My work partner Gnon Tori Sanni Guera, President of the Union Communale Groupement des Femmes of Banikoara

December 27th, 2010

We Call This God

Over a month ago, for whatever reason something had prevented me from drawing water from the well before the sun set. I went out in the dark to pull water from the well in my concession. My concession brother Philippe was also at the well. I would say he is in the 5th grade equivalent class at school. He of course insisted on pulling my water, which is fine. After a while you learn to stop fighting with everyone who wants to help you or give you a free meal or free drink or what have you. I try to speak as much Bariba as I can with my concession family so I use this opportunity to bond with my brother through his native tongue. The stars are shining bright as always. With no electricity in the whole district of Founougo, this provides for an ideal star gazing atmosphere. Looking up at the stars I ask him what we call this in Bariba. "Gusunu," he says to me. I repeat it over and over again so I can implant it into my ever growing Bariba vocabulary. He asks me what the word in French is and I tell him, "les étoiles." He repeats the French word to himself just as I had done with "gusunu." He finishes drawing my water and we look at the stars a little bit and then I retire to my house to wash up.

Recently I was cruising the streets of Banikoara with Suzie and some how it came up that I had learned the word for "stars" in Bariba.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Gusunu."

"Oh, that's interesting." I can see her mulling it over in her mind.

"Yea?"

"Yea. That sounds a lot like the word for God."

December 28th, 2010

Il N'y a Pas de Monnaie

One thing I haven't had the chance to tell you all about is the lack of small change in this country. You can ask any PC Benin Volunteer. They know exactly what I'm going to say right now. Benin, where is the petite monnaie at? To survive in this country, you quickly learn to hoard all the petite monnaie you can find. This of course only perpetuates the problem, but what else can we as foreigners do? It will often take over 15 minutes for someone to make change for you, if they even do at all. The units of currency in this country run as follows:

1CFA (I've never seen it, but I've heard it exists)

5CFA

10CFA

25CFA

100CFA

200CFA

250CFA (Regarded as a false coin anywhere north of Parakou)

500CFA

1000CFA

2000CFA

5000CFA

10000CFA

1000CFA and above are paper pieces. Based on my experience, I am not sure why paper pieces exist outside of Cotonou. There is no cash flow up in this joint. You can plan whole days based on how you are going to break your large bill pieces around town.

Once again, another usually unthought about action that is terribly difficult to accomplish here.

December 30th, 2010

Dear Africa

Dear Africa,

You are so broken. You work so hard yet don't work at all. You bare so many mouths to feed but no means to feed them. Similarly, you decide that one wife is simply not enough and may decide that three will suffice, when in reality, you barely have enough to support one. After the age of 12, your female student rates plummet and those who remain can barely hold their heads above water long enough to be impregnated by a school teacher. You constantly demand gifts yet fall bored when someone tries to give you the most valuable gift of all: A skill. To no fault of your own, your idea of diversity is limited to a local level. You don't know how to talk to strangers and Lord knows that strangers are reluctant to know how to talk to you. You are overpopulated, hungry, and dying. And so Africa, I hope you know, no one can fix you but you.

January 4th, 2011

The Women of Founougo

Today the women's group of Founougo held their first meeting of the year. I attended the meeting to hopefully inch my way toward solidarity with these well respected women in the community. This meeting was the fourth attempt after a week of trying to get the women together to discuss their activities for the season. C'est comme ça ici en Afrique. The meeting was conducted in Bariba by my counterpart, Tori. She is the group's secretary but I guess she is the one who leads the meetings. It may have to do with the fact that she is president of the women's group for the Commune of Banikoara. I'm not sure. After discussing the plans for the group's apiculture, manioc transformation, and gardening activities we left to go seek the proprietor of the land space the women would be using for their upcoming gardening activities. Walking the dirt roads of Founougo with this group of ten women felt very empowering. I would compare their walk to that of the Jets from Westside Story. As they greeted people in passing, they bowed and spoke in sync. Shortly after seeking the proprietor, Tori, another elder member of the group, and I went over to the gardening space to check it out. The lot of land they had been partitioned was still semi-swamp from the rainy season. Not a good start for our gardening activities.

January 5th, 2011

So . . . You Want to Know What Sucks About Our School?

I held a meeting with all 16 primary school teachers today. After already a semester passed, we are still missing two school teachers. I could rave about that for hours. But I won't.

So in order to mobilize the teachers with the ultimate goal of empowering them, I decided to ask them a series of positive questions regarding their school. That didn't work out so well. My first question, What are you proud of at your school? pretty much broke their brains. They did not understand my question at all.

"So . . . you want to know the needs of our school? Ah yes, well . . ." No, no. That is not what I asked my friends. I asked the question again. I gave examples. They all looked at me puzzled. One of the directors finally was able to give me an example of something one of his students did that made him proud. The subject soon shifted beyond my control to "stuff" that they "need" (including but not limited to computers) at the school instead of discussing feasible activities the school could work toward as a team or with the community to accomplish. Some of these kids haven't even been graced with the presence of a teacher in the classroom yet this school year, and these fools are asking for computers in a town with no electricity . . .

Oh dear Africa, what are we going to do with you?

January 6th, 2011

So Apparently I've Become a Little Ethnist

If you've ever met me, you know that I don't dig discrimination. Discrimination based on race, sex, age, culture, religion-I don't dabble in such dark arts.

Well in moving from Porto Novo to Founougo I noticed a huge change in the people. They're nicer, don't try to rip you off, and almost always show respect. Example: Men who pass by me in the street rarely say anything to me and if they do it's "Bonjour/Bonsoir Madame"-A very important subtlety which demonstrates respect. Additionally, the use of the word for foreigner is used in a different tone in the north than it is in the south. In the south, the word is "Yovo." It is used in a taunting and harassing manner and I can honestly tell you that when I hear the word, it makes me want to go postal. In the north the word is "Baturé." Between Toubab, Yovo, and Baturé, I would say Baturé is my favorite. It's used in a jovial way and the intonation of the word renders feelings of welcomeness and kindness. Funny eh?

As you may have read, yesterday I had a meeting with all the primary school teachers. In this meeting I met two new teachers who just arrived in Founougo. This will often happen that the government does not place enough teachers in a school, and slowly throughout the school year perhaps if lucky, the school will eventually have a full staff. There were three classes that went without teachers the whole first semester. Today we are still missing two. For the teachers who I just met, I provided my contact information.

Today while waiting for one of the directors to finish a meeting in his office so I could make an announcement with him about the first girls' club meeting I am holding tomorrow, I got a call from an unknown number. The same number had called me the night before but I didn't pick it up. Seeing as it was in the middle of the day, I picked up the call. It was one of the new teachers. This particular teacher was very disappointed to find out yesterday at the meeting that I was "married," as is what I tell all people in my community to evade marriage proposals, etc. He specifically said after one of the directors wanted to make known that I was married and to not mess, "But I love her." Revolting. You know absolutely nothing about me. Please step back, Sir.

I was right outside his school building when he called so I just went to his classroom to say "Bonsoir" and "What can I do for you?" He met me outside and told me that he just wanted to thank me for yesterday. Alright, I'll accept that. I asked him where he had been displaced from and if he was Bariba. He told me that he was Fon. It was then that I said "Oh." It was the type of "oh" you say in order to convey "well that explains a lot."

I totally judged him on his ethnicity. And the fact that he was from the south.

Well, at least I can recognize my ethinicism. Webster, get on it. It exists.

