News of Work, Christmas, and Safari in the Pendjari!!!!

These are the waterfalls we visited. Read below for details.

MORE PICTURES AT THE BOTTOM!!!! ...my camera actually died before my trip to the Pendjari, so these photos have been provided by Bill Lascher (blascher@gmail.com)... I was a good backseat photographer though. Thanks Bill!

Hello everyone! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write something, but things have been crazy, and not having a computer makes things really hard.
Okay, so, to catch you guys up on things: I started searching for work in November, and at the beginning of December I held my first meeting for my business club at the local high school. I’m really excited about it, and I think they are too. I’ve got about 100 kids signed up between 2 different groups, and they seem to really want to be there. I even here that there are more that want to join, but I can’t keep enlarging these groups. It might have to just be something that is reserved for the older kids. The age range of these kids is incredibly large, because if a family doesn’t have the money to pay the tuition, or if they need help in the fields then the kid doesn’t go to school. This is a huge problem, and many kids don’t even get near finishing high school… especially girls. Their education is put 2nd to the boys’. Anyway, the age range is probably from 13 to 21.
I’m really excited to be working with the kids here, because it seems like they would be an important group because they are the future of Boukoumbe. Also, they are more open to new ideas then adults, and they are like sponges too. Also, a lot of these kids are going to drop out, and/or not go to a university… so basically they are going to start taking over their parents work within the next few years. If I can give them some basic ideas on how to keep personal and business money separate, how to do a simple feasibility study, show them a little about marketing, and even maybe talk about how to go about getting credit then I think I will be helping out a lot.
Besides the business club, I also had this idea to use PC Volunteers to gather information for a tourism website for all of West Africa, and maybe even Africa. I told my boss about it and he got really excited about the idea, so he’s getting a bunch of volunteers involved and I guess I’m heading the project. Heh, it’s kind of hard to get started without a computer. Anyway, it’s definitely getting started for Benin at least, so I’ll keep you posted. The logic is that 1) there are no good websites on West Africa and tourism, and 2) The only other option is a guidebook, and those are only updated once every 5 years!! Plus, they cost $30USD, and the people who write them might spend a day, at most, in every village they write about, and 3) We have volunteers everywhere who would like to see their communities and the communities around them profit from outside money. It’s really a win/win situation in every way.
I’ve also been trying to work with the women’s groups of Boukoumbe, but first I have to track down the presidents. I’m also going to work with the local artisans groups soon, and I think that will go better, because I’m already in contact with their president. As for the tourism thing, well, I’ve been helping out this local project that I Fullbright Scholar started on. She helped this local community right outside of Boukoumbe build a tata somba (traditional local housing) that tourists could stay in, and it is really awesome! Their only problem is that nobody can easily find the information on it and nobody can easily contact them. We’re working on that stuff though… it should be getting better.
Outside of Boukoumbe, as you might have read, I’ve started working with an orphanage in Natitingou. Natitingou is the city where I had my training in, and it’s only about 50km away from Boukoumbe. I’m working with a few other volunteers to help them out, and for Christmas we did a big dinner that was amazing! Thank you to everyone who sent some money!!! It definitely helped out a ton! For 80 kids we bought sandals (none had shoes), soap (they couldn’t afford it), a pig for Christmas dinner along with rice, cooking oil, cabbage, carrots, cookies, pieces of candy, and some macaroni. Also, another volunteer’s parents sent some toys from the US, so they had a blast all day playing with dolls and balloons and etch-a-sketches. I also bought them a soccer ball, and that was a huge hit.
With the money left over we are also going to be getting them some material for clothes (most kids, at most, might only have an old t-shirt full of holes), mosquito nets, and seeds that they could cultivate for a profit (instead of the traditional, less profitable options).
Really though, kudos’ to you guys at home who sent money!! We received 260 USD thus far, and if any of you guys still want in, well, these orphans don’t have anything. We are going to continue to work with these people because they actually honestly just want what’s best for these kids.
As for their disease problem, well, my doctor friend in Boukoumbe is going to help us get the medicine and the bleach, but we are going to get a group of volunteers together to scrub down every single thing that anyone can touch with bleach so that the place is no longer contaminated. Then, my doctor friend is going to help put this medicine on them that evening. Within 12 hours they will be disease free! Yaay!!!
So, that’s all of my work related news. As for me personally, well, I’ve become really happy here. I love all the volunteers and we have a blast together. Christmas was incredibly low key, and we didn’t even cook anything. We went out to eat, and after we came back to the house and just hung out. It was a good time, but it wasn’t a Christmas like any other. The day after Christmas is when we really partied. We cranked up some music at the house and everyone just started dancing… it was one of the best times I’ve ever had.

I’m skipping a line, because what I’m going to write about next deserves the gap: So, after Christmas, on somewhat of a whim, a lot of us joined some other people who were planning a safari to the local park (picture safari). 8 people ended up going and we rented a car and a driver (named Brenard, phone #002.229.90.02.08.89, only speaks french, highly recommended!), and we headed out for an overnight stay in the park. We left at 6:30am, got to Tanguieta by 8am, and into the park by 9am. Once we were in we saw all kinds of animals!!!… all in all, we saw 4 grown lions (3 female, 1 male), 3 lion cubs, 4 hippos, I stopped counting crocodiles at 15, a herd of probably 30 water buffalo, over 20 elephants, tons of baboons, tons of antelope, tons of gazelles, and one painted deer. It was incredible!!!! We had a blast, and we all went in on a room at the hotel in the park (24,000cfa)…. 8 of us in 1 room was reminiscent of a can of sardines, but it was a really good time, and the food at the hotel was european and amazing (6,000cfa for a 3 coarse meal)!!! The 2nd day was really when we saw most of the animals because we headed out at 7am, and we were out of the park by noon.
After that we went to the nearby waterfalls, which were incredible!!! The village is called Tanougou (200cfa entry fee for the falls), and the falls are always running and always amazing… and guess what!!! They’re shista (disease) free!!! Also, the local artisans here sell some of the most beautiful African jewelry I’ve seen thus far. We were back in Natitingou by 6pm, and it was an awesome day!!!
Well, that was yesterday, so today I’m heading back to post for New Year’s. I hear that New Years is the biggest celebration of the year here, and the Beninese love to celebrate, so it should be awesome!!!
Well, that’s officially all of my news!! I hope you all had a merry Christmas, and have a wonderful New Year!! I should have another computer here soon, so I’ll start posting more soon! Well, till then, best of luck to you all!

Sarah

Pictures: 1. Lionness with her 3 baby cubs (probably 20ft away). They were just strolling down the road for about 5 minutes. Mama looked pissed that we were following them. 2. It may look like just another scenic photo, but look closer - there are 2 lion heads staring at us. Out of the view of this picture there was also a male. 3. This baboon ran up to us for a staring contest. I'm not sure who won. He was litterally 5 ft away. There were tons of baboons in the park. Ya know, sometimes these guys leave their park area, and at that point they are no longer baboons... they're dinner! 4. The animal I am calling an antelope. There were tons in the park.

Raising a little Money

Well, I didnt have the chance to pretype something because the electricity has been sporadic, meaning the desktop with the English keyboard I have to use now is rendered useless.
Anyway, my point: Me and a group of volunteers are going to get together and feed some orphans at an orphinage in Natitingou for Christmas. Without our help these kids wouldnt have any more then a sack of rice for their Christmas dinner, and definitely no presents! Actually, these kids - 80 of them- are all living in a one-room orphinage, and they dont even have the money for soap. Because of this, a very contageous and easy to cure skin disease has been passed to all the orphans, and so we would like to get them the medicine for this as well if we have the money.
It occurs to me that you guys at home might be interested in helping out, and I know it is comforting to know exactly where your money is going when you donate. You can believe me, any money you might decide to send will definitely go to this orphinage, and me and other volunteers will be buying the supplies directly, so there should be absolutely no corruption involved whatsoever. If you are interested in helping, just know that a little goes a long way and every bit will be greatly appreciated. Here is the address to send your money to... no worries, its a US address:

Jane Haskin
4925 NW 34th St
OKC, OK 73122
USA

If you are interested and do send something then my mother will recieve it at the address above, and she can then put it in my bank account. There are very few ATMs in the area, but I will be able to get to one in before and after Christmas. If more money comes after I get to an ATM then my mother can tell me the amount and I can borrow it from my daily living allowance, so dont worry about a time deadline. To give you an idea, each volonteer involved is pitching in the equivelant of 20USD.

Well, besides that things are going well for me. Ive written a few blogs, but there isnt time to type them out right now... plus I cant stand french keyboards. Anyway, Ill post more soon. To all of you, merry Christmas and happy holidays! And to all of you who are wanting to help out, well, thanks in advance!

