Sometimes certain memories come back to us at a totally unexpected time. We then wonder why this thought crossed our mind at that exact moment. Then we look around a little more carefully, and realize that it is anything but a coincidence.

This story took place on Lake Nokoué, which borders a lot of cities in Benin, including Cotonou. My mother and I were only in Benin for one day and decided to visit Ganvié, a village on stilts located north of the lake.

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As soon as we arrived at the pier we met Frédixe, a history student who was going to be our guide for the day. There was also the driver of the canoe, whose name I unfortunately can’t remember.

On our way to Ganvié, Frédixe explained many things to us. He told us that the Lake Nokoué was a gateway for smuggled goods destined to Nigeria and also explained to us the cast nest fishing technique, which consists of throwing a huge net that unfolds in the air in a spectacular way before getting in the water.

We then stopped by a souvenir shop standing on stilts. This was the first time I saw something like this. All the tourists pirogues were passing through this house where they sold t-shirts, carved wood canes or pearl necklaces.

I thought I would leave this place without buying anything, but when I came out of the shop I saw two young boys standing there. When I asked them their name, one of them told me his name was Matthieu, like me. I asked if I could take a picture of them, and they agreed.

Once I was done, I was about to leave when Matthieu reached out to me. I immediately understood that he wanted a compensation for his role as a model. That’s how I left the store with a souvenir photo.

We then continued to cruise around Ganvié on our little boat, discovering the way of a society on stilts works. Everything from a regular village was there : smaller and larger houses, a church, a maternity, restaurants… The difference was just that anything that could usually be done by foot or by car was done by canoe. Engines noises left room for the lapping of the paddles in the water, and horns were replaced by inhabitants calling each others out across the village.

At some point, Frédixe pointed a house with his finger : « There is my mother. ». An old woman was at her front door, waving at us with a big smile. We greeted her back and continued our cruise. Shortly after that, we headed on a canal that that was a little narrower than the others. Frédixe told us that this was called the lover’s canal, and that this was a meeting point for young girls and young boys back in the days.

I remember thinking back to the asphalt square I used to ride to with my scooter when I was younger, to play football and share children stories. And I realized that probably at the same time, thousands of miles away, other children were in the middle of this canal. Not on a scooter but on a pirogue, playing other games and sharing other children’s stories. Frédixe was probably one of them.