Bonjour tout le monde, this will be a quick post to rekindle the flames and let everyone know that things are going well. Time is getting shorter and shorter before we all get sent off to our lonely (and free time heavy) posts. Everything is great in stage, having trouble dealing with too little time right now, as we have been busy with a dinner last night at the town hall with the mayor, getting back from our post visits last week, dealing with final french examinations, and preparing speeches in local languages for the swear-in ceremony next week.
A few top headlines, a loose panther was trapped and killed on my block last saturday 15 after I left from lunch. My family told me it was gris-gris (witchcraft) and that the panther was in fact a person in the form of the animal, roaming the streets to sek vengance upon a wrongdoer. The neighborhood ate the beast once it had been sufficiently slain with a coup-coup (machede).
The post visit was interesting, having the taxi break down on the way up during a huge storm, getting pulled into the next city by another car and some rope. Seeing my hobbit house, with 2 rooms, together smaller than my bedroom in Los Angeles, with a ceiling of 6.5 feet, and a good supply of dead animals and insect infestations. The 'sauna' has two small holes for windows and a latrine outside around the corner next to the pigeon holes (yes, three real pigeon holes. now you'll never know if I am using metaphors).
We are off to Grand-Popo for our last excursion as a group, which will be a nice relaxing break on the beach. Looking forward to that and our shoping day next week to buy all necessary tools for surviving my 2 year camping trip up north. Alright, the rest will have to be done in writing for the time being. Hope this post finds you all well and joyful! A la prochaine...
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Un Jour Normal
''When we talk about
the worlds problems,
we're barking up the wrong tree.
The world is perfect. Its a mess.
It has always been a mess.
We are not going to change it.
Our job is to straighten out
our own lives.''
J. Cambpell
Well I suppose I should start writing about the everyday life, the mundane buzz that goes overlooked during the busy schedule of stage. As I finish week 5, I'm getting feelings of routine and comfort, and I'm seeing myself much less surprised by occurences considered foreign by American standards. The day begins at 6am, waking up either to an armageddon of the appendix, or the apocolypse of the animals outside my room. After a half-awake pilgrammage halfway around the house to the holy latrine (pun intended) I return to my room to either catch another 30 min of rest, or begin reading/homework. At 6:45 I really get up and do a quick yoga set and head into the house for tea and baguette with Papa. My room is about 8'x30', quite spacious, formerly a storage room on the side of the house sharing a wall with mama's bedroom, but with its own entrance. The tea is chickory with condensed milk and citronella freshly clipped from the, for lack of a better word, garden.
At 7:45 I rush back to my room, brush my teeth, and head out with my bike to Cocotiers, the school for Health and Environment sectors. We start each day with a heavy dose of French language class, followed with a few hours of technical training. So far, I have learned how to present the 3 food groups of Benin, how to teach a nutritous diet to those who don't speak French, breast feeding, gardening, composting, family planning, and malaria treatement. Tomorrow we will be giving our 3rd presentation au village, this time on contraception. The presentations we give are called sensibilizations, fitting name for how easy they should be, and how difficult they are to say or communicate to a group that only speaks a local language.
We get a repos (break) from 12:30-3:00 where I get fuled up back home with some pate, sauce, and poisson, and get to take a sieste as well. From 3-7 its back at it with cross culture and technical seminars. If there is time after class before the sun goes down (there are very few street lights) most of us frequent the buvette for some beers bin frappé to discuss the difficulties of the day. After that, its a bike ride home through the difficult sandy streets for dinner.
Again, its sauce, a mixture of cooked tomatoes and onions, fish, and either pate noir and crin crin (a snot consistent condiment made from cooked plants) cous cous, or rice. And of course, dessert. Either a delicious pineapple or an orange.
I must interrupt my day to ask why the oranges are treated the way they are. Very common here, oranges are sold almost everywhere you look in Porto-Novo. But, they have been altered, or 'prepared' if you will. Before an orange is ready for the consumer, someone must neatly carve off half of the rind so that it looks like a small white pumpkin. Then the consumer gets to attempt to peel the orange the same way as before, but since the rind is half as thick, the task becomes twice as difficult. If anyone can tell me why the act of making an orange ready to eat is made 3 times as long here, I'm all ears. Absolutley infuriating.