Sarah

Mourning an Artificial Death

So, my computer is gone. Crazy, huh? No, it wasn’t stolen. It had a hard ride in a bush taxi. There’s even a crack in the back. I knew better than to take that taxi, but they convinced me to wait and take them. The last time I rode with them they had a lepper in the car. Yes, leprosy still exists and is still contagious. Anyway, the driver disappeared with the car (and my bag in it) for about 30 minutes to load up more stuff and people. I didn’t even see them drive away, or else I would have gotten my bag. They eventually showed up again and all my stuff was there, so I didn’t think anything of it. The next day, Sunday, I pull it out to do some typing only to find it won’t turn on. I turn it over and see the hairline crack right where the hard drive sits. To make a long story short, I’ve tried and tried since then, but I’m just not having any luck. Sometimes it will turn on and even load up, but soon after it always dies. Either something was shaken loose (hopefully), and therefore can easily be repaired, or else it is something broken. I opened it up and checked the RAM and it seems okay. I would need more proffesional tools to get to the rest. Luckily my neighbor, who is well-to-do and has a computer (desktop) at work, is also having trouble with his computer and he has a technician coming. I guess there might still be some hope, but I’m doubting it.
Some of you might no me well enough to know how much I really enjoy my toys… especially my computers. Knowing this, you might be worried about me and my mental stability at this point. You know, that wouldn’t be withot reason. The first day I was worried too. I couldn’t stop retracing my steps, just imagining myself waiting another day for a different bush taxi, or even just holding my bag, or taking a more expensive moto taxi (motorcycle). Hindsight is 20/20, right? That first night I was so upset that nightmares disrupted my sleep all night long. I barely slept.
The next day I was dragging a bit, and I spent a lot of time tearing into my computer and trying to repair something I couldn’t see. This just depressed me more, so I stopped and tried to relax. I decided I couldn’t stay inside any longer, so I went for a walk.
On my walk I made my usual rounds, but I didn’t feel like speaking French, so I went to visit the Dutch couple in town.
First of all, I should tell you how amazing these people are. They moved here about 7 years ago and they are working against your typical beurocracy all the time, just trying to give people free and reliable health care. Not only do these people aww me, but they also remind me of my parents. The doctor, Mary-Ann, is high strung and very into her work. The husband is the lab technician, and he is quiet and has a quirky sense of humor. Plus, you can usually find him in their garage making something. They speak English as well as French and a few other languages… it’s really nice to have someone around who speaks English.
When I got there I was surprised to find a line of people waiting for Mary-Ann. It was Monday, and she was supposed to strat work again that day. Politics and buerocracy had stopped her for a few months, and they were still stalling. They hadn’t given her permission to start practicing again, so now the sick people were at her house. Some had come 40 to 50 km to visit her with their problems.
Seeing these people was a sobering experience. Here I am wanting to talk about my dead computer when there are women with babies dyeing because the mothers are so malnutritioned they can’t make milk. Others were elderly, some had wounds thatthey were patiently nursing. Others seemed to be there to ask Mary-Ann to visit somebody at their homes because the person can’t walk.
All of this made me feel even worse about my computer problem, but now I was beating myself up more then anything. How can I worry about a computer? These people aren’t eating and some look like they’re dyeing in front of me, and I’m worried about a computer!? Stupid stupid yovo.
I asked Mary-Ann if she needed any help, but there wasn’t much I could do. I waited till the line eventually dissipated. Mary-Ann plopped down next to me, smiling as always, but looking exhausted. I told her about my stupid problem, and I told her I just was really looking for someone to talk to more than anything. Well, I can’t tell you how much better she made me feel. I don’t know if it was her smile and energy, or if it was the resemblence of my mother, or if it was the stories of all her computer and electronic tragedies, but something made me aware of reality again.
The truth of it all is that I will have another computer, it’s just a matter of time. At least I’m still alive. That stupid bush taxi was so crammed full of people and so piled high with junk on top that I should be glad I’m not dead. Screw the computer. I can live without it. At least I can still live. I’m not hungry. I’m not even sick. I’m just too rich to know that life exists beyond computers.
It’s crazy how the bad, awful things that happen are always the one that make you learn the most. At least I’m still alive and capable of learning. Anyone can make themselves miserable by dwelling on things, when actually things aren’t really that bad.
To all of you at home, have fun and don’t let things control you like I do. They are just things. What really matters is what you create in yourself and with others. If somethings not going perfectly then do like the Africans do… just smile.
Oh yeah, and don’t worry about me. I couldn’t be better.

sarah

New pictures!

The order goes from oldest to newest. Enjoy!

This picture was taken in a village that we visited in stag (training). This guy is in his 60s and he is the Magic Man of the village. The daiperesque thing he is wearing is actually made of monkey skin, and he received it when he became the magic man and he is not allowed to take it off or wear anything else. This is the guy who preforms ceremonies where chickens and other animals are sarcrificed to please a/the god(s).

This is my group of business and information technology volunteers that I swore in with. These are also the people I spent all the 2 months of stag (training) with. We are having our first conference/gathering this week, so maybe there will be more pictures of these people soon. We are wearing 'la meme tissue'. It's a tradition that sectors all by the same tissue (material), so everyone had these things made just for this celebration. That is a very Beninese thing to do. They love their fetes (celebrations)! All the African-looking people in the picture are... African.

These are some of my boyz after the swear in ceremony.... On the left is Ryan and on the right is Jose. Jose's my closest volunteer in Benin, so we've become pretty good friends. Ryan is down in the south, but equally fun!

This is me with most of my host family. A few of the kids left town before I finished stag (training), which is when this picture was taken. ...Just a note; I've since lost the chubbiness I gained in stag (and in this picture). Mama's (at least) daily serving of french fries definitely shows here.

This is a little isle at my local market (marche in french). You might call it the vegetable isle, but there are many more veggies than this. The brown pile of nut-looking things are an herbal medicine to help stop a runny nose. The marche mama to the left is my usual onion and garlic lady.

These are a group of volunteers swimming at a swimming hole (hopefully 'sans schista'). Notice how they are surrounded by locals? It's amazing how people come flocking to gawk at the whiteys. Even if no one were stripping down to a bikini they would still come to watch! ...I've got to say though, the bikinis might help. It just solidifies the images of us that they get from Hollywood. You can't see it in this picture, but behind the photographer (who shall remain un-named) there is actually a line of men, maybe 20 of them, just staring together. It seems like it might have been as interesting to watch the locals as it was for them to watch the whiteys.

Cultural note: Even black americans are seen as lighter than the locals, and therefor sometimes called half-white or white. All my asian-american friends usually get called Chinese, and even people with origins in Mexico or the middle east are considered white. Also, the lighter your skin is the more beautiful you are, so they think we are all beautiful. People here even by soap with bleach in it to make them look lighter.

Extra note (and just for my Dad): Yes, that is a volunteer in the background teaching the local kids to throw a football.

This is a road leading to a marche in a bigger town. This is a very typical street. All over Africa people drive moto's like the ones here, women balance things on their heads, and marche products, meaning anything from radios to veggies, are displayed on sheets of plastic on the ground. Some marche's have tables instead, but this is pretty typical. In case your taking notes, this is no where near the center of the market. This is like taking a picture of the Oklahoma State Fair from the parking lot... relatively speaking, that might as well be where this picture was taken from in Africa terms.

Okay, so the walls may still be blank, but the new, beautiful furniture makes it a little more of a home! This are what they call paigne chairs. They fold up, and everything is made from teak. Teak is cheap and disposable here. People burn it to cook with. Those curtains are also new and, though they may look ghetto, I'm actually fairly proud of them as well. Also, note the wood paneling on the ceiling; this is typical for a nicer beninese house, and I believe that's teak as well.

Sorry it's sideways, but I took this picture when I went hiking one day. This shows off some of the beautiful, untouched rock around Boukoumbe!!! This rock is only about 35km (22 miles) out of town. Now, If anyone's interested in exploring with me....

sarahinafrica@gmail.com



So, that's all for now. Maybe I'll load some more from this week, but don't count on it. I've stayed up all night just to load these pictures now, but luckily there is free internet at the Peace Corps building where I am now (Internet cafes are never open all night... which sucks.).
I hope all of you are doing well back at home! Things are going well here, and I have to say it's really starting to feel like home. I think I might actually belong here.
Anyway... bundle up, doctor your colds, and start searching for a plane ticket to visit me!

