The News from Lac Ahémé

Well, it’s been a quiet week at Lac Ahémé, my work site and home out there on the edge of the tropics. The word tranquility comes to mind, even if it sounds more like a molecular quality of a noble gas than the consequence of a kind and equally noble lake breeze. The wind has picked up a bit over the last few weeks, making for warm, splendid evenings on sandy and grassy shores lapped by cool, brackish water. You may think the more consistent wind would portend more turbulent air, and you may very well be correct. The reality is, however, that our dear word tranquility still reigns here at Lac Ahémé.

Oh, it sure is peaceful. And that would be mighty fine were it not to apply to precipitation. As a result, it appears the people of Lac Ahémé are the only un-tranquil part of the landscape. (That is, if we put aside the roars and revelries of children playing in the streets, but there is nothing new under the sun.) You see, June should see rain just about every day, at least for about the time it takes for Mama Michel to whip up some pâte rouge. But the rains are a bit weak, and so is the current crop of corn – whose centrality in the Ahémé diet grants new meaning to the word staple. Folks can’t help but notice, however, that the climate has changed over the past couple generations with rains getting weaker. Nonetheless, corn is hardy and sturdy and all other kinds of toughness, just like the good people of Lac Ahémé, so most still remain optimistic. They keep working in the fields, tending to their gardens, and fishing on the placid lake. 

The same nervousness/sturdiness is shown by these fisherman, too, those intrepid canoers who daily tend to large traps in the middle of the lake called acadja. The ingenuity begins with a circle of branches sticking out of the water like crowns. Within this circle the fisherman inculcates an artificial fish habitat using a unique type of branch from the lakeshore. After much careful attention and monumental patience, fish populate the tree limbs only to succumb to the Fates and find themselves hopelessly trapped by the fisherman’s net. It’s a work of art as most fishermen will gladly point out. The only sight more beautiful is the daily fresh fish available in village. It doesn’t even have to be market day.

Monument to local fisherman, just uphill from the market

The rains still bring a kind of joy, even in pits and patters. There is a women’s group here called Gbédjromédé, which loosely translates to “You Find Our Work Pleasing?” Well, the women so pleased themselves with their gardening work that they’ve up and left it to go farm. Either that, or they were tired of waiting for you to answer the question. In any case, women’s groups can be the lifeblood of a village. They garden, farm, build, fabricate, sell, trade, save, loan, and chit-chat like it’s no one’s business, even in small villages where everything is everyone’s business. A good example is another group called Mahu la wƐ, which loosely translates to “God Will Do It.” Its members spent little time dwelling on the meaning of their name. This dry season they worked in three gardens, helped build a water tower, and saved a man’s life when he fell down a well. Yes, sir. These women’s groups can literally save lives. Time hasn’t forgotten this little village (cellphones are just as common as mudbrick and thatch houses), and groups like these ensure it’ll only improve with the decades.

The group leaders came together to improve village-wide coordination.
A very thrilling affair.

The dry season isn’t the only thing ending slowly. Schoolchildren grow restless with each passing day at the lengthened schoolyear. Usually they’d have already gone home to throw their graded exams in the dusty corner weeks ago, but a winter teachers’ strike delayed the semester. You see, many teachers haven’t been paid in months. For some it’s been years since they received a month’s salary. For three months the full-time teachers and the Président de la République sat face to face waiting for someone to blink. Not a wet eye in the house, the teachers eventually capitulated, and now the kids suffer through enriching lessons on geography, math, and French grammar. 

Not that they weren’t learning beforehand, though, for some teachers defied the strike. They lent their voices to both the struggle and teaching at least a few lessons a week. Some classes face qualifying exams that will determine whether a given student can continue schooling, so some teachers thought it a mighty disservice if these specific students weren’t taught regardless of a strike. The villagers of Lac Ahémé understood the conundrum and lent their support to strikers and teachers alike in terms of food offerings and hearty affirmations. The kids aren’t quite as rosy-eyed about more class time, but they’ll soon have their summer vacation and its days of adventure, games, and delight. They just have to take a few scary exams first.

Well, that’s the news from Lac Ahémé, where all the women are strong, all the men are hardworking, and all the children are above average.