January 7th, 2011

Busy as a Bee

Today was a big day. I walked 4 km to a small village called Toromo to meet the president of the apiculture group, Oru Taré Kanto. I walked to the village with Tori. We practiced my numbers in Bariba as we walked. It was good. At the president's plot of land I got a tour of all the fun plants he grows including a fruit bearing tree that was new to me called acajou, which I later found out was a cashew tree. I had a chance to try the cashew fruit. From the outside it looked a little bit and smelled a little like bell pepper. The inside had the consistency similar to a very very ripe mango but biting into it was like biting into the skin of a tomato. The smell of the fruit smelled and tasted like Disneyland. I can't think of any other way to describe it.

I also received a tour of the whole bee set up. I saw methods they use to trap the bees as well as all of his 40 hives he has on his plot of land. The women's group keep four beehives on his land as well.

After the tour of the plot we sat down to talk and eat a little. After eating some boiled sweet potatoes with some spiced shea butter sauce and sipping on Beaufort, our répos was interrupted by a rooster that got scared off by a snake several meters away from us. Oru Taré got his machete and well, you can see what happened . . .

The snake was in the middle of eating a lizard when Oru Taré conquered the snake's life with his machete.

I was able to get a couple shots of the beautiful birds that were hanging out in the trees above-Just for you Betty! I forgot to mention that on my epic bike journey back in September that I had seen a lot of exotic colored birds along the tarred road, but hadn't had a chance to catch any photos of them. I will try to be better about my bird documentation :)

Tori and I needed to head out at 2pm because we were set to lead my first girls' club meeting at the primary school with the 5th and 6th graders (equivalent) at 4pm. We walked back to Founougo but didn't have much time in between to rest. Over 100 girls showed up to the club. One of the directors who was also helping out had to turn away 80 girls because the classroom was so packed. I arranged to come work with the girls another time next week who weren't able to join the rest.

I explained Peace Corps to them and how I would be in Founougo until 2012. I explained what my purpose was as a "volunteer" in their community who specializes in the environment. I explained to them the importance of cross cultural exchange during my work in Founougo. I demystified the idea that people in the U.S. do not suffer and gave a narrative of my own battles growing up, but how I still conquered them and went on to earn my college degree and that I expected the same from them. I then went on to tell them about how I had noticed something very interesting during my time sitting in on classes at the primary school in the fall and also exploring the middle school. I pointed out to them that as the level of class rose, I saw a decrease in the number of female students in the classrooms. We then did an exercise where they closed their eyes and imagined where they would be in ten years from now. Afterward, several girls shared their expectations of themselves. I was particularly impressed when one girl who said, "In ten years, I will not be with a man."

The session ran for about an hour. It was difficult to keep the attention of all 100 some girls, but Tori was there to translate things into Bariba which helped. Many of the girls' French levels are actually worse than mine, even though they're taught the language in school. When I spoke loudly, clearly, and slowly there were still some girls who I could see were not with the rest of the group, with chatter sprinkled throughout the classroom. But when Tori spoke in Bariba you could hear a pin drop the girls were so silent.

Because there are so many girls I've decided to rotate which class of girls I work with every Friday afternoon for the rest of the school year. It's not ideal as I would like to be speaking with all of them once a week, but it will have to do.

I walked home after that. It was a good day.

January 9th, 2011

Part I: Back at the Old Bread and Kerosene Gig

Once again, amidst my salad and phone credit search, I found myself selling bread and kerosene. Can't turn down the Bread Pirate. She's the best. Today I asked her what year she was born and she told me August, 1968, but she didn't know the day.

"I will call my brother and ask him to look in our files and find the day." D'accord. And so she did. August 6th, 1968. God bless.

So Assana, Gannigui the Bread Pirate's 10 year old daughter, and I hung out selling for 45 minutes. She reminds me of Winter a lot in how she'll just ignore me if I ask her a question she doesn't want to answer. For example. today I asked her if she could remember when she got her epic scarification on her face done. No response. Fair enough.

The relationship Gannigui and Assana have is an interesting one. What stands out in my mind the most I would say is the fact that I didn't even realize until a month and a half of living in Founougo that this little girl was her daughter. Looking back, the day that I went to Gannigui's house, it was Assana who brought me. The two don't interact much. If I'm lucky, I'll catch a glimpse of some form of affection expressed between the two. Today was one of those days where I saw just that.

After 45 minutes of vending I saw Gannigui approaching from a far with a huge platter full of bread on her head. Assana soon saw this and started running to meet her mother and take the bread. As Assana ran up to meet Gannigui, Gannigui showing all her teeth gave out the warmest, most genuine smile-a rare expression from our otherwise serious and dazed Bread Pirate. Assana grabbed the bread, placing it atop her little 10 year old head and gracefully brought it to the stand to put on display with the other loaves.

Gannigui insisted I take a loaf of bread with margarine in payment for my services. I graciously accepted. Somewhere along the way in my Africa adventures I acquired a taste for margarine. How revolting.

Part II: Troubled Tales of the Mouth

I started home, looking forward to my fresh from Founougo 40 cent salad inside my Rubbermaid, inside my satchel-tomatoes, onions, vinaigrette, mayo, and all. After crossing the since dried up moat (which everyone calls a dam) I must cross every time I go into town, I was almost home, but I had to stop at my most frequented boutique to drop off 300 francs that I owed Grande Soeur (the woman who runs the boutique) from this morning. As usual, my efforts to break a paper piece had been unsuccessful and she had told me to just bring her exact change later when I had found someone to break my deux mille.

It was dusk so the boutique was pretty dark. Outside there was a cooking pot on a fire but beside that, I couldn't very well see inside. The door was still open so I walked up.

"Ko ko . . ."

Usually a third "ko" follows the other two-the Beninese equivalent to "knock knock knock." I was cut short as my Grande Soeur lifted herself from behind the counter with heavy tears in her eyes.

One strong stereotype Beninese have of Americans is we cry extremely easily. With this notion in mind, I think to myself, something grave is happening.

"Grande Soeur, what is wrong?"

"C'est la colique des dents," she cries to me, the tears streaming down her face now as she points at her jaw.

At the time I have no idea what "colique" means. Probably a cognate I should know but I don't know the word in English either. It doesn't really matter because it's obvious that she is having some sort of dental pain. I immediately feel for her as I recently underwent oral surgery.

"Have you taken anything for it?"

"Oui."

"What did you take?"

She hands me a small, clear glass bottle. I can't read the label in the darkness of the boutique so I go outside to read it. It's penicillin. Who knows if she actually has an infection. But Lord knows I'm not a doctor or a dentist for that matter.

I go back inside the boutique and hand the bottle to her. She is delirious from the pain. Her eyes aren't right. Her movements are jagged. I have never seen her not smiling before. A classic case of feeling absolutely helpless in a developing world. She puts her head down on the counter and starts crying again.

I ask her in so many words if she is experiencing swelling of the mouth. She says yes and shows me her jaw line in the light. I am usually opposed to giving host country nationals medicine as I do not want to be perceived as a pharmacy. I make an exception in this case and tell her I'll be right back.

When I get back to the boutique with 800 mg of ibuprofen there are two women talking to my Grande Soeur. The older of the two is holding a clear plastic bag with a half-crushed white tablet inside. Simultaneously I see my Grande Soeur taking a piece of the tablet and inserting it inside of her mouth where the pain is coming from. "Jesus Christ," I think to myself.