Sarah

Day to Day Life

It occurred to me that I never have told you guys what I do at post now. I can’t really say I’m doing much yet, but there some very productive things that might seem minute to you.
So, here’s a good day for me: I usually wake up somewhere around 7:30am, unless the Lariam (powerful anti-malarial medicine) has kept me awake all night. I wake up, go out to my kitchen and boil some water for my oatmeal and my instant coffee. It’s almost ironic, but the few things at home that aren’t fake or perfected are the only things that are fake here; coffee and milk. Both are powdered here. Anyway, I take that inside and sit on my bed with it, and usually I either read and eat or I turn on something to wake me up, like some Blackalicious. After I get dressed, which is usually after a shower if the water’s on (I’m terribly lucky to have a shower here), I open my door my front door and leave the screen door closed. Usually a few people come by to saluate me, mostly the 2 or 3 little kids who I occasionally give work to (such as sweeping my house and burning my trash, or getting water if it’s not on), and my neighbor Angel. I usually wait a while to see if anyone is wanting to talk to me. Sometimes someone comes by, but I usually get bored, so I put down my book and go out to make my rounds. I usually start with a visit to my favorite person in village, Mama Ynes.
I was introduced to Mama Ynes by a Fulbright Scholor who used to live here in Boukoumbé. She is an older, retired woman who lives fairly close to me. She spends most of her days taking care of her corn that she’s picked, her funion (a local grass that they make into a soup and paste), and usually the fish she might have recently bought. Mama Ynes is a very smart woman, and I get the feeling she is very respected in village because about every 15 to 30 minutes someone will come by just do saluate her. I will usually talk with her and play with her kittens for an hour or two, and then I’ll leave. Mama Ynes never lets me leave without taking something though, so I usually leave with at least a couple of pieces of really good wagashi (cheese) and a bottle of water.
After this I usually go to my favorite buvette (bar) here in town, but I’m really just going to visit with the woman who works there. She is also the owner of the bar, and she is a very ambitious woman. She is in the process of building a boite (night club) behind the current buvette, but the current buvette is made up of roughly cut trees that hold up a roof of pieces of aluminum. There is also more aluminum on the side so that her guests are blocked from the dust of the road and the rain of rainy season. She does have a really good refrigerator though, and the drinks are always really cold. She also has a fairly large tv (huge by Africa standards) where she has paid extra to get 5 channels that actually have good broadcasts (which is saying something). There is news in French from France every night, and that’s how I ended up going there, and we got to be friends in the process. A lot of times it is just her and I sitting there talking over the tv. Her name is Denise and the bar is called The Providence.
After a few hours I leave Denise, and if there’s daylight left I make one more house call to a man named Riggobert. He’s quite the entrepreneur, and he has a bunch of business ideas. He wants to get rich quick and, even though he’s one of the wealthier people in town, he always refers to himself as a poor man who just needs the money for his ideas. This is Riggoberts way of asking me for money, but I’ve always refused with the same roundaboutedness, so he now excepts me as a good person for business advice. I have offered to help him with business plans so that he might get a loan from a bank, but Riggobert is lucking for the fastest possible way of getting money. I’m afraid that he’s so eager to make his ideas work that he will end up giving all of his possible profits away to whoever he finds to be his investor. I have tried to express this fear for hours at a time before. Usually I end up leaving fairly late from his house.
On my way home, if the boutiques and marche (market) mama’s are still open and out, I usually get an orange or two, some cold water, and whatever I might have ran out of lately.
Once at home I usually cook my dinner, which is a mélange of vegetables and wagashi in a cheese (Vache Qui Rit, can find it in the states) sauce, or a tomato sauce, both served with pasta. Sometimes I do something different, but all I have is a stovetop and a dutch oven (An oven made of a large pot on a stovetop), so variety in cooking methods is a little limited.
After dinner I either read some more, watch a movie on my computer (all of which I have seen at least 4 times), or I just fall asleep. Once I pick myself up for bed, I brush my teeth and then crawl under my mosquito net and turn on my fan.
That’s a usual day. Sometimes it’s nothing like that. Sometimes I go on a hike all day, sometimes for 6 or 7 hours. I definitely never miss a marche (market) day, and sometimes I make those take up most of a day. Sometimes I go meet up with my post mates, and we’ll cook dinner together and watch movies and be Americans for a while. Maybe I’ll go visit other people in village instead of visiting one of my routine people, or sometimes I just relax around the house all day, but that’s pretty rare. That’s my life though.
I know it would be easy to mistaken me for lazy after reading this, but I honestly can’t begin work till after I learn the language, and that’s coming. Besides, life is just slower here. People might have to do 5 things all the time to get by, but I assure you they rarely feel rushed or over-worked. It’s a different culture completely, and this is just life.

Soon I will start giving business formations to a women’s group here in town, but I’m not comfortable with my language skills yet. Also, once the language comes, I will start trying to help with the development of tourism in Boukoumbé. If anyone has any books I can read on developing tourism, please send me the name. Boukoumbé has no previous infrastructure for tourism, and I have no idea where to begin.
I hope all of you are having a wonderful life. Don’t catch cold over there!

Sarah

Reality Check

I feel like I need to write today. I’m not quite sure why. I know I’ve been reading some Steinbeck lately, and I really find his style inspirational, but I can’t say I really have much subject matter.
One thing is for sure though: Within these last few days I feel as though I have started seeing things in a completely different light. The reason? I guess you could say I took a vacation. I took a few days where I spoke very little French, saw very few non-white people, ate food that tasted as close to home as possible, and read and even watched movies in English. It really was a vacation though, because when I finally took the brave step to leave my shelter, I finally realized where I am and why. I don’t know if I can say that had really hit me in a while. I started to see things though.
I feel like an idiot for all of the things that I blocked out. The realities of life here… and there are so many of them.
One thing I started to see was the hungry eyes. There are thousands of them everywhere. All of them look at me in a dull emptiness, maybe with a little bit of hope even. It was just pure selfishness that kept me from seeing them before. I started thinking about these eyes a little more… I started looking around. So many of them are so young. You can hear the statistics that say the median age of a population and think to yourself, “Wow, that’s young”, but seeing so many hungry eyes that are under the age of 20 is a little disheartening. I saw some of these eyes on a bush taxi the other day. It was a little old 60’s model mini van with 5 people crammed into every row, with 6 rows in total. On the top of this bus was a pile of things about 15 feet high (not including the height of the car). This car took off with all of us crammed underneath this pile, some on the top next to it, headed for the dusty pothole-ridden road that was to stretch before us for the next 25km (15miles).
I was in the most comfortable of seats, because there were only 4 people in our row. They have a tendency to make these exceptions for us yovos (once again, this is the word for white people). One of the rows in front of me was riding backwards though, and it was full of children. These children were actually sitting on the incredibly hot compartment, which covers the engine of the vehicle, and they were all being shipped to a neighboring village for the market day. Those kids… I couldn’t stop staring. They looked so hungry, so frail, and so innocent. I directed my attention to the one that I had the best view of. She was probably 7 or 8 years old, and her hair had that light brown color to it… the color of serious malnutrition (in the worst of cases children will actually be blond from malnutrition). Right before the taxi had taken off I had bought an egg sandwich, and this girl had been trying not to watch me eat it. After eating a little more then half I offered the rest to her, and she refused. I tried to make her take it again, and then the lady next to me tries to convince her, and when it was refused again she pockets it for herself for later. I then asked her why the child had refused. “Many people put medicine in food to make children sick, and she doesn’t know that you wouldn’t do that.” It hit me quickly… could she be talking about Ruffies (spelling?), the date rape drug?
Whatever the ‘medicine’ was she was referring to, these children thought that I might be trying to poison them with something. I found myself with a very disgusting, sad feeling in my stomach. What a vile place this is for these children. What a short childhood.
Another thing that I have begun to see is the utter hospitality of people here. Many of these people have very little income, and yet they all welcome me, a stranger, into their homes and offer me their nicest things. It’s not just because I’m white either. I have seen them do this with many of their neighbors, kin, and friends. Even if there is nothing to share, you at least share what is for you.
There is a woman in Boukoumbé who I truly love to visit who is the epitome of kindness and hospitality. Her name is Mama Ynes, and she is an older retired woman with a nice house surrounded by cornfields, zinnias, and impatiens. She passes much of her day saluating all of the people who come to say hello to her, and every time I have been to visit her it seems that there has been at least one person every 30 minutes. Mama Ynes does have quite a bit for African standards, and she shares all of it with every single visitor. Every time I visit I must take a bottle of bottled water and three wheels of wagasi (the local sponge-looking cheese. Very good stuff.), which is enough to eat for a week. “Sarah, you must take it.” she always says, “If you don’t take the gifts people give you, you will look like you have ill will against them (une voleur, in French).” For this reason I cannot refuse.
These aren’t the only things that I’ve just begun to realize. There are so many beautiful, sad, and amazing things that didn’t really hit me before now. Why is it that so many things like these just became apparent to me? One might theorize that I wasn’t ready for them before now, that I was overwhelmed and unable to take in anymore. Maybe that’s true. Still, I feel as though my black and white world just received a whole lot of color… or maybe I should say it received a whole lot of gray. Well, it’s reality... and I can only hope to see as much as possible, good or bad.

Good luck with the cold!

