Home Sweet Home

Enough had gone on in the last couple weeks to fill a novel. First of all, I got three letters in the mail which was amazing. I’ve read them, along with some letters I got before leaving, several times, and they never fail to put a (oftentimes much needed) smile on my face. It only costs 90 cents to send me a letter and, admittedly or not, 99% of you reading this would gladly sit down and talk about whats going on in your life for 10 minutes. That’s all I want- to know whats going on with you guys. Even if you think its nothing, the mundane to you has become the interesting and comforting to me. If not, I will have to continue writing you letters that are filled with more than you care to know about moi. OR you can send me an email, which is free AND you can do that while you pretend to work (shout out to the 9 to 5 crowd).
The shuttle that runs from Cotonou, where the post office and airport are located, to Porto Novo, where we stay for training, is a magical thing. It brings us letters and packages and medical unit requests, and sends for us letters to the states which collect in the PC office until a volunteer goes to the US for any reason and takes a stack with him/her. It also sends stool samples to the PC medical office for those people who are having… issues (we’re all having issues really, the line is fuzzy and drawn on a case by case basis). We attach a note with specifics that truly validates the pay that doctors receive, and then wait to receive a letter, among the letters and packages from friends and family, that reads “Bonjour (insert name)! You have giarrdea/tapeworms/amoebas/intestinal parasites.” True story. That’s what the letters say. I’ll refrain from discussing it in detail in such a public manner, but suffice it to say I’ve gone through my allotment of stool sample collection containers already.
I have experienced and can confirm that the Larium dream cycle is as intense as you’ve probably heard. For those who don’t know, the medicine that most take for malaria is said to cause really crazy dreams. So between the medical horror stories we’ve heard and the Larium, and the cockroaches that play in my room at night (they’re surprisingly loud), I’ve had some trouble sleeping of late. In my latest dream a huge bunny tried to eat me. There was more to the story but when I typed it out it made me seem crazy. It was a result of a conversation I had had with my host family that night at dinner. I was trying to explain the Easter Bunny to them and they were really confused. I mean, a fat white guy at Christmas who gives presents to children, that’s logical, but a human-size bunny who hides magical eggs of candy and money, that’s vraiment bizarre. There have been other really funny things that I’ve tried to explain to people here. Lasik surgery for one, cancer for another.
Terrible news- my computer joined the growing pile of broken electronics. My hard drive crashed, even though my Macbook is less than two years old and I have been taking really good care of it. The universe apparently wants me to give up all of my worldly possessions and truly live like a local, bien integree in PC lingo.
I have just two weeks left of training- one full week of classes then a week of final tests, interviews, buying everything I need, and saying goodbye to my host family here before swearing in on September 25. I’ll move to Ze, my new home, the next day. I just got back from a 3 day visit to Ze and though I wish I could explain how beautiful, honestly stunning, the place and the people are, I know I’ll fail. You’ll just have to come visit to see. Since my house is just 5 cement walls and a tin roof right now, I stayed with a generous family during my visit. I really lucked out with the family that offered to host me; not only are they two of the most generous, patient, and friendly people I’ve met in Benin (along with their 7 kids), but they are definitely people I hope to stay close with for the next two years. The wife is an elementary school teacher and only 26 years old (only the 2 youngest kids are hers with her husband). They’re eager to please me and make sure I’m comfortable and welcome, but they don’t patronize or pamper me. They let me help with preparing the food, even though they laugh mercilessly at everything I do and redo it after. As long as I can laugh too, ya know? There were some weird cultural things… the first night they said something like “you’ve been in those clothes all day, you must want to change,” but I brought just enough clothes and really hate doing laundry so I tried to say I was all set with the clothes situation, but they brought me their clothes to wear and insisted I changed. I observed the next day- these people change outfits like four times a day. So I rotated mine, because it made them happy. The maman insisted on buying me an outfit, which I didn’t want, mostly because she gave me a choice of 2 ugly fabrics, but when they insist you really can’t say no. Like when they say “eat more” and you say “thanks but I’m full” and they say “doesn’t matter, eat more.” You admit defeat. So I had my measurements taken and it was ready a couple hours later. They made me put it on immediately and that’s when I saw that she had been so insistent upon it because she got the same outfit and wanted to parade around town with me, dressed as twins, for all the town to see. I felt a little used, like an accessory of sorts, but I didn’t mind it at all, really. It’s like I may as well embrace the novelty my foreignness and white skin are to them; it’s not changing anytime soon.
