On the morning of Saturday, July 5, 2021, I set out on a journey to the neighboring country, Benin Republic. Being my second visit to West African, I suppose you can no longer refer to me as a Jolly Jolly Just Come (JJC) – a slang used by Lagosians for first-timers in the state. JJC or not, I anticipated my journey with great expectations as my mind played back in quick succession, the memories of my late December 2020 visit. Captured in a kaleidoscope of unforgettable moments, my return visit to the former Dahomey Republic was reminiscent of her good people, slow-paced lifestyle, and wild fun.Â
As I made the last routine check of all that is needed for the short expedition, there was only one thing on my mind – Benin and its endless possibilities. During my last visit to the former Dahomey Republic, I was welcomed with the potpourri of the Yuletide fanfare and the overwhelming hospitability of Cadjehoun, a suburb of the popular Cotonou city in the Benin Republic. Coupled with the cheery demeanour of its occupants, the street in a coalesce of activities; the central market bustling with traders jostling for December bounty sales, and vast holiday-makers excited to buy enough Christmas stuffs. As I looked at the fleeting pace of things, I reveled in the short moments.
Sulked in the grandee of a Jolly Jolly Just Come (JJC), I was enraptured by the fine weather, music, the people, the rich cultures, the dressing, and of course – the beautiful women of Benin. Benin looked different from the perception I once bore in my mind – as a defenseless habitation, peopled by primordial black people, etc. It made more sense to see how similar Tokpa looked like Lagos – our own Lasgidi except for some differences. The most evident is that Okada (as we call it in Lagos) is referred to as Keke Na. The Keke Na riders (that constitutes a larger percentage of public transport) within the metropolis are usually donned in a yellow jacket with French inscriptions on its back.
Unlike December, my short expedition this time was motivated by something different – to see Benin beyond a border country. The need to write the Benin Republic way, in turn, necessitated my move to visit this small African country this one time. Wearing my thinking cap, emboldened by the journalistic flair for the news story wherever it happens, I bade Lagos farewell. I anticipated the raucous traffic situation along the Lagos-Abeokuta expressway, there was only one option available at my travel time which is humping a commercial motorcycle if I must reach my destination in record time. Expectedly, vehicular movement along the Iyana-Ipaja Enroute Sango-Otta corridor was a standstill, save for the motorcyclist who maneuvered their way – a risky and costly venture – if you may ask.Â
Under 45 minutes of my travel from my residence in Lagos, I was in Ogun State – the gateway state. Perhaps, there was no better sobriquet for the only South-Western State that bordered most neighboring countries. Ogun State founded in the year 1976 created more than just a thorough way for land road users to the West Coast, the state hosted the largest religious camp gathering in the whole of Africa. Aside from its vast natural resources, the state has produced many great leaders of the country (including the incumbent Vice President Yemi Osibajo). Like many before me, the multi-breasted Mother Ogun opened the gates – and wished me a safe trip, as I crossed her domains.
Fast forward, I arrived in the Ajegunle area of Idi-Iroko – relieved that I was half the journey to the Benin Republic. Soon, I found a commercial biker named Mr. Jermaine who made my transit across Igolo – the border town between Nigeria and Benin – a smooth ride. despite dropping some ‘’pay pass’’ at designated points for men that he (Mr. Jermaine) recognized as ‘’Officers of the Nigerian Immigration Service’’. When asked why he must pay a sum of #100 at each point, he innocently responded, ‘’They are Government’’. Further interaction with Jermaine showed that he had lived a good part of his life in Benin and the border town of Igolo. He insisted that he was a Nigerian – a Yoruba man from Oyo. According to him, his ancestors were descendants of the old Oyo empire who now form a part of the Beninese called the Anago people. In our 15-minutes interaction, I found in this nobleman, a kindred spirit.
The Igolo-bus stop which is technically the supposed ‘’Welcome to Benin’’ place is a marketplace for all kinds of trade – Bureau De Change merchants, traders in food and drinks as well sundry trading activities. Before long, I was seated in a grey-colored Peugeot 504 car and I took in the sight of the journey all the way. The sparing population and properly tarred roads leading to Porto Novo shone a beacon of a life different from what I had known all my life.
One thing is common to the Beninoise, they are business people. On both sides of the road, enterprises such as Tecno, MTN, Hotels, Photocopy centres, Oppotunite Coutre, the C&S Church, Padme, POS Points, Photo Studios hinted at a moderate taste of city life. Lost in the imagination of the ancient town, I was jerked to reality when confronted by a roadside itinerant trader who was persuading me to buy from her wares. By this time, we were at a traffic stop.
Porto Novo is an ancient Portuguese settlement that still wears relics of the Portuguese architectural landscape. Driving through the close-knitted Porto Novo, I learned about new places such as Kokoye, Ajara Dokoji, Tofa Prime, PK 10, PK 11, PK 6, the North American University at Houdegbe, and the tollgate at Epega, Pepete, Akpakpa. The eerie ambience provided a solitary compensation for hours-long drive and humping fits.
At Akpakpa, the winding road network ensured that there was no traffic jam. Bordered on both sides were pockets of dwarfed buildings. The towering edifice of Bank of Africa at Hajoue, Pharmacie, Port Royal; Atlantic SS Group, Folake Stores, Getzner. Sounds of Nigerian songs blazing from a nearby speaker reached my heart to my far-away home country, Nigeria.
For a long time in its history, Benin Republic had enjoyed an average standard of living with a livable cost of living. A source told me that since the presidency of President Patrice Talon, the case has no longer remained the same. Fraught with high taxation, endangered by food insecurity, and uncurtailed unemployment, the once-beloved Benin is caught at the jugular by the evils of unstable government policies which has resulted in galloping inflationary trends.
In the heart of the country, most firms have shut down operations owing to unfavourable production costs and sustained losses recorded over time. According to Mr. Steven, a Beninese of Fon extraction said, ‘More disturbing is the fact that President Patrice Talon has strained relationship with other countries which is affecting our foreign outlook’’.
It was learnt that the Presidential elections held in the country were fraught with innumerable electoral malpractice and widespread violence in some parts of the country. A certain elderly man named Jones said, ‘’the country has never had it this bad. At least, I recall with fondness the presidency of President Mathew Kerekou and other great leaders of our dear country. A lot of people have lost their jobs and our youths are in danger of engaging in social vices as an alternative means of survival. There is a high cost of goods in the market’’.
As I return to Nigeria, a lot of question is on my mind that remains unanswered. Could the hands of the time change for the better?
