Benin > New Year's Eve among the Beninese

Unnoticed, I had kept an eye on the fire during the night. From my tent, I could occasionally see the orange glow flare up, and I could hear the wood crackling. The next morning, I realize we were lucky. Several travel companions’ tents had been in the path of the smoke. The fire had reached the edge of the football field, about a hundred meters from the tents. The villagers laugh at our concerns and don’t understand why we were so worried—this happens every year. We start the day with a walk from Nyamdé along the main dirt road into the Tamberma Valley. Along the way, we encounter several people heading to the market in Kandé. Although the scenery isn’t very varied, it’s pleasant just to walk. A few kilometers later, the bus picks us up after more than two hours of walking. We continue toward a genuine Tamberma village with Tata houses. Antoin, the village chief, officially welcomes us, and his son Josef leads us through the village.

Benin - The Tata are castle homes of the Tamberna tribe in northern Togo

Soon, we are approached by villagers trying to sell small souvenirs—women, men, and children. It seems everyone has something to offer. Josef takes us to one of the Tata houses. Through a narrow passage, we reach the ritual offering place. The area can also be used to keep livestock safe in case of an enemy attack. Climbing a small step, I enter the primitive kitchen. The woman of the house is cooking, and the scene framed by the setting sun and the smoke-filled kitchen is beautiful. She does not want to be photographed, which I respect. I climb to the roof of the Tata via a second step. Here are the sleeping quarters, grain stored in silos, and beans laid out to dry. I wonder if the roof is sturdy enough for a group of Westerners and stick closer to the edge just in case. A man shows me the grain silo, inviting me to peer inside via a carved wooden log ladder. From above, I see that the silo is divided into several compartments. I’m amazed that these houses have been built this way for around two hundred years and that they provide adequate protection against attacks. We continue walking through the village, passing the various Tata houses. It’s striking that all the Tata houses are built exactly the same—probably because everyone helps each other when a house needs a thorough renovation every ten years. Back at the bus, we drive along the dirt road toward Boukombé, the official border town. Just inside Togo, we stop for lunch. Under a small shelter, Toto hands out omelet sandwiches. The border between Togo and Benin is marked by little more than a large branch. After the passports are checked, the branch is removed, and we drive into Benin.

Benin - The Tamberna tribe dries their coffee on the roof of a Tata house

In the center of Boukombé, we stop at the customs office for a formal passport stamp. Then we continue through the valley. The tribes on this side of the border belong to the Somba people, who are related to the Tamberma in Togo. The Somba also build Tata castle houses following the Tamberma model. At Koussou-Koungou, we set up our tent camp for two nights. On this somewhat cramped site under a large mango tree, we will also celebrate New Year’s Eve. Late in the afternoon, I walk alone to the village, about five hundred meters back. In the local bar, I learn through much gesturing that the New Year’s party starts at 9:30 p.m. and goes until 6 a.m. I meet Blaise and Casmir, two local boys around eighteen. They both speak a little English, which helps the conversation.

Benin - A beer with Balise in a local bar in Koussoukoungou

I order beer for them. They study in Boukombé and are back in Koussou-Koungou for the weekend. Blaise helps his mother; his father has passed away. His face bears fine incisions characteristic of the tribe, made from a young age. In the evening, after dinner, there is a folklore evening at the tents. The event is shared with a French group who have already had quite a bit to drink. They behave loudly and show little respect for the dance group. When they start moving through the dancers, we leave in irritation. At the tents, the Harmattan—a strong Sahara wind—makes it unpleasant to sit outside, with sand blowing through the air. At ten o’clock, we toast the new year early with champagne. Most travel companions head to their tents. A small group of us walks in the dark to the village party. At the entrance, we pay 100 CFA (16 cents). In the courtyard, music blares from large speakers. I estimate about sixty people dancing to house-like music. The beer has run out; only cola is available, which I’m not in the mood for. We step onto the dance floor and join in. Casmir and Blaise soon come to dance with us. Around midnight, there’s no big countdown. The music stops, and everyone wishes each other “Bonne année.” It is 2011. The first song is “Bonne année, Bonne année” by Lokassa, a catchy, rhythmic tune I’ve heard several times over the past few days. Back at the tents, we open the last bottle of champagne and toast the new year together. “Happy New Year!”