"What is that?" I demand.

"It is a medicine," the younger girl tells me.

"Do you know the name of it?"

"No, I don't know it."

Great. Very Africa. I ask Grande Soeur if her husband knows. She tells me that she told him yesterday and today but that he didn't say anything. I ask where he is and she tells me he is at the house with a stranger. I don't dare ask if he is at the house with un étranger, ou bien, une étrangère. This could only heighten my sadness and frustration concerning the situation. Behind this boutique counter, homegirl has a set of baby twins and two other small children, and her husband is off jerkin' his gerk. [Granted, every single thing about this situation can lead back to decisions that she made-but that is a whole other issue in itself].

I can't help but feel grateful for my companion Josh Twiss, who is always there to help me-and he doesn't even have the label of husband. Last spring, I was running errands in Santa Monica when my clot from my recent wisdom teeth extraction came undone. Luckily, I had just sat down at the free clinic to renew a prescription when the clot came loose-So that couldn't have been better timed. The PA gave me a brown paper bag full of gauze and sent me on my way, advising me to call my oral surgeon. Unluckily, I had managed to park the car one mile away from the clinic as I had been walking and busing around Santa Monica all day in lieu of driving.

By the time I reached the car I was already almost through all the gauze I had just been given. My mouth was filling up with blood at an ungodly rate. I couldn't manage to get the wound to clot. All I could think about was how I wanted to get back to K-Town and take care of this bloody mess at home.

I definitely still needed to get gas which I rendered was feasible. I could pay at the pump and not freak anyone out by the gory mess which was my face at the time. I pulled over at the first gas station I saw. With my mouth filled with blood I got out of the car. I looked at the pump and shook my head. Of course it wouldn't be a pay at the pump. I turned to a woman to ask her about the pump. I undoubtedly freaked her out as heavy blood drooled out of the front of my mouth. She couldn't understand what I was asking. On a second attempt she realized what I was asking and informed me that the pump was debit only. City of Santa Monica, you would. Of course I have a security restriction on my bank card that never allows me to run things as debit. Swallowing the blood in my mouth I got back in the car to continue on.

I kept on swallowing the blood but the blood was giving faster than I could swallow and at this point the gauze was finished. Upon approaching the freeway, LA's age old question ran through my mind: "Do I get on, or stick to the surface streets?" I opted for whatever reason to stick to the surface streets. Perhaps because I was heavily bleeding from the mouth and reckoned that getting on the freeway, driving 60 miles an hour wasn't the best idea.

I continued on atop the overpass and shortly came to another gas station. I used this opportunity to relieve the excess blood, which I couldn't swallow without choking, from my mouth onto the asphalt. I got out of the car. Another debit card only. Curse you City of Santa Monica! With blood all over my hands and mouth, I surely could not go inside and talk to a gas station attendant. This looked worse than it was. If I could just get to K-Town, I thought, I'd be fine. As you can maybe tell, I was militantly trained as a teenager to take care of things myself without asking for help.

I had not even gone another mile when my mouth had again become too full of blood and was forced to spit it up all over myself as I was driving. Tears started to stream down my face and I was upset that I had gotten blood all over my new UCLA shirt Josh had gotten for me at the student union after I had my wisdom teeth extracted. I illegally pulled over off of Olympic and Bundy to relieve my mouth once again. I reached over and pushed open the passenger side door to splash five more gooey ounces of blood onto the asphalt. Sorry Santa Monica-That's what you get in return for having so many debit only gas stations.

I called a girlfriend I knew in the area to see if I could seek refuge at her house. No response. Tried another. No response. Another. Nothing. It was nearing 3:30pm on a weekday. Josh was still at the firm in Beverly Hills. I was a hot mess. I called him. He immediately agreed to meet me at the Pavilions off of Olympic and Beverly, sans problem.

I was able to make it over there but let loose another gory mess on the parking lot floor as soon as I arrived. Minutes later Josh ran up with a Pavilions shopping bag full of gauze. As he came around to take the driver's seat, I could see the slight shock in his eyes as he stopped and looked at my pile of gore splattered in front of the driver's side door.

We continued on and the wound finally clotted around six hours later. Josh had called the UCLA School of Dentistry but they basically said in so many words, "Oh, that sucks. Don't bring her here." At the end of the day, it was Josh who was there to help bring things back to normal after such a traumatizing experience.

I look at my Grande Soeur and tell her that she needs to see a dentist. She needs to tell her husband to support her in doing so, otherwise she needs to leave Founougo to seek help elsewhere. If your husband can afford to have a moto, he can afford to send you to the dentist. I am a strong advocate of the expression "A man is not a financial plan." Yeah . . . That mentality hasn't exactly reached all of Benin yet.

I give her the ibuprofen and advise her how to take it and what it will do. I explain that it will not fix the problem, it will only help ease the swelling and she needs to seek professional help in order to correct the problem. I tell her I will pray for her to seek the help she needs to get better.

Leaving the boutique I compare her day of dental suffering to my own. When my clot came undone I was at a free clinic. Even though I had no health insurance, I still had access to health care that day. Of course I still had to pay for the visit, but it was affordable in correspondence to my salary. Most notably I had someone to care for me. Not a no good mechanic husband who doesn't use condoms and doesn't give a damn when I am suffering.

I will leave us with a quote Josh recently wrote to me:

" . . . I hate male African culture. It makes me want to vomit."

I couldn't have said it better myself.

January 10th, 2011

Homegirl, Are You For Real?

Today I rendered a visit to a girlfriend's house who attends the local middle school. Her name is Nadia and she is seeking to pass her Brevet so she can go on to attend high school in Banikoara next year.

Nadia had been a friend of my predecessor, Amy Van Goey, and sought me out upon my arrival to Founougo in September. There are very few girls who successfully complete middle school and go onto earn their bac (high school diploma equivalent). A rarity, my friend Nadia cares about her education and aspires to obtain her bac and go on to university. I have taken it upon myself to emotionally and intellectually support her in this endeavor, seeing as she has no other female role models in her life who ever finished middle school, much less high school.

When I arrived at Nadia's house (the house of her father's 1st and 2nd wives-the 3rd wife lives in a different quarter), she was still at school studying despite the fact that it was a national holiday-Fête du Vadou-and there was no class today. I happily sat down to hang out with the family until Nadia got back from school. One of the wives was preparing wasawasa, a traditional African couscous made from yams, to sell at the market and the other wife was braiding a client's hair. One of Nadia's cousins was also around knitting a hat. We all started talking and it wasn't long before the wife braiding hair brought up the fact that Nadia's cousin abandoned school in 2009.

Nadia's cousin sat quietly, continuing to knit. I asked the wife why she abandoned school.

"Elle veut se marier."

I assumed the wife was joking, tauntingly stating that obviously she wants to get married since she abandoned school at such a young age, with no other prospects for developing her own self-worth.

I laughed. The wife did not.

I looked at Nadia's cousin and asked her myself why she left school. At first she was quiet. I asked her if she was bored at school or just didn't like the subjects taught. She smiled with a silent laugh. Finally, she looked at me and said, "I want to get married."

This girl has to be around 16 years old.

Homegirl, are you for real?

I look at her in judgement, a combination of eye rolls and a smirk. In the background the wife braiding hair spits out condescending remarks toward Nadia's cousin concerning her schooling, or rather, lack thereof. But I'm not really paying attention to what she's saying because I'm so in shock.

"So why do you want to get married?"

"To have kids . . . duh . . ."

