July 11, 2011 Greetings. This is Robert, Clayton’s stateside partner. I am eagerly anticipating his homecoming in less than 8 weeks! I just completed a week-long experience called “Live Like a PCV,” which I would like to share with you (http://www.livelikeapcv.org/ ). This was something I did to honor and better understand Clayton’s service. For 7 days (July 4-10) I gave up: eating at restaurants, hot water, use of the dishwasher, temperature control (aka air conditioning), and television. Here are some of my thoughts and experiences from the week: 1. Giving up eating at restaurants was an inconvenience because I am on the road all day for work and it is SO EASY to stop at wonderful places like Subway or Tropical Smoothie Cafe. However, this actually aligned with my personal goal of eating healthier. Also, let's face it, preparing food from home is cheaper. Having multiple sources of motivation for this goal was helpful. 2. The lack of hot water, however, was more intrusive. I did not shut off the hot water to the entire house since I have a housemate who would have been affected, so I simply disciplined myself not to turn the faucets to “hot”. (Though, out of habit, my hand went for it many times!) I was annoyed by the fact that I was not using warm water to wash my hands (“Really? I’m risking germs for this challenge??”). However, I am pleased to say I did not get sick. I REALLY HATED cold showers. I can’t emphasize this enough. The physical state of being that makes me the most uncomfortable is being COLD and WET. I was really a wuss: I would aim the shower head straight down, soap up a limb, then gingerly – quickly – stick it in the stream to be rinsed off. 3. Refraining from using the dishwasher was not too much of a hardship; since I only prepared food for myself, there wasn’t much to wash. HOWEVER, combining this with item #2 was a little ridiculous: if I wanted hot water in the sink I had to heat it on the stove. The first few days I washed my dishes immediately. The last few days they collected in the sink and were washed on day #7 day #8. J 4. Temperature control. This rule applied to both home and car, but the car was not an issue since the air conditioning in my Vue had quit about a week prior. L At home, I did not use fans, but I did master the art of opening windows. You see, it is not as simple as having them open all of the time: there is a strategy. I discovered that for the daytime it actually made more sense to keep them closed. This way the house would stay slightly cooler than the outside: opening them would just let the hot air in. Evening and night-time, however, the windows were definitely open! I wore fewer clothes to bed and used less covers, if any. I had a beautiful experience one night of waking up to a storm. My immediate reaction was to close the windows of course, but when I went to do so I felt the most wonderful thing: the air was so cool coming in it was like air conditioning! So… what to do?? I sat for a moment, with the cool air hitting my face, then sadly closed the windows most of the way, and went back to sleep. Also, 2 lbs of frozen grapes were a nice treat to help me cope with a hot house. 5. Giving up the television wasn’t a big deal in terms of actually watching shows (after all, NCIS and Bones are in re-runs anyway!) HOWEVER, I have been using a series of workout dvds (yes, I will use this opportunity to give a shameless plug for P90X!) and no tv meant no P90X! How was I to work out without Tony Horton? I decided that I would do what I could from what I remembered of the routines. However, let’s not forget #4: I also did not have air conditioning! The heat REALLY decreased my motivation. Needless to say my workout while “living like a PCV” was not as thorough as usual. Also, I realized how much of a habit watching the television while I was eating had become. It felt awkward sitting in the livingroom with my cereal, staring at the dogs. They were not very good conversationalists. As I write this, the air conditioner has been turned back on. Simply setting it at 79 feels like a luxury. Initially, the list of items to give up didn’t look daunting, but that is because I didn’t realize how inter-related they were (as mentioned above). They were also far-reaching. For example, I did not give up the use of my stove/oven for this challenge, but did I really want to use the oven with the house already so hot? Some of these may lead to permanent changes: for example, I may decide I don’t need the air conditioning at night. The lack of hot water, however, will not be permanent. I have resumed using it and it is not being relinquished again any time soon! Doing the week was only part of the commitment. I also agreed to share my experience with others. This blog is my first step. I also plan to talk about it at church this fall. I originally signed up for this mainly as a show of support for Clayton, and less for myself. After all, did I *really* need another illustration of what life has been like for him? I have been in close contact with him for his 2 years, and he has shared with me the struggles and joys of service. Plus, last fall I visited him in Benin for 2 weeks. The truth is, however, that I did learn quite a bit, as you’ve read. What these folks are doing serving abroad is incredible, and for those of us back home, there is no such thing as “too much” understanding!

On June 15, 2011 was the longest, brightest total lunar eclipse of the century. "Of the century." What once held special meaning to me is now a taunting phrase; a big, whiney AHH HAA.

Before I start, I should say that my first sign of failure was the abnormal heat and humidity, in comparision of the previous 2 weeks.

I told the guard to cut the electricity to elliminate all external light sources from interfering with my shots. I managed to build a stable "tripod" for my camera out of a stool, and books--it was actually pretty decent. Pitch black all around me, I look through the view finder to find the moon. Found. I focus, or do what I think is focusing, and take the shot. Not focused. Refocus, try again, take the shot, fail. This cycle continued on for about a half an hour but I was content because the moon wasn't going anywhere and the electricity was cut. I got to play around with a few of the camera settings and test out different strategies.Then, horror. The electricity was turned back on by the power company. Imagine: the workstation power cut and everyone house around with electricity has it's lights turned on. The effect was awful fluorescent light cast across the workstation courtyard. This made focusing even harder because my eyes had to adjust and readjust to the darkness of the viewfinder everytime I took them away from it. I never did successfully focus the lens. Trying to look through the view finder at black sky with a dimly lit moon in pitch black is just beyond me. So is the more irritating circumstance of trying to take a picture in darkness with cast lights all around.

Point of irony: in western, undeveloped Africa, while taking a picture of the night sky, electricity was my ultimate undoing. My biggest enemy. My arch nemesis. Would it not be for the Wii gaming system waiting for me or for guitar hero (or Robert), I would be bold enough to publicly denounce the use of electricity. But alas, I love The New Super Mario World for Wii too much.

These photos are of the full eclipse and then the un-eclipsing of the moon. They are the best I could do. They aren't great but I think another eclipse like this will happen in 18 years. Hopefully it's viewable from North America :)

Next assignment: Lightning.

Oh yes, it's been a while since I've posted. Sorry. Time is flying. Like every other Peace Corps Volunteer who's maintained a blog, I now too will say that the months are passing by and I am NEARING THE END OF MY SERVICE.

Just typing that makes me smile. When I'm done. I will have been a real-life Peace Corps Volunteer.

And now that I'm pretty well adjusted to Benin, I can say that not too much has happened. Neither exciting nor interesting events have occurred.

Really, I was just waiting for something "blog worthy." I can only blog about the heat, the rain, flowers, and food so many times before it becomes boring. Like a reporter, I was looking for something new and fresh. Something that would take my readers by surprise. Something that would make you say "just when he thought he'd experienced everything..."Well ladies and gentelment. For your viewing pleasure, I submit this photo.

A few notes: the creature is actually bigger than it appears in the picture. It was AT LEAST a solid 6 inches :: Um... maybe more like 4- but it was 4 inches SQUARE! :: That was Glenna, a friend of mine visiting from the South who got to behold the sight of this creature. We disagree on size but not on presence. ::It was totally there; it was enormous!:: Glenna again.

Glenna is a fellow teacher and is currently on vacation. She decided to come up to Nati to peacefully pass her vacation with me. Tuesday night, we decided to make egg rolls (from scratch and they were delicious) and duck sauce (also really delicious). Making the duck sauce required honey which was in my house. I left the back of the workstation, descended the steps and happened to glance up and BAM. There this thing was. Just sitting there on the front wall of my house. It was so big, it looked like it could talk. I (quite literally in my temporary insanity) expected it to say "Hello there, Clayton." In a smooth, Sean Connery-esque voice.

I tell you, it was the first time I truly felt absolute fear and revoltion in my heart at something created by nature. In that moment, I experienced an overwhelming since of personal offense. Nature had created that bug and it had found it's way to the wall of my house to personally piss me off. I felt that I must've done something horrible and karma was saying "Hey Clay! Stop being such an asshole!" I had all sorts of mean thoughts about how assholish nature can be. Here, in front of me, was a 6 inch (4 inches according to Glenna) creature on my wall.All I could do was stand there in pure horrified shock, turn around, walk into the house and inform everyone that we would not be making duck sauce because I couldn't get into my house.

Of course everyone flocked to see what the commotion was about and I felt validated when 6 other people were as horrified as I was. The immediate plan was to destroy the creature but in the end, I said we shouldn't because it wasn't harming me physically even though it had harmed my sense of security in the world. We left it alone and when I came back outside a few hours later it was gone. No, that did not make me feel better. When something that hideous disappears it creates more fear and panic because the awful truth is that I would rather sit and stare at it to know where it was and what it was doing than to not have any clue AT ALL.

P.S. MW, please excuse the language. What the fuck is it?

And decided to eat him. I have now killed with my own two hands, and prepared something that flies--the chicken (yes I'm using the world flies very, very liberally)--and something that swims--the fish. Now all that is left is something that walks or....hops >). Where are you Peter Cottontail?

