A return to traditions

Yesin Olachodjoulou hands red palm oil to his father Lamidi Lachodjioulou. Bowls containing white powder and cornmeal are already placed on the ground in front of him. The 16-year-old then picks a scrawny chicken up by its legs. Father and son sit on a mat in semi-darkness. It is night in Adjarra, a village north of Benin's capital Porto-Novo. Crickets chirp. Large, black wooden figures stare at the men from across the room. Some have feathers and cowrie shells stuck all over, others are smeared with a reddish-yellow oil. Bottles of homemade alcohol are lined up in front of them. Lachodjioulou is a Voodoo priest and this is his shrine.

The statues symbolise various deities of the Voodoo religion, which is more widespread in Benin than in any other country. Voodoo means spirit or deity in the Fon language, spoken mainly along the coast. There are more than 300 such deities. Many have specific tasks, similar to the saints in the Catholic Church. Sakpata, the god of smallpox, protects against illness, while women who are unable to conceive pray to the water goddess Mami Wata for help. Voodoo is a practical religion. Believers expect prompt and pragmatic solutions to specific requests.

Nevertheless, this ancient knowledge is increasingly sinking into oblivion. Unlike Christianity and Islam, there are hardly any books. Interpretations can differ from one village to the next. Moreover, only persons who have been initiated, meaning those who have gained knowledge about the religion over a long period of time, experienced its rituals and participated in ceremonies, can gain a true understanding of Voodoo. But this is precisely what cannot be discussed with the uninitiated.

Yesin observes his father closely. The Fa oracle, who is consulted on all important issues, has decided that he will be his father's successor. Yesin is proud about this but still hasn't told his friends. "They will get scared and avoid me," he fears. Voodoo practitioners are at pains to clarify that Voodoo must not be used to harm anyone, but many people don't believe that. They continue to believe that illnesses and accidents are attributable not to technical or human error but to supernatural events and a failure to heed rules and instructions.

Yesin's mother was not happy about his being chosen to become a Voodoo priest. Part of the family follows Islam, including his grandmother, with whom he has stayed since he was a child. But nobody dared to oppose the Fa oracle, so his father had the final say.

He concentrates on mixing the ingredients into a paste, then makes small lumps that he places on a mat. He adds some feathers, rolls up the mat, wraps it in a strip of cloth and ties the chicken to it. The priest touches the roll to his forehead and lips. Everyone else must do the same. The sacrificial offering is ready and must be placed at a crossroads a few kilometres away at 2am. The package is a gift to various deities and is meant to propitiate them.

Only one person tries to turn away: 20-year-old Chéfikou Olachodjioulou. He is Lachodjioulou's older son and wants to have nothing to do with his father's archaic religion. Reluctantly, he passes the objects and ingredients to his father. "I am a Muslim. For me only the healing powers are of interest," he says tersely. Voodoo is also associated with the knowledge of medicinal plants, from which juice, for example, can be extracted to treat malaria, headaches and skin diseases.

The number of official Voodoo practitioners has been declining over the years as the popularity mainly of Free and Pentecostal churches has grown. For a long time, Voodoo was regarded as backward and archaic. Young people graduating from school and university did not want to be associated with a religion where goats were sacrificed and – as wrongly portrayed in Hollywood films – people were apparently harmed by sticking pins into dolls.

Benin has a population of over 13 million people. It ranks 166 out of 199 countries on the Human Development Index (HDI). The national poverty rate stands at almost 40%. Benin's population is growing at 3% annually – one of the highest growth rates in the world. Earlier this year, the government headed by Patrice Talon, who has been in power since 2016, increased the minimum wage by 30% to currently CFA 52,000 (CHF 79.5). A litre of petrol in Benin however already costs CHF 1. Benin has so far been considered politically stable.

President Talon and his government have made it a priority to give Voodoo an image makeover. On the beachfront at Ouidah, located 40km from the commercial capital Cotonou, visitor stands are chock-a-block with people. Apart from politicians, business leaders and diplomats, the audience includes hundreds of tourists who have come to watch the spectacle. It is 10 January, and after an enforced break of two years because of the COVID-19 pandemic, the festival is being celebrated on a grander scale than ever. In 1997, the National Assembly declared Voodoo Day an official holiday for indigenous religions, giving Voodoo the same recognition as Christianity and Islam. Jean-Michel Abimbola, minister for tourism and culture, proclaimed that Benin would become a Mecca for Voodoo practitioners and people intrigued by it.

The audience also includes locals from Benin who have never been exposed to Voodoo. Even as groups in magnificent costumes from the entire country participate in the mega event, representing various deities, for some it is a first encounter. Among them is Christin Kémy Babayegbe, who wanted to see what the religion of her ancestors is all about. "I like it."

Many people are afraid of the religion now, says Georgette Singbe. She is cultural manager at Villa Karo in Grand Popo, situated close to the border with Togo. Singbe recently created a permanent exhibition on Mami Wata. Although the statues made of wood, clay and stone were deconsecrated and no longer have any religious function, Christians would sometimes not dare to visit the exhibition. This fear, she feels, is also leading to knowledge about one's history and traditions being lost. "We tend to readily believe what came from outside and have lost ourselves in the process. As Africans we should be familiar with our roots, our culture." Bringing Voodoo into the public sphere has helped.

The Woman King – a film about the female army in the former kingdom of Dahomey – and the return of looted art by France have also rekindled interest within Benin in the country's history. This has coincided with a debate about the country's colonial past. There is growing criticism of the former colonial power, unequal trade relations as well as the difficulty in obtaining a visa for European countries.

In Adjarra, Chéfikou dreams of America. He discontinued his studies in building facilities management and would jump at the first opportunity to dump old beliefs and try his luck in the US. He doesn't know yet what he wants to do there but he sees no future in a village and being steeped in ancient traditions.

His brother is four years younger, but his eyes light up when he thinks of his future as a Voodoo priest. Once he graduates from school he wants to study and later set up schools all over West Africa. What will be taught in these schools? "I want to train Fa priests, people who can interpret the Fa oracle," he says confidently. This would give the ancient religion a new lease of life.

* Katrin Gänsler has been living in West Africa since 2010 and works as a correspondent, reporter and author for German-language media.