Homegirl, are you for real?

I ask her why she wants to have kids and she looks at me as if I just asked her what color the sky is or an equally ridiculous question.

Letting out a bit of a shriek she asks me, "How do you think I was born?!" When I try to ask her why she is so pressed to do all this she doesn't have a response. I ask her if she wants to marry a man from Founougo. She says yes. Then I tell her that all the men in Founougo are peasants. "So you want to marry a peasant?" No response.

I've had more diplomatic days.

October 2nd, 2010

160 Some Miles Later

Most importantly, you need to know that I never got sick from the tap water I drank on the side of the road during Part I of my epic bike adventure. I attribute this to the fact that I drank 2 large Cokes the same evening. If Coke has the acidity level to wash blood off of highways, I am sure it has the strength to battle parasites inside my body. Think about it. I biked to Banikoara on Friday, stayed with Suzie, and then continued on to Founougo, arriving today. What I've learned from this experience? Always carry your water purifying drops on you and wear gloves when biking long distances.

October 4th, 2010

Operation Decentralization

After meeting with the UN Volunteer Program (UNVP) in Kandi last week I was thoroughly introduced to all of the staff and have a better understanding of UNVP Kandi's goals. The current project underway is called Projet Promotion du Volontariat pour la Gestion Décentralisée de l'Environnement au Bénin (PVE). Even if you don't know any French, you may be able to assume that this project sounds a little broad. That goes for many internationally financed projects I have come across since I've been in Benin. That said, I no longer believe in foreign financial aid. I do believe in teaching people valuable skills to improve their quality of life, but not in throwing money at them so they can find a work related reason to use their aid to buy lots of motorcycles. But that is another story.

The objective of the project is to mobilize a group of host country national environmental volunteers in every village within the Alibori region (Northern Benin). That is a huge project. And there are only 12 staff members who are responsible for initiating this project-Not nearly enough to cover the kind of ground they say they want to cover. For the six communes in the region, there is only one person responsible per commune for going out into the field and surveying the community on existing environmental objectives. Some communes have a population of over 100,000 which often includes up to 20 villages. The project is funded by the UN Development Program in conjunction with Benin's Ministry for the Environment and Nature. After talking to the UNVP coordinator, he explained that at their next monthly meeting the staff would be presenting their respective results from their fieldwork. Then I went to their monthly meeting today and no one had their reports done including the woman who is responsible for my commune. From what I understand they have had a year to do this fieldwork, and yet my respective UN volunteer hasn't even made it to Founougo which is the largest village in the commune of Banikoara. Go figure. That said, I am taking it upon myself to informally start doing her fieldwork. Fear not, as I refuse to become jaded by the process of development abroad. Not yet at least.

But I must tell you, an hour and a half of this monthly meeting was taken up by the staff complaining about their motos, which have been financed by UNDP for "work purposes," not functioning properly. What a joke. An hour and half of this and yet no one had their field reports completed. Not to mention that the money that is supposed to be going toward financing this environment project is being used to buy motorcycles which one would think should not be something introduced to a country trying to develop sustainably. There are just all sorts of problems with this UN funded project. What surprises me is that they must need to submit itemized reports to UNDP on what their money is spent on. You would think UNDP would see "20 motorcycles" on the report and put a halt to such an irresponsible management of money. And yet the staff I have talked to act like they have a comprehensive understanding of local and global environmental problems. TIA-This Is Africa.

October 11th, 2010

My 100 Year Old Fulani Man

Upon Amy's departure, she passed off a 100 year old Fulani friend to me in village. He sits in the market every day, same spot, same chair, selling mats. Outside of being probably one of the oldest people in village, he also knows some very basic conversational English. Where he learned it? Couldn't tell you. But he always seems to surprise me with a new phrase from time to time just to keep me on my toes. I pass him everyday just going to and from my various village affairs. Our conversation is usually limited to "Madame, How are you? Are you doing fine? Fine fine?" And then I tell him that I am doing "fine fine." He'll ask me where I'm going, and if I'm going to come back. Overall, it is a very pleasant exchange we make on a daily basis. Like I said before, sometimes he will catch me off guard with a new phrase or reference certain days of the week. For example, the other day he asked me what my name was and I told him that my name was Maimouna. In this case he responded saying, "Maimouna, that name suits me." He is a classy man, this one.

October 18th, 2010

When Horizontal is Vertical and Vertical is Horizontal

On the 11th I started sitting in on the local primary school to get to know all the teachers and the students. Originally, I was just going to sit in on one class with one of the directors just to get a feel for what classrooms are like at Founougo's primary school . Then I decided that it would be a good way to integrate into the community and practice my French if I sat in with a different teacher everyday. So that is what I am in the middle of doing right now. I would be lying if I said that there was just one colossal cultural node that has shocked me thus far in this primary school investigation. Where do I start? Teachers leave their respective classrooms all the time-You can never really tell if they're going to be gone for 5 minutes or 30. Classroom interruptions are constant-Students, parents, or other teachers come by frequently for one reason or another. I was also surprised to find that you don't have to have graduated from high school to teach in a primary school which is the case for the majority of teachers at the primary school in Founougo. That said, the quality of teachers ranges from awesome to very poor, or, sometimes a mix between the two. For example, today I sat in with a very patient and righteous maîtresse. She didn't leave her classroom once and seemed very dedicated to her C1 class (1st grade equivalent). However, as I was watching her teach today, it didn't take me long to realize that during math hour the maîtresse was defining horizontal and vertical incorrectly. What does one do when witnessing such a thing? I barely know this woman, I am an outsider, and I certainly do not want to upstage her in front of the class for a variety of reasons. If I even wanted to explain to a host country national that something that they believe to be true, is in fact false, that is a task requiring much more than just my words. So, I let it go. Perhaps the horizontal verses vertical debate will be revisited at another time during my service. But for now, I am still working on gaining my community's trust.

October 22nd, 2010

Cultural Constructions of Space in Benin: A Harsh Transition for Our Fulani Friends

On my way home from school today I took the social route. Walking on the streets here, I need to plan my routes based on how much time I have and if I'm in the mood for talking to people. For example, it is the difference between a 10 minute walk and a 25 minute walk to and from school depending on if I take the social route or not. Usually, on my way home I will always take the social route because I have more time. In the social route I pass my bread pirate friend Gannigui and her daughter, my 100 year old Fulani friend, the fruit ladies, a boutique woman from the south name Dorcas, and depending on if I take another short cut or not, a righteous manager of one of the telephone charging cabins and his sister. These people have all become staples in my social network in Founougo and I naturally will always feel the need to stop and say hello during passing. If I take the anti-social route I can usually get away with just greeting a couple strangers who take interest in me.

In taking the social route home today, I entered a heated discussion around Gannigui's bread stand all going on in local language. I tried to ask Gannigui what was going on but she is a slave to gossip so it was a little difficult to get her out of the conversation to tell me in French what was going on. All I could get out of her was that a forester had killed a Fulani child near the entrance to Park W however many km north of Founougo. When I tried to get her to explain why she just said that there is a "World War" between the foresters and the Fulani. Gannigui clearly loves the drama. After further research I discovered that no Fulani children were killed by any foresters on this day. Note to self: Gannigui the Bread Pirate is not a reliable source of information. Fortunately, it is my friend Tori's job to research any notable events occurring in the Commune of Banikoara and report these happenings to the Beninese government. She was able to give me a less embellished tale of what actually took place that day. As it turned out a forester killed one of a Fulani herder's cows and not a Fulani child (but perhaps that's what Gannigui meant when she said Fulani child?). The foresters also burned a motorcycle . . . Some houses were also burnt down in the process. Why?