Pictures!

Just a few photos. I went to visit tatasombas with another volunteer in a village relatively close to Natitingou. Tatasombas are a style of housing built by local people. The houses are made of mud, 2 stories with a roof that is used for storing food, shelter and other things that I don't remember or am not sure of. We took zems to and fro and although I was cursing the heavens the entire ride back, it was pretty neat to see the tatas and I got a few good shots of local people in the village of Bakoumbe.

On the way back to Benin, I stopped in Paris for a week with another volunteer who was traveling and coming back the same time I was. Before becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer, I had never traveled abroad so this time in Paris, I did all the tourist-y things: Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, Arc de Triomphe. Just a few pictures.

In December, I traveled for 24 solid hours to go home for a visit (sitting in an airport for 5 hours does in fact count as travel). It was pretty fun, great to see family. It is so true that every person handles their re-introduction to the States differently. Some volunteers said they felt weird when they went home--I felt normal. I didn't feel like an outsider, estranged, apart, separate or anything of the sort. However, I did feel aware.I knew the moment I got on the plane in Paris to Fly into Philadelphia that I was on a plane full of Americans. I heard two distinct things I hadn't heard in 18 months: rude conversation and loud and rowdy children. Everything in Africa runs at a slower pace, even the conversations. In Benin the first part of any conversation you have is usually a greeting followed by a question and answer period during which you ask about someone's day, their children, their spouse, their work, their health, their animals, if the force is with them, how long it takes Jupiter to rotate around the sun, how many moons Mercury has, and the square of 28,25o,509. As you might guess, conversations last a bit longer here and while the Beninese aren't always beacons of politeness or socially acceptable behavior, they will at least ask about every aspect of your life including whether or not you want to marry their baby girl (if you're male) and if you can loan them money, before they let you buy a soda from them. Having been in Benin for nearly 19 months now, I've become so accustomed to this conversational dance that I value it as an integral part to any social interaction. There's something satisfying about asking someone about the health of their children and how work is going for them.So you can imagine my shock when, as I was sitting on the airplane getting comfortable, the flight attendant came up to me and asked if I needed anything before promptly walking away. Why didn't he want to know about my stomach, my eyes, my left big toe, and my courage?I was even more offended when, while checking on other passengers, he simply said "hello, do you need anything?" Why didn't he ask about their kids, their spouse, their health, and their work?And so, I immediately and even a bit righteously concluded that Americans are rude. The point of all those national jokes about rugged unrefined Americans suddenly became clear to me. We don't spend 20 minutes asking someone about how their digesting their food, their patience level, or the hair follicle on their left thigh right above the knee. And we are declassé because of it.About the loud and rowdy children.It's true that the workstation is next to an orphanage and often times the children howl at all hours of the night sometimes for hours on end. Wailing, wailing wailing. But you know what Beninese children don't do: they don't run around screaming in joy at top of their voices on airplanes. I've ridden in taxis for 9 people, stuffed with 15, and 3 small children who don't utter a peep the entire ride. Nevermind that at 3 and 4 they're still breast-feeding (usually why they aren't talking), they're quiet. I maintain that there is a difference between the howling of twelve African children and the shrill screams of 2 year old American children. Eventually, it dawned on me that American parents bargain way too much with their kids. I haven't heard "darling, don't you want to sit down now? Please sit down." in 18 months and when I did, I thought "that bargaining is why our American children grow up and believe so strongly in their autonomy as humans. People don't like big goverment because it's like the concerned, attentive, non-bargaining parent they never had. Big government says "do _____ now" to people who grew up with "do you want to do _____now?" Don't you see U.S. government: you have to start asking people if they want to do things. Do this, and you too will be as successful as the pleading airplane parents whose kids ran up and down the aisle THE ENTIRE 8 HOURS OF FLIGHT FROM FRANCE TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.Well, I noticed a lot of things when I went back to America. For instance the number of people in drive-thrus and their.....size....or just how much of a gem Target is (I love you), the awesomeness of real milk not that French stuff that can sit in heat for months on end and not spoil, good chocolate, fast internet and...TV!! But, what I most noticed was that I was still American and loved consuming :)

Alright, sorry I didn't post anything in the month of November. I got really busy with things.

Here's what I've been up to:

PCV Pest Control

Recently, I've noticed an offensive amount of termites in the kitchen of the workstation at night time. Last night, Veronica (my new postmate) and I decided to investigate. What did we find you ask? That termites had made a home behind an outlet, in the wall, in the kitchen. Well that couldn't stand. Bug spray in hand, we attacked the outlet...doused it really, in aerosol bug spray. Pretty sure that all I have to do is point at bugs and the residue bug spray on my index finger would kill anything in it's path. What happened next is definitely somebody's worst nightmare. Termites began (quite literally) to pour out of the outlet. I realized that the bug spray must attack their nervous system because it looked like they were going crazy, convulsing and curling up into little termite-balls. A small part of me felt bad until I remembered that one time at post when a termite bit me. Yes, bit me. Their death was very kamikaze-esque. They'd come out of outlet and dive into the sink, practically jump off of the outlet.

For those of you who know me, you won't be surprised that I decided to fumigate other parts of the kitchen now that I had the guts to face and kill insects. I was on a roll, why stop?For some time, I had noticed that bugs were going in and out of drawers where we keep powered milk, sugar, flower (in containers of course) so Veronic and I decided to investigate. This part was actually gross because roaches are my weakness. We cleaned out a drawer and sprayed bug spray at nothing in particular--just to see what would happen. There were more bugs than we thought. We decided to take the whole drawer outside, dump everything and stomp on whatever crawled away. Seemed like a good idea until the big roaches came out. Can someone please tell me why a cockroach needs to be 2-3 inches long? I mean, that serves no biological purpose. Spiders eat insects, snakes eat insects and small animals, ants even eat insects; they all serve a purpose. What purpose does a 3 inch cockroach serve? Hm? The only plausible reason for the existence of a roach that size is for the sole purpose to be disgusting. I love nature, I really do, but like most other things I love in this world there are parts of it that seriously, seriously irritate me.In any case, the guard heard us shrieking, yes I shrieked, and came over to help us kill the roaches.We had ourselves a roach stomping fest.No worries though. Just all part of the job. I'm going to be so brave when I get home. Those puney American cockroaches won't mean anything to me. Score!

To answer your questions (which I like by the way. More, more!!) : I am pretty much always that creative although I'm not sure it took creativity so much as the ability to use a ruler, pen and markers to color to create the monopoly board.In regards to my weight, I'm a solid 70 kilos. That's where the scale goes everytime. I think this is roughly 154 lbs and I've seemed to level out here. Parasites, I assume they're gone. All the plumbing runs smoothly, wink wink.And finally, yes I can use satellite internet here at the workstation. It was recently installed and it's amazing. All we need know is a hot water heater. Of course if we get that we go from Peace Corps to Posh Corps ;)

Robert and I were playing Monopoly virtually every day before I came to Benin. It's only natural that he should bring the pieces to play here. I made this board from cardboard and markers.

I haven't lost any of my skill. I'm still the champion of Monopoly ;)

12:30 a.m. the other night, I go into my kitchen to brush my teeth and what do I see: a mouse scurrying from one floor cabinet to the next. Recently, Robert and I saw it dart from under my bed into my "closet area" but couldn't find it--or kill it. Naturally, I was irritated and said outloud, "this ends tonight!"

I called for Robert...

I came immediately, closing the door to the bedroom behind me and barricaded the entryway to the kitchen with a marker board. I perched myself atop a stool to assess the situation as...

I began to remove almost everything from the cabinet in which the mouse was hiding, saying curses the whole time. After removing everything I proded the gas bottle in the cabinet, connected to my stove. The mouse shot from the cabinet to another gas bottle beside my sink. In the bottom of the gas tank are small holes that I decided to tape up to trap the mouse inside/underneath but I needed tape so...

I retrieved a roll of packing tape from my suitcase (why would I have packing tape in my suitcase? that is irrelevant to this story). Remembering the sticky mouse traps from home - in which the creature was cruelly stuck until it perished - I put a strip of tape along the outside of the doorway to the bedroom, and to the kitchen. Then...

I taped the holes in the bottom of the gas bottle. Of course, by this time, Robert and I forgot that we needed to watch the gas bottle the whole time so I wasn't sure the mouse was still there so Robert brought me a flashlight and upon inspection I saw two beady eyes.

Now we had it trapped but we didn't know how to kill it or get it outside or anything: we were stuck; trapped if you will, by our own machinations.

I was willing to free the mouse so I wanted to get it into a trash can. To do this I decided to turn the trash can on it's side and tape folders to it and the gas bottle, creating a little tunnel that would guide the mouse. Meanwhile...

I once again turned to my favorite intervention, the packing tape. I taped the folders to the trash can--and all over the floor in the kitchen--so they would not fall. However, after lengthy discussion - including much doubt - about how this would unfold, we changed plans completely.

