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.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Monkeys and Trees
Last night, I asked my Papa for some stories to translate from Fon to practice the language. Since it struck a chord within my own personal journey, I thought I would share. Here's what he gave me:
Once there was an ambitious monkey who grew restless of his life in the jungle, and decided to go on a journey in search of something more enjoyable. He decided to climb and climb as high as he could, so he found a mountain and began. Once he was to the top, he was still unsatisfied. He found a nearby tree and climbed it until he was at the highest point for hundreds of miles. Just then, a bird flew by and said,"Where are you going?" The monkey replied, "I was climbing as I could, but there is nothing left to climb." "There is plenty to climb," said the bird, "Look down there at the endless jungle." The monkey then realized that his heart belonged back in the jungle where he could always climb a tree, even if it wasn't the tallest.
Friday we were all given our posts, which we leave for early September. It was a highly anticipated day, seeing how the Benin Big Bang would spread us out all over the country. Unfortunately due to PC laws I am not allowed to say specifically I will be posted, but it is in the Alibori region, far Northeast next to Burkina Faso and Niger, full of Fulani cattle nomad tribes, and 3 month spans of heat that reaches 130 Farenheit. I will be getting the 'textbook' PC experience. No electricity, no running water, no cell phone service, no volunteers for at least 30km, village of 5000, and pretty much no structure for projects. Fortunately I am the closest volunteer to our workstation, with there being 3 in the North, so I will be going there often for calls and internet.
I still have no idea what all this means right now, but I'm excited since there is another 6'5'Minnesotan with a buzzed head that just finished 2 years up there and is helping with stage. The powers that be are always sending me good signs! I still plan on getting some building or design projects started up there, but it won't be soon since the first 3 months at post is strictly for getting involved and accepted into the community. So no problem getting this first round of books read at post!
I will have to start learning Bariba, the local language, since French will only work with high up positions such as the Mayor, etc... Apparently there is a lot of scarification, and also a mix of local tribes that has spun off and become local sorcerers that I have been told have the ability to fly. These people were cast away when their bottom teeth came in before their tops, and now they are spellcasters. Since I have some experience with spellcasters like my neighbor in Venice, this shouldn't be a problem. Adam, expect that notebook you gave me to contain some powerful information in it!
Alright, the internet combined with the keyboards here are so exhausting, I need another week break. I had no idea computers could be this difficult to operate, just thank your own while you're reading this! Missing you all daily, and can't wait to read the great comments. Make sure to email me and keep me updated on your adventures!
Once there was an ambitious monkey who grew restless of his life in the jungle, and decided to go on a journey in search of something more enjoyable. He decided to climb and climb as high as he could, so he found a mountain and began. Once he was to the top, he was still unsatisfied. He found a nearby tree and climbed it until he was at the highest point for hundreds of miles. Just then, a bird flew by and said,"Where are you going?" The monkey replied, "I was climbing as I could, but there is nothing left to climb." "There is plenty to climb," said the bird, "Look down there at the endless jungle." The monkey then realized that his heart belonged back in the jungle where he could always climb a tree, even if it wasn't the tallest.
Friday we were all given our posts, which we leave for early September. It was a highly anticipated day, seeing how the Benin Big Bang would spread us out all over the country. Unfortunately due to PC laws I am not allowed to say specifically I will be posted, but it is in the Alibori region, far Northeast next to Burkina Faso and Niger, full of Fulani cattle nomad tribes, and 3 month spans of heat that reaches 130 Farenheit. I will be getting the 'textbook' PC experience. No electricity, no running water, no cell phone service, no volunteers for at least 30km, village of 5000, and pretty much no structure for projects. Fortunately I am the closest volunteer to our workstation, with there being 3 in the North, so I will be going there often for calls and internet.
I still have no idea what all this means right now, but I'm excited since there is another 6'5'Minnesotan with a buzzed head that just finished 2 years up there and is helping with stage. The powers that be are always sending me good signs! I still plan on getting some building or design projects started up there, but it won't be soon since the first 3 months at post is strictly for getting involved and accepted into the community. So no problem getting this first round of books read at post!