After getting my ass handed to me by Papa at Adji (an African game with 2 rows of 6 places containing 4 pieces each), I retire around 10pm to my room where I take a refreshingly cold bucket shower and read/write till 11 or so. And thats it! The typical day in stage from Mon-Sat.
The first few weeks here I remember everything being so foreign and different, and now its funny to look back. My stomach has normalized, the language is improving rapidly, and I am feeling much more at ease here. I hardly even hear the constant cries of Yovo from every child.
Though things are good, I am eagerly waiting to finish stage and begin my life at post. I have heard so much about the North, and it has only made me more ready to see my home, and beging working instead of training. I am also longing for some free time, since my book list is expanding rapidly! They tell us that we will have more free time than we can handle at post. The first 3 months is considered community integration time, and you are encouraged to do nothing more than spend time in the community and not leave the village. Almost any project that is started during this time fails (and same goes almost for the entire first year) due to a lack of understanding by the volunteer, and a lack of trust/need by the village. So at least 3 months of solid shooting the shit.
Its funny as we approach 40 years of PC in Benin, and not much has changed. I'm not going to blam this on PC, or any one thing for that matter, but if you signed up to lower infant mortality rates or malnutrition stats, you're in it for the wrong reasons. At least your reasons are not in order (see beginning quote). The most important thing that most volunteers get out of their time is a greater understanding of themselves, African culture, and the several great friendships they make with local people. Nonetheless, it intrigues us all deeply why countries still struggle and can't seem to get up on two feet. I am working on an answer to that, but perhaps its better explained in the book I am currently reading titled, Africa Doesn't Matter by Giles Bolton. The more I think about it, the more I think Campbell was right. You can aid all you want, and don't get me wrong, it can help, but nothing willimprove until the change within eachperson happens, and that begins by teaching everyone about the gift of critical thinking and problem solving. The desire must be inside.
the worlds problems,
we're barking up the wrong tree.
The world is perfect. Its a mess.
It has always been a mess.
We are not going to change it.
Our job is to straighten out
our own lives.''
J. Cambpell
Well I suppose I should start writing about the everyday life, the mundane buzz that goes overlooked during the busy schedule of stage. As I finish week 5, I'm getting feelings of routine and comfort, and I'm seeing myself much less surprised by occurences considered foreign by American standards. The day begins at 6am, waking up either to an armageddon of the appendix, or the apocolypse of the animals outside my room. After a half-awake pilgrammage halfway around the house to the holy latrine (pun intended) I return to my room to either catch another 30 min of rest, or begin reading/homework. At 6:45 I really get up and do a quick yoga set and head into the house for tea and baguette with Papa. My room is about 8'x30', quite spacious, formerly a storage room on the side of the house sharing a wall with mama's bedroom, but with its own entrance. The tea is chickory with condensed milk and citronella freshly clipped from the, for lack of a better word, garden.
At 7:45 I rush back to my room, brush my teeth, and head out with my bike to Cocotiers, the school for Health and Environment sectors. We start each day with a heavy dose of French language class, followed with a few hours of technical training. So far, I have learned how to present the 3 food groups of Benin, how to teach a nutritous diet to those who don't speak French, breast feeding, gardening, composting, family planning, and malaria treatement. Tomorrow we will be giving our 3rd presentation au village, this time on contraception. The presentations we give are called sensibilizations, fitting name for how easy they should be, and how difficult they are to say or communicate to a group that only speaks a local language.
We get a repos (break) from 12:30-3:00 where I get fuled up back home with some pate, sauce, and poisson, and get to take a sieste as well. From 3-7 its back at it with cross culture and technical seminars. If there is time after class before the sun goes down (there are very few street lights) most of us frequent the buvette for some beers bin frappé to discuss the difficulties of the day. After that, its a bike ride home through the difficult sandy streets for dinner.
