December 18, 2006

Allison,

Hello, my darling girl. How are you? At this moment you’ve probably already had your morning coffee, are sitting at a desk and switching back and forth between work and checking your e-mail. Meanwhile, I’m currently located on the top of what I’m beginning to think of as my colline. I made my way here with the intentions of being alone, but I ran into a group of neighborhood kids right before I was about to go into the brush. I’ve been by myself literally all day long, so I don’t mind having the company. Plus, they’re fun and the little ones are ridiculously cute. They’re having a good time running up and down the side of the hill. I’ll be amazed if one of them doesn’t fall on their head.

Things have been lively today in Challa-Ogoï. Everyone just finished bringing in the cotton harvest and are gearing up for the fêtes for Christmas and New Year’s. I’ll be in village for New Year’s but decided awhile ago to spend Christmas in the south with other volunteers. I know I’ve been away from home for the holidays before, but I think this year is going to be particularly tough. The vacances started over the weekend, so I don’t start classes again until the 4th of January. The break is nice, but I’m already getting incredibly bored and lonely. Honestly, I don’t know how other volunteers do it – just hanging out at post until they find work. I would go insane without the structure of school. Lesson planning sucks, but at least it’s something to do. I’ve been thinking about not being in Africa ever since vacation started, and I don’t know how much more I can handle it. Homesickness is beginning to grab me by the throat and I never realize how severe it is until the tears well up in my eyes for no apparent reason. I miss everyone, but especially my mom and Brad. I didn’t realize how much I need my mom sometimes until I came here. I also didn’t realize just how much I love Brad – and I don’t think he knew just how much he loves me, either. Talking to them on the phone can be such a double-edge sword. It’s so great to hear their voices and catch up, but it’s also just another reminder as to how much I miss them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy here most days, but it’s still really hard. And thank god I speak French. It’s much harder for those who don’t.

I’ve discovered I am not so good at solitude. Sure, there are times I like to be alone, but living alone is a whole different ballgame. This shit is hard. I’m learning to like it more and more, and this week I’m catching on to the things I depend on most. Books and music keep me going, but I’ve almost read everything I have and all of my batteries are just about dead. (Thank you so much for “The Alchemist.” I’ve already read it twice.) I also depend on conversing with Esetelle and tutoring with F.J. Though once again, there’s a slight problem. F.M. has developed a huge crush on me and I’m pretty sure Estelle would love seeing us together in the dating sense. Fidelity and remaining faithful are interesting concepts here and don’t really apply to fiancés … a lot of times not even to wives. They both know I’m in love with Brad and think he’s my finance, but they’re Beninese. F.M. has yet to say anything to me and Estelle has been indirect in dropping hints, but I’m not an idiot. Thank God he’s actually a good guy and would never act upon it, especially with the amount I talk about Brad to avoid any awkward situations. I just hope I don’t have to change our relationship in the future since I can actually talk to him – and we have amazing conversations. I feel like I’m talking to you, Jess or Jon when we hang out. Plus, he’s an awesome tutor.

Coping with a ridiculous amount of attention is also something that’s proving to be difficult for me. Everyone knows exactly what I’m doing every waking moment. They talk about me all the time, too. Not at all in a bad way, but it’s a small village – everyone knows everything about everybody else. I also hate the way that a lot of men and a good portion of male students look at me. I’m starting to get used to it, though, and try to take it as flattery when it’s not creepy. Everything about me is interesting to them because I’m so different, and the fact that I’m young, female, living alone and WHITE isn’t exactly a deterrent. But, I’m aligning myself with all the mamans in the village. I doubt I’ll ever have a real problem, but I want to develop a good reputation. And it’s nice knowing I’d have them on my side – just in case. I get hit on a lot, but that’s it. Well, except for when I travel to bigger cities. Then I get hit on AND they all ask me to marry them. Ridiculous. (P.S. At least 8 or 9 have now asked – last I was in Parkaou it was 4 in one single day.) the sad thing is, I can’t even take it as an actual compliment. They don’t think I’m cute, they see my pasty skin.