I will have to start learning Bariba, the local language, since French will only work with high up positions such as the Mayor, etc... Apparently there is a lot of scarification, and also a mix of local tribes that has spun off and become local sorcerers that I have been told have the ability to fly. These people were cast away when their bottom teeth came in before their tops, and now they are spellcasters. Since I have some experience with spellcasters like my neighbor in Venice, this shouldn't be a problem. Adam, expect that notebook you gave me to contain some powerful information in it!
Alright, the internet combined with the keyboards here are so exhausting, I need another week break. I had no idea computers could be this difficult to operate, just thank your own while you're reading this! Missing you all daily, and can't wait to read the great comments. Make sure to email me and keep me updated on your adventures!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
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
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
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Yovo yovo, bonne soir, ça va bien, merci!!
Finally, I am a celebrity!! Not as fun as it sounds, but nonetheless amusing. The title of the post is what every child under the age of 6 sings to you as you walk or ride by. It almost feels like I'm in the Tour de France the way people yell when you bike by, minus the France part and add the Africa part with sand roads and moutnain bike. To translate the cheer, its a little Fon and a lot of French: Whitey whitey, good evening, how are you, thanks! Just about as clear as every other peice of language is here for us right now, my host family for examlpe speaks a melange of yoruba, goon, fon, and french. Its like I am 2 years old again, especially with the lack of a solid stool in the past 5 days. So voila, there's my celeb story, ain't everyone jelaous?
Also, the title of the blog, Dedeme Benin. Dede, is Fon for Doucement, which is French and said here often as part of the local culture/slang. It translates in english to take it easy, relax, be careful, watch out, mainly mix of all of those, which I found fitting, since I plan to be as careful as can be here, and also because its a mindset one must have here in order to make it. You could say doucement if you saw someone fall off their bike, or if you saw someone sprinting to the bathroom while clenching their buttocks. Either way we find it quite endearing here.
So Benin, whew, impossible to put you here, its quite a place. Every day I bike by dozens of goats, cows, etc... and have casually killed 8 cockroaches in my confines for 'stepping up in my spot'. They don't even put up a fight, it lost its fun quickly, and now its just my attmpt to stop the most evolved species on the planet. Messed up that they're it, huh? I have the most adorable 6 year old nephew who we have titled, Mon ombre, meaning my shadow. My father here is a retired teacher, born the same year as my real father, and has 7 children, so a lack of company at the house is never an issue. They have also begun calling me le roi americain, not sure why, but if I can keep getting all my meals made and cleaned for me while they call me king, i'll gladly take the absence of a normal intestinal tract.
Alright, time is very short here, as we get accostomed to the life and as Peace Corps keeps us occupied at almost all times. I hope to post again soon with more info. Today I got to weigh my first babies, and gave a presentation in French on nutrition in the village. And no babies peed on me, boom!
Also, the title of the blog, Dedeme Benin. Dede, is Fon for Doucement, which is French and said here often as part of the local culture/slang. It translates in english to take it easy, relax, be careful, watch out, mainly mix of all of those, which I found fitting, since I plan to be as careful as can be here, and also because its a mindset one must have here in order to make it. You could say doucement if you saw someone fall off their bike, or if you saw someone sprinting to the bathroom while clenching their buttocks. Either way we find it quite endearing here.
So Benin, whew, impossible to put you here, its quite a place. Every day I bike by dozens of goats, cows, etc... and have casually killed 8 cockroaches in my confines for 'stepping up in my spot'. They don't even put up a fight, it lost its fun quickly, and now its just my attmpt to stop the most evolved species on the planet. Messed up that they're it, huh? I have the most adorable 6 year old nephew who we have titled, Mon ombre, meaning my shadow. My father here is a retired teacher, born the same year as my real father, and has 7 children, so a lack of company at the house is never an issue. They have also begun calling me le roi americain, not sure why, but if I can keep getting all my meals made and cleaned for me while they call me king, i'll gladly take the absence of a normal intestinal tract.