A photographer showed up one of the days to take my picture with the girls who are apprentices at the dressmaker that rents out space at the house I was staying at. I was completely confused. I say hi to them but we’ve never actually talked because they only speak the local language, Aizo. Alas, when in Rome. When the maman came home and heard it planted a similar seed in her head and the photographer came back to do a whole sitting, complete with wardrobe change, for the two of us. Can’t wait to see how awesomely awkward I am in those pictures.
The first thing I did when I arrived in Ze was to go to the mayor/governor’s office. The call him a mayor, but it’s more the equivalent of our governor. He presides over an area the size of a county in the US physically, with about 70,000 people from 73 villages. I met all of the people who worked in his office, introduced myself, tried and failed to pronounce their names and say anything mildly intelligent. It took me two days to figure out that my work partner, Huguette, and my supervisor, Mayor Dangbenon, are married. I attribute that not only to a lack of comprehension on my part, but a lack of displayed affection (see last post) on their part. I ended up spending a lot of time with them and their kids, who are ridiculously adorable. One funny thing did happen there- the electricity went out, as often happens, and their first response was to get the flashlight and shine it right on me. I’m not sure if they thought I would bail at the first chance or if they were trying to provide me with light before themselves and just failed at the implementation.
I also visited the police station and met the police chief. I met the town papa, the oldest man in town, who has an awesomely scruffy voice that I can’t understand at all and had a huge grin plastered on his face the whole time. I figured out where the nearest hospital and internet access are (further than makes me comfortable), took a walk around the village, saw some voodoo statues, went to the market one day (it only happens once every five days, so you need to stock up those days), and in general saluated (greeted) every single person that passed by me. Another PCV explained it perfectly by saying that it’s like the beginning of Beauty and the Beast where Belle is walking through town and everyone is yelling “Bonjour! Bonjour!” Well it’s like that, but an African village. I’m thinking about bringing a book to the well next time, maybe singing a little diddy for the spectators. I stop and introduce myself when it seems like the person speaks French. No one knows what Peace Corps is, few know the concept of the environment. That shouldn’t have too much of an impact of my job though, I hope. My work is disjointed and difficult to explain. Very few things DON’T have to do with the environment in a place like this. The entire economy IS the environment. You’ll hear many details later, once I flush out what I will work on.
The other reason for this visit was to check on my house. The check list of questions for my housing inspection would really make you laugh(/cry). Do you have a well within 500km of your house? Are there large gaps between the ceiling and the walls where potential mice/bats/reptiles/etc. could enter? Are there currently bats in the house (look for droppings and listen for their squeaks)? My house is brand new, like cement still drying new, which is good, I guess. Like I said, 5 cement walls and a tin roof. It is evenly partitioned into two rooms, my bedroom and my living room. There is an outside area about 2 meters by 4 meters that is my “kitchen” on one side and my “shower” on the other. And I thought our Landfair kitchen was small, this is the size of the downstairs bathroom. We don’t get much money at all to move in. I ordered a bed, a mattress, a table to eat at, a table to cook at, and shelves, and spent ¾ of my move-in allowance. And I still need to get pots, plates, silverware, décor (I use the term loosely), cleaning supplies, etc. I’m pretty positive that anyone would readily feed me, so I can hold off on the kitchen stuff if need be.
Kristen called when I was visiting my house and by the end of our call a group of about 15 children were gathered around me and were looking at me with such intrigue that one would think I was telling them an awesome story, rather than talking to someone else they can’t see in a language they can’t understand. Definitely living in a fishbowl.
More about my life, work, and friends in Ze to come. And for those of you with the desire, the time, and the means, come visit! Don’t be put off by my small house. Life is super relaxed, the people are welcoming, the food is spicy, and the vistas are breathtaking. I literally feel like I’m walking in a painting.