I am learning that there’s a positive outcome to all of this. I’m becoming much wittier than I’ve ever been and I’m developing a better sense of humor. When I treat those situations lightly and make jokes, the guys laugh, figure out I’m not interested and go away. It has yet to fail. The best part of is, I can talk in circles, make people laugh and give myself the advantage all in French. Talk about a confidence builder! Now I just need to conquer this lonely and homesick business and I’ll be good to go. Good thing there’s a million kids around – they pose for a great distraction from anything!

Sorry for the continuing rambling, but once I got going, I couldn’t make myself stop. That’s another problem – I think too damn much. I think about you all the time and I can’t wait to get an update on you when I receive your next letter(s). I can’t tell you how much they mean to me, especially on bad days. In fact, I have some of your words up on my wall. I think of them as little pieces of inspiration from you, and volunteers who come and visit are awed by them and jealous that I have someone who writes me so much and so well. You, my dear, have, are and will forever be wonderful and amazing in my eyes. And oh how I miss you.

Love you,

Kelly

(Below are photos Kelly uploaded to Facebook over Xmas break and excperts from her Dec. 28, 2006 e-mail to family and friends.)

"Kelly [another PCV] and I first went to Ketou, my friend Ryan's post, and hung out for a few nights. Ryan was a very good host, even attempting to cook for us, and showed us around Ketou. Ketou is really cool because it has so much cultural stuff that you can't find in my area of Benin. The Oro in Ketou are really intense and there's all sorts of crazy stuff there. For example, we visited the magic door that used to be the entry way to the city way back in the day (which you can also still see years of blood on it from when people used to do sacrifices). We also saw the tree that isn't allowed to ever die, or else Ketou will also die. The same principle also applies to the massive, and sacred, garbage pile that also helps to protect Ketou. This is the biggest pile of trash I've ever seen in my life. It was amazing – people have been dumping their garbage here for hundreds of years and the Oro even come out to "re-energize" the garbage pile so Ketou won't lose its protection. God, I love this country."

"After Ketou, Kelly, Ryan, and I headed to Bohicon to hand out presents with a bunch of other volunteers on Christmas Eve. We didn't realize until we got there that people had been distributing gifts for a couple days at that point, and the one at the orphanage was the day before we arrived. However, we did get to help out giving presents, candy, drinks, and food to a bunch of poor kids in Bohicon. It was so much fun and the kids were so cute. Half were so excited that they were completely besides themselves, while the other half were so scared of all these white people that they could barely move. It went really smoothly and fairly quickly once we got rid of all the parents. Parents are psycho!!!"

PCVs playing four-square on Christmas Day.

October 31, 2006

Hey Al,

Hello, darling. I know it’s been a little while since I last wrote, and I apologize for that. I’ve been focused more on actually living in Chall-Ogoi than writing about it. I was waiting for something monumental to write about, and I guess you could say that it happened.

First, I’ll start off with the scary aspect of my weekend. I went to Ouesse this weekend for a meeting with all of the volunteers in my region. It was a lot of fun, I got to see friends I hadn’t seen in a few months, and we even had a Halloween party. All in all, great time…. Except for one thing. I was filled in that my friend Ryan almost ET-ed (but decided after his bags were packed to stick around) because his Dad may or may not have a malignant tumor somewhere in his mouth. I was also told about Lindsey’s leaving Benin (Claire’s friend from Gustavus). Her Dad has cancer, so she’s delaying the beginning of her service until December so she can help out on the farm for awhile. Adding that knowledge to the conversation I had with my mom about my Grandma being in the hospital for the 3rd or 4th time really did not help. She’s fine, but if you want to talk about my number one fear while being in Africa – that’s it. I become completely terrified just thinking about it. Not only would I have to leave here for who knows how long, I would be returning home to a state of loss and despair. People die, that’s a fact of life. But I wouldn’t be able to handle someone at home dying while being here. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I’d do.

