Where the streets have no name

Question: What can you carry on the back of a Zemidjan?

Answer: What have you got?




At least it's wicker furniture, right?



Where is the rest of this fridge?



She must have really strong thighs.

This weekend I went to Ouidah with a group of people. I got stuck in the van with the old people, which initially annoyed me, but ended up being fine because the other van crammed 11 people into a 7 person van. I was blissfully not squished. Also, I apparently missed out on an incident involving a cockroach and people jumping out the sunroof to avoid it, which is a bummer because it sounded hilarious, but I saw enough cockroaches in New Orleans to last me pretty much forever. On the way there we saw a man who had gotten hit by a car. There was a large group of people just staring at him. We don't know what happened to him, and it was really sad. I don't know how often this happens here but I'm surprised it I haven't seen it more. If you drive or cross the street here, you're basically taking your life into your hands. There are none of those pesky "traffic laws" that we hold so dear in the states. Basically, if your car/motorbike/zemidjan can make it, you go. Its not so bad to ride in a car. However, I'm not nearly aggressive to drive. I would probably just never get anywhere. Also, I would be very angry!

Ouidah is the port from which a large portion of the slaves left for where they were being shipped to. It's also a hub for a lot of voodoo. I knew all this going in, and didn't learn much new information. All our tours were in French, and a LOT gets lost in the translation. It was such a tragic thing. I just wish we could have understood better what people were saying.

Yesterday my bunkie Katie and I were going to go to church with a day worker, but we were about 25 minutes late and he was gone. So we went to a Pentecostal church, and it was really cool. It ended up being about three hours long, but they changed up the activities enough that it flew by. During the worship time, women (and some men and children) would dance. It was really interesting. In America, people would have considered these dances to be highly inappropriate and NEVER allow anything remotely like them in church. Here, they are an important part of the worship. We had fun trying to copy the dancing later.

I got to try some Liberian foofoo (I don't really know how that is spelled but that's how it sounds) yesterday. Some of the African workers were making some in the Crew Galley. It was the consistency of fatty glue and had no flavor, so they covered it in some kind of gravy. It was . . . weird. And I think it made me sick. So I'm blogging when I should be working because they wouldn't let me work today. I think it's mild food poisoning or something, but in case it's something contagious, they didn't want me to be working with food or people. I'll probably be fine tomorrow.

I've had a hard time feeling like I'm doing good here. I keep having to remind myself that the support roles on the ship enable the doctors and nurses to do what they do. Plus, if people don't get their Diet Coke and crisps, they get a little testy!