Sarah

Development

So, there is a huge debate about development that I like to busy my brain with. First of all, it should be known that ‘development’ might as well mean ‘westernization’, and westernization is everything from cell phones and computers to box-shaped houses, speaking French/English, and wearing t-shirts.
Second of all, it’s coming. The western world is quickly coming to Africa. In fact, you can see the difference every year. Apparently a year ago there weren’t cell phones in Boukoumbé, and the electricity only worked for a few hours every night. Now there is a fairly bad cell phone system here that is about to get replaced by another, even better one, and the electricity never goes out more then once a day, and not for more then a few minutes at a time… also, there are water faucets at many homes around town, and even sinks, though I don’t know how long ago the water system was installed. The water here is even clean enough to drink from the faucet though. This is because it comes straight from the water table. Who knows what will have developed after these next 2 years… hopefully at least my French will. Development in general is happening quickly though.
The other thing about development is that there is no stopping it. We’ve already shown these people the world. They see movies, they hear our music, they know how great the western world must be. Also, you have to remember the contact these people have… the contact with people like me. Here I am with my laptop and my digital camera that can show the pictures it just took, and my iPod that is smaller then a cd but can store 5,000 times more music… even my glasses are a sign of how great the western world is. Because of this they want these things too… I can’t say I blame them either…
The grass is always greener on the other side though. They don’t see how tied down, how addicted westerners are to their worlds. We can’t survive without it anymore, and we always need more… and they can’t see what it costs us… many of us slave away at a desk everyday, slaves to our credit card bills, mortgages, student loans, all paying for things that are western world told us we had to have. We spend our lives playing catch-up, don’t we? It’s a game, isn’t it? A risky one, a game where you are always teetering on the edge, but without that game we couldn’t have those things, those things that we so desperately need.
These people don’t see that. They don’t know what beautiful freedom they actually have. Freedom doesn’t seem like a fair word for it because these people do have to do 4 or 5 things at once to get by, but they do get by, and what bills they have are the electric and water bills at most. Plus, I can’t tell you how wonderful it must feel to pay those few bills and buy the food for the family and then still have money left over… free money… money that you can use to by a chicken with, money you could by a radio with… uncommitted money! Even if it’s just enough to buy each kid a piece of candy, it’s still free money! It’s that feeling of being ahead… I think the quote from the movie Blow embodies it best, “This is the way it goes; sometimes your flush and sometimes your bust, and when you’re up it’s never as good as it seems and when your down it never seems like your gonna be up again, but life goes on. Money isn’t real (George), it doesn’t matter.” … but I think the Beninese feel this more, because how often are we, with our thousands of dollars of bills, ever ‘flush’? Let me put it this way, most people I know at home would really celebrate if they were flush… and of course they would then charge the celebration to their favorite credit card. Heh. C’est la vie… la-bas (over there).
Another quote I like comes from Edward Abbey’s book The Monkey Wrench Gang, “When there’s nothing left to loose what’s there to worry about?”…but I think you got the idea already.
Anyway, back the issue of development:
The point of all of that was that they see our lives, the good things, and they want to be westernized.
But what about the culture here… their culture? They think ours is so wonderful, and it is, but theirs is so beautifully unique! We as westerners strive so hard to be original and different from one another (and yet we are all still, and always practically just alike), and here is this completely unique and different culture that wants nothing more then to be just like the rest of us. What do you do? What can you say that might make them see what you see?! And to top all of this off, they want me to help develop the tourism here… which is like leading the little Boukoumbé mouse to the cheese of westernization.
Okay, it’s not as bad as that sounds. There’s another side of it all I haven’t mentioned yet. What if I help them build up their tourism by helping them exploit their own culture… what says that they wouldn’t become proud of their individuality, and therefore feel a need to preserve their culture themselves? That is the point of the ever-so-fragile term ‘ecotourism’ anyway, isn’t it? Besides, the world does want to see Boukoumbé and it’s beautiful culture, and there is nothing wrong with helping them make a little money off of it, especially since it’s only a matter of time… if I didn’t help organize it to where they get some of the profits, then someone else will organize it and make sure that the majority of the money never sees the pockets of Boukoumbé.
There are many more pieces to this puzzle of course… more loopholes where something could go astray, but I won’t get any deeper than this. It’s a tricky subject though. Please, by all means, send me your thoughts on the subject… I would love to have more subject matter to befuddle my little brain with. (email: sarahinafrica@gmail.com)
….So that’s one of my big debates that I’m always mulling over…. I guess there are quite a few of those, actually.
Okay, there is one more thing to think about when mentioning this whole development thing… it’s really an irrelevant thought… but what would have happened if we never brought our ‘development’ and ‘aid’ to them? Yes, they would be even more hungry and poor and sick than they are now, but everyone would be like that and they wouldn’t know that anything else existed. Everyone would be equal in that sense, and there wouldn’t be the inequalities there are now where some people have western things and the rest just dream of them… would everyone be happier? They do say ignorance is bliss. If they hadn’t been told that their lives were hard and miserable in comparison to ours, would they still be miserable? I’m not saying development is wrong…. I’m just saying that there are a lot of interesting things to think about.

To all of you, best of luck. Any comments, thoughts or questions are more then welcome. Once again, my email is sarahinafrica@gmail.com.

Sarah

A Few New Things Here and There

Here are some new things that I just realized I do on a daily basis that I never did before coming here:

Cooking: Before now I had never peeled garlic, made something with random ingredients and without a recipe, knowingly eaten eggplant, or experimented with fruit juices in the place of spices. It’s almost odd to say, but I think I might be an okay cook. Give me time. I’ll perfect it.

Spoken another language: this one’s fairly obvious, n’est pas? … the French is improving and I can almost understand everything that’s said to me, and I can most definitely respond to things… now for the local language, Ditamariiba!

Not eating meat: The meat’s weird here. It’s all… wild. I guess there aren’t many Tyson factories around here…. All the chickens lack genetic modification, and therefore they taste too natural I guess. Oh, and if you did want to buy meat here you’re either buying a living, breathing creature with everything intact (I prefer my chicken parts in a bag on the frozen food isle), or your watching someone chop off the part you asked for… it’s a little much for me. Did I tell you guys about when the host family had a cow in the front yard one day, and the next day it was gone, and then after that we had beef for the next 4 days (it was for a festival)? Did I mention that? It just seemed all too real. All of this brings up an interesting thought though: How detached are we (as Americans) from our food?

Gotten used to the heat: Well, it finally happened. I now get cold when it’s less then 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I guess it’s only natural for your blood to eventually thin out enough to where anything less then blazing hot feels good. I still sweat when it is blazing hot though… the heat is relentless. But really, I have to say, I definitely wouldn’t trade it for what you guys are getting into. I HATE THE COLD! …let’s see how I feel about that after these next few seasons though. This (the rainy season) is supposedly the coolest. Here comes the dry season(s)!

Read all the time: I think the iron pills might be helping with this one. In case you don’t know, iron pills are just vitamins that fight of anemia, and anemia is just a lack of iron in your blood. It usually occurs in young women, and vegetarians… or in Africa’s case, it also occurs in kids who have worms (If you ever see a picture of a kid in Africa who looks like (s)he could be pregnant at the ripe old age of 3, then that kid probably has a stomach full of worms. It comes from untreated water. The worms eat all the nutrients that come into the kid’s stomach, leaving him with a huge malnutrition problem. Prolonged malnutrition usually leads to anemia and so many other problems associated with underdevelopment. The kids eventually grow out of it.)
Anyway, the point was that now that I’m on iron pills I don’t feel tired all the time, so I can actually make it through more then 10 pages of a book at a time. So far I’ve only read 4 books and all my Peace Corps Manuals (of which there are quite a few, and they’re thick as well.), and a number of random things in French or English.
Books I’ve read so far: The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, Slaughter-House 5, The Monkey Wrench Gang, and Travels with Charlie. Slaughter-House 5 and Travels with Charlie seem to be the best of the four… you’ve got to love Vonnegut and Steinbeck.

…That’s all that I can think of right now.

Sarah

Street Law

Okay, listen closely. Benin: On the 'Top 10' list for 'Poorest Country in the World', and yet I don't really feel that safety is a huge issue. Maybe it is in minor circumstances, like petty theft of rich yovos (again, yovo=fon for white person), but for the most part I feel really safe when the sun is up. "What the hell!, you're crazy Sarah", you might be thinking, but I have some logic to back it up:

Random fact #1) People are poor here, poorer then you might be able to understand, but you don't steal here. I know I've said it before, but if you get caught steeling here it's a race to the police station; you vs. the mob who's chasing you. Street Law.

example #1) Tanguieta, Benin 2 years ago. 2 guys were chased by a mob to the gendarmerie (police station) for stealing a moto, and they beat the mob. Guess what though? these lucky bastards were freed by the police later that day... lucky bastards... so you would think anyway, right??? ...The only catch is, that mob was still outside waiting for them, asking the police to let them go even. As soon as these guys were freed these people gave them a thorough 'gasoline shower', and proceeded to lend them a lit match... then and there, from what I understand. Street Law.

example #2) Tanguieta, Benin a month ago. Another guy decides to steal a moto, and he beats the mob to the gendarmes (police) as well. Well, this guy was really a lucky one. His only punishment was that he had to dance for 4 hours straight. Oh, oh, I forgot to mention... they kind of broke one of his legs in the process of 'retrieving' him... this guy had to dance for 4 hours straight on a broken leg at gunpoint. Street Law.

This whole thought of punishment has really caused me to do a lot of thinking about the cause and effect of crime and punishment. The police here don't patrol the streets. They have their one building in every village where they stay and gaurd. On top of that, if you want them to do any investigating on anything you usually have to offer a bit of 'insentive' for them... so the Gendarmes (police) aren't doing anything really. It's all the people here. Also, there's not any form of mafia here that I can see... that would be a curious thing to theorize on, but I lack the information on the subject. There's definitely no lack of guns... those are readily available next door in Nigeria. Could it be a cultural thing... Is it because they are collectivists, not individualistic enough to kill for one another?? That doesn't seem very logical. Is it the sense of justice that comes with the Voodoo background? ...Who knows. All I know is what I see, and I always find myself amazed. Street Law. Who knew.

Best of luck to you all.