Outloud, I pointed out that if we had a trash bag we could justslip the gas tank into it to guarantee that the mouse wouldn't get away. Robert said "I have a trash bag." (why would Robert have a trash bag? that is not relevant to this story.)

We slid the bag under and over the gas tank. "On the count of 3", I said, "you will lift the gas tank and I'll close the bag."

FAIL.

The gas tank was too heavy to lift quickly and there was a huge hole in the bag from sliding it under the gas tank. The mouse ran away. The tape at the doorways didn't phase it.

You might be forlorn, Reader, with how this tale ends. I'm sure from the start you assumed our complex enterprise would eventually prove to be a success. However, the moral of this story lies not in the outcome, but...

In my willingness to set the mouse free. The true moral of the story is: when a mouse is in your house and you catch it, you must kill it. I should've just lifted the gas bottle and crushed the mouse with it.

A month ago, I promised pictures and recipes for food volunteers make here.

Here at the Natitingou Workstation, we have a lemon tree, a banana tree, and an orange tree.

From the lemon tree volunteers can make: key "lime" pie, lemonade, lemon merangue pie, lemon bars, citrus french vanilla ice cream and marinades that require lemon juice. From the banana tree volunteers can make: banana bread, banana waffles/pancakes, banana beignes (ben-yays) and so on. And from the orange tree volunteers can make: orange juice, orange icing, and probably orange marmalade if they (I) knew how.

I'm sure for each fruit there's a ton more things that could be made.

The other day, I decided to make fresh squeezed orange juice which is, believe it or not, a true testament to my ingenuity. We have these trees here but they do not get used very often. They just smell good and prick you when you grab the branches (except the banana tree). Usually, we just stare at the trees and comment on how much fruit there is and how big it is. Baffling.

To make fresh squeezed orange juice, I simply remembered the Florida Orange Juice commercial. You know, "18 oranges squeezed into every box."

Lies, lies, lies.

I squeezed 18 huge, juicy oranges and got MAYBE 5 jarsfull (jars that were filled with jelly, that we use to drink from) of juice.

It took 2+ cups of water plus 1/2+ cups of sugar to make it taste like "orange juice."

Fresh squeezed orange juice is good but the oil from the peels gets pressed into the juice giving it a bite and, at least in Africa, it's unavoidable. However, I can claim that my orange juice is 100% organic AND nature friendly. Those two qualities are not mutually exclusive. The orange tree is fertilized with a compost pile, the sugar was from sugar cane, I didn't destroy other plants to plant orange trees and I'm not owned by Coca Cola :)

Recipe

18 oranges2+ cups water1/2+ cup sugar

Might I just say: season to taste.Enjoy!

I promised I'd post some photos.

Here they are.

I haven't forgotten about the Lemonade recipe--I'm waiting to remember to take pictures of myself making it :D The scenery is what I see when I walk outside of the workstation. The spider.....I discovered today. What kind of spider is that? Why does it look fake? Can we talk about the suspiciously thick, yellow strand of web and can the spider kill me?Responses welcome, I have to live with this thing.

After deep reflection, I've decided my blog's gotta change; it's gotta grow, evolve, become something. It's gotta do something; be something meaningful. My life as PCVL is great but slightly less adventurous. I mean, who really wants to hear about how I had to go to the water company to pay the workstation's water bill 3 days in a row because the first day the cashier was sleeping on the floor and didn't want to get up to deal with me and the second day was the day before a holiday and the water company wanted to close at 10:30 because here in Benin every working day before a holiday is a half-day (it was somehow irrelevant that I was there at 10 o' clock, by the way). Who cares if I have to deal with questions like: should I increase our laundry lady's-- who only comes when she's asked, by the way--salary by 1 mille fcfa ($2) more a month even though volunteers have to pay her to do their laundry, and she's always sick?Who cares, right? Heck aside from utterly absurd and therefore absolutely hilarious the daily, mundane experiences of my life can be--those things are irrelevant...except the tons of seeds I planted, that is not irrelevant and when the sprouts all push, I will photo document as with my garden at my old post.So I've decided: aside from posting pictures of the garden, and maybe speaking about some of these hilarious experiences, I'll post recipes with pictures!! As PCVL, I bake a lot. Why, my first day here I spent all day making chocolate chip cookies. When I say all day, I mean 6 solid hours. Yeah, all day. On a daily basis, I make key lime pie, ice cream--which is fun because I can experiment with flavors here and volunteers who haven't eaten anything that awesome in a year aren't concerened with flavor, and I'm adding cinnamon buns to the stock. Here in Benin, we call these goodies Chez Chose La and there's a price to pay if you want to enjoy them. Not some moral price, aside from gorging yourself with their awesomeness and then feeling fat and sad, but a real monetary price. We use these funds to buy cool things like Hookah and the tabacco for it and ultimately ingredients to continue Chez Chose La. Here at the workstation, we have an orange tree, and avacado tree (not yet producing), a lemon tree, and a mango tree. So, we always get at least one of the ingredients from right outside the door.Frequently from friends and family at home, I hear "I wish I could experience what you're going through." or "Gosh, this experience is just so amazing, I can't begin to comprehend." And, food is so, so important. I can tell you, regardless of that disclaimer, that every Peace Corps Volunter in the world, worships good food. To give you an idea, no volunteer in Benin ever buys just one pack of 4 cookies or one slice of key lime pie when they come to the Natitingou Workstation. It's impossible. It's practically a religious experience when we bite into these non-starchy, non-bland, non-msg loaded, packed full of sweet deliciousness goodies. Food is here, like religion, both the bane of human existence but also the way to heavenly sweet salvation.And so, I felt compelled to share this experience with you. I'll post the recipes with pictures and you can choose to indulge or not to indulge.Mainly this is for fun :)Tomorrow's recipe: Lemonade :)

It's been a while since I blogged huh?The past 4 weeks and some-odd days have been super busy for me. I came down to the south to work Stage (read: train the new volunteers, a.k.a. stagiers) in Porto Novo the capital city of Benin, August 5th.I've been stuck in southern limbo ever since.I worked two solid weeks of Stage then came back to Cotonou (40 minutes southwest of Porto Novo by taxi) and had my mid-service medical examination. Despite my 26 pound weight loss and a parasite living in my intestines, I'm in perfect health. My kidneys, liver, and blood are all normal. Yeah, despite a parasite, I'm in perfect health. I'm not sure of the name of the parasite. The doctor old me in English but his French accent is thick. I'm pretty sure it had the word....blasphoma or something similar to it in the name....The name reminded me of a really complex form of cancer. But, when I asked if I needed to take something for it, the doctor said it wasn't serious and I'd be fine.I assume my body will do it's thing.I didn't think to ask if this could be the reason why I've lost so much weight.Speaking of weight, I've gained 4 lbs :)After mid-service, I went back to Porto Novo to work one last week (not the last week) of Stage. The TEFL stagiers are doing great. They're a good, level-headed (seemingly :)) group.And now we're at today, September 5th. Interesting facts: I have been in Benin for just over 13 months, and am half way done with my serviceIn 23 days, I will have been a PCV for 1 year. ROBERT WILL BE HERE SOON!Okay, I'm pretty sure that's everything from then until now. Until next time.I'll post some photos of things soon.

Beninese cheer, at the camp. The boys taught us this.

This past week, I participated in Camp Espoir; a camp for young boys aged roughly 12-15.

I was counselor/helper to the Red Team aka Les Tigres, les champions du camp! aka The Tigers, camp champions!

The boys participated in workshops designed to exopse them to topics that they would, excuse my certainty, otherwise never have the chance to discuss. We covered all topics including: gender roles, male/female health and sexuality and new types of courage. The over all theme of the camp was gender equality so all workshops included some kind of sketch or role play and discussion about the female experience.

I was so touched at how these boys who had rarely spent time reflecting on these issues, were so willing to explore them. During role plays with female parts they dressed up as females, and during discussions which often turned into debates they answered honestly and thought, well, thoughtfully.

The end of the camp was sad and almost drew tears when we read what some the boys had written on their feedback sheets.

"I want to thank the volunteers of Camp Espoir because I never knew that girls worried about so many things and now I know."

"I see now that girls can do all the things that boys can do and are equal to boys."

This coming from boys who are taught that it is okay to degrade women; that women are in no way equal to them; that women are, in a nutshell, here to serve food and produce children.

Awesome.

3 of my students.

Can you see the arc en ciel (arc in sky, rainbow)? What insect is that? It flies like a hummingbird and even looks like a mini hummingbird but is definitely an insect.

So, I recently begin shooting in RAW.

Merc (slang for Merci=thanks), MW.More editing power. These pictures are the same old thing as before. Flowers and Insects around my garden.I tried messing around with shutter to get a good shot of bees in action, pollinating a sunflower but I was only mildly successful. The process is: focus, 1, 2, 3, hold your breath, focus again, wait for a good shot, snap, gasp for air with the sun at only 9 degrees beating down on your back.Those bees as you can see are pretty tiny. They're smaller than flies and they buzz about that sunflower for roughly 9 hours a day.

Morbid nursery rhyme time.

There once lived 3 little pigs.