The origin of this chaos stems from the fact that the Fulani herd their cattle in the national forest where they're not allowed to roam anymore because they're cattle can potentially wreak havoc on the forest's ecosystem. In all fairness, the Fulani were able to traverse across Africa for hundreds of years without having to worry about national parks, angry foresters, destroying ecosystems, etc. I can understand how this would be a very difficult transition, especially for a nomadic group. On the other hand, it's not as if this is news to the Fulani. Park W was formed in the 1950s and I can imagine that park restrictions were put into effect shortly after the formation of the park. It has been interesting to observe the relationship between the Bariba and the Fulani over this short period of time in Founougo. I mainly receive the side of the Bariba because most Fulani do not speak any French, only Peul. My Bariba friends I hear time and time again complaining about how the Fulani are thieves and will steal crops in the middle of the night, or that they let their herds trample through crops carelessly. But, they continue to coexist. That's all that matters.

October 24th, 2010

Praying to a White Man's God

Disclaimer: This post may offend devout Christians.

I made the mistake of going to church a couple times to try to get to know the community. After 3 Sunday services and 1 Tuesday night meeting I decided that the whole church in Benin gig is just not for me. I can tolerate church back home, granted it's not a mega-church with crazies coming at you from every rafter. Here, the variables are different. Usually (but not always), the people you'll find at church in the states are somewhat educated. In Benin, one may not have such a luxury. In effect, the church is the truth and probably the only truth you may know. This is a very frightening thought for me.

There were several reasons I stopped going to church. First, I always felt at least a little uncomfortable during service. There is a lot of yelling involved, people pray out loud essentially deafening my soul, and there's a lot of forgive me for my sins stuff going on of which I am never a fan. Second, the last time I went to a Sunday service they made multiple announcements that the members were not giving enough money to the church and they asked for 3 offerings that day. There is not even enough cash flow running throughout Founougo to make electricity available to the community. And these people are asking for 3 offerings, having the audacity to tell their church community that they are not donating enough? It burns me up. And lastly, what the hell are all these people doing praying to a God that was imposed on them by French missionaries?

Post not going to church, I am of course judged by the church going community for "abandoning" the church. I think my favorite incident so far was when one of the pastors caught me walking home and was trying to get me to come to church the following Sunday. I was trying to explain to him that spirituality is a very personal thing and the church atmosphere is just not for me. That of course did not satisfy him so I eventually added that there is too much "noise" during service. He knew exactly what I was talking about. "Great!" I thought to myself. And then he went on to explain to me that all the noise is because God comes down and speaks to your soul and one is possessed to speak loudly.

How do you say in French, "I think that is a big load of shit."?

October 28th, 2010

Public Transportation in Benin

Let me tell you about going to the bank. Well, I leave Founougo a day before, taking a moto 28km to Banikoara. I spend the night with Suzie so I can get up early enough to get an early taxi to Parakou. I may wait at the taxi-gare anywhere between 30 minutes and 3 hours to get a taxi going to Parakou. I then start a 6-8 hour journey down to Parakou. There is a wide range of when I could actually be deposited in Parakou due to a number of factors: Capsized trucks are blocking the road, car trouble, running out of gas, needing to stop in another town to drop off chickens or pick up corn . . . The list could go on. More often than not at least one of these things will happen during the Banikoara to Parakou route. By the time I get to Parakou I have time to go to the bank and hopefully get some lunch. I will go back to the auto-gare to find a taxi going to Kandi because there is no way I can make it back to Banikoara before the sun sets. Again, I may wait for a taxi going to my desired destination for anywhere up to 3 hours. Sometimes the chauffeurs are considerate and only wait for the taxi to fill up so that 9 spaces are filled (keep in mind that there are actually only 6 normal seats). Other times the chauffeurs are real jerk faces and wait for 12 people to be available to go to the desired destination. Today when I went to the bank, this is what happened.

I decided that I'm banning taxi rides destined for anything south of Kandi. And to think of all the Wells Fargos at my disposal within walking distance of my apartment in LA . . .

November 15th, 2010

14 Loafs of Bread and 600 Francs of Kerosene: Sold

Today was the day before the Muslim festival Tabaski. Coincidentally it was also marché day in Founougo. That said, the market was crazy today. On marché day I usually always go in search of soy cheese, sweet potatoes, and some miscellaneous fruit. I can't necessarily find these things on non-marché days. So I went to the market today, looking for my goods. Whenever I go through the market I usually go and sit with my bread pirate Gannigui for at least 10 minutes to get our quality time in for the day. However, today was a little too crazy for a nice visit at the old bread stand.

As soon as Gannigui saw me approaching she beckoned me over to her stand. Pointing to her bread she looked at me seriously.

"Da wokuru, da yendu, da weeru . . ."

Gannigui was telling me the prices of all the breads in Bariba and showed me where she kept her change. This cannot be a good sign, I thought. She then told me that she would be "right back." I was then in charge of the bread stand for 30 minutes.

14 loafs of bread and 600 francs of kerosene later Gannigui returned with fresh bread. I bought us some Solani yogurt and continued on my merry market way.

December 1st, 2010

Condoms and Candy

Today is World AIDS Day. Regardless of what sector you work in, HIV awareness is always a good thing to promote as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I tabled at the local middle school in order to educate youth about HIV and AIDS. I feel like I accomplished some good today. For example, before, the students thought that 60% of Benin's population was exposed to HIV. Now they know that it is just 2%. During the morning I had an HIV quiz game available to students. If they answered a question correctly they had the choice of receiving either a free condom or a free piece of candy. During the afternoon I opened up my table for a Q&A and the kids had a lot of good questions! Some of which I didn't have the answers. For example, how much does it cost to get tested for HIV at the health center? Another example being, what is sex? Oh dear. Not my place. Next year I want to get at least one solid person from the health center to come by to explain the tough questions.

December 17th, 2010

Happy Anniversary

Today officially marks my 3rd month at post. I'm actually not at my post right now, but that's beside the point. The integration period is over and it's time to seriously start up some projects in the community. This past week was my first in-service training. I met up in Porto Novo with my fellow EA volunteers and our respective counterparts to plan for the future. Tori came down with me, serving as my in village "counterpart." This essentially means that she has my back during any project development that I may be involved in during my service in Founougo. I was really happy to see how much this training benefited her. We were trained on making natural pesticides, crop rotation, moringa transformation, and how to develop feasible projects. Tori is very well respected in the Founougo community and I hope that the knowledge she shares with the women's group will enhance their own projects back at home. I'll begin my travels to go back up north on the 20th, but may not get back to Founougo until after Christmas. Until then, hope all is well and thinking of you during the holiday season. Thanks for reading!

October 2nd, 2010

160 Some Miles Later

Most importantly, you need to know that I never got sick from the tap water I drank on the side of the road during Part I of my epic bike adventure. I attribute this to the fact that I drank 2 large Cokes the same evening. If Coke has the acidity level to wash blood off of highways, I am sure it has the strength to battle parasites inside my body. Think about it. I biked to Banikoara on Friday, stayed with Suzie, and then continued on to Founougo, arriving today. What I've learned from this experience? Always carry your water purifying drops on you and wear gloves when biking long distances.