Sarah

The end of Stag and my first week of being an official Volunteer

Oh, the things I’ve seen… but before I get into that, let me preface this post with my latest news:
Stag (training) ended a week ago and now everyone is at their respective posts. I even tested out at an Intermediate High level of French, but I think I really probably should have landed at Advanced Low. Those last couple of weeks of stag were hard, and everyone was just about ready to rip each others heads off, but we all survived without anymore casualties…. My group of 59 stagiers (trainees) did lose 6 people for one reason or another, but I have to say that their reasons for going home are respectable. No one left because of personal illness or anything like that though.
My good old friend Montezuma has finally decided that he’s dished out enough revenge to last me a while, so I’m back to feeling healthy and normal…. You can’t believe how much easier life feels here when you are healthy. When I was sick all I could think about was air conditioning and Cambell’s soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and Scooby Doo…. No worries though; my sanity has found me again, and so now I’m back to dreaming of the Arby’s Corn Beef Reuben with curly fries and a frosty… or maybe even just chicken McNuggets with that yummy barbecue sauce…. But really, lets not talk about food.
So now I’ve been at post for a week and I’ve decided that Boukoumbé is amazing. It is all that you could want from a ville/village. It’s not big, but it’s not the smallest either, for the most part people speak French here along with the local Betamarribé, and the people here have an amazing, strong, and beautiful culture.
I realize you are probably curious to know more about Boukoumbé, both physically and socially, so I’ll start off with the physical description:
What is Boukoumbé like physically? Well, there’s one main dirt/gravel road that runs through town, and the town stretches out for 2km (3/4 of a mile) along this. There is a post office here, a regional mayor and his office, a Maison de Jeune (Translation: House of the young… it’s like a community center. Most bigger towns have one), a couple of schools, a health center, an orphanage, a couple of religious buildings sporting the two local flavors; Christianity and Islam (Voodoo is practiced at home… there aren’t any official temples in Boukoumbé).
For food, there is also the usual outdoor marché (market) here which goes all day every 5th day, and most importantly, there are 2 boutiques here that sell some more western products like powdered milk and canned foods and occasionally forks and spoons and dustpans, and other things like that. There are also 4 or 5 restaurants in town, and one of them is actually AMAZINGLY good. A lady owns it named Pascalline… and hence, the restaurant is called Chez-Pascalline. She sells more traditional foods such as rice and red sauce, black and white paté (a hot, moist paste made of your local carbohydrates) with sauce, viande (meat, usually chicken or pintard), beans, and the wonderful fromage (cheese, but not like what you find at home. The cheese here reminds me of Spongebob Squarepants… it looks more like an edible sponge then cheese, but it’s good!). Pascalline is a great cook, and her restaurant has even made it into Lonely Planet multiple times, along with most other guide books.
Boukoumbé is actually the place of the seat of government of this region… Using the word ‘capital’ would be using the word fairly liberally in this case... county seat might be a better term for it. I believe there are approximately 70ish regions in Benin, and Benin is about the size of Pennsylvania in total… so really, Boukoumbé is probably on a 3rd tier in size, with the 1st tier being the hugely huge Cotonou, and the 2nd tier being towns like Abomey, Lokossa, Nattitingou, Dassa, Malanville, Parakou, Djougou, and N’Dali which seem to usually be about the size of Guthrie, Oklahoma (maybe a bit bigger).
Now I’ll get into the social aspects of Boukoumbé:
Where do I begin with this…. Lately, I’ve seen a lot of things that I have never seen before and experienced the real reality of another culture a little bit. Maybe I’ll just list them off as I think of them:
I’ve seen kids soo hungry that their hair had turned blonde from malnutrition… little African kids with ‘Dennis Rodman Blonde’ hair.
I’ve spent the night (with my postmate, Paige) next to a tata somba where chickens are sacrificed on a regular basis on the doorstep, and where they drip the blood into these tall mounds of cemented dirt that stand to represent the members of their family
I have seen the hunters of Boukoumbé gather with their bows and arrows, and some wearing not much more then a loin clothe, in order to go to the Gendarmerie (police station) and find and begin the initiation process of two young men of the community who have been chosen to become hunters as well.
I have seen a man with polio crawl the whole 2km of Boukoumbé by scooting along on his hands and rear…. And he does this everyday, multiple times in search of tchouk (local alcoholic beer… like cider).
I’ve seen women and children work the day away while men sit around and get drunk.
I’ve seen the head magic man of a village, not Boukoumbé, who has worn a loin clothe (and only that) maid of monkeys skin ever since he was chosen to become the head magic man… he hasn’t taken it off since then. He was 63 years old. He was also smoking a long traditional pipe, and he only spoke the local language. This was in Tanikoko, Benin.
Also in Tanikoko, I saw the grotto and the path leading up to the grotto, wear numerous voodoo ceremonies are preformed, such as the place where the magic man takes a man and a woman who wish to get pregnant. He sacrifices a white chicken in this sacred spot, and if the chicken falls on it’s stomach then they will have a child within 3 months, and if it falls on its back then they will not have a child. All the sacrifices that are done in the grotto are done to appease the spirits who rest there… and they only sacrifice animals as far as I know.
I have learned the basic greetings of the Betamariiba people who occupy Boukoumbé. “Aboo” is “how’s it going?”, “Aboo tete” is “It’s going well”, “Denaati” is “it’s going extremely well”, and “iyoo” is “it’s okay”. You also bow to a person when you first encounter them to show respect.
I have had probably 50 marriage offers since I arrived, and I’ve been told multiple times that I would make good children.
I have sat around a giant bucket of tchouk and drank out of dried gourd shells and talked with the locals… it’s just what you do here. There are tchouk stands all along the road in Boukoumbé… probably 10 to 20 stands total.
In the marché half of the bins are reserved for tchouk vendors, and I think the story goes that each vendor is the wife of the local chief, and so the people who sit at each stand are usually from that village/group of people as well… but almost all (93%) are Betamariiba.
I have seen SOOO many kids with worms. This means that they will grow up with a malnutrition problem because the worms eat any nutritional food they might get, and they are also destined to become anemic and underdeveloped. The sad thing is that just a few pills will cure this problem, and they aren’t even terribly expensive.
There are so many things here to see, to understand, and to process… I can’t even begin to list them all now. I wish I could remember all the things that have just dumbstruck me the past week, but these are the only that occur to me now. Well, this is all I really have right now.
As always, I hope everything is wonderful where ever all of you find yourselves. If it's not going well, well, I really don't have any advice... Actually, my best advice would be this: Never eat with your left hand, be ready to have people knocking at your door at 7am just to saluate you, and never forget; a goat's cry sounds oddly similar to a human baby's. My advice isn't terribly relevant, is it? Haha.
Till the next time.

Sarah

A boring blog post, but I did visit Boukoumbe

Okay, so things are going well here. I visited Boukoumbe for the first time, and it was awesome! I had a run in again with that old friend Diarrhea, but I survived. I'm actually in the med unit now again, because they were so worried about me, but of course all they did was slip me some medicine, and, "Goodbye Mr. D!"...it's good that I came down though. I would rather come up healthy than extremely ill, because I was really having a hard time of it, and I was at the point where I couldn't keep anything down... or in my body in general. I had my first crap-my-pants experience. that was fun... I won't give details... well, I'll just say that it happened in front of my host family of approx 20 people, and it was oozing down my leg. (Okay, so that's details. Sorry. Believe me, that sentence of detail doesn't even begin to relate to the experience, so I don't feel sorry for you guys. Besides, you did choose to read this.)
Okay, so about Boukoumbe... Boukoumbe is AMAZING. My house isn't going to be where they originally thought. The only house that was available right now was one side of a duplex, which has 3 bedrooms, a back terrace, a toilet, a shower, electricity!, and really cool neighbors who have satellite tv! Crazy, huh? So yeah, if ANYONE wants to come visit me, believe me you are more than welcome.
The sickness only got in the way a little, but it's really a long story. I'll just say that I got really bad food poisoning, and I pulled off a pretty good show in front of all the right people.
My homologue is really awesome, too! His name is Paulin, and he's a really nice guy. We really hit it off well, and he introduced me to all the people in town, and he even took me over into to Togo to a marche there. The marche there was crazy! People drinking tchouk everywhere! Like, these people were gathered under these little vendor shack stands, with the tchouk in the middle and the vendor scooping the tchouk out into bowls or dried out gourd shells. It was pretty crazy! Also, there were some women there who had those big plugs in their ears, like the ones punks in the states wear, and they also had these crazy things that looked like a tigers tooth or something pierced through their lower lip with the point facing out. It was pretty awesome! These people are so into their culture, and their tchouk, and their tata sombas and their voodoo! It's just awesome in Boukoumbe!! On the second/last day I had there, the mayor took me to this awesome village on the top of a mountain (aka big hill), and the view there was spectacular! they want help developing their tourism there, which will be hard, but maybe I can help a little bit. The town's name is Koussou, if anyone is taking notes or anything.
So yeah, besides being pretty disguistingly sick with Diarrhea and vomit, my 2 day post visit to Boukoumbe was awesome! Really, anyone who is interested at all is welcome to come visit me! I have tons of spare room in my new house, and I happen to have bought some very yovo things as of late.... like ketchup!, and chocolate!, and corn starch!... come visit me... you'll understand. No worries, it won't be painful. You'll have a blast, and you'll have the experience of a lifetime ... but you will also understand why ketchup, chocolate, and corn starch deserve exclamation points.
Okay, so I'm better now, and everything's going well. I'm back in Cotonou, and I'm getting to where I know my way around this madhouse of a city.
Honestly, I actually wrote a really long blog about my whole experience this past week, but it was incredibly way too long, and the details were agonizing, so this is the readers digest condensed version. All is well. ...there it is, that's about all I have to say. Things were bad, but they're better again.
I had my first real experience of having thoughts of ETing (ET=Early Termination), but none of my thoughts were based in any form of logic, and I managed to notice that really quickly... so I'm good. Ya know, when you're sick as a dog, without a latrine, without electricity, without any privacy, and you have to wake up 10 people every time you need to go to the bathroom, and you have to go to the bathroom every 30 minutes, you start feeling a little homesick. Part of me wanted to curl up in a ball, a whimpering, shivering ball of eccentric tears and cry, "I want my mommy!!" It's amazing how low a little food poisoning can get ya. The worst of it is, I know that this wasn't a very bad one. It could have been worse. It will be worse, next time when I'm really sick, at post, and have to take a bush taxi instead of the cushy PC SUV.... we'll see how low low can really be then.
Well, that's about all I have the energy to post right now. I hope you guys are great. the next post will be more interesting... I'm just too tired right now to be interesting. Sorry.