The 1st little pig snuck into Clay's yard (because I left the gate cracked--cracked!!) and decided to feast on Clay's plants.Said the extremely irritated and fed up with wild animals Clay, "Little pig, Little pig don't come in!""I will if I want to because I roam around with no one to watch over me all day and my owners don't care if I destroy anyone's property. Besides I have hair on my chinny chin chin!" Replied the 1st little pig.So, Clay took extra care to make sure his straw gate was always closed because, in the end, it was his fault that the 1st little pig snuck into his yard.But the 2nd little pig, he was much more determined than his brother. He tried the gate."Little pig, little pig don't come in." Clay taunted from his bedroom, proud of himself for locking his gate.But just then, Clay noticed that the 2nd little pig was still trying to get into his yard. He went to investigate.To his absolute blindingly rageful extremely irritated and, now literally, fed up with wild animals horror, Clay saw the 2nd little pig trying to knock down his fence to get to his plants."I'll grunt, and I'll squeal, and I'll push your straw fence down!" Oinked the pig."Not if I have anything to do with it or by the hair on your chinny chin chin." Muttered Clay.Clay walked over to the fence, made a noise to scare the pig but to his shock, the pig continued. This time, Clay picked up a stick and beat the fence, still the pig grunted and squealed and tried to push his fence down.So, Clay did the only thing he could think of: paused to apologize to the universe, told himself he wasn't a bad person, and gave the pig a swift kick in the head through the fence. That did the trick, the pig went squealing away.Little did Clay know, and this is in large part due to the fact that he doesn't under stand Pig Latin, the pig was actually saying "I'll get my revenge. I swear by the hair on my chinny chin chin!"The next day, literally THE NEXT DAY, Clay left his house, he securely locked his gate and looked back at his garden. He went about his village doing Peace Corps Volunteer things, and yes this included going to the market. When he arrived at his house he was happy to see that the gate was still securely locked, the fence seemed to suffer no damage. With a smile he opened the gate and what he saw next threw him into a great rage, so quickly in fact that he now, after some reflection, thinks he might be an emotionally unstable person.There, across from him, on the other side of his garden, was nothing.NOTHING! Nothing but the ragged bits of a plant his students had lovingly given to him, 2 fully grown and FINALLY BLOOMING cosmo plants that looked as if someone had gone over them with a lawn mower and a pushed-in fence. In the distance, he noticed, the 3rd little pig running away, squealing delightfully.Instead of doing anything rash he said a few cursewords, wished the pig an awful death, and decided to reinforce this specific area of the fence with sticks. After staring at the fence, Clay realized that sticks wouldn't be strong enough. So, he decided to reinforce the fence with, you know what already, brick. Clay patiently staked the cosmos, praying to the flower growing gods to work their magic, and threw stones at any pig that came near his garden for the rest of the day. And he is currenly living nervously ever after, waiting to see if the brick is in fact too strong for the 3 little pigs to knock down.The End.

Notice my "care packages" section.AND, my body thanks everyone for sending me delicious processed, American, goodies. [no sarcasm] My sanity thanks you for the seeds:D Also, my soul thanks you for your love

...is a misleading title because I bet you were thinking I'd be showing you the inside of my house! But, you should pay attention to the preposition of place that I used: around not inside. ;)

I decided to snap a few extra shots of what I could see from my porch. In that moment, the things I could see were: goats grazing, and really big beautiful puffy clouds. Also, there was an arc en ciel (rainbow, literally: arc in sky) but I couldn't get it to show on my camera.

Also, I can see shooting stars every night....those of you who want to see should take this however you want it to...just remember that if I had a tripod I could do night photography :):):):)

I'm gonna toot my own horn and say. Yes, these were taken by me, on manual setting and focus :)

Woo!!!

This photo set is actually incomplete. The sunflowers are pollinated and seeds are already starting to form in the center. It's really neat and exciting to see! I will Take a picture and post soon.

Also, that last picture is fuzzy in the center (boo) so I will replace it.

So these next few blogs are just for pictures' sake but I have a story. You saw from the video I have cosmos (which may be zinnias, MW and I are in the process of figuring this out) in my yard. I was riding my bike one day and happened to glance over and there they were, growing wild. The flowers that you see are from the seeds of the wild ones I found. I just scattered the seeds around in front of my house and waited. Neatly enough, the wind took a few of the seeds, and by a few I mean more than 50 but less than 100, and dropped them right out front of my gate. It was very pretty. I walked out of my gate every morning and there waiting for me was a tiny field of budding flowers.

Here in Benin, there's something called sacle-ing. I probably spelled that wrong. Basically, in villages, the school has kids go around with hoes and destroy the Earth; personally I find it offensive because what's left is barren ground and sometimes the kids hoe up trees. It's worse than when locusts pass through.The school, for my safety, told the students to sacle around my house and yes, they DESTROYED all of the flowers. Apparently, if there's too much green stuff growing in one area all sorts of evil serpents and reptiles hide there waiting to STRIKE!

f-ing annoying.

I now walk outside and feel like there was a tiny war right in front of my gate. I call the area death valley. I don't have pictures of it.

But, here are some pictures from my garden--which in every way, is holy ground. Noone is allowed to come inside the gate and the flowers are somewhat of a wonder to the kids of my village because they're not use to cultivated beauty in that way :)Usually, things are planted are for practicality; squash, corn, etc.Enjoy.

I haven't had to deal with mice in a while. The other week, I heard one rummaging around and decided to "get it."

I chased it from my kitchen to my storage room and hunted. In my storage room, I have a spare screen door. The mouse started to climb the screen door and I whacked it square on the head. It fell to the ground convulsing. I felt bad only for a second but then came to my senses and said a little prayer for the mouse:

"I'm sorry I killed you but I guess you shouldn't have been in my house."

I decided to clean the whole room.

A few months back, I had chased another mouse into my storage room and thought it went behind my lock-box. Out of frustration I kicked the lock-box against the wall. As I was cleaning my room, I pulled out the lock-box and found the mouse I chased behind it a few months before, squashed flat against the wall. It looked like a cartoon character when they fall on the ground off of a ciff--splat!

Totally hilar.

Then, I pulled the lock-box further out and...there was...ANOTHER MOUSE! Squashed flat underneath the lock-box.

3 dead mice, 3 dead mice, smell how they smell.

I wrote a while back that I would kill all the chickens in my village if they ate the plants in my garden, again.

Yesterday, I came home from visiting a friend and sure enough there was a hen eating my morning glories. I got my broom and swatted the hen--really really hard. It sqwuaked. I noticed that I had broken it's right leg as it hopped away. I felt so guilty. I mean, I wanted to hurt the chicken because it was destroying months of hard work, but I immediately regretted and felt immoral.

I went to find the owner of the chicken who was a Puhl man. The Puhl are a very quiet people. They're nomads so they don't settle down in one place. In my village there's a little camp of them. As I approached the man to talk about his chicken, he was dressed in all white from head to toe...praying. I literally felt like I was confessing to god-incarnate, my sins.

He was incredibly understanding and reminded me that I've given up a lot to come to Africa to teach children who are different from me and that he is extremely grateful for that. He told me not to have fear about the chicken because her leg would heal itself and suggested that I could make it up to him by teaching him English.

I was touched.

Hope you enjoy the garden video. The sunflowers are so beautiful!

Here are just a few ways I know I've adjusted to life in Africa. These aren't arranged in any order of importance.

1. I get a cold when the temperature drops below 75.

2. 75 degree weather is an excuse to sleep in a hoodie and pajama pants.

3. Babies screaming bloody murder doesn't phase me.

4. 30 year old body stench don't phase me.

5. I've lost 35 lbs in 8 months and look emaciated but I'm considered healthy.

6. Finally, holding hands with another male doesn't feel like cheating. Love you boo :)

7. Eating nothing but starch in 1 day doesn't make me feel unhealthy.

8. Riding in a car with no door handles, rearview mirror, or locks doesn't cause anxiety.

9. It isn't abnormal to delay class an hour to wait for rain to stop.

10. I was literally shocked when I found worms in my garden.

a few comments:

:31, except the one I'm showing you. you can get a glimpse of the white one a few seconds before.

When you last read your Peace Corps Volunteer's blog, he was fighting the evil chickens of Toucountouna.

*!BAM!*

*((POW))*

The evil chickens of Toucountouna mercilessly attacked and killed the helpless sprouts of the Peace Corps Volunteer's garden.

chickens: cock-a-doodle-ha-ha-ha-ha. we will eat you pathetic sprouts!sprouts: nooooooo, help us Clay, help us. ggghhhuuuhgggggg.

So, I was pretty sad because Africa provides the perfect conditions in which to grow both cosmos and sunflowers. They can survive drought, need full sun all day and can thrive in poor soil. WOO WEST AFRICA!

I replanted to sunflower seeds and reminded the next-door neighbor boy to make sure the door to my gate is closed well. I had to leave post for 2 weeks for PCVL interviews--by the way, I got the position--and to design the stage for the new volunteers who will be here IN JUST 2 MONTHS!

