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
Friday, August 25, 2006
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!)
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!)
Monday, August 21, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
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
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
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Oh Crap - 8/2/06
WARNING: *************If you’re disgusted by reading or thinking about bowel movements, you might not want to read this post!!!******************
2am: What I wouldn’t give for solid crap right now. What would you do for a Klondike bar?... I have Klondike covered, but the problem is it’s a little melted by the time I see it. I wish I spoke French. If I could actually speak French then maybe I could explain to my host family that all of the oily and spicy foods have began to accumulate in my stomach, leading to an interesting acid reflux problem that’s been haunting me for the past 5 days now. I tried to express this to them yesterday, but for dinner I had french fries with spicy tomato/piedmont sauce. Today for dinner I had couscous with fried cheese… and the couscous was pretty spicy too… so here I am now, just trying to compress the flow long enough to complain about it.
Oh yeah, since I officially qualify as having diarrhea (according to the Peace Corps Medical Handbook, of course) I broke into the rehydration salts they issued us as part of the medical kit…. Yeah, emphasis should be made on the ‘salts’ part... these things taste like pure, warm salt water. I almost feel like I should add a piece of seaweed to my glass for decoration… it makes sense; you add a slice of pineapple to mie-ties, a piece of mint to mohitos, a cherry to a cherry limeade…. If only I could find a piece. Hey, if it were kelp it might even replace all the nutrition that’s constantly creeping out of my body…. And really, it’s always creeping… eerily creeping… bye bye bananas, bye bye couscous… bye bye sleep.
2:30am The chamber pot says, “ploooop”. The crickets say “creeek creeek”. The Sarah says, “aaaaawwwww”…. And soon thereafter she finds her way back under the mosquito net where her eyes quickly close again and she drifts off to the phantom world of solidarity and good health.
2am: What I wouldn’t give for solid crap right now. What would you do for a Klondike bar?... I have Klondike covered, but the problem is it’s a little melted by the time I see it. I wish I spoke French. If I could actually speak French then maybe I could explain to my host family that all of the oily and spicy foods have began to accumulate in my stomach, leading to an interesting acid reflux problem that’s been haunting me for the past 5 days now. I tried to express this to them yesterday, but for dinner I had french fries with spicy tomato/piedmont sauce. Today for dinner I had couscous with fried cheese… and the couscous was pretty spicy too… so here I am now, just trying to compress the flow long enough to complain about it.
Oh yeah, since I officially qualify as having diarrhea (according to the Peace Corps Medical Handbook, of course) I broke into the rehydration salts they issued us as part of the medical kit…. Yeah, emphasis should be made on the ‘salts’ part... these things taste like pure, warm salt water. I almost feel like I should add a piece of seaweed to my glass for decoration… it makes sense; you add a slice of pineapple to mie-ties, a piece of mint to mohitos, a cherry to a cherry limeade…. If only I could find a piece. Hey, if it were kelp it might even replace all the nutrition that’s constantly creeping out of my body…. And really, it’s always creeping… eerily creeping… bye bye bananas, bye bye couscous… bye bye sleep.
2:30am The chamber pot says, “ploooop”. The crickets say “creeek creeek”. The Sarah says, “aaaaawwwww”…. And soon thereafter she finds her way back under the mosquito net where her eyes quickly close again and she drifts off to the phantom world of solidarity and good health.
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