Sarah

!!!!Cotonou = Candyland!!!!

Am I hallucinating? ….Flushing toilettes, free toilet paper, AIR CONDITIONING!!, HOT and cold water showers, a fan, a sink (Hot and cold water as well), a BATHTUB! (What?!?!?!)…. All in my own giant room!!!!!.... And to top it off it makes me realize that a sickely life in this country might almost be better than a healthy one. When I first was told by the in-country doctors that I would have to come down to Cotonou for follow-up blood work for my anemia I was really bummed… who knew I would be living in Candyland though!! The funniest thing about it all is that I’m the only person here right now, and I’m the one that’s least sick out of all the people I’ve ran into today…. The deal is that COS’ing (Close Of Service) volunteers are technically no longer considered volunteers; they’re DONE, but they are all also the only ones here that are just sitting around, and 1 or 2 of them looked a little under the weather, and they still couldn’t stay in the fairytale ‘Sickroom #2’ that I, the healthy newbie, gets to enjoy…. I never thought such a name as “Sickroom #2” could bring me such utter joy.
…………………later that night……………………
AMAZING…, a hot shower. I’ve never felt this clean in my life. My skin feels dry! Hooray for dry skin! …I’m so used to that oily feeling. The feeling that a weaks worth of muck is layered on top of that precious epidermis… and it’s not just a feeling… If you run your nails across any itch you’re bound to see the layer of dirt, which was probably the cause of the itch in the first place.
I’m cold! I hate being cold, honestly, hate it!.... but this feels so good. I am in bed right now, and I have 2 blankets on! Usually I sleep with one sheet, but it always ends up in a twisted heap laying next to me… Africa is too hot for even a sheet… but now I have 2! And one is soft and cuddly!
This is it…. I’ve got to get sick. Maybe I could get the Creeping Eruption. That one just sounds like fun. It’s a parasite that makes a line-type mark under the skin, but I don’t think it really creeps. Come on though, it’s called the Creeping Eruption! It’s much better than Malaria… That stuff’s just scary. Goneria’s not that much fun either… no, too much bathroom time involved. A parasite would really be the sickness of choice; they’re usually not contagious, and usually don’t involve a lot of bathroom time, and they usually involve a very concentrated pain. A tape worm would be another good choice, although I don’t know if that would get you into the med unit.
……………….next day……………….
Pizza, Dr. Pepper, Seinfeld Episodes, Movies in English…. Where am I???? AIR CONDITIONING! FREE high-speed internet in the building, American keyboards, and I’m the only one here…. I can surf the internet ALL NIGHT if I want to!!!! I think it’s official… I’m hiding under the bed for the next 2 years…. They’ll never know I’m there!! Hehe.
Okay, so get this: I did the give-the-doc-my-blood thing this morning, and I was done by 9:30. At noon I went with some volunteers to eat at Secret Shwarma. The volunteers know all the good places in town, and they never utilize their real names… Secret Shwarma, is actually just a Shwarma place that no one seems to know about… Except for the Peace Corps Volunteers… and it’s AMAZING. After that, I went to a huge marche where half of the place seemed to be made up of American clothes that had been shipped over from good-will stores. It was pretty awesome. I bought some tie-dye tissue there, and I’m really excited about it. Next, we went to the cell phone store, and I hate to admit it, but I bought a cell phone. I’m just tired of getting cut off from my parents after 1 or 2 minutes of conversation, and I know it’s hard for them. Now that I have a phone, incoming calls are free for me. Actually, it’s not even that much to call out, but in comparison to what I’m living off of, well, okay, it’s a lot. Anyway, I’ve got the old-school Nokia again, and I might have paid the same amount (in USD) as I did when I bought the first one 10 years ago…. They’re definitely not cheap by any standards. I would give you guys my number, but I don’t have it on me right now. I’ll work on getting it posted though… that way if anyone wants to call they can.
Anyway, back to my story: So, bought the cell phone, then toured around another marche that I actually have been to before. After that, I enjoyed the air-conditioning for a while, talked to my mother on the new phone, and went out for some PIZZA…. And it was delicious too!!!! I love this place! Anyway, here I am now enjoying my internet time… which can go on for however long I choose… The gaurds are on 24 hours a day, so I’m not keeping anyone up…. and the internet is incredible here. If you haven’t noticed, the first thing I did was upload all of those pictures that I’ve been wanting to post. Check the blog post titled, “Pictures!!!”… there’s some good ones in there.
Well, that’s pretty much life. I’ll get back to you guys probably after my post visit, which will probably be a weak. Best of luck to you all.

Sarah

Pictures!!!!

Okay, so since I'm in Cotonou I thought I would upload all of my huge pictures while I have fast, free internet,... along with anything else one might expect in a utopia! Anyway, here they are. These are the best ones:

Okay, so we had a cultural dance lesson night where the Peace Corps paid for two groups of dancers, one of men and one of women, to come show us the dances of the North. In this picture we have Mike and Rachel Rocking that Beninese spirit down to the core. ... And of course the other person in the picture is the pro, just showing us how it's REALLY done.
I don't remember the name of this dance, but I do know it had a lot to do with the red Baton in the lead dancer's hand. Ironically, 'Red Baton' in french is 'Baton Rouge'.... sound familiar?
This is a picture of some of us SED/ICT people when we did a fashion show for our group. From Top Left to Bottom Right, we have Tom, sporting a lovely lace bumba for men, Mike, wearing a sleak communist look known as the 'Functionair Suit', next to him we have Rachel who is wearing a very conservative style of dress with a foulard to match,... next to her we have Andrea, who is wearing a bumba with very inate lace... this ones more for you older women out there. ...Who is that lovely young model next to Andrea! Why!, that's yours truly!... sporting a more young and conservative look, yet very fashionable. Bottom Left: Jen! And not only does Jen have a tan, but she has a sexy bumba to show it off as well! This bumba is actually probably a little big, and the older crowd might find this style more appealing then Jen probably does. And next to Jen we have Jose! ... our Bumba wearing, Russian dancing, Mexican/American who puts the 'C' in 'Culture', and he's looking great in a lace bumba as well! Last, but definitely not least, we have our king of tissue, Ryan!!! Ryan is wearing a lace bumba as well, but he's wearing it in a way that only he can.... and look at how happy he is in it, too! ...... That concludes our fashion show line up picture for the day. now we move on to........
This picture was taken at La Fete... meaning the Festival for Independence. I think it's the 1st of July... anyway, after the parade my Mama took me to this back of a back of a back alley where there was a group of people gathering for the festival. It was incredible! The guys in the head-dress are the dancers, and the guy on the left has a whistle in his mouth. The guys in the background are drummers, and the rest of the people are observers. Festivals are a huge reason for people to buy matching tissue and all have things made with it, so if you notice any matching, that's why... another sign of the collective society, I would say.
This picture was actually taken in a business in Boukoumbe, where I will be stationed. I haven't spent much time there yet, but I should be able to give more details after this weak. Postweak live-in starts Tuesday for us SED people!

These are the hills of Boukoumbe... Aren't they incredible! This is going to be my home for 2 years, right in the middle of this valley.

Click on this picture to see a larger picture... the small one doesn't do it justice. This is a Tata Somba that people still live in in Boukoumbe. I took this picture from the car. It's pretty amazing, eh? I'm going to have an awesome service!!!

I believe this picture was taken in Parakou, but I'm not sure. This is pretty typically what a marche (market) looks like here. I took it from the car while we were heading to the North for the first time... at the beginning of training... a whole month ago. Wow, time flies sometimes, doesn't it?

