Joe Oyéamoussou
[FRENCH]
"J'avais laisser l'école en 1977 et j'ai été au Nigeria. Là bas, j'avais appris à faire le mécanisme. Après tout, ça n'a pas marché et j'ai fui chez mes frères. J'étais resté là bas entre-temps jusqu'a 1982. J'ai trouvé d'argent, j'ai payé la moto, et je suis rentré au village. A mon retour de Nigeria maintenant, ma tante a payé un nouvel moulin et j'ai commencé d'écraser. J'ai fait quelques chose de trois ans comme ça au village. Après j'ai trouvé d'argent, j'ai fait le champ et j'ai commencé le petit commerce. Je paye la moto au Nigeria et je les amène au village et je les revends. J'ai fait ça pendant deux années plein. Après ça, j'ai fait mes petites activités et j'ai commencé par suivre mes frères pour aller au champ pour scier le bois. Après j'étais à Parakou pour trois, quatre ans comme ça. Après ça, c'était le retour au village et il n'y a plus le bois. Le bois est fini. Je ne veux pas voler. Donc c'est pourquoi je suis devenu zem. J'ai le champ mais je ne peux pas cultiver le champ pour trouver d'argent. Et je n'ai pas de l'argent pour engager des mains d'œuvres. Comme j'ai la moto, je suis obligé de faire zem pour trouver à manger, pour trouver à me défendre avec ma petite famille. Ça fait trois ans de faire de travail de zem."
[ENGLISH]
"I left school in 1977 for Nigeria. There, I learned how to be a mechanic. After a while, that was no longer working out so I left to stay with my brothers. I stayed with them until around 1982. I later got the money to buy a moto and return to village. When I got back from Nigeria, my aunt purchased a mill and I began working at the mill, grinding [condiments]. I worked in that trade for about three years. I later attained the money to begin working in the fields and I started a little business. I also began buying motorbikes in Nigeria, brought them to village and resold them. That was my work for two full years. Afterwards, I did small jobs and went to the fields to cut down trees. I later left for the city of Parakou for three or four years and came back to village to find that there were no more trees. The wood was gone. I didn't want to start stealing. It's for that reason that I became a zemidjan (zem). I have fields but I can't grow enough in the fields to find a sufficient amount of money. And I don't have enough money to pay for manual labor. Since I have a motorbike, I was compelled to become a zem to have money for food, to support my small family. I have been working as a zem for three years now."
You know that scene in Princess Diaries when Mia is riding in the limo and the driver introduces himself, saying “You can call me ‘Joe’,” and Mia laughingly suggests “Joey?”, and he chuckles briefly followed by a straight-faced, “No. Joe.”?
That scene is what I think of nearly every time I call up my trusty zemidjan, Joseph Oyéamoussou, or Joe.
Anytime I need to get to the village 8km away from mine, he gives me a ride for 500CFA and often waits, driving others in town, until I finish running errands to take me back. Ever since the main water pipe was cut during construction in my village months ago, he's helped me fetch water by taking the empty jugs I purchased and getting water for me on his handy motorbike. I thank him generously and hand him a couple CFA coins. As we bounce to different destinations on his motorbike and I greet the neighbors we pass by in local language, he chuckles and happily comments on my language progress.
The back of Joe’s uniform has the words Au Nom de Père, or In the Name of the Father. As he zooms past gas stands, he honks his horn, and vendors wave and shout “Au Nom de Pèreeee!” as we speed off. He volunteers as an usher at the Catholic Church and takes his job seriously, with pride. He has a lot of faith.
His story fascinated me because I’m certain the act of job hopping characterizes a lot of people in my community. As seasons change and emergencies arise and family dynamics shift, money-making means must be adjusted accordingly. Nation-state boundaries present opportunities. Consequences of ways to make a quick buck are often pushed aside or not acknowledged. An example would be the trees that Joe cut down as part of the lumber trade that led to a lot of deforestation in Manigri. Regardless, people like Joe need to provide for their families and themselves. Other zem drivers tease him about how he was able to snag me, the American, as his client. After all, our relationship results in convenience for me, money for him, and a friend to greet. Even what I give him isn’t fixed because sometimes I don’t travel to other villages or need water every week. Eventually I will leave, seasons will change, emergencies will arise, family dynamics will shift, and money will have to be managed accordingly. What will remain consistent, I feel, is Joe’s good-natured, persistent attitude toward making ends meet and all of this au nom de père as his faith dictates.