I got back to post last, last Wednesday and......guess what!

All of my cosmo seeds sprouted. In 2 weeks, they grew so much and 4 of the sunflower sprouts survived and are already a foot tall! We got a pretty heavy rain last Tuesday night and I'm pretty sure all of my flowers grew inches overnight. I collected some white stones and outlined the areas where I planted flowers so my front yard has some semblance of beauty before bloom.

I replanted, again, 8 more sunflower seeds and am anxiously awaiting their arrival.

The gate stays firmly shut but I've noticed chickens don't come around as much anymore. I hope it's because they fear me.

A point of personal pride: Last Thursday, I invited the kids who live next to me (5 of them with no parents, the oldest about 15) into my yard to wonder at my garden. They were truly awed. I gave them a few sunflower seeds, helped them plant them, and taught them how to water them daily. They stand over their own little garden for hours everyday, inspecting the ground. It is perhaps the most heart-warming thing I have experienced here in Africa.

You may remember a photo of cattle walking by my house, I posted it a few months ago. Well they're back and with them comes a fresh supply of purely organic, all natural cow manure that I can spread around my flowers. I have my next-door neighbor boy collect it--he puts it in a carton for me with his bare hands :)

I haven't had my camera at post because it was the dry season and it worried me to have it sitting around at post. Soo, I don't have pictures. I promise I will get pictures of my flowers soon!

A while ago, I got a fence made of dried grass put around the front area of my house. It's really nice for privacy and (shh) sleeping outside during this time of year, the hottest time of the year, when the electricity is cut. I had Robert, and his mother--thanks Phyllis!--send sunflower seeds, cosmo seeds, morning glory seeds, and scarlet runner bean seeds so that I can start a garden. My plan is to use the morning glory to cover my fence, plant the cosmos in front of my porch and along side of my house, and to have the far end of my front area covered in sunflowers! I recently planted the sunflower seeds and taught a boy who lives next door how to water them for the times when I'm away from post.I was away from post for a week and when I came back I was excited to see that one of the sunflower seeds had sprouted!! I asked the boy what happened to the rest of the seeds and he explained that the chickens that roam around my house got into my yard and ate the sapplings!UUGGHH I HATE CHICKENS!This is not the first time they've done this. I had wild cosmos growing in my yard and they'd sneak in during the dead of night and eat the newly budding flowers.My sister witnessed the extent to which I despise chickens. I literally go insane. I pick up a broom and run at the chickens, swinging madly, screaming obsenities. My goal is usually to whack one full force in mid-air. One time I was almost successful but I missed the chicken by just a few centimeters.So, I replanted the sunflower seeds. Thankfully, I only planted half just in case they didn't sprout. The soil is very poor. This time, I told the neighbor boy to guard my yard against chickens. If they destroy these sapplings I will literally kill every chicken in my village and have a big chicken feast. Fried chicken, chicken stew, chicken pot pie, chicken tenders, baked chicken, the list goes on and on.Little do the chickens know that I may be getting a puppy soon. If I do, I will train him to chase and kill chickens :) Problem solved.I will post pictures of sapplings if they survive. Pray for my sapplings...and for the lives of those chickens.

This...

Plus this...

(notice the slight discoloration on the corner.You can tell how far it went into my head.)

Equals this!!

This week has been busy for me :)

I got back from Cotonou on Monday after seeing my sister off.DIARRHEA!!Literally, I've been a chocolate milk factory since Monday. Gross I know, but part of my life here. Up until this point, I had managed to not get any stomach whatevers and now I have one and it's here in full effect!

By the way, to take the African gamble means to think you have to toot but surprise...

Today though, proved to be the icing on this week's cake. First let me describe the workstation. It's a normal house-ish structure. There's a side part with two outside bathrooms, real bathrooms with toilets for when you have to do something particularly smelly and/or noisy. This is an ingenious setup because the people in the workstation don't have to be burdened with your intestinal problems. A cement wall outlines the workstation property, running against the farther of the two bathrooms. Out of this wall, maybe 5 feet from the door of the bathroom, juts a metal pole to which a laundry rope is tied. The pole is one of those 'L' shaped poles and is positioned on the wall so that the L is upside down...kind of like 'r'. I was coming out of the bathroom against the wall, was bombarded by some flying creature and ducked to keep it from flying into me. When I came up from ducking, I came up full force into the bottom part of the 'r'. I saw white and was stunned but just assumed I hurt myself.I walked into the workstation, and wiped what I thought was sweat from my forhead. No. Blood, and lots of it.After talking to the Peace Corps doctor, it was decided I would need to go the hospital here in Natitingou. I did. First, I went to the wrong hospital and walked around dazed and confused. Finally, I figured out I was at the wrong hospital and found my way to the right one.The doctor there examined me and said "you need stitches."We went over to another room, the nurse came in, shaved some of my hair off (very sad), cleaned the wound and next thing I know, there's the needle and thread. NO ANESTHESIA! I laughed hysterically and told them to wait while I built up the guts to get stitches in my head with no anesthesia.Deep breath.Okay, go ahead.BAM!I'm pretty sure that the only reason I didn't cry was because I was sweating from the pain of it all. I'm also pretty sure that I almost pushed one of my eyes right out of it's socket in my attempt to apply pressure to deal with the pain. I began to curse, aloud, in English and they all began to laugh. They knew.They did a good job. A good, painful job.They put about 20 different cleaning agents and topped it off with what I'm sure was alcohol and a bandage.Enjoy the pictures.

I discovered I can load video. Here it is. Enjoy.

and lost. On to other things... My sister visited me for 2 weeks. When she first visited I was finishing up in the med unit so we didn't do much. We spent a few days at the workstation (where I got sick from eating a bad salad) and then at my post. Post was boring for her but awesome for me to have her there. We didn't do too much, as there isn't that much to do in village but Chanda got to experience a small sampling of my daily life. This included sitting around in the heat, and doing her own laundry (pictures to follow)! That weekend, we headed down to GAD weekend. GAD weekend is comprised of a night of date auctioning and a formal dinner and dancing to support small projects for Gender And Development. We had a beautiful dress made for Chanda from traditional tissu! Everyone loved it, but she thought it made her look like a big kid. The first night, the date auction, was hilarious. Chanda got drunk and bid (and won) on almost every date. Of course the volunteers who work for GAD love her (and I love her because she I get to enjoy all the lovely dates she bought for me). I'll be getting a tea party, a sleep over, a foot massage, and a full course chinese dinner complete with night looking at the stars from a watch tower. WOO!! The second night was fun too, mostly consisted of being thrown in a swimming pool, fun dancing, and more bidding and winning of art and jewelry.We headed back to post and just chilled for the rest of the week. Chanda, who was going crazy, helped me fixed my fence and plant sunflower seeds to start my garden! Because I knew I'd be away from post a lot in the next few weeks, I taught the neighbor boy how to water them daily. I'm so excited to see sunflower saplings (pictures to come)!We ended with a day at the beach complete with nude men. It was a fun time and I miss her!I'm so ready for Rob to be here now that I've had practice with my sister, I'll feel like a professional Peace Corps Volunteer host.Also, I found out that (even though her work is more dangerous) she's spoiled!!!!!!

Suddenly, I became a Peace Corps Volunteer and time began to slip away from me. Sorry I haven't written anything in a while.

I'm not feeling very creative so this blog entry is going to be dry.

The music, unfortunately did not get better. Some one died at the very end of January, so I had to put up with music for a another week. At some point, according to PC doctors, I developed insomnia which is why I'm writing this post at 3 in the a.m. This morning, marked 48 hours of no sleep. Woo! I have been in the medical unit for 2 weeks now as the Peace Corps doctors figure out what the best course of action is. My sister will be here is 2 weeks which is exciting! A T.E.F.L. Volunteer is leaving which makes me sad but I've been with her the entire 2 weeks I've been here, and she's going to Namibia and, it seems, will be living in much better conditions than in Benin.I have applied for a position as Peace Corps Volunteer Leader. Essentially, I would run a workstation here in Benin and act as a mentor, guide, and confidant to Peace Corps Volunteers within a certain region. As far as I know, 5 other people applied and there are 4 positions available. The process is very interesting because Peace Corps Administration will send out an email listing all applicants and volunteers are asked to provide feedback. I think this is super excellent because, to be honest, the administration does not have daily contact with most volunteers. There is also a panel-interview made up of the current Peace Corps Volunteer Leaders and a few administration members. Of course, I'll update when I find out more :)There are widespread teacher strikes occuring in Benin. Most schools are not functioning because teachers are fed up with not getting paid or getting paid half their salary. I heard a volunteer say that school may get extended, which would suck because the next stage will arrive here in Benin in the middle of July, much earlier than my stage did. If school is pushed back, stage will undoubtedly be effected.The Chaleur, the hot season, is hot, hot, hot.I took that picture near some waterfalls after the safari. It was a very bright day.