Again, its sauce, a mixture of cooked tomatoes and onions, fish, and either pate noir and crin crin (a snot consistent condiment made from cooked plants) cous cous, or rice. And of course, dessert. Either a delicious pineapple or an orange.
I must interrupt my day to ask why the oranges are treated the way they are. Very common here, oranges are sold almost everywhere you look in Porto-Novo. But, they have been altered, or 'prepared' if you will. Before an orange is ready for the consumer, someone must neatly carve off half of the rind so that it looks like a small white pumpkin. Then the consumer gets to attempt to peel the orange the same way as before, but since the rind is half as thick, the task becomes twice as difficult. If anyone can tell me why the act of making an orange ready to eat is made 3 times as long here, I'm all ears. Absolutley infuriating.
After getting my ass handed to me by Papa at Adji (an African game with 2 rows of 6 places containing 4 pieces each), I retire around 10pm to my room where I take a refreshingly cold bucket shower and read/write till 11 or so. And thats it! The typical day in stage from Mon-Sat.
The first few weeks here I remember everything being so foreign and different, and now its funny to look back. My stomach has normalized, the language is improving rapidly, and I am feeling much more at ease here. I hardly even hear the constant cries of Yovo from every child.
Though things are good, I am eagerly waiting to finish stage and begin my life at post. I have heard so much about the North, and it has only made me more ready to see my home, and beging working instead of training. I am also longing for some free time, since my book list is expanding rapidly! They tell us that we will have more free time than we can handle at post. The first 3 months is considered community integration time, and you are encouraged to do nothing more than spend time in the community and not leave the village. Almost any project that is started during this time fails (and same goes almost for the entire first year) due to a lack of understanding by the volunteer, and a lack of trust/need by the village. So at least 3 months of solid shooting the shit.
Its funny as we approach 40 years of PC in Benin, and not much has changed. I'm not going to blam this on PC, or any one thing for that matter, but if you signed up to lower infant mortality rates or malnutrition stats, you're in it for the wrong reasons. At least your reasons are not in order (see beginning quote). The most important thing that most volunteers get out of their time is a greater understanding of themselves, African culture, and the several great friendships they make with local people. Nonetheless, it intrigues us all deeply why countries still struggle and can't seem to get up on two feet. I am working on an answer to that, but perhaps its better explained in the book I am currently reading titled, Africa Doesn't Matter by Giles Bolton. The more I think about it, the more I think Campbell was right. You can aid all you want, and don't get me wrong, it can help, but nothing willimprove until the change within eachperson happens, and that begins by teaching everyone about the gift of critical thinking and problem solving. The desire must be inside.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
No Parents!
*spell check does not work in this country. apologies for any inconvenience.
Our first trip outside of the big cities started off with 5 of us packing into an old mercedes en route North to our hosts posting city. Once we left the rec center at 7:30 am, we quickly picked up another passenger to make it a luxurious 7. Momentarily fooled by the power windows and leather interior, I was pleasently comfortable in back with my ipod. 30 minutes later when we first pulled over for engine failure I began to think again. After 4 more of these, the driver and 7th passenger began looking at the engine. When we found the two of them pulling out 12' of rope from the engine, and discarding it on the pavement. Again my confidence took another apprehensive step down.
Further down the road, we were stopped by the military next to a banana farm. The AK-47's were doing most of the talking, since the soldier's French was muttled. After inspecting our bags and seeing that we only had copies of our passports, they became agitated. According to them, not having our real passports on hand was illegal. PC had told us never to travel in country with the real passports, since it could easily be lost or stolen. They were locked up in the PC bereau anyway. After several minutes of hand motions and grunts, we were let off. Pretty comparable to the frequent stops encountered on a trip down to Baja.
Back on the road, we were all tisks and giggles about the stopver...BAM! In an instant, the hod of the car caught a blast of wind and catapulted into the windsheild blinding everyone of the road. The glass cracked as we slowed down and pulled over. Fortunately nobody was coming the other direction, but I have a feeling that bundle of rope may have been doing an extrordinary job of keeping that hood, and engine, in working order. We all caught our breath and braced for the next malfunction.
