Living in West Africa, there are a couple of things that are initially hard to get used to, but afterwards it is hard to imagine your life without it. African cuisine is exactly one of those things. There is a reason you don’t see African restaurants next to Chinese, Indian or Mexican restaurants. At first, African cuisine seems very dull and flavorless with not to much to it. The favorite dish is Pate (pot) which combines corn flour and hot water to form a flavorless gelatin like mound that is served with different types of sauces. Next to that is Akasa, which is fermented Pate with a bitter taste, here in the north of Benin and throughout West Africa the favorite dish is igyam pille or pounded yams, something like the texture and look of mashed potatoes, that is combined with sauces in order to give it a flavor. For snacks you can find fried greasy balls of dough just about in any corner. For meats the favorite is mouton, a sheep like animal that can be seen roaming just about anywhere scavenging for scraps, then there is pintard or guinea fowl, a weird looking relative of chickens that I have never seen till I was in Benin. Have I won you over yet? Probably not, but give it time.
At first these things are hard to get used to, but you start to develop a taste for these things. For example, I now find pintard meat (guinea fowl) be better than chicken meat, given the option between the two, I would take the pintard meat over the chicken. The flavorless igyam pille has now become my favorite dish; there are weeks that all I want to eat is igyam pille morning and afternoon. It is all about the sauce, the sauces here are AMAZING; using simple ingredients like tomatoes, onions, piment (peppers), local spices and greens, women prepare the ingredients in a large pot and they slowly simmer the sauces in charcoal fire for hours, then they add cooked meat or cheese. The cheese here deserves a whole article to itself; the cheese is made by semi-nomadic cow herders that travel throughout West Africa. Their faces are heavy with scars or tattoos, they have similar thin, long facial features, they are tall and skinny, and they don’t really socialize with anybody outside their group, to say the least they are very mysterious. But they make the best damn cheese I ever had anywhere in the world. Known as wagasi, these strange red circular mounds that can be found on the side of the road infested with flies or on top of a woman’s head who walks around town selling cheese. There are so many ways to prepare the cheese and after placing it in a simmering sauce for an hour it is to lick your fingers for, literally. For a quick fix, rice and beans are staple foods that can be found just about in every corner, but taste and the way they are prepare greatly varies and of course every plate comes with a fiery red sauce. Fruit is seasonal, so when it is mango season the streets are littered with people selling huge, sweet, delicious mangoes, there are also papayas, oranges, melons and pineapples.

When I first got to Africa I thought I was going to loose weight being out in sun, riding my bike throughout town. Yea right, I have actually gained weight, do you know what some people started calling me? Le gros, the fat one.

The average American, who has never left the States or visited an underdeveloped country would be extremely culture shocked if they were suddenly transplanted in a village in Africa. The sight of crumbling mud homes, naked running babies playing alongside farm animals, lack of modern resources, the poverty and the struggle that people face on a daily is almost imaginable and like nothing that exist in the States. The same goes for the average African who has never been to a developed country. If we were to take an African villager and suddenly transplant him in New York City, Los Angeles or even in the suburbs of Main Town USA, he too would face extreme culture shock, but by how rich and abundant things are in the States. He would be amazed to see that everybody has a car; the sheer size of homes, all the roads are paved, how everybody dresses in nice new clothing, the sight of buildings, stores, the noise of downtown traffic. Without a doubt his senses would be on overload.

After being in Africa over a year, I recently went home for my little sister’s quinceañera (Sweet 15 party). Anybody who is familiar with the Latin American culture knows that this is a big deal in a young girl’s life. In my family there are four boys and one girl; her name is Angelica, she is also the youngest, and so my family pulled all the stops to make her birthday party a huge event. Friends and family were coming from all over the States, Mexico and they wanted me to be present. So, we found some decent priced tickets and I was soon off to my adopted country (I was born in Mexico). After a long and tedious trip from Cotonou to Paris and then Dulles Virginia, I was back home. My younger brother Miguel and Andrea were waiting to welcome me at the airport. Immediately the vast contrasts between the two countries were seen. Once on the highway, I was amazed by how big and modern everything seemed to me, anybody who is familiar with D.C. area knows how fast building and houses go up. Everything seemed so big, new, huge and overwhelming, just about everybody was driving around in a new Mercedes, BMW or some nice expensive car; compared to small beat-up motor bikes and 25 year old rackety Peugeot cars that you will be surprised to see still running through the deplorable dirt roads. The highway was wide and fully paved with signs and lights indicating exits and towns, instead of a narrow dirt road with so many potholes that in the rainy season is incredibly bumpy to navigate. Office buildings and houses were everywhere; houses seemed extravagantly huge and modern for just one family with 2.5 kids and a dog to live in. I was so used to seeing small deteriorating houses made out of red mud, straw and faded-out rusty tin roofs that house various couples and uncountable number of naked or semi-naked kids that would be running around. People were dressed in nice cloths that cost more what the average Beninese would earn in three months. Polo, Banana Republic etc. replaced old raggedy worn-out clothing that has been donated, or semi dressed men and women. It was hard to imagine that these two completely distinct countries could exist in this world, reverse culture shock.

I thought I was going to be more conscious and considerate about what I have and how I use it …NOPE… not at all, that only lasted for about a day or two, after that I was back to my old habits it was as I never left. I started spending what I had saved up by over indulging in whatever I wanted. Shopping for new expensive cloths, I ate whatever I wanted, used the car just to go down the street. I soon step of my soap box and acted as if I never left, although I was more grateful for what I had.


My mom wanted to surprise my sister; we had told Angelica that I was not going to her birthday party because the tickets were too expensive. The day before she spent the night at my cousins house, when I got inside a big box and Angelica was told it was a present, when she opened it up there I was inside of the box. There is nothing like family, I was really glad to see my mom, dad, my brothers; Luis and Miguel and of course my little sister Angelica, oh yea the dog too Koky. The days leading to the party were hectic and busy preparing and getting ready, finally the day arrived the party was great time, we saw friends and family we had not seen since years ago, there was so much food and dancing. Everybody had a good time. The next weekend my brothers, cousins and I went to New York City to Rock the Bells concert, we saw Wu Tang Rage Against the Machine, Cypress Hill and many more big names, we spent a couple of day in Brooklyn with a friend. After about three weeks of being home I started missing Benin, I was happy to be home but I missed my town of Natitingou, I missed those dirt roads and all those things I was complaining, I missed seeing the raggedy mud houses with the kids outside, I missed working with people. I was home sick for Africa.