Those are the major updates of the past month. I'm sorry this blog lacks wit, sarcasm, and is boring.

is schizophrenic. One day--heck, one minute, I'm in love with the country. Mangos grow on trees lining streets, the people have an exotic look, and I can see the milky way in the sky a few nights a month. The other morning I saw a shooting star. LovelyBut oh how Benin has another side, I side that--and I hope this doesn't express cultural intolerance on my part--drives me absolutely insane....literally.Death in Benin is celebrated. If I were to beam you over here, and take you to a death fete (celebration), you'd think people were partying hard, getting drunk, and being plain ol' obnoxious and well, you'd be justified. When someone dies, the Beninese party hardy. When someone important dies, say a very old member of the community, the Beninese party hardy--FOR 30 DAYS!Why is this relevant to me? Why should I care? Why am I so over the Beninese funeral tradition you ask?Answer: Someone died in a concession (little community of people within a village) right across a small field from me.Picture this: Beautiful full moon, half moon, lunar eclipse. A Milky Way so visible you're pretty sure that God took a huge paint brush dipped with Milky Way No. 32 and flicked it across the sky. Stars that actually twinkle. Cool breeze at night. Crickets chirping. And then, at 12 o'clock at night you hear the music. It's so god awful loud it sounds like your playing it in your bedroom. You try to ignore it which is impossible. Your ipod doesn't help because you'd have to turn the volume the whole way up just to sort-of block out the music. You're probably laughing or smirking or something but I ask you to imagine this music from across a field, played so loud you can hear every word clearly, played from 12 a.m. to 7 a.m. EVERY NIGHT FOR 1 MONTH. One night last week, the absurdity of it all got into my head. I got up at 1 o'clock, went to a bar and drank a beer hoping that it'd make me loopy enough to pass out. You can imagine my anger when I was slightly drunk, laying in bed, not falling asleep. I wanted to come home.It may seem silly that something like that could push me to the point of wanting to come home but it was 30 days, 7 hours a night of Beninese music and people hooting and hollering. Wednesday of last night, I asked God if he hated me--and I wasn't kidding. I thought the universe must be putting me through some test of growth. You know, a "suffer this one last thing because you will have a revelation and be stronger because of it" sort of thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't do any growing but I did have a revelation; there are some things that will always annoy me no matter much traveling I do. If you found me at the ends of the Earth, where people find themselves and save themselves and lose themselves, I'd be bitching about loud things that disturb me while I'm sleeping. :)

Safari. Amazing.

It was exhilirating to see antelops and lions and elephants and hippos and pelicans in the wild, doing their own thing; far different from animals in the zoo.Seeing lions is the huge thing when one is safari-ing. We got to see lions all 3 days we were at Parc Pendjari. The second day was frightening. Now is mating season so the males are aggressive to intruders. We came across a male and a female and he was angry. He (lightly) attacked the car in front of us, and charged our van as we drove by. We got to hear a lion growl in the bush as we sat and watched him for a few minutes--it isn't anything like you've heard, not even like lions in the zoo. They're growl fills the air so completely that it seems the growl is coming from all around you, not a single, fixed point. And yes, they are amazingly cat-like.Elephants and antelope were everywhere--they're common place. So common place that by the 20 billionth time seeing them we didn't want the driver to stop to watch them.The lake of hippos was so neat--they're so loud! They make sounds that can only be compared to the Devil's laughter. And of course, the sunsets were absolutely beautiful. I manage to get a good sunset shot--my first time ever and it's of an African sunset!!I took tons of pictures but these are my best 5 (according to me). I will put more up if you demand them :)

Many things are different here in Benin, mostly because it's a third world country; travel, daily experiences, people, non-paved roads--you know, the nuances. It should be no suprise then that food is vastly different. The Beninese have all the same ingredients we do (minus a few vegetables) but they crazily different things with them. For example, pate (pronounced pot) a staple of the Beninese diet. It's base is corn. The Beninese grind corn into a powder, add water, then reduce it to a pasty white substance that looks like paper mache. L'igname pile (prounounced Yam Pee-lay). Mashed yams with added water to make a sticky pasty substance like pate but tastes better. Both of these things are time consuming to make and offer no nutritional value.So, cooking has become a sort of adventure (like traveling). I get to create all different kinds of sauces for pasta or rice and baking has become an endevour. I like baking. In the States, I baked all the time--mostly for Rob--because I thought it was fun. And, believe it or not, decent baking can be done in the third world. I live in the mountains, don't have a working stove, and can't use any fresh butter--the odds are against any aspiring baker. But like I said, it can be done. All this to say, I made a pound cake in my Dutch oven and it's bomb (extremely good). A Dutch oven here is the large pot with two cans in the bottom you see. You place the dish on the cans, cover and let it cook. I forgot to take a "this is the finished product picture," but it came out perfect; golden brown, moist, sweet, and soo good. I put Hershey's special dark chocolate chips in the batter, they all sank to the bottom and created a layer of chocolate--oh boy.At thanksgiving I managed to make 2 pumpkin pies, apple tart, and a pumpkin custard that everyone loved. I'm excited for Christmas. At some point I can post recipes but not now, this blog is already too long :)Bon appetit!

AHHH!

Imagine this: 200 students, crowded on old wooden desks—the kind of wooden desk that the bench is attached to table part—huddled together in the dark of the night. The 200 students are hushed in awe, except for every now and then, en masse, shouts of “OHHHH!” and the few minutes of excited chatter that follows. That was the setting for my first showing of the first episode of Planet Earth, in my village. AND, IT WAS UTTERLY AMAZING!

One goal I have as a volunteer while I serve in Benin is to complete a series of projects using the least amount of money possible. For my first official-in-my-eyes Peace Corps project I started showing Planet Earth last week. I will show one episode a week for the duration of the number of episodes there are. And, not to be repetitive, it was amazing.

I put the word out by spending all but 10 seconds talking about it at the end of my four classes 3 weeks ago. 2 weeks ago I was gone for a week because all TEFL Volunteers were in Parakou (a big city, not as pretty as Natitingou) for review and update sessions. I thought when I came back last week that my students had forgotten about it but they in fact had not.

Armed with a projector and a dvd-player donated by the mayor of my village (I’ve been so lucky) I showed the first episode of Planet Earth. I had to wait for nightfall because I decided to project the show on the side of one of the school buildings. The student brought desks into the courtyard and waited.

The first episode of Planet Earth is a general overview of wildlife from the North Pole to the South Pole. At one point, the show features a herd of Caribou migrating in Northern Canada, and the wolves following them. Eventually the wolves move in for the kill, chasing the Caribou. It was at this point that the students went crazy. Off-their-seats-squeals-of-excitement-clapping-crazy. It was so apparent to me that they had never seen anything like this before in their lives. I was on an emotional high.

At one point, the program features animals in Africa and the students were even more excited. They began discussing the show in French, amongst themselves, naming the animals. Touching.

For me, the point of this project is not to give the students a scientific explanation of the world around them but simply to show them the world around them. I don’t have the French version of Planet Earth—I did search for it. But I realized that an added element of project glory comes from the fact that the students are listening to English while being so focused on the images. There’s some subconscious level of something going on.

I’m doing fine, post is fine. I’m going to Parc Pendjari (a natural wildlife preserve) in just 2 short weeks!! Of course I’ll post about it!

Being in Benin is an adventure for the spirit. Being alone in a village is definitely an adventure for the will. Eating fish complete with head and teeth and eyes is an adventure for the appetite. But traveling, traveling in Benin is an adventure all it’s own.

There are three ways for volunteers to travel in Benin: zemidjan, taxi and bus.

Zemidjan-Firstly, volunteers call them zemis. They’re a cross between mopeds and motorcycles with a little bit of ATV thrown in. Some are old and rickety and leave a trail of smoke behind while others are moderately newer. The Peace Corps requires that we wear helmets, which in my opinion does not ruin the experience. Zemi drivers go fast and when volunteers travel together they race each other! We zip through traffic at terrifying speeds—did I mention it’s faux pas to touch the zemidjan drivers—with your arms at your sides, or clenching your legs, as the zemidjan drivers weave through cars and run red lights. It’s our own little scene from Fast and the Furious. It really can be an adrenaline rush. The flip side is this: you’re riding a zemi to post, on an isolated road and the motor sputters, clicks, and finally shuts off. The zemi driver continues coasting as if nothing is wrong and for all you know nothing is wrong; maybe they’re trying to save gas. Either way, you’re scared that you’ll have to walk along the road until another zemi happens by or worse yet, you’ll have to walk the 20 kilometers to your post. I haven’t experienced the latter yet but I still have 703 days left, I’ll let you know when it happens.