Okay, this picture just about says it all for me. This picture embodies all of my first impressions of Benin... you know, the things that really just dropped my jaw. Do you see the lady with the bottles? Those bottles are full of gas that has been mixed with who-knows-what. The gas is smuggled in from Nigeria. See the women with the trays balanced on their heads?!?! That's completely normal, and they think we're crazy for not carrying everything on our heads. The woman on the right is wearing a fairly traditional type of clothing... the 'skirt' is a paigne, which is a peace of material big enough to wrap 1 1/2 times around. The women also tie off their money in the ends of their paignes. Both womens' outfits are made of tissue. Pretty awesome, eh? The motorcycle is a pretty sweet one for around here, but it definitely could be a Zemidjan. See the building? I believe those are probably the standard cinder blocks they have here, which are about half the thickness of the ones in the US, but it could possibly, yet doubtedly, be mud bricks. Note also the aluminum roofs... it's not unusual for these to leak.... in fact it's normal. What an awesome picture!

Okay, so this picture was taken the day I got my tresses done, which was Maybe in the very last days of July. Pretty aweosome, eh? ...I just recently took them out. The Beninese loved it. In fact, now, everywhere I go people tell me, "Sarah, you aren't pretty anymore!!! Why did you take out your tresses?!" ...Beninese people are so bluntly honest that I want to laugh sometimes.

Mes tresses me manque! (fr: I miss my tresses!)

Boukoumbe

The rain. It’s raining now. It started about 10 minutes ago. At home, they would call these daily spurts ‘flash floods’, but here it’s seen as both ‘the rainy season’, and ‘free water’.
There are 3 seasons here in Benin: You have a rainy and dry season, and then you have the Harmattan Season. I could be wrong about when these all occur, but I think I've got it right: The Harmattan is a dessert wind that is very strong and carries a lot of dust, and apparently it comes during the night and it brings the cool dessert morning air. This is the coldest part of the year. The dust is going to be fun, I hear. You could sweep it up, but more is scheduled to arrive on the early wind the next day, but then again if you don’t sweep it up then it accumulates to a filth-ridden pigsty…. But I’m not there yet. The dry season is right before that, and it's the season that's the hardest to handle. It's the hottest part of the year. They say you’re just miserable for the middle 3 to 4 hours of the day in the dry season. I guess a lot of people sleep outside because it’s so bad. No, I still have a whole rainy season to enjoy...well technically it should be ending soon, but it owes us some time for starting late. It just began… It is possible that the dust won't be so bad for me in the Harmattan though, because Boukoumbe is in the hills...
Ahhhh, Boukoumbé. I’m miserably excited about it. It’s a little bit of a tease…. Only 45k away, yet so very, very far away. In my placement interviews with Jacque, my ACPD (Assistant Country PC Director), I remember he asked me, “Do you have any preferences for your placement?” … My only response was as honest as it gets, “I just want to be somewhere beautiful where I can show my shoulders.” … looking back, that seems like a very funny answer, but the pressure was on, and I wanted the truth to be out there…. And for some reason it really bothers me to always have to worry about weather my shoulders are covered enough to be culturally acceptable. Well, I got what I asked for. Boukoumbé is almost completely an animist (voodoo) society, and it is in the middle of this beautiful valley surrounded by rolling, beautiful, green, lush, mystical hills. Only in the last 30 years have these people began to be affected by the western world, and even in my brief visit there I saw plenty of topless old women working in the fields. Don’t worry though… I definitely won’t be as liberal as they are. I just want to wear my spaghetti strap shirts again!
After my response to his question, Jacque continued with another question; “How would you feel about working on eco-tourism?”…. My first thought, which was also inadvertently voiced immediately as well: “Oh my god, is that possible!!!! How come I never knew this???!!! YES. I would love that.” The rest is history. Boukoumbé is my new home, and I’m ecstatic. You guys should see these Tata Somba’s that people live in there.
Okay, so I also just read the description of Boukoumbé in my book “Benin: The Guide to Benin”… they didn’t mess around much with that title, eh…. Anyway, after reading about Boukoumbé I have this vivid image painted in my head of these people.
First of all, it said that the Somba people, who speak Betammaribé, built their Tata Somba’s actually as forts that usually don’t have front doors. Instead there is a ladder that you have to use to climb over the wall to get inside. The one I saw had a front door, but I think the design might actually be a regional thing.
Because of this fortification the Somba people weren’t affected at all by the slave traders, because the slave traders quickly learned that it would take one strong and harsh attack just to capture one family, so the Somba’s were left alone. About 30 years ago some French person discovered these Somba people, and wrote an article about them and the fact that they had been, “…completely uninfluenced by western society…”…. And so of course, after that the western society did it’s best to find them. Now, Boukoumbé is one of the only touristy spots in Northern Benin, but by ‘touristy’, I mean that probably 5 people role in a day to check the place out, if even that. That’s completely a guess though. Anyway, these people don’t always live in their Tata Somba’s so much any more, but some do, and they’ve added a little more clothing into their diet, from what I understand…. You know that mental image of Africans in loin clothes living in mud huts? … that’s what I imagine these people might have been like 30 years ago. I also hear that they love their festivities and their culture, and it's really intense. To give you another idea, this is one of the tribes that practices (yes, that’s present tense) FGM. Oh yeah, they also have a market there where people still come to trade things like bows and arrows and a lot of voodoo fetish stuff, but I’m sure they have other things as well. Okay, it really should be remembered that these are all just my mental images trying to grasp hold of the itty bitty inklings of information I’ve been given. I do know that they definitely have been affected by the western world though in a big way. A true sign of this; I will have electricity at my post.

I just got done playing Duck Duck Goose with all the kids in my family. It cracked me up, they were saying “dutch” instead of “duck” and “goo” for “goose”. They wanted me to remember more, but for the life of me I couldn’t think of any. I struggled with remembering what you did after someone started chasing you in Duck Duck goose! Now they want me to remember more as well! I never saw my childhood as being that far in the past till I tried to remember all the games I played. They already know and play a lot of the same ones, actually. They already play all of the hand slap games…. The only difference is the songs we sing, and some of those are the same but with words in french. They also already know and play tug-of-war and London bridges. What else is there to play? Hmmmm… I’m going to have to ponder this one. Where’s the old Nintendo when you need it? Hahaha.
It just occurred to me that it’s pretty odd to have kids around that are looking for entertainment that doesn’t involve a tv. This just seems like it is really how kids should grow up. You should see these kids. They’re rugged. These kids run and fall all the time, and there’s no crying about it. They just get up and run some more. Was I that durable at some point? Could I still be now? The even crazier thing about it all is that there’s no one telling them what’s safe and what’s not. You want to go play in the street? GO! Go play in the street! If they get hurt they’ll be more careful the next time…. At least, that seems to be the logic. Who knows, I could be wrong on this, but I just seem to catch a lot of this kids right in the middle of the ‘trial’ phase of most of their trials and errors.
These kids get along together so well, too…. I’m really amazed at how good they are to each other. They’re always sharing and helping each other…. It’s so odd. Shouldn’t they be screaming at each other and saying, “that’s mine!!!” … Maybe I just don’t understand enough Dendi… or French for that matter. Even if you watch them though, they are always considerate of each other. Damn you ‘collective societies’ and your ‘non-individualism’!!! What fun is childhood without the daily yelling, screaming fight (or 5) of “he said… she said” and “he took my toy!!!”… Ya know, it’s the subtle cultural differences that are really mind-boggling. I thought all kids acted the way I did when I was little. Now, I see that even that was a backlash of my culture. Could the fact that I was an only child have something to do with it?
.........I stopped here.... I probably fell asleep.

A Whole Lot of Randomness

I’ve been working on finishing this post for a weak, so this was started August 14th and finished August 20th.