October 4th, 2010

Operation Decentralization

After meeting with the UN Volunteer Program (UNVP) in Kandi last week I was thoroughly introduced to all of the staff and have a better understanding of UNVP Kandi's goals. The current project underway is called Projet Promotion du Volontariat pour la Gestion Décentralisée de l'Environnement au Bénin (PVE). Even if you don't know any French, you may be able to assume that this project sounds a little broad. That goes for many internationally financed projects I have come across since I've been in Benin. That said, I no longer believe in foreign financial aid. I do believe in teaching people valuable skills to improve their quality of life, but not in throwing money at them so they can find a work related reason to use their aid to buy lots of motorcycles. But that is another story.

The objective of the project is to mobilize a group of host country national environmental volunteers in every village within the Alibori region (Northern Benin). That is a huge project. And there are only 12 staff members who are responsible for initiating this project-Not nearly enough to cover the kind of ground they say they want to cover. For the six communes in the region, there is only one person responsible per commune for going out into the field and surveying the community on existing environmental objectives. Some communes have a population of over 100,000 which often includes up to 20 villages. The project is funded by the UN Development Program in conjunction with Benin's Ministry for the Environment and Nature. After talking to the UNVP coordinator, he explained that at their next monthly meeting the staff would be presenting their respective results from their fieldwork. Then I went to their monthly meeting today and no one had their reports done including the woman who is responsible for my commune. From what I understand they have had a year to do this fieldwork, and yet my respective UN volunteer hasn't even made it to Founougo which is the largest village in the commune of Banikoara. Go figure. That said, I am taking it upon myself to informally start doing her fieldwork. Fear not, as I refuse to become jaded by the process of development abroad. Not yet at least.

But I must tell you, an hour and a half of this monthly meeting was taken up by the staff complaining about their motos, which have been financed by UNDP for "work purposes," not functioning properly. What a joke. An hour and half of this and yet no one had their field reports completed. Not to mention that the money that is supposed to be going toward financing this environment project is being used to buy motorcycles which one would think should not be something introduced to a country trying to develop sustainably. There are just all sorts of problems with this UN funded project. What surprises me is that they must need to submit itemized reports to UNDP on what their money is spent on. You would think UNDP would see "20 motorcycles" on the report and put a halt to such an irresponsible management of money. And yet the staff I have talked to act like they have a comprehensive understanding of local and global environmental problems. TIA-This Is Africa.

October 11th, 2010

My 100 Year Old Fulani Man

Upon Amy's departure, she passed off a 100 year old Fulani friend to me in village. He sits in the market every day, same spot, same chair, selling mats. Outside of being probably one of the oldest people in village, he also knows some very basic conversational English. Where he learned it? Couldn't tell you. But he always seems to surprise me with a new phrase from time to time just to keep me on my toes. I pass him everyday just going to and from my various village affairs. Our conversation is usually limited to "Madame, How are you? Are you doing fine? Fine fine?" And then I tell him that I am doing "fine fine." He'll ask me where I'm going, and if I'm going to come back. Overall, it is a very pleasant exchange we make on a daily basis. Like I said before, sometimes he will catch me off guard with a new phrase or reference certain days of the week. For example, the other day he asked me what my name was and I told him that my name was Maimouna. In this case he responded saying, "Maimouna, that name suits me." He is a classy man, this one.

October 18th, 2010

When Horizontal is Vertical and Vertical is Horizontal

On the 11th I started sitting in on the local primary school to get to know all the teachers and the students. Originally, I was just going to sit in on one class with one of the directors just to get a feel for what classrooms are like at Founougo's primary school . Then I decided that it would be a good way to integrate into the community and practice my French if I sat in with a different teacher everyday. So that is what I am in the middle of doing right now. I would be lying if I said that there was just one colossal cultural node that has shocked me thus far in this primary school investigation. Where do I start? Teachers leave their respective classrooms all the time-You can never really tell if they're going to be gone for 5 minutes or 30. Classroom interruptions are constant-Students, parents, or other teachers come by frequently for one reason or another. I was also surprised to find that you don't have to have graduated from high school to teach in a primary school which is the case for the majority of teachers at the primary school in Founougo. That said, the quality of teachers ranges from awesome to very poor, or, sometimes a mix between the two. For example, today I sat in with a very patient and righteous maîtresse. She didn't leave her classroom once and seemed very dedicated to her C1 class (1st grade equivalent). However, as I was watching her teach today, it didn't take me long to realize that during math hour the maîtresse was defining horizontal and vertical incorrectly. What does one do when witnessing such a thing? I barely know this woman, I am an outsider, and I certainly do not want to upstage her in front of the class for a variety of reasons. If I even wanted to explain to a host country national that something that they believe to be true, is in fact false, that is a task requiring much more than just my words. So, I let it go. Perhaps the horizontal verses vertical debate will be revisited at another time during my service. But for now, I am still working on gaining my community's trust.

October 22nd, 2010

Cultural Constructions of Space in Benin: A Harsh Transition for Our Fulani Friends

On my way home from school today I took the social route. Walking on the streets here, I need to plan my routes based on how much time I have and if I'm in the mood for talking to people. For example, it is the difference between a 10 minute walk and a 25 minute walk to and from school depending on if I take the social route or not. Usually, on my way home I will always take the social route because I have more time. In the social route I pass my bread pirate friend Gannigui and her daughter, my 100 year old Fulani friend, the fruit ladies, a boutique woman from the south name Dorcas, and depending on if I take another short cut or not, a righteous manager of one of the telephone charging cabins and his sister. These people have all become staples in my social network in Founougo and I naturally will always feel the need to stop and say hello during passing. If I take the anti-social route I can usually get away with just greeting a couple strangers who take interest in me.

In taking the social route home today, I entered a heated discussion around Gannigui's bread stand all going on in local language. I tried to ask Gannigui what was going on but she is a slave to gossip so it was a little difficult to get her out of the conversation to tell me in French what was going on. All I could get out of her was that a forester had killed a Fulani child near the entrance to Park W however many km north of Founougo. When I tried to get her to explain why she just said that there is a "World War" between the foresters and the Fulani. Gannigui clearly loves the drama. After further research I discovered that no Fulani children were killed by any foresters on this day. Note to self: Gannigui the Bread Pirate is not a reliable source of information. Fortunately, it is my friend Tori's job to research any notable events occurring in the Commune of Banikoara and report these happenings to the Beninese government. She was able to give me a less embellished tale of what actually took place that day. As it turned out a forester killed one of a Fulani herder's cows and not a Fulani child (but perhaps that's what Gannigui meant when she said Fulani child?). The foresters also burned a motorcycle . . . Some houses were also burnt down in the process. Why?

The origin of this chaos stems from the fact that the Fulani herd their cattle in the national forest where they're not allowed to roam anymore because they're cattle can potentially wreak havoc on the forest's ecosystem. In all fairness, the Fulani were able to traverse across Africa for hundreds of years without having to worry about national parks, angry foresters, destroying ecosystems, etc. I can understand how this would be a very difficult transition, especially for a nomadic group. On the other hand, it's not as if this is news to the Fulani. Park W was formed in the 1950s and I can imagine that park restrictions were put into effect shortly after the formation of the park. It has been interesting to observe the relationship between the Bariba and the Fulani over this short period of time in Founougo. I mainly receive the side of the Bariba because most Fulani do not speak any French, only Peul. My Bariba friends I hear time and time again complaining about how the Fulani are thieves and will steal crops in the middle of the night, or that they let their herds trample through crops carelessly. But, they continue to coexist. That's all that matters.