Now, consider that with the most gut-wrenchingly awful thing I’ve had to deal with since my arrival while being completely helpless to take action. I don’t normally have class on Tuesday mornings, but this morning I was supposed to have some sort of training with the other teachers that never ended up happening. While I sat and waited, I had to witness something that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. A couple boys came into my censuer’s office where I was sitting with him and a few other teachers. (The censeur is the head of the teachers and a disciplinary actor.) The censeur was verbally drilling the boys for not having paid their school fees in full. One boy said he had paid and gave the money to a teacher who is no longer at the school. During the boy’s story, one of the teachers searched his pockets for money while the censeur screamed in the kid’s face. During the search, they found he was wearing two pairs of shorts and ridiculed him in front of other students as one remained at his waist and the other at his ankles. It was then that the censeur made the boy, who’s probably about 13, kneel in the middle of the room while the censeur came out from behind his desk with a small whip.

I’ve seen this whip before, but just assumed it was used as more of a scare tactic with a couple hits here and there, but that’s about it. I was incredibly wrong. The whip wasn’t made to actually cut someone and make them bleed, but it hurts like hell. For about 20 minutes the boy was whipped on the arms and the legs with periodic stops to bring in other students to try and disprove his story and then ridicule the boy some more in front of his peers. As all this is happening, the censeur is yelling at the boy to shut up (so he began to silently cry instead of plead on his own behalf). The teachers got in on it, too, calling him “thief” and “imbecile.” Even Estelle called him names and said, “now you’re going to see.”

Allison, it was awful. I just sat there with my face down and to the side so I wouldn’t have to directly see it. I couldn’t move – the censeur and the boy were blocking my way out of the room and had I stood, I would have lost it. I couldn’t do a damn thing. It would have been way out of line to say anything during a disciplinary action, especially if it would make my superior lose face. Plus, no one would have understood my outrage. There’s a Beninese law against beating kids in school, but it isn’t followed – for the Beninese it’s normal, and for the teachers, it was done to them when they were students. So, I stayed in my seat until it was over, forcing back the tears and nausea, and listened to the adults yell and laugh at the boy.

I left and went home not long after the ordeal was finished with to lay in bed and sob. Al, I am the only teacher who doesn’t treat these kids like shit, takes the time to make sure they understand, and uses positive reinforcement. While others tell the kids that they’re stupid, I tell them that they’re smart and capable of doing it. Others demand respect without showing any, whereas I show them that in my class, we respect each other. Even had this kid been lying, does whipping him change anything?

I think what shook me the most was that any other day I could tell you how much I like my censeur. I would have described him as slightly timid, but an overall good man, as a kind soul who looks out for me, as one of the males at school who isn’t creepy and shows me a lot of respect. Even good people are capable of doing evil things without realizing it. I don’t know the boy’s name and he isn’t one of my students, but I want to seek him out and hug him – and I don’t care how socially unacceptable it is to do that. For as much as I winced each time he was hit and as much as I felt for him on his behalf, it can’t even compare to his paid or belittlement. I just hope he wasn’t beaten when he got home and had to ask for more money for school fees.

Allison, I love this place, I really do, but I don’t know how to even discuss something like this, much less change it. I don’t want to come off like the “all-knowing American,” but I don’t see any other choice. I think this is something I need to talk about with F.M. to feel out a response and then follow up on with other PCVs. I don’t want all this stupid shit that has to be deal with affect my attitude towards my job. I like teaching and I’m good at it. I’m already getting some kids out of their shell and making progress with them. Is it possible to shut out the bad and focus on the good that I’m doing in order to keep going? I feel completely alone on this one.

I’m sorry that I’ve unloaded this on you in a letter without even asking about how you’re doing. Are you back in MN? Looking for D.C. jobs? (I got the card your mom sent – she’s so sweet. Tell her thank you for me.) I miss you so much, Al. I miss your laugh, I miss your face, but most of all I miss your hugs. I look forward to your next letter.