Taxi—As I was typing the word I began to chuckle. Do not think New York Taxi Cab or any American Taxi Cab. A taxi for 5 people will always have 8 or 9 passengers, a taxi-bus for 9 people will always have about 20 passengers and a taxi for 15 people will have about 25 passengers inside, 3 passengers on the roof, one passenger holding onto the bike rack while standing on the back bumper, and one passenger hanging out of one of the various windows. Taxis are never new cars. The cars usually need to be refilled with oil en route, will be smoking by the time you get to your destination, have a lock broken on the door, and/or no rearview or side mirrors—this isn’t the worst thing about taxis though. The worst thing, and this is more an expression of fact that cultural insensitivity, is the 15-25 other people in the taxi who aren’t wearing deodorant. The smell can literally floor you, stop you mid-sentence and trip your gag reflex. It’s foul. Not a normal I-forgot-to-where-deodorant smell but a repulsive I’ve-never-worn-deodorant-in-my-life smell. It fills the nostrils with an acidic smell. The closest thing I can compare it to is the way wood smells when it’s burning, except this isn’t a smell that fills you with peace and causes you to breathe deeply. Oh no, this smell make you wish that you could not breathe but survive. I once went for a week without wearing deodorant and I didn’t smell 1/1000 as bad. Horrifying.

Bus—Imagine this: a coach bus, complete with air conditioning, a smashed in windshield and windshield wipers that clearly haven’t been changed in the bus’s 20 year existence. The bus is on a debatably two-lane highway with no center line, going roughly 70 mph, passing taxis and zemies and big-rig trucks without using a turn signal and while going around sharp turns. The bus holds the correct number of passengers thank God, but on the bus is a lady with a child who will cry for the entire 8-hour journey. She tries are hard to quiet it but when that doesn’t work she pulls out her breast and pops it into the baby’s mouth. Of course, there are people who aren’t wearing deodorant but the air conditioning helps a little, and there’s a lady selling her wares. Her voice starts high and pitchy and gets deeper and deeper as she ends each sentence. She goes from high G to low G not in a beautiful melodic way but a monotonous, repetitive way. The background music to this is a Beninese soap opera that is playing through for the third time and at such a loud volume that even with your i-pod at maximum volume you can hear the ladies squeaking and squawking.

So there it is. That is how volunteers in Benin get around. I am not complaining, it really is an adventure and there have been many times I’ve burst into laughter because of the absolute absurdity of traveling situations. It’s hilarious how people can fit themselves together, even more hilarious when zemi drivers race but don’t know where they’re going.

It's been 4 weeks. Things are better!

I’ve started to teach classes regularly now, which really means that most of if not all of my students are showing up. Teaching makes me feel really productive because I’m actually doing something with my time.

So far, it seems the students are well behaved and interested in learning. Usually, I try to include a song at the end of my lesson and the students go crazy over that. The school system here is very teacher-centered. There is student participation but most of the student’s time is spent in silence, copying information from the board. When I want to involve them in the learning process it’s a real struggle; they look at me very confused-as if I’ve gone from trying to teach them English to trying to teach them some ancient dialect of Chinese. But, I can tell they like being involved, writing on the board, clapping all the time, and singing.

At some point there will be an addition to my house! I am going to get a puppy to hang out with. When I get him, I’ll post pictures and maybe he’ll become a guest blogger :)

I have plans up until June of next year. They’re all fun things like vacations with other volunteers and visits from friends and family; it’s great to have some things to look forward to and they will chop up my time here helping it to fly by.

I got a rash! The best way I can describe it is by comparing it to ring-worm except it didn’t have a circular shape, it went every which way and was all over my body. I visited the Peace Corps Bureau in Cotonou, which was very nice because I got to take warm showers and eat good food and be around other volunteers. A dermatologist told me that it was reaction to a chemical released by some bug. Very mysterious I know. Today I’m headed back to my post to insecticide my house and see what happens! I’ll update on this if something else happens.

That’s really about it. I miss everyone, hope all is well, see you around the bend and all that jazz.

Peace

Post I’ve been at post for 6 days now (including today) and it’s been quite the experience. When I first got here, I seriously considered E.T. ing (early terminating my service) right away. I’m here alone, not doing anything—literally—but sitting on my porch for hours a day; my house isn’t a home yet; I don’t have friends immediately available; and I can’t even eat good food. These are the things that were running through my mind for 3 days straight from the time I got up until I went to bed. For those parents (who aren’t mine) who read this blog, please don’t be in despair. This is just my experience and no one else’s. I can say that this part of the journey (I think) for all of us is very lonely. In the last 6 days I have realized how much of a social creature I truly am. In the states, I always “wanted my space,” not necessarily from my friends but in general. Foolish, foolish, foolish. People who say they need their own space from time to time say that because they don’t know true isolation. That is, isolation that isn’t self-prescribed but imposed. In other news… I was struggling—and am to some extent—but then a series of events happened that made me feel like this still is the right path for me. Sometimes it just seems that the universe smiles on you and gives you everything that you need, strung together like—I don’t know—beautiful pearls. Things that give your heart courage and make you laugh aloud at nothing and cause you to smile without realizing it. And these things are always very simple; rain after 3 god-awfully hot days, a photographic moment and the like. My time in Africa will be a maturation period for me. I’ve learned in 6 days that I need to be around people I know to feel secure which, when I’m being honest, is the real reason behind my struggle with being here. I don’t want this blog entry to turn into a journal entry. Let me just say that Africa is absolutely stunning, my post is beautiful, it’s a bit lonely so write your children or friends or whoever my fellow PCV’s are to you and of course WRITE ME! Even if I don’t know you, and believe me when I say that the mundane things to you are comforting to us because we want to be back there with you! In fact: Jamie’s Mom, David’s Mom, Jennifer, Some of Jamie’s friends. You all should write letters right now. Your children/friends miss you J Of course, they didn't tell me any of this themselves.

First birthday in Benin, check. The Beninese certainly do find a way to influence all aspects of your life--even your birthday.There's a really nice restaurant (remember my standards have changed. I lived in Africa) called Java Promo. Getting there was a blast. Erin and I rode together, and were taken to the wrong place and charged too much. Once we got there, I had 8 shots of a Beninese-made liquor called Sodabe. Very good. Enough said.Here in Benin, often times, the trip is more interesting than anything you experience at your destination. Today, TEFL went to visit a village built completely on stilts in the middle of a huge lake. Very nice because it was my first real photo excursion here in Benin. On the way there, smashed in a Peace Corps vehicle (as always), I was sprawled across a seat sitting in front of 3 current volunteers. I forgot to keep my balance after the van stopped and found my face in the breasts of said volunteer. Yikes.Ganvie was really beautiful (see photos). Because it's a village built on stilts, people travel around the village on little wooden boats.At one point, there was a boy bugging us for money and gifts. The guy steering the boat decided to take the boy's only oar. This boy is only 1o years old by the way. He immediately broke into tears. Other people started yelling at our boat steerers started yelling at ours. Imagine this: a traffic jam of boats, all the boatsmen yelling at our boatsmen. We're sitting in dirty water--the boat is rocking. Tres scary.My birthday is fine so far. Also, warning NOTICE THE ADDRESS CHANGE. ALL PACKAGES SHOULD BE SENT TO THE NEW ADDRESS :)

This blog is just an update of events in the past 2 weeks since I haven't written anything.

Honestly, there hasn't been beaucoup des choses going on.

In Africa, people wear a fabric called tissue. It's essentially a tightly-woven cotton fabric of toutes les qualitiés. Some is horrid, some beautiful. It all comes with some kind of pattern or motif. The tissue is taken to a teilleur who can make just about any article of clothing you can draw. What's really great is that Western ideas of what it is to dress like a man haven't influenced Beninese culture.

No joking, men wear tissue that is bright pink with purple lace and red hearts.

All this to say: most of the tissue is not of my taste. However, last weekend je suis allé au marche avec Jamie, Erin and David and I found 3 patterns that are pretty decent. I took them to the teilleur along with my Express, vintage-fit dress shirt, and am having 3 shirts made. Pictures to follow.

Also, Erin and I are positive that we'll get to enjoy Ginger Snaps sometime in the future ;)

My Malaria medication gives me heart burn to the max and the doctor suggested I take other medication to allow my Malaria medication to work better. I said no. I will be changing Malaria medication in the near future.

There's beaucoup des photos but Erin and I are figuring out the logistics of transfer.

Soul food was made at the last cooking session. I.....was very happy ;)

I've had some grumpy days--Rob, Erin knows your pain :)

Now that the Teaching English as a Foreign Language stagiers are in Model School we have to be at school by 7:30 and stay until about 17:30. Teaching is great! I'm still stubborn and stay up until atleast 22:30

And perhaps the most important thing, in the last 2 weeks I have realized, resented, and accepted the fact that I am in Africa for 2 years.

Donc, Wednesday past, the T.E.F.L. volunteers left Porto Novo to go and visit the sites where they'll spend the next two years teaching.

Toucountouna is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, beautiful. It's a small village of about 4000 people, nestled among an Appalachian-esque chain of mountains. What's more, the village itself sits on the peak of a mountain in said mountain chain. If I look in any direction, I can see clear across other mountain chains for at least 100 miles--even on rainy days.

At night, the stars can be seen right down to the horizon. The sky in general is so clear, appears so close that one gets the urge to reach up and grab a star. Even better, I can see not just one but several planets on any given night.