What to write, what to write…. What is worth putting down? My head is full of things that I’m trying to process, to just take it all in, but I’m overwhelmed, and here I am without a word to write. This is why it’s been so long since I’ve posted. Maybe I’ll just work my way into it…. After all, when I spoke to my father yesterday for the first time since my arrival, I felt like I couldn’t shut my mouth. My new world came spewing out of me in all sorts of stories and information, and I know he must have been as overwhelmed as I am all the time. It’s got to be a common feeling. It’s just a completely different world!
So much to say…. So little space to express so much reality…. Here I go. I’ll try. Maybe if I put it all in short, clippy thoughts I will get it all out.
I’m going to be posted in Boukoumbé, which is really close to where I am now. It is an extremely animist village where people still live in Tata somba’s, sacrifice animals for ceremonies and keep the skulls in their kitchens, and build piles by the doorway that represent each person in the family (called gri gri’s) It’s actually a really big tourist place, and it’s just beautiful around there. I’m so excited to go exploring. The village is perfect. I’ll be only really close to the nearest Volunteer, and they are actually in Togo. Haha. I’m really excited about it. Apparently I will be living next door to a Tata somba, and they say there is a Gri gri in front of my house that looks like Cousin It, because over time someone built a ballcap into it. Hahaha.
Papa just sprayed insecticide down the latrine, and now there is a steady trail/march of mosquitoes leaving the latrines… needless to say, I’m doing my best to hold it till the parade is over.
I visited a friends house today and used her latrine, and there were maggots crawling out of the whole. Also, you could see the bottom of her latrine because of the way it was built; it’s a sea of maggots down there. You can see them wiggling and squirming in piles of you know what…. Lovely.
Yesterday one of the twins in my family got a black eye, and my family has a refrigerator and ice, and I tried to tell them to put ice on it to reduce the swelling… they looked at me like I was crazy. I said it politely 3 times… they had to have understood me… but they still didn’t put any ice on it. I guess it’s just not heard of here. Besides, what do I know. I’m the stranger. What would I know about their lives?.... if they only knew my country’s obsession with health, healing, and wellness.
Yesterday I bought 1,500 francs worth of food ($3) for the whole group of us…. It was enough fried food to feed one person for a weak… and it was good.
A lot of men in this country spend the whole time drunk while the women and children do all the work. One of the girls in our group has a host father who hasn’t had a job in 4 years. The wife makes tchucke (a local alcoholic drink, very cheap), and she slaves away to support them…. And the husband drinks the tchucke.
We had our first chance to teach a group of artisans, in French, about basic credit and savings. I was working with one other Stagiere (trainee), and we taught a class of a little less than 10 people. At least 2 of the people in the group couldn’t read or write. We were explaining to them why it is good to save money in a bank instead of at your home, why you should keep track of the money you spend, and what the benefits of saving are.
In the Beninese culture it is extremely common for someone to come up to you and say, “Give me that.” If a friend needs money, they come to you and ask for money. It’s very common. If someone likes something they will ask for it, and they may or may not be a little upset if you don’t give it to them.
In the Beninese mindset all white people are rich. The Yovo Song is taught to children by their parents, because if you see a white person it is like finding a penny on the street, and if you sing the Yovo Song to them they will give you money… and it’s not completely a lie. There are missionaries everywhere here, all building something or throwing money at something else and then leaving. They never teach the people how to build something or how to earn the money they need. It’s just completely anti-productive.
People don’t eat with their left hand because that’s the hand they wipe with. That didn’t really occur to me till a weak or so ago.
Everyone in the Peace Corps has crapped their pants at least once in their service. I’ve only had close calls thus far.
The Beninese people are naturally amazingly beautiful people, especially the women. Most people have scars on their cheeks that can be used to figure out what region they came from. These scars are just as beautiful as they are, and it adds to them very well.
In Benin, 50% of the population is Muslim, 50% are Christian, but 100% are Voodoo. That’s the truth of it.
Some towns have ‘strong magic’…. This is usually said in a good way it seems.
You can buy anything you need in a buvette (a bar) if you wait long enough. Sit down, have a Coke, and wait for the right vendor to stroll through…. Volunteers have coined the phrase ‘walking walmarts’ for these people… There is always the sunglasses guy, the electronics guy, the bra guy, the tissue guy (again, tissue is clothing material), the fashion clothes guy, the watch guy, the guy selling phone cards, and the walking walmarts, which have a mixture of everything you could ever need. Need a light for your bathroom?... wait for Walking Walmart; 500 francs for the cord and 1000 for the light, and that’s getting ripped off. Need sandals? Wait for the sandal guy… he’ll come eventually.
The rainy season is not a joke. When they say ‘rainy season’ they mean it. Apparently it’s starting late this year, but for every day lately it will rain for 2 or 3 hours straight, and it’s that rain that kind of rain that drenches you in about half a second. It’s relentless, but it’s also your ally. With the rain comes the coolness, and while it is raining it is still comfortable to be in as long as you don’t mind getting drenched.
When it is cool outside (and by cool, I mean 80*F), it is completely appropriate to wear a coat if you have one… Last weak we played soccer and catch with a kid who was wearing a seriously heavy ski coat…. It was about 80*. I guess ‘cold’ is just as relative of a thought as any.
Apparently it takes about 2 years before the average t-shirt ends up over here. If only some of these people knew what their t-shirts said. Haha. The most common shirts seem to be Old Navy first and foremost, and then I would say I see a lot of pop star shirts more then any others…. Brittany Spears, Eminem, Nelly… All went out of style about 2-4 years ago in the US. Oh yeah, and one of the walking vendors is always selling t-shirts too.
The Marché is the place to buy anything that can’t be found on Walking Walmart, and it makes me question what is defined as necessity and luxury. Toilet paper is 250 francs per roll!! Who can afford that? Tissue (clothing material) is 2,000 francs for 2 meters (1 pagne) of okay quality material. 1 pagne is about half an outfit or half a simple bumba, and a taylor should run 500-1500 francs for a bumba. (In case you need a refresher, 500 francs = $1usd). Many other things can be bought at the Marché as well. There always seems to be the guy selling alcohol, the ladies selling fish and sardines, all sorts of people selling all the options for food you could ask for, and the guys/women selling the voodoo fetish supplies. There are all sorts of people in the marché.
Peanut butter is widely available here. In fact, from what I assume, peanuts are one of the main crops after corn and cotton. It’s known here as ‘pâte d’arachid’, and appropriately so, because that translates to ‘paste of peanut’.
It is traditional to eat everything with your hands. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but I thought it was interesting enough to throw out here again. … ahhhh, if they only knew I wiped with my right hand, then they might understand why I like eating with my left hand. Stupid yovo.
People randomly give gifts here. I met this one girl while walking down the street, and we got to talking (as much as we could with my tattered French), and she ended up insisting that I come to her house and meet her whole family, and once I was there she gave me some mango juice that her family had maid… that is one of their main forms of income; selling juice… anyway, she wouldn’t let me pay for it. Then, the next day I saw this same girl probably 5 times. It’s almost like she was looking for me. Well, to make a long story short I ended up at her house again with a friend and she kept giving us stuff again. I told her that we had come to buy some of her juice, and that I had told my friends about it and they wanted to buy it from her, but she refused to take our money. She just kept giving us her juice! I felt so awkward. These people were making this stuff to sell, to survive off of, and for the life of me I couldn’t get her to let me pay for it. I asked my Mama about this, and her answer was almost too logical for me to handle…. “Except the gift, it’s normal. She wants to be your friend. She will eventually stop giving you things. It’s normal.” … I wish she understood the culture I came from. I wish she knew how truly odd of a concept this is for me. I have money. This girl doesn’t. I NEED to pay for what I asked for. …I’ve got to learn to deal with this. You would think this wouldn’t be a big deal, I mean, I’ve never had problems taking free stuff before. In fact, I was a connoisseur of living off of free food back in Stillwater. I was that person that would hit up all the college events for the free food, and sometimes I would stock up too. But here it’s different. These people don’t have a lot more to loose. Whether they sell this bottle of juice might make the difference of whether all of them eat tonight. Why won’t they just take my money?
Life is definitely interesting here. I’m still having a great time, but I have to admit that it would be nice to flash home for a second and just feel ‘at home’ and ‘comfortable’… even if it were for just a few minutes. The real question is, would I really feel comfortable there now? How much have I adapted to my life here? … I don’t know. Some days I wake up hearing my mothers blow dryer as she’s getting ready for work down the hall, or the soft murmur of my parents talking as they get ready for work, or I might even feel the air conditioner kick on… and then I open my eyes, and for a moment I’m completely at home… and then, second by second, reality seeps in, and with it comes the heat, the humidity, the sounds that are so profoundly common for me now… the cock crowing outside my window, the gentle sound of the domestiques (servent girls) sweeping the hallways, the petite voices of the children as they slowly wake up in the room across the hall from me, the rain splattering against the tin roof and gently dripping down outside of my window… this is it. This is my home. I like it, but I’ll never forget my real home. … the smell of pancakes, my parents sitting there watching the news every night, going to the bathroom and not smelling something what’s beneath me, the taste of something like an Arby’s market-fresh Reuben sandwich, my good ol’ bike at home (which is sitting there in the pool room right where I left it), my mom, my dad, Andrea and Shannon (the best friends I might have ever had), the color of lamplight as it hits the living room in my parents house …there aren’t any lamps here… it all seems light a pleasant thought, like a happy painting that might have been the scene of a modern Jane Austen book…..
But then I think about my life here again, and compare a little. The biggest plus that Benin has for it is that I really like what I’m doing here, and that’s really really important. They have us working with artisans in groups every weak, and we’re actually teaching them about simple things that I think they might be getting a lot out of. Last weak it was the benefits of Credit and Savings, this weak it was Marketing and the 4 P’s… I really get quite a bit pumped up about it! I mean, it’s crazy! These people are just sponges, just loving to soak up this information… I managed, without the help of my partner (2 PC trainees to about 10 local artisans for these classes), to explain why they should save their money in a bank instead of at home. I saw it click for them, too. It may seem like a simple concept to the typical American, but here the banks aren’t stable, and instead of earning interest many times you are charged a fee when you want to withdraw. Because of this, many people save money in their homes… maybe under their pillow, maybe buried in their bedroom or in a field, and a lot of times money is stolen, lost, or used for other things because it is so accessible. For instance, it is very common for a friend to come ask you for money if they need help and they know you have it. The thing is, if you have it you give it to them, but if it’s in the bank then you really don’t ‘have it’. This is the point that I made that really clicked for them. It felt good. It felt really good.
Well, that’s about all of my news as of now. I’m exhausted from typing for so long. Sorry it’s been so long since my last post. I will update it more often… things just got a bit wild these last few weeks…. So much to learn and take in that it’s hard to find time to sit and put it all down. Honestly, it really is overwhelming to try to review it all like this, but I think it’s good for me in the end and I’ll do better at keeping it updated now that I’ve got you guys all caught up. Well, until next time! Best of luck, and I hope everything is amazing wherever you find yourselves. Eat an Arby’s Reuben for me!

Sarah