All my love,

Kelly

PS. Thanks for the package!!! The magazines are already getting passed around PCVs.

These are some images courtesy of Lyle, an IT PCV whose blog, "Lost in Benin" is a fabulous place to catch glimpses of Kelly's West African world.

First, a massive mango spider, the especially massive variety that are reportedly very common in Benin.

Second, a whipping fete, or festival.

Lastly, a photo from Kelly's Sept. 25 Swear-In Ceremony. Can you spot her?!

October 6, 2006

Allison,

Darling light of my life –- how are you doing on whatever fine October day this letter finds you? I’ve recently discovered that when writing letters I have no idea what to ask people about. How can I inquire about someone’s life when I never talk to them and it takes 4 weeks for a letter to get here, followed by however long it sits and waits for me at the workstation. It’s only slightly frustrating. So, to you I am making this plea –- please continue to write me about the happenings in your life and try not to find me egotistical or self-centered when my letters are 90% about me.

I’ve had a lot of time to think lately, since all I’ve been doing is sitting around reading at school and walking the 20-25 minutes to and from twice a day. This morning I finished reading “Love in the Time of Cholera.” –- great book and you should read it if you haven’t –- and it set my mind going off in a million different directions. It wasn’t just the content that got my thoughts worked up either, it was also the simple act of reading a book in English in front of other people, teachers and students alike. First of all, every teacher was intrigued because I had a book with me, something that has a value more than money and carries with it a lot of connotations. Books are not always easy to come by. In fact, they’re a vital resource that this country is lacking. If you walk into someone’s home, you won’t find shelves of books anywhere. You’ll be lucky to find a few tucked away somewhere safe and almost hidden. Whereas you walk into my house, there’s a shelf filled with books –- teaching resource manuals, French grammar books, a travel book, dictionaries, and the most impressive being books of fiction that are meant to read at one’s leisure and for amusement. People don’t normally have that kind of luxury. It’s almost a symbol of someone who’s well off and that’s the exact opposite of what I’m going for. Schools don’t even have textbooks, which leads to the statement that terrifies me the most –- I am the textbook for these kids.

Basically, being seen reading a book, much less in English, is captivating for Beninese people. It all leads into a very visual example that I’m foreign, as if being white wasn’t evidence enough. All this came together for me on my way home and I had a very harsh realization on a few different levels. First, no matter what I do or how I hard I try to integrate I will always be viewed as an outsider to some degree. Second, in light of that fact I can also take some comfort in that because no matter how much I change (and trust me, I’ve noticed some changes in myself 3 months in) I’ll still always be me at the core and have something to claim that’s my own. Third, all happiness regresses back to the simplest thing sin life, even more minute than engulfing myself in a book. It’s the sound of a good laugh, sitting on my porch with Estelle and F.M., finding some peace of mind, watching and interacting with the kids in my quartier (after all, they do let me remain as my true 5-year-old self). It’s seeing the thrill on the face of the woman who sells me breakfast when I call her “maman.” It’s finding refuge in my own thoughts as I learn by simply living, only in a way I never could have even dreamed of. It’s cranking up my iPod and drowning myself with my music and the sound of my own voice. It’s climbing the biggest hill I can see and sitting in awe and admiration of the kind of beauty that exists in this world. It’s realizing that I am content at this point of time, in this state of mind, in this village in the middle of nowhere in West Africa. Simplicity … all happiness leads back there to the details, the fine points that are so easily suppressed far too often.

As these thoughts were racing through my mind, I trailed back to the content of my book – love. I am convinced that without love I would cease to exist and that it is one of the most simple things in life that, at the same time, causes some of the most complex and gut-wrenching effects. Leaving home was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, mostly because there is so much love for me in America. But at the same time, that’s what is so great about love –- it never really dies. I will still have that love when I get back AND while I’m here. I receive that love with every phone call, every e-mail, every letter, and I’m fortunate enough to have some truly amazing people in my life. Another great thing about love is that it never stops expanding either. The friends I’m making in Challa-Ogoi are going to become my African family. I just started getting to know these people, and I am already beginning to become attached to them while maintaining my attachments from home through mass e-mails and “love letters,” if you will. Al, every letter I write is becoming a love letter. They’re love letters to the people I love about the place I’m falling in love with. Time will continue to pass no matter where you are or who you’re with. Love, like time, is eternal in that sense. It can change, morph or mutate, but it will always exist and therefore always remain.