October 24th, 2010

Praying to a White Man's God

Disclaimer: This post may offend devout Christians.

I made the mistake of going to church a couple times to try to get to know the community. After 3 Sunday services and 1 Tuesday night meeting I decided that the whole church in Benin gig is just not for me. I can tolerate church back home, granted it's not a mega-church with crazies coming at you from every rafter. Here, the variables are different. Usually (but not always), the people you'll find at church in the states are somewhat educated. In Benin, one may not have such a luxury. In effect, the church is the truth and probably the only truth you may know. This is a very frightening thought for me.

There were several reasons I stopped going to church. First, I always felt at least a little uncomfortable during service. There is a lot of yelling involved, people pray out loud essentially deafening my soul, and there's a lot of forgive me for my sins stuff going on of which I am never a fan. Second, the last time I went to a Sunday service they made multiple announcements that the members were not giving enough money to the church and they asked for 3 offerings that day. There is not even enough cash flow running throughout Founougo to make electricity available to the community. And these people are asking for 3 offerings, having the audacity to tell their church community that they are not donating enough? It burns me up. And lastly, what the hell are all these people doing praying to a God that was imposed on them by French missionaries?

Post not going to church, I am of course judged by the church going community for "abandoning" the church. I think my favorite incident so far was when one of the pastors caught me walking home and was trying to get me to come to church the following Sunday. I was trying to explain to him that spirituality is a very personal thing and the church atmosphere is just not for me. That of course did not satisfy him so I eventually added that there is too much "noise" during service. He knew exactly what I was talking about. "Great!" I thought to myself. And then he went on to explain to me that all the noise is because God comes down and speaks to your soul and one is possessed to speak loudly.

How do you say in French, "I think that is a big load of shit."?

October 28th, 2010

Public Transportation in Benin

Let me tell you about going to the bank. Well, I leave Founougo a day before, taking a moto 28km to Banikoara. I spend the night with Suzie so I can get up early enough to get an early taxi to Parakou. I may wait at the taxi-gare anywhere between 30 minutes and 3 hours to get a taxi going to Parakou. I then start a 6-8 hour journey down to Parakou. There is a wide range of when I could actually be deposited in Parakou due to a number of factors: Capsized trucks are blocking the road, car trouble, running out of gas, needing to stop in another town to drop off chickens or pick up corn . . . The list could go on. More often than not at least one of these things will happen during the Banikoara to Parakou route. By the time I get to Parakou I have time to go to the bank and hopefully get some lunch. I will go back to the auto-gare to find a taxi going to Kandi because there is no way I can make it back to Banikoara before the sun sets. Again, I may wait for a taxi going to my desired destination for anywhere up to 3 hours. Sometimes the chauffeurs are considerate and only wait for the taxi to fill up so that 9 spaces are filled (keep in mind that there are actually only 6 normal seats). Other times the chauffeurs are real jerk faces and wait for 12 people to be available to go to the desired destination. Today when I went to the bank, this is what happened.

I decided that I'm banning taxi rides destined for anything south of Kandi. And to think of all the Wells Fargos at my disposal within walking distance of my apartment in LA . . .

November 15th, 2010

14 Loafs of Bread and 600 Francs of Kerosene: Sold

Today was the day before the Muslim festival Tabaski. Coincidentally it was also marché day in Founougo. That said, the market was crazy today. On marché day I usually always go in search of soy cheese, sweet potatoes, and some miscellaneous fruit. I can't necessarily find these things on non-marché days. So I went to the market today, looking for my goods. Whenever I go through the market I usually go and sit with my bread pirate Gannigui for at least 10 minutes to get our quality time in for the day. However, today was a little too crazy for a nice visit at the old bread stand.

As soon as Gannigui saw me approaching she beckoned me over to her stand. Pointing to her bread she looked at me seriously.

"Da wokuru, da yendu, da weeru . . ."

Gannigui was telling me the prices of all the breads in Bariba and showed me where she kept her change. This cannot be a good sign, I thought. She then told me that she would be "right back." I was then in charge of the bread stand for 30 minutes.

14 loafs of bread and 600 francs of kerosene later Gannigui returned with fresh bread. I bought us some Solani yogurt and continued on my merry market way.

December 1st, 2010

Condoms and Candy

Today is World AIDS Day. Regardless of what sector you work in, HIV awareness is always a good thing to promote as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I tabled at the local middle school in order to educate youth about HIV and AIDS. I feel like I accomplished some good today. For example, before, the students thought that 60% of Benin's population was exposed to HIV. Now they know that it is just 2%. During the morning I had an HIV quiz game available to students. If they answered a question correctly they had the choice of receiving either a free condom or a free piece of candy. During the afternoon I opened up my table for a Q&A and the kids had a lot of good questions! Some of which I didn't have the answers. For example, how much does it cost to get tested for HIV at the health center? Another example being, what is sex? Oh dear. Not my place. Next year I want to get at least one solid person from the health center to come by to explain the tough questions.

December 17th, 2010

Happy Anniversary

Today officially marks my 3rd month at post. I'm actually not at my post right now, but that's beside the point. The integration period is over and it's time to seriously start up some projects in the community. This past week was my first in-service training. I met up in Porto Novo with my fellow EA volunteers and our respective counterparts to plan for the future. Tori came down with me, serving as my in village "counterpart." This essentially means that she has my back during any project development that I may be involved in during my service in Founougo. I was really happy to see how much this training benefited her. We were trained on making natural pesticides, crop rotation, moringa transformation, and how to develop feasible projects. Tori is very well respected in the Founougo community and I hope that the knowledge she shares with the women's group will enhance their own projects back at home. I'll begin my travels to go back up north on the 20th, but may not get back to Founougo until after Christmas. Until then, hope all is well and thinking of you during the holiday season. Thanks for reading!

August 24th, 2010

A Day in the Life

I realize I have not given a very thorough summary of what I actually do from day to day during this training period. I will do this now:

6:30am

Wake up and get ready. Greet my mom. Ask if she slept well.

7:00am

Eat breakfast (eggs in some capacity, breaded product, choice of hot chocolate or lipton tea, sometimes a fruit).

7:30am

Depart house on mountain bike. Meet fellow PCTs at the road to bike to school together. Namely Angee Slovachek and Lauren Smith. I am in love with both of their host families.

7:50am

Arrive at school. Mingle. Water and weed garden.

8:00-10:00am

Usually a language or administrative session.

10:00-10:30am

Break. Mingle.

10:30am-12:30pm

Language, cross-culture, or EA technical session.

12:30-1:30pm

Lunch. Nap. Mingle. I usually eat avocado sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes I'll have beans, rice, and fried plantains from off the street. Not too much more variety than that.

1:30-4:15ishpm

Usually an EA technical session. Occasionally a random field trip to talk to a voodoo guy.

4:15-5:15pm

Up until recently I was doing French tutoring. Now I just bike home and talk to my host mom because I was missing her too much.

5:15-6:45pm

Talk to my host mom. Hang.

7:00ish

Eat dinner. Sometimes I eat earlier or later depending on jig.