Another 5 stops and 2 hours later we arrived at a midpoint city where we dropped of two stagiers and us three zemi rode through the city to the other gare for our final destination. Zemi is Beninoise for weed wacker engine motorcyle. They smell almost as foul as the trash they drive over. Gare is French for train station. Gare is also Beninoise for an area on the side of the road where 2-3 old peugots and men hang out until enough people say they need a ride. We began our discuté with the drivers and got the price down to 800 CFA, about 2 dollars. As we piled into the small car, we were joined by 2 large marche mommas, 2 large men, 2 children, and of course, the chauffer. Once the musical chairs had fatigued the chauffer enough to lose all compassion for passengers, the 10 of us, with the help of other drivers on the outside to close the doors and give us a push start, took of for our city.
I was positioned adjacent to the chauffer one foot next to the gas pedal, one foot on the other side of the ridge, with two men to my right, and a helmet and bag on my lap up to my chin. As you could guess, the other 6 were in the back seat. Think of Jenga with people. My head was tilted and smashed up against the roof. For the next 60 minutes, my view would be the 5' of road directly in front of us, the hood of the petit peugot, and a plastic g.i. joe figure dangling in front of my face from the rear view mirror as some twisted sense of reassurance that this little soldier would be stopping the next hook from making it through the windsheild.
Not knowing where we were going exactly and not having cell phone service, we asked to be dropped off at the CPS (local med clinic) and began asking people where the Yovo was. Lucky enough, our host lived a few hundred feet away and we could finally rest after what I will learn is a very typical travel experience in Benin.
The rest of the trip was very relaxnig, and very great to be away from the host families overprotective grip. We made vegan fajitas the first night, including making the tortillas from scratch, and also made a mango cake with a dutch oven on the stove. For the Benin Independence Day Friday, we joined the village for a parade and dancing, and then were invited into a vip luncheon with the mayor. It was amazing being treated so well, but a little part of me felt guilty accepting the invite and passing lots of people who would not ever get to join the party.
The next day while on the way back from visiting our host volunteers post-mate, we were able to witness birth. One of us noticed a goat on its side making a lot of noise, and 15 minutes later we watched her give birth to a beautiful little white goat. The stories and events keep me continually amazed.
We also had lots of down time, something we are told we will have after stage, and read a lot and talked a lot. Tao Te Ching was the main topic, since our host had the book and a few others had not heard of Taoism before. It was great to apply the ideas to our experience, and also think of how they could help the people in the village. There are many conversations being made as to the nature of peace corps, ngo's, and general issues surrounding developing countries aid. Hopefully next post I can distill my opinions and post, but I do know that what ever my biases are now, they are sure to change in 2 years. I will end this one with some great quotes instead.
''Each person has a concious self and a dark side, the shadow, which represents unexpressed feelings and longings. Everything we don't accept with ourselves. When we don't acknowledge the shadow it will manifest and control/distort conciousness.'' - Jung
''The central truths to the art of living are paradoxical only on the surface: the more truly solitary we are, the more compassionate we can be; the more we let go of what we love, the more present our love becomes; the clearer our insight into what is beyond good and evil, the more we can embody the good. Until finaly, one is able to say, in all humility, 'I am the Tao, the Truth, the Life.' '' - Lao-Tzu, Tao Te Ching
Take 15 minutes today and confront your conciousness and your shadow. You will be surprised at how simple the solutions can be.
Our first trip outside of the big cities started off with 5 of us packing into an old mercedes en route North to our hosts posting city. Once we left the rec center at 7:30 am, we quickly picked up another passenger to make it a luxurious 7. Momentarily fooled by the power windows and leather interior, I was pleasently comfortable in back with my ipod. 30 minutes later when we first pulled over for engine failure I began to think again. After 4 more of these, the driver and 7th passenger began looking at the engine. When we found the two of them pulling out 12' of rope from the engine, and discarding it on the pavement. Again my confidence took another apprehensive step down.