If I’m going to end up having abstract, philosophical thoughts like this every time I walk home from school, I am going to be mentally exhausted by the time my time here is over. I’m just happy to have an Allison Retka to share them with. :>) As always, my dear, I miss you, but above all, I love you even more.

yours,

Kelly

September 24, 2006

Allison, my love,

Hello dear. How are you? I know that later you’re going to look at the date I wrote this and compare it with the last I wrote you and go, “What the hell?” Yes, I just wrote you 3 days ago, but I need to share this hysterically sad moment with someone and I thought you’d enjoy. After all, we are both living on our own now, aren’t we?

So, I moved into my house today (Uh, it’s so fun to say that – even if it’s just me talking to myself :) I love this house so much and I’m pretty sure I’ll never have something as good as this place again. Well, if you don’t count the fact that I have absolutely no utilities. More $ to save to travel, right? Anyway, all my stuff is in and mostly settled, thanks to the ridiculous amount of help when I arrived. I wasn’t allowed to do a damn thing. My stuff was out of the bush taxi, in my house, my bed assembled and petites sweeping my floor before I could even lift a finger. It was awesome. While all this was happening, people were coming in to saluer me (say hello, how are you, etc.) left and right. Craziness!

So here’s where my life gets sad. I’m sitting at my kitchen table after eating some delicious cheddar and potato instant soup that my wonderful mother was smart enough to give me before leaving. (I have yet to go to the market for fresh food items.) I ate in candlelight, by myself, and played a bit with my shortwave radio, but there was nothing good on I could find tonight. I’m now in my p.j.’s, listening to Van Morrison on my iPod and speakers, and writing you by headlamp. Mind you this is after I blew out my candle and then took a picture of it because it looks cool due to the way the wax melted. Oh, and it’s 8:15 p.m. and I’m going to bed when I finish this. I’ve only been here one day and I’m already talking to myself, keeping geriatric ward hours and beginning to act slightly crazy! I need to make some friends FAST. Before leaving Djougou, my friend Anastasia and I decided that I would end up crazy, a “hill woman” (since there are hills but no mountains), have a drinking problem, or all 3 since Challa-Ogoi is the most happin’ village in Benin! ;)

All my love,

Kelly

P.S. Loved, LOVED your post card –- as did Annie, my PCVL at the Parakou workstation. She said she couldn’t help but read it when she put it in my mail slot, thanks to your “Attention, all who may chance to read this vulnerable, totally accessible piece of mail…” We laughed pretty hard about it. You always put a smile on my face. J

Sept. 20, 2006

Al,

[Oh wow. Right as I’m writing this, I’m singing along to Fall Out Boy on Beninese radio. Holy crap – my 2 worlds are colliding! And my whole family is staring at me as I sing … oh well. People here stare at me all the time.]

Hello, darling Allison! How’s the homefront, the job, and LuLu? She is adorable, by the way! Thank you so much for sending me those pictures. I’ve been thinking about getting a pet myself for the companionship. I just need to save up for visit to the vet and rabies shots if I do get one. [P.S. Now we’re listening to Scissor Sisters. How fitting that I’m writing you!]