Alright, time is very short here, as we get accostomed to the life and as Peace Corps keeps us occupied at almost all times. I hope to post again soon with more info. Today I got to weigh my first babies, and gave a presentation in French on nutrition in the village. And no babies peed on me, boom!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Game Time
So I'm in my plush, air-conditioned room at the Sheraton Hotel at Penn University in downtown Philly, digesting my final round of enchiladas con mole for a good 27 months. We have finished an intense two days of training, going over all the dos and don'ts, ways to stay inspired, aspirations, anxieties, the whole gamut. We have 64 people going over, most of which are in their early 20's, from all over the country. Everyone has been incredibly outgoing and upbeat, definitely helping us all along our journey into the unknown. We are all pretty exhausted from all the good-byes and talk about this trip, and are anxious to get there and get our hands dirty. Everyone is in one of four programs: Health, Environment, Sustainable Economic Development, and Teaching. Its been great to tell everyone why I'm doing health; since I have a background in architecture, of course.
Tomorrow we start at 7am with a trip to some federal clinic to finish our vaccinations for yellow fever and malaria. Then at 3pm we are off to Charles de Gaulle for a pit stop on the way to Cotonou. I am still in the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, just trying to keep everything organized. All day I have wavered between thoughts of the stereotypical Africa... drums, animals, bright colors, and then to sickness, lack of food, pitch black nights. It is a strange undulation of excitement and anxiety, as we discuss all of the incredibly difficult things we are about to face. The beauty is that those very things are what simultaneously make it beautiful and breathtakingly memorable. I would have to guess that if one were to boil this paradox down, it would be something about the fragility of life which is so powerful there. Not one person takes a day for granted it seems, and that mentality is what creates a culture which is so foreign to the western mindset.
I made a last minute stop at the bookstore, so I am now equipped with some Nietzsche, Voltaire, Joyce, Campbell, Tolle, and my architectural bible, Design Like You Give a Damn. I will be dropping my cell phone off at a recycling center just before we leave the hotel tomorrow, leaving me with only a camera and a half-functional ipod as my only pieces of technology. It feels amazing to be living out of a duffel bag and a backpack... I can't think of anything else I need right now. And I must say that in my entire life, I have never been as unclear about my future plans as I am right now. I always had something in the future I knew something about, or had experienced already once before. Fortunately this extreme unknown is becoming very powerful, and honestly, is giving me a feeling of great awareness of existence. I feel like there are no demanding expectations or assumptions being made, and my path towards the darkness is making me feel in the best word to describe it, well, alive. Anyway, there will be much more to cover tomorrow once we open the airplane doors and step down onto the tarmac while the heavy wet Benin air slaps us awake from our jetlag. I hope everyone is doing well and I am thinking about you all as I take of tomorrow. A plus tarde tout le monde.
Tomorrow we start at 7am with a trip to some federal clinic to finish our vaccinations for yellow fever and malaria. Then at 3pm we are off to Charles de Gaulle for a pit stop on the way to Cotonou. I am still in the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts, just trying to keep everything organized. All day I have wavered between thoughts of the stereotypical Africa... drums, animals, bright colors, and then to sickness, lack of food, pitch black nights. It is a strange undulation of excitement and anxiety, as we discuss all of the incredibly difficult things we are about to face. The beauty is that those very things are what simultaneously make it beautiful and breathtakingly memorable. I would have to guess that if one were to boil this paradox down, it would be something about the fragility of life which is so powerful there. Not one person takes a day for granted it seems, and that mentality is what creates a culture which is so foreign to the western mindset.
I made a last minute stop at the bookstore, so I am now equipped with some Nietzsche, Voltaire, Joyce, Campbell, Tolle, and my architectural bible, Design Like You Give a Damn. I will be dropping my cell phone off at a recycling center just before we leave the hotel tomorrow, leaving me with only a camera and a half-functional ipod as my only pieces of technology. It feels amazing to be living out of a duffel bag and a backpack... I can't think of anything else I need right now. And I must say that in my entire life, I have never been as unclear about my future plans as I am right now. I always had something in the future I knew something about, or had experienced already once before. Fortunately this extreme unknown is becoming very powerful, and honestly, is giving me a feeling of great awareness of existence. I feel like there are no demanding expectations or assumptions being made, and my path towards the darkness is making me feel in the best word to describe it, well, alive. Anyway, there will be much more to cover tomorrow once we open the airplane doors and step down onto the tarmac while the heavy wet Benin air slaps us awake from our jetlag. I hope everyone is doing well and I am thinking about you all as I take of tomorrow. A plus tarde tout le monde.
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