Further down the road, we were stopped by the military next to a banana farm. The AK-47's were doing most of the talking, since the soldier's French was muttled. After inspecting our bags and seeing that we only had copies of our passports, they became agitated. According to them, not having our real passports on hand was illegal. PC had told us never to travel in country with the real passports, since it could easily be lost or stolen. They were locked up in the PC bereau anyway. After several minutes of hand motions and grunts, we were let off. Pretty comparable to the frequent stops encountered on a trip down to Baja.
Back on the road, we were all tisks and giggles about the stopver...BAM! In an instant, the hod of the car caught a blast of wind and catapulted into the windsheild blinding everyone of the road. The glass cracked as we slowed down and pulled over. Fortunately nobody was coming the other direction, but I have a feeling that bundle of rope may have been doing an extrordinary job of keeping that hood, and engine, in working order. We all caught our breath and braced for the next malfunction.
Another 5 stops and 2 hours later we arrived at a midpoint city where we dropped of two stagiers and us three zemi rode through the city to the other gare for our final destination. Zemi is Beninoise for weed wacker engine motorcyle. They smell almost as foul as the trash they drive over. Gare is French for train station. Gare is also Beninoise for an area on the side of the road where 2-3 old peugots and men hang out until enough people say they need a ride. We began our discuté with the drivers and got the price down to 800 CFA, about 2 dollars. As we piled into the small car, we were joined by 2 large marche mommas, 2 large men, 2 children, and of course, the chauffer. Once the musical chairs had fatigued the chauffer enough to lose all compassion for passengers, the 10 of us, with the help of other drivers on the outside to close the doors and give us a push start, took of for our city.
I was positioned adjacent to the chauffer one foot next to the gas pedal, one foot on the other side of the ridge, with two men to my right, and a helmet and bag on my lap up to my chin. As you could guess, the other 6 were in the back seat. Think of Jenga with people. My head was tilted and smashed up against the roof. For the next 60 minutes, my view would be the 5' of road directly in front of us, the hood of the petit peugot, and a plastic g.i. joe figure dangling in front of my face from the rear view mirror as some twisted sense of reassurance that this little soldier would be stopping the next hook from making it through the windsheild.
Not knowing where we were going exactly and not having cell phone service, we asked to be dropped off at the CPS (local med clinic) and began asking people where the Yovo was. Lucky enough, our host lived a few hundred feet away and we could finally rest after what I will learn is a very typical travel experience in Benin.
The rest of the trip was very relaxnig, and very great to be away from the host families overprotective grip. We made vegan fajitas the first night, including making the tortillas from scratch, and also made a mango cake with a dutch oven on the stove. For the Benin Independence Day Friday, we joined the village for a parade and dancing, and then were invited into a vip luncheon with the mayor. It was amazing being treated so well, but a little part of me felt guilty accepting the invite and passing lots of people who would not ever get to join the party.
The next day while on the way back from visiting our host volunteers post-mate, we were able to witness birth. One of us noticed a goat on its side making a lot of noise, and 15 minutes later we watched her give birth to a beautiful little white goat. The stories and events keep me continually amazed.
We also had lots of down time, something we are told we will have after stage, and read a lot and talked a lot. Tao Te Ching was the main topic, since our host had the book and a few others had not heard of Taoism before. It was great to apply the ideas to our experience, and also think of how they could help the people in the village. There are many conversations being made as to the nature of peace corps, ngo's, and general issues surrounding developing countries aid. Hopefully next post I can distill my opinions and post, but I do know that what ever my biases are now, they are sure to change in 2 years. I will end this one with some great quotes instead.
''Each person has a concious self and a dark side, the shadow, which represents unexpressed feelings and longings. Everything we don't accept with ourselves. When we don't acknowledge the shadow it will manifest and control/distort conciousness.'' - Jung
''The central truths to the art of living are paradoxical only on the surface: the more truly solitary we are, the more compassionate we can be; the more we let go of what we love, the more present our love becomes; the clearer our insight into what is beyond good and evil, the more we can embody the good. Until finaly, one is able to say, in all humility, 'I am the Tao, the Truth, the Life.' '' - Lao-Tzu, Tao Te Ching
Take 15 minutes today and confront your conciousness and your shadow. You will be surprised at how simple the solutions can be.
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