Thank you so much for your e-mail after my desperate mass e-mail. I wanted to send an adequate response to what you said, but the best way to do that is by letter. Yes, you’re right that there really isn’t anything people back home can do for me when I’m down. However, at the same time you’re also wrong. While there can be no immediate comfort from my support group at home, there is still enough to help me get by. Since communication is incredibly unreliable here, I am forced to figure things out for myself until I can talk to someone. I had to do just that with my decision to stay when I had to wait a few days to talk to my mom. While I was dealing with all this crap and waiting until I could hear my mom’s forever soothing voice, I had letters and e-mails to look back to. They were little reminders of why I’m here and why I wanted to be here in the first place. In particular, I thought of the first letter you wrote me. Ironically enough, it’s the one I read to Kat and Erica – the part where you said that whether I’m here for 2 days, 2 months or 2 years, I’m meant to be here for the time being. You put it much better than I just did, but you were absolutely right. That is how you continue to be my wonderful, elevating, supportive Allison, even with an ocean between us. As much as I hate getting letters 3-4 weeks after they’ve been written, it’s better than not getting them at all. Plus, it’s a good reminder that time doesn’t stop and life moves on from the present crisis. And that is how I rationalize my situation and push forward. Time is something I have plenty of, so there will always be a new goal to work toward while overcoming recent obstacles.

Sorry this one’s so short, but I need some sleep before swear-in tomorrow. Eek!

Love and miss you,

Kelly

August 29, 2006 Allison, Hello darling! How are you enjoying these last few days of summer even with a busy working schedule? Has the heat started to break yet? Have you begun to long for days of leaves changing colors and windbreakers? I think I would kill for that about now. I can feel the chaleur coming and I’m not exactly about it. The rainy season ends in September and it’s wuite possible that I will die when it hits in full force. When it doesn’t rain for a couple days it gets so hot. I can’t even imagine what it will be like when it doesn’t rain at all. Thank you so much for your second letter. Once again, your time-warped ESP skills were working in full force. I even read part of it to a couple friends who have been having an incredibly hard time lately. It fit in perfectly with the overall mood and fear of people going home. The first week in-country, one of the SED volunteers ET-ed and one of the married couples ET-ed a few days ago. It was so sad when they left that I was about ready to cry. Jean-Jacues was EA and Katie was TEFL and I was getting to know them fairly well. All of us in TEFL are like a big happy family now (especially since we’re the larges group and are kept isolated from the other sectors), so it was really hard saying goodbye to Katie. I’ve been getting a real scare lately from my friends Kat and Erica. Erica reached her breaking point a couple weeks ago – nothing went right that day, she had been sick for awhile (and being sick here sucks more than anything else), and then the Internet stopped working and she just lost it. I sat with her in her room while she cried for a good 45 minutes and cried some more when I left. I did a small amount of crying myself when I got home because I really thought she was going to pack and leave that afternoon. But she didn’t and it was a million times better the next day. Kat has been sick a lot, too, and it goes day by day with her. Erica and I both thought she would leave after our post visits. She’s having a hard time being truly happy and really isn’t sure how much she likes living in Benin. It sucks because I really don’t want anyone to leave, especially Kat and Erica – they’ve become my two best friends in Africa. The one nice thing about ET-ing is that no volunteer or stagiare will look down on you. If you have to go home, you have to go home, and that’s that. Everyone is sad when someone leaves, but no one would ever judge another person for doing it. We all understand just how hard it is to be here. Honestly I’ve thought about packing up and heading to Cotonou to catch the next plane home more than I’d like to admit. A bad day here is God-awful, but if you can stick it out, the next day is always that much better and keeps you going. I’ve learned that good things that happen – whether it’s not wanting to shoot myself in French class, having a good conversation with my Papa, or getting a letter – makes the thought of living in Benin seem almost pleasant on a really bad day. And now to change the subject, thank you for updating me on the dating scene in St. Louis. Random dates can be fun, but they shouldn’t be stressful! I’m happy that you’re content just being with yourself and creating the image of someone who’s your ideal. Really, sometimes it’s a lot more fun to envision a guy than actually deal with one. To have the thought of having a “someone” without the complications…. (… The most valuable thing I’ve learned here is to expect nothing – that way you can only be pleasantly surprised.) That’s all I’ve got for now. It’s almost lunch time and I’m hungry! I miss you and can’t wait to get letter #3. All my love,

