Les petits histoires

Ok, so now its for sure. This litle adventure of mine is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done. Without comparison. That just hit me today, a normal but long day with hardly and English spoken, tons of work and miscommunication, and day - of my stomach feeling as tight as a snare drum while voraciously melting any intruding content into liquid. And this is the easy part, before I get shipped out of the "capital city" (yes, it is the capital even though there are about 5 paved roads, no buildings over 3 stories, and some planning savant drew out a map but labeled nothing. This could also be due to the fact that nothing is labeled.)
Yes, 5 more weeks before I'm off to the village, sans electricity, running water, almost no French, and surely no English. If I survive this, it will be difficult to ind anything more challenging that isn't suicide.
On the bright side of that morose introduction, is the vivacity of this place! So much alive here, you can't look any direction or distance without something moving. I asked my papa today (who happens to be born the same year as my real father) about the ubiquitous orange and blue lizards that I see around the 'yard'. Since certain Beninoise are known to be adventerous eaters, I asked him if they ever ate the reptile. "No", he told me, " that's what the Chinese eat." I politely nodded my head and we moved onto another incredibly pertinent interrogation about why you can't touch the Voodun spirits that dance around the villages during ceremonies. "If you touch him, you will dissapear", said my 30yr old brother. "Of course," I said, "but what about the people under the costumes?" "What?" responded the Bro. "What happens to them?" "There is nobody under the costumes, just the spirit," declared my brother. It was as if a 30yr old man in the states was absolutley positive that Fat Papa Noel would come gliding down the chimney full of gifts as he did every other year. "Oh yea, I forgot. Well it sounds great to dissapear. I wonder where you go?" I casually said looking to break the confusion with a little humour. Neither my brother nor the other 6 people listening could find anything plesant or amusing form my ords. Once again we dropped it after my typical unishment of 2 minutes of absolute mind burning silence.
I am amused though by those charming reptiles. They just stand there and do countless push-ups. Its as if they're the only ones around here that are so caught up with their chores that they have to create additional physical excercise to stay fit. Its probably a mating maneuver, but its much more amusing to think of it the other way.

While Im on the animal discussion, I will also address the goat situation. As some of you know, I have fancied the idea of of having a goat as a pet for several months, and after hearing how many volunteers had pets here (against PC policy, so Ill correct myself and say they didnt) I thought my chances were promising. But finally after seeing how filthy these nappy trash eaters are, and after having many offsetting dreams with the horrific noise of a kid goat moaning (which commonly isnt a dream), I am certain that the desire has been successfully abolished. No pets for me.

The fashion! Last week, we had a fashion show where stagieres (we're not volunteers until we pass stage) put on local outfits and pranced around the red dirt schoolyard. I was happy to sport a sea blue Afo-Kala which was typical Muslim attire. At home my family has spoiled me with 3 boombas. Thats a pair of pants and a very large shirt that runs down to the knees, and sleeves that stop 3 inches from the wrists, all made from the same "tissue" or fabric. It takes a few days to get used to something that would be entirely the wrong size in the states, to fitting wonderfully according to Benin standards. I do feel great in them, very culturally attentive if you will, not to mention its amazing to get new clothes after you have been wearing the same pants for 6 days since the cultural dress code does not permit men to wear shorts of any kind.

Just for Men, Beninoise! Today during lunch, I went around back to pick up my drying underwear (big no-no to let these little garments hang anywhere where someone can see) and I run into Papa, near the latrine with a mirror and a rag in his hands.
"What's going on Papa?"
"The little kids said I was looking old." It was halfway through this sentance that I realized that Papa was covering all of his grey hairs and moving his hairline down an inch or so, with nothing but a rag, mirror, and a hunk of black shoe polish.
"You look like you're not a day over 30!" I boasted.
"Eeeeeh! Thank you! Momma likes it too!"
Who needs hair when you've got good ol trustworthy boot finish?

The stories are compiling quickly, but that's all I can elaborate on now. All is going well, the 2yrs are seeming longer than they ever have before, but everything does when you look at it too long. I am staying continually amazed at my surroundings and differences in life here... and equally amazed at similarities I didn't expect to be here. Nonetheless, my conception of poverty and developing countries is changing and evolving quick. The closest thing I have to home besides Akon and Coca-cola is a little Mexican soap opera called Luz Clarita that plays dubbed in French every Sat, Sun, Mon. I don't know what it is, but when that show comes on, the whole family gets sucked in. My favorite part is that they showcase the weight challenged helper stuffing her face with grotesque proportions in every scene as everyone else lightly chuckles as if a dog is trying to catch his tail. Gotta love the politically correct international soaps.

Next week we take our first trip to a village in groups of 3 to do a technical visit at a volunteers post from Wed to Sun. Can't wait to write about that! I will leave with an excellent quote sent to me by my sweet Ela, miss you boo. "He who has a way to live can bear almost any how." Nietzsche