On Coconut water
Bonjour mon amie,
I’m happy to inform you that we finally have light! Power has changed hands from Chidinma electric back to Ikeja electric and words fail to express how happy I am. I hope I never have to use the skill I picked up from my 1-month internship as Chidinma electric.
I planned to write to you last week but Badagry paths said no sis. Paths because calling it roads would be an insult to what we saw in Cotonou.
Onto the letter….
We got to casa del papa towards evening. Thankfully casa doesn’t look like the road leading to it. Following instructions from the road, the bus flung us up and down and left us with no choice but to cling to our seats for some stability. The end did justify the means. The joy and beauty of the place easily washes the bitter taste of the journey of your mouth.
After we got a quick tour of the place, I went to the building where they said would be the take-off for kayaking. One of the things I really wanted to do on this trip was spend more time on water. My time with water is always very limited because I can’t swim. Going to blame my parents fully for that because they have drummed it into my head to not try such.
Important point to note: Benin is a francophone country and I know pre-basic french which consist of Bonjour, s’il vous plait, excusez-moi, ca va, merci and recently bon nuit.
Why I decided to visit a french-speaking country knowing that I cannot speak french is not why we are here today. Know that it had something to do with visa and budget.
At the kayak house, we stitched together an awkward mix of french, english and gestures, only to find out that we couldn’t kayak because it was past 5pm. The kayak person in the same language of french, english and gestures advised though, that we pack our bags and come by 9am the next morning and we’d kayak.
As I sat in one of the sheds with view of the lagoon to just breathe and relax, I saw some people walk to the same kayak house and they agreed to let them kayak. Well damn. Was I smelling? Surely it couldn’t be the language because we understood each other with this new found language. I walked back to beg them stringing together all the french I knew because I knew that the chances of kayaking the next morning was slimmer than us going back to pre-COVID times. Unfortunately, it was a no from them.
Walking back to my seat, L in hand and I saw someone just sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree sipping coconut water. I threw my bonjour at him freely like I’d been doing since the day before. I think he saw the disappointment in my face because he said something to the other guy in green harvesting coconuts with a long bamboo pole and an iron sickle and the man took a giant coconut, cut it open and handed it to me. I don’t know what money was in french so I was really struggling to explain that I don’t have any with me. Then he spoke english and said it I didn’t have to pay.
What he didn’t know was that I had never had coconut water like this before and I actually hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I was as happy as a child that received sweets that the parents never buy. It might have been a small gesture to him but it made my day. I went back to at least catch his name but he was gone.
This journal was listening to the first draft of this journal from a voice note I recorded on the trip. I dislike my voice but this is still the fastest way to take notes.
Au revoir,
Chidinma