (they far exceed restaurants or convenience stores). In addition to cutting and styling, however, the shops also provide gift wrapping. That is the shops that are for and by women. Pretty paper and ribbon is not appropriate material for a man's hands. I wonder if an extension can be drawn, as well, regarding gift giving and gender. The stratification reflected in these signs can be seen across the city. Women's domains: the produce market, food vendor, itinerant sales. Men's domains: "zem" (motorcycle taxi) driver, mechanic, brick maker, construction.

Finally, what sort of worldview might be reflected here? This is a tuffy, but I'm wondering what sort of mind couples the activity of cutting hair and wrapping gifts. My language instructor, Eli, told me, "Because that's where you get a gift wrapped. At the hair dressers." OK, let's come back to that later. How about the store with all the road signs? A clever  and amusing sign for a sign store, right?  Eli: "Driving school?" Wha!? Why not a picture of someone driving a car? Eli, "Car rental."

So, what can we conclude here? I don't know if I'm on the right road (haha), but I'm thinking that all of these signs mean that the African worldview is characterized as strongly visual, concrete, and rooted in experience. We may be able to use this to help us relate to our community more effectively.

 

 

HAGGLING 101

I am finding that one of the most enjoyable experiences here is shopping, which is really surprising and uncharacteristic for me. The vendors can be tired and grumpy, but of course they're pleased when one makes a purchase. The haggling over prices is a good chance to practice language and people skills. I may be a little over zealous. I'm getting the sense that people probably do not haggle as much as I do. Still, I've really enjoyed chatting with the vendors and learning more French and culture. 

For example, many of the women in the market do not speak French. They use their children, a nearby vendor, or a helper to translate. They typically don't make eye contact. I'm guessing that they may feel vulnerable as being limited to their dialect in an exchange where the language is French. Once we finalize a price, however, I always ask for a cadeaux, which takes them by surprise. So far, no freebies have been tossed in but the vendors tend to giggle and sometimes even tell me to give them cadeaux.