My Weekly Conversation Partners

 

Well, it's Sunday again, time to head to Ouidah's basilique for mass. I started going to mass with my roommate Julia who is a serious Catholic. I always told her that I was going to church to network and meet people ("Isn't that what it's all about?"). But church is always productive in so many other ways.

I usually wake up on Sundays and browse the "Vivre la Parole de Dieu au Quotidien" book that the church hierarchy authorizes for popular use. The book contains the readings for the daily masses held 'round the world. I dutifully circle the new vocabulary and phrases with the intention of using them on my friends later in the day, e.g. "vous ne devez plus vous conduire comme les païens" (thou shall no longer act like pagans!). This makes for amusing admonishments and observations, but also contributes to language learning--both comprehension and pronunciation.

Ouidah's basilique is located at an interesting intersection. It is fronted by the plaza of the Python Temple, a touristy but working site for followers of vodun (see the short, PT report produced by youth video students at CIAMO, where I've been teaching as a volunteer) . It also rests kitty corner to "Le Vatican" restaurant and bar. This presents an interesting scenario of imaginary conversations among these three structures. One can imagine a perturbed église catholique shaking her finger at the Python Temple's topless, serpent-clad, and scarified female statue who stares defiantly at the basilique. The statue luxuriates in this context and needles the church by winking at the beer swilling clients seated at le Vatican. The gravity of the situation has reached the highest ranks: Pope Benedict jumped into the symbolic fray last year during a Ouidah stop. By all accounts, a disappointingly small crowd turned out for the visit. Score one for vodun and beer!

Aside from being an amusing location, Ouidah's most profane intersection offers an interesting perspective on the reality of west Africa. The dominating structure continues to be Benin's colonial legacy; it marks government, school, and all other institutions of global interaction. It's characterized by ineffectual implementation and palpable elitism. Ouidah's Basilica houses virtually no traces of l'Africaine: Jesus on the cross is ivory white, as is the virgin rising above the altar (she looks pretty similar to Bolivia's virgen de Copacabana). The only vestiges of native culture are on the backs of about half of the parishioners, who display colorful African fabrics in their Sunday best.

When churchgoers spill out of the mass, they literally face the defiant, vital, and sensual traditions and practices that infuse everyday life in Africa. The stultifying edifice of "civilization" is tempered by the food, language, music, and dance that emerge constantly on my daily walks about town. Nevertheless, Sunday mornings at the basilique provide an illuminating weekly reminder of the challenges, pleasures, and amusements associated with living in Africa.