The homes of the villages are exactly like you're thinking. They're colored a deep tan brown with straw or tin roofs. The major highway of Benin runs right through my village, and the offshoot roads are made from a kind of stone gravel including brown and red stones. The village and the homes look exactly like the places on the pamphlets trying to entice people to visit strange and exotic lands. In fact, there's a national park about 17 miles away from my home, complete with elephants, lions, gazelle, antelope, and of course crocs. Also, there's a waterfall about 13 miles from my town and a huge lake about 3 miles away.

My home is on a dusty road. 3 rooms, and an external area for doucheeing and bathrooming. It's a cement structure--I will not be huddled in some small dank dark pit pooping :)

Admittedly, I had a very low point during my site visit because it finally dawned on me that I am in Africa and will be here for 2 years and the people I love are back in the States--talk about breakdown. Thank you Rob :)

And yes, I do have pictures. Coming soon!

After 6 days of school per week, I like to do nothing on Sunday. Hanging out with Erin, Jennifer or Jamie is honestly the most I feel like doing.

It doesn't feel better to talk in English--there's no great relief. I'm honestly just too lazy to want to speak in French on my day of rest.

The point is: God rested on Sunday (or whatever God's 7th day was) and so do I.

Except yesterday.

My host family is nice. Papa and mama--and yes, I must call them that--are very patient avec moi. In such a fashion, my Mama matter-of-factly told me earlier in the week that I was washing my clothes Sunday. And, wash my clothes on Sunday is what I did.

Washing my clothes, by hand, has englightened me in two very important ways.

To begin with; I know why I was born in the 21st century. If I had been born in a time where I had to wash my clothes by hand for my entire life--I would honestly walk around naked.

It took me 4 hours to wash 3 pair of pants, 1 pair of shorts, 3 t shirts, and 10 pair of socks. I have already decided I am only washing my clothes every 2 weeks because I am too lazy to wash them more often.

Secondly, I have a whole new appreciation for the saying "walk a mile in their shoes." . I walked a mile in a washing machine's shoes. I walked that mile for 4 hours. I can say without reservation that I have a new-found love and respect for words like "Spin cycle," "Rinse cycle," "Soak" and the word "repeat" will always have a traumatizingly special meaning to me. When I return to the states, the first thing I'm going to do, save hugging Robert, is hug the washing machine. Hug it and thank it and call the company that produced it and thank them. After that, I'm going to call the local paper and ask them to write a story about the genius of washing machines because I will always tear up with joy as I put my clothes into that wonderful machine and let it do it's magic.

But for now, I'll use my knuckles.

Question: How is it possible for one to be surrounded by 10 very animated people and feel completely alone and isolated?Answer: They're all speaking french, or a local language and you KNOW they're talking about you.

We arrived at our host families' houses Wednesday night. All of us, who had spent the last 6 days and nights together, scattered about the bustling city of Porto Novo. No cell phones to call and say "this sucks" or AIM/ICHAT to IM and say "save me." For that matter; we didn't even know where any other volunteer was living. I got to my host family's house and realized that my experience would be akin to something like a duckling learning how to swim: not quite drowning, not exactly swimming but doing something in between the two; mouth filled with water, can't exactly catch my breath, all the while wishing to be back on land. C'etait trés, trés emotionale!"Assiette-toi," my host-mama commanded (equates to plate yourself) and for 2 hours I was asked all sorts of questions in frightening speed by 5 adults. Really, the only word I uttered was "quoi?" Of course, there is progression.á la prochaine!NOTICE THE CARE PACKAGE SECTION TO THE RIGHT!

Up at 7, busy until 6. 7 hour plane flight. 5 hour lay over in Paris, France. 7 hour plane flight to Benin. That was my first two days of Peace Corps journey. By the time I got to Benin, I was sleep deprived, had been wearing the same clothes for 24 hours, had not pooped in 2 whole days, and hadn't eaten anything remotely filling or healthy. Despite that, there is no feeling to describe the way I felt as we wove through traffic in a van full of 29 people--made for 15, arriving to the St. Jean Eudes compound to dozens of current volunteers screaming our names.No traffic lights, no turn signals, no stop signs, yield signs, lane merges right or left signs, one way signs, or stay on your side of the road lines. No crashes. Benin is AMAZING. Cotonou, a major city, is huge and dirty and polluted and crowded and absolutely beautiful. Women carrying baskets of bread on their heads. Women and men with tiny babies strapped to their backs. Men selling huge glass vases of gasoline on the side of the street. Tons of street-side shops selling everything; bread, avacodo, rosaries, dried bananas, dried meat, even cell phone sim cards.The trees are amazing and to top it off, the ground is all sand--no dirt. It's humid but by no means terrible. I spend my days in a sheen of liquid and my nights relaxing to fans and crickets, sleeping under a mosquito net.The friends I have made, are definitely making this journey trés beaucoup better! Erin, Jennifer, Dave, and our little nugget Jamie are such amazing people.No diarrhea despite new and strange food exposed to insects. No malaria despite tons of mosquito bites. No feelings of regret despite the fact that I miss Roberto so much.Benin is where I should be.I miss all of you very much.

Sitting in the car, on the way to orientation, I feel so focused I can barely pay attention to the conversation happening around me. My stomach rumbles, partly to release my overwhelming sense of anxiety but mostly because I haven't eaten anything and it's nearly 11 o' clock. Starving, the thought of food repulses me.Each mile we drive I feel a ripping. The image in my head is this: I'm a gummy bear being peeled off a wall. Perfectly content, I'm forcibly moved from a blissful state of suspension to something else. Sure I asked to be moved; want to be moved; can find the value in being moved but now I feel a tinge of regret. I'm making people sad, I don't want to leave the comfort of my home or Rob's embrace.Lunch comes with fellow future Peace Corps Volunteers, and they're great people. Time to say goodbye. I feel so guilty. Jenna's crying, Claire's crying, and Meaghan's depressed. Am I playing with fate? I found love--I have love and now I've said "hold on." They're proud of me, I do know. What I feel most at this point though is this: Robert Curtis Wimer Jr. I love you with all of my heart and soul. I could not have made this journey without your help and unyielding support. I will miss you terribly--more than I can ever put in words. You are literally my everything. Please don't be sad. Keep your head up. Do things. I'll see you soon.

Alright, it's official I am going to Benin. My new date for orientation is July 21st, 2009. I will be headed to Benin two days later, on July 23rd.I am still a TEFL (Teacher of English as a Foreign Language) Volunteer, and my committment to service is still 27 months--which is a little sucky because had I gone to Madagascar I would've completed service and returned home around my birthday.The good:Cell phone usage is more common, mail won't take as long to arrive as in Madagscar--although it's still pretty slow, I won't have to eat rice 3 times a day, I'll get to use more french, and I don't have to deal with tropical insects.The bad: Benin's cool season is not as long as Madagascar's so even though Benin has a tropical climate in the south the availability of tropical fruit isn't as great, anndd....I've read that Benin is considered a hardship position. My previous assumption was that all PC experiences were considered hardship position--WTF mate, now I have to reorient myself to the insects I'll come across--or that will come across me (blekh), and NO LEMURS!!!m

You may be wondering why, the title of my blog refers to Benin, and the link refers to Madagascar. Unfortunately, due to political turmoil, the Peace Corps has cancelled volunteer programs in Madagascar. As a result, volunteers assigned to Madagascar are being reassigned throughout francophone (french speaking) Africa. I've been in contact with 5 people from my group and so far, 4 of us have been reassigned to Benin--hopefully the other two make it!!!See you all there. P.s. The wishlist stays the same :)Also, I may be able to use a cell phone pretty regularly!!

Quick Info: I've applied and as of November 2nd, 2008 been accepted to the Peace Corps as an educational volunteer. My assignment is to work to TEFL (Teach English as a Foreign Language) in Madagascar for 27 whole months! I am leaving June 15th for staging in some major American city and then I am off to Madagascar on June 18th 2009.

For two months now I've been soaking in the realities of being a future Peace Corps Volunteer; here's what's on my mind:

Firstly, why do 95% of people excitedly ask "like the movie?!" when I tell them I'm going to Madagascar, as if the animated film has given them some insight into Malagasy (Madagascar-an) life?

Just in case you're wondering: I will not befriend a pack of talking animals seeking to escape Madagascar. If I experience any talking animals, I will immediately contact the Peace Corps Medical Services as talking animals probably means I have contracted some infection or virus that is causing psychosis.

Secondly, why is the experience of being a Peace Corps Volunteer in Madagascar cool until, amongst answering excited questions and responding to hum-drum statements about how admirable my decision is, I mention that I will not have running water?

What is it about running water that makes being a Peace Corps Volunteer seem so impossible?! The reaction is always the same; a twisting of the eyes and mouth, a scoff, a throwing up of the hands, and a vigorous shaking of the head, and always "Oh no, that's not for me. That's ridiculous." Even if two seconds prior to this fact I was the world's greatest hero, I instantly become a crazy fool who needs to enjoy water while I have it.

I have to say, I've suffered a few minor anxiety spells recently when thinking upon the fact that I will shed my capitalistic coil in 5 months to embark on a life changing journey; think Monk (the detective) walking into a disorganized room. OMG I'm leaving America to live in poverty in an effort to help save the world, how freakin' awesome.