Kelly

August 5, 2006 My darling Allison,It never ceases to amaze me that I always receive one of your letters when I need it the most and that you always write exactly what I need to hear. You’re right – no matter what happens from here on out, I am meant to be here at this very moment writing you, whether I’m in Benin for a few months, a couple years, or not at all in the future, I’m here now and that’s what counts.And it’s not like I haven’t thought about how easy it would be to just go home. Peace Corps hasn’t exactly been making it any easier lately. French class blows and is way too easy, it took far too long to finally get our bikes here from Cotonou, and now we’re getting paid again a week later than originally told. I miss the states and everyone there a lot more than I thought I would at first. PC is good at springing important info on you at the last minute when your stress levels are already high. It’s becoming this thing where it’s not that I can’t do this – I know beyond a doubt that I can – but it’s become a question of if I really want to.These are the thoughts going through my head when I’m pissed off getting home from class until my little sisters run to the door, joyfully screaming my name, to greet me; until my Papa and I talk about history, politics and development in Benin; until the small and brief moments when I show my Maman that white doesn’t mean rich, privileged and unwilling; until I work on English with my sister Cherifath every night; until I learn about what and how to teach in my future classroom. I could go on. This is why I’m here. Interaction with people in a completely different culture. Teaching something that is becoming more and more necessary in a globalizing world and a great means of furthering education. Breaking stereotypes and encouraging my sister to pursue her dreams to get to a university and become a nurse. Working in development from a grass-roots, bottom-up approach – the way it should be done.In just 2 week’s time, this amazing country has already had a huge impact on me. My French has improved tremendously and it will continue to quickly refine itself. Everyday I make progress with my family and can feel myself constantly getting closer to them. Time here moves so slowly and I feel like I’ve been here for an eternity, but I also stopped dead in my tracks today when I realized that tomorrow is Saturday. America seems like a huge blur, which it what makes this hard. I’m having trouble remembering what “normal” is, because this is normal to me now. Everything here is one step at a time and that’s exactly what I need to do. Take each day at a time. I told myself that I would only leave Benin if it absolutely got to the point that I couldn’t take anymore. Funny thing is, I can tell that as time slowly goes by, my expectations for my breaking point are being altered.Al, you’re exactly right – as I write this I can easily picture you right next to me, reading my mind (as you do so well). This really is the best way to communicate. In writing a letter I can almost feel like I’m near the person I’m writing – and with you especially. Thank you for your wise and very true words. And thank you for you continued support – I hope you know that it would have been the same had the tables been turned and you been in this mindset as a PCV. You have always been so good to me and good for me. I can’t wait for our friendship to continue getting stronger through the exchange of letters, of genuine and well thought out words. I love you so much.All my love,

KellyPS. I love how small the world is. The first PCT I met in Philly was a girl named Lindsey who went to Gustavus – Claire’s best friend. She knew me as the girl who made you the book! Woot woot for quasi-London connections! :>)

Kelly just sent out her placement address at her PC site. Send mail HERE from now on!

Kelly Daly, PCV

Corps de la Paix

BP 359

Parakou, Benin

Afrique de l'Ouest

West Africa

Shower our dear one with mail ... an 84¢ stamp can buy a lot of happiness, people. :>)

Here's Kelly's most updated address for her training in Cotonou. She will be there from July 21 - Sept. 22.

Kelly Daly, PCT Corps de la Paix Americain 01 B.P. 971 Cotonou, Benin Afrique de l'Ouest (West Africa)

Hey everyone! Allison was wonderful enough to come up with this great idea, and I think that it will be another great alternative to hear how I'm doing and catch up on what I've been up to once things get into full swing. It will be able to pose some different perspectives than I would be putting into mass e-mails. Plus, it can potentially be a really cool thing for me to have when I get back. So, if you're interested, feel free to type up my letters to you and share them with everyone. Thanks and love you all!