7:00-10:00pm

Walk around and talk to Lauren's host family but more often Angee's host family. They are super rad. Whenever I see her brother Tarouth he always greets me by saying "MY SISTA. HOW ARE YOU?." And then I usually laugh and am like "QUOI DE NEUF TAROUTH?." He responds to my laughter with a big "WOW!." He is super good vibes and part Fulani. He's always happy to walk around with Angee and me and sometimes he even buys us candy if we have been being good. There is also my sister friend Chantale who lives at their house who I am in love with. She is also just so nice and good vibes. Whenever people call me "Yovo" she corrects them and tells them my name. Recently she started selling tapioca at night time. Sometimes I'll go sit and sell with her for a little bit. Around 9:30pm if I'm still out in the neighborhood I'll go and help my mom close her cyber boutique. Then she, Marie Joelle, and I walk home together and have some more good talks.

10:00pm

Sit and watch soaps with my mom for a little bit. Then I bucket shower and get ready to go to bed. I usually fall asleep listening to French news on the radio.

And that's that.

September 6th, 2010

Post Visit Whirlwind

From September 1st-5th I was on my post visit adventure to Founougo. This whole trip basically consisted of me just traveling a ridiculous amount of time, and then physically being in my village for 18 hours, including sleep. At the end, I threw up. Let me explain more.

I left Porto Novo at 7am on a Wednesday via bus. We all left with our respective supervisors or counterparts. I am an anomaly as I do not have a host counterpart. All good. This man by the name of Daniel Ojo from the mayor's office in Banikoara (my commune), had showed up to show me the ropes. Sweet. Stopped mid country in a big town named Parakou. Stayed the night at the PC Parakou workstation.

Next day left Parakou at 10am to complete the journey. Left via automobile that my "close mate" Suzie's supervisor had in Parakou. So there we were. Me, Suzie, her supervisor Adam, and Daniel Ojo rollin out in Adam's wheels. Our next destination was Kandi. Six hours after dodging pot holes at 60 miles/hr we arrived in Kandi. We then ate some bomb pounded yam with the best chicken I have eaten in Benin, possibly in the world. Satisfying. We then relocated to the bar. I was feeling a little gnarly from all the janky travels so I helped myself to a cool refreshing Sprite. We then continued on to Suzie's post: Banikoara.

In Banikoara we met the mayor and the mayor's staff, the nice radio station folk, Suzie's counterpart, the police, etc. We also took a look at Suzie's house which is huge. She could probably open a boutique in there. She has a huge mango tree in front of her house and lives next door to the electric company. Most convenient. At this point the sun was about to set soon so Daniel Ojo and I needed to get out of there to get to Founougo. No electricity chez moi and 45 minutes of terre rouge via moto. Not something you want to do in the dark. While it was a little late to be going into Founougo, it was a beautiful ride in. Best sunset I've seen in Benin so far. During the terre rouge route to Founougo, I found myself surrounded by fields upon fields of corn. Real nice. We finally arrived in Founougo Centre and I briefly met the chef d'arrondisement in his home. After this I got dropped at my future house where CPCV Amy Van Goey was at (my predecessor to be). By now it was already 8:30pm. Amy and I talked a bit and then passed out. I am very happy with my house. Amy has taken good care of it and is leaving me a completely furnished house. God bless her heart. I even have my own porch. Yay.

The next morning Amy and I discussed potential projects since I will have no formal mentor in Founougo. She left me with a ton of project ideas and contacts. Again, God bless her little heart. We then went around town greeting people for 4 hours until I had to leave again. Most notably I met the president of a local women's group who works in gardening, apiculture, and the transformation of manioc (cassava) into a food called gari. After meeting some folk I needed to get out of there to catch my ride in Banikoara. I took a zem back to Banikoara where I met Suzie and Adam at the radio station. Adam brought us back to Kandi as we needed to catch a bus the next morning to Parakou. We stayed the night at the PC Kandi workstation (my regional workstation) and were up bright and early the next day to catch the bus.

Everything was rolling fine on the bus. I was a little tired of all the back and forth between places at this point but was still truckin' on. Then, 50 km from Parakou we hit a major road block: A tanker had overturned and another got stuck in a ditch trying to go around it. We waited for 2 hours for progress to be made. At that point we decided that nothing was going to be done to solve this mess for quite awhile so we just took zems the rest of the way to Parakou. When we finally arrived in Parakou there were a bunch of PCTs already at the workstation. The place smelled like body when I got there. I was ready to be back with Mama Florence.

The next day I woke up at 5am to get to the bus station. I ended up walking there because there were no zems out at that hour. I had woken up feeling nauseous for some reason but figured when I got on the bus to sleep I would be fine. About an hour or so into the trip I vomited en route. Into a ziplock bag no less. Most unfortunate. I felt a little better after the fact but still a little nauseous. I tried to eat a little bread about an hour after that, and threw it up immediately. Then I was done. I was so happy when I finally got home and saw my host mom. After bathing I passed out. That same day I was able to eat my mom's delicious potato salad. Isolated incident of vomit. Very bizarre. I blame the travels.

September 12th, 2010

Ouidah

This is all I'm going to tell you about Ouidah. You can decide for yourself.

September 18th, 2010

Swear In

I am officially a Peace Corps Volunteer! Swear in ceremony went as planned and was held at the ambassador's house. I got to know the ambassador a little better during our short stay there and he is a bit more righteous than I assumed in my initial evaluation. He and his wife are actually anthropologists and did fieldwork in Niger in the 1970s. There were lots of camera crews there and last night while I was celebrating at a hotel in Porto Novo a Beninese man came up to me and told me he saw me talking on TV that day. It was pretty awesome. There were good beverages and snacks too. The only downside was that it rained buckets. We totally gaté'd the ambassador's lawn. It was sad saying goodbye to everyone last night. It didn't hit me until 10 minutes before I left the hotel that I wouldn't be seeing anyone for awhile. As monotonous as training was, it's been fun.

Check it out:Amy Van Goey and Amy 2.0 yo

September 24th, 2010

Founougo Installation

So I am here in Founougo. I thought I was going to go crazy the first couple days because I just didn't know what to do with myself. But today was very productive and balanced me out. I went to go find Tori, the president of the women's group who I told you about in another posting. I had tried to track her down a day or 2 ago but got discouraged after a few hours of looking for her. But I bounced back today and had many adventures along the way. I first went to greet this nice bread lady that Amy had introduced me to back at post visit. I had sat with her the other day for a bit while she sold bread. Her name is Gannigui. I showed up at her bread stand to just find a group of little petites hanging on her bench. No bread. Just peanuts. "Manna Gannigui?." Then a petite took the initiative to lead the way. After zigzagging through the neighborhood we arrived at Gannigui's house. She wasn't there, but her really nice daughter who happened to be visiting was. I sat and talked to her for an hour while she did some cookin' and cleanin'. Gannigui was in a neighboring village visiting her dad. But she was going to be back soon. In the mean time, her daughter Sakéna and I exchanged stories. I told her my gig here in Founougo and she told me a little about her life. She and the neighbor started speaking in local language a bit but then changed to French to tell me what they were talking about. Apparently last year this neighbor kid (30 years old) broke into Gannigui's and stole a bunch of skirt wraps and then sold them. He ended up admitting it to her but didn't pay her back or anything. Lame sauce. Gannigui eventually showed up and we talked and played with Sakéna's big fat baby boy. He peed on me. They fed me some baller beans and then I walked back to the bread stand with Sakéna and continued on my way. Good visit.

I continued on searching for Tori. When I knew I was getting close to where I thought her house was I asked someone if they knew where she lived. Conveniently within the pack of small children that were following me was actually one of her daughters. She knew Tori was at the health center having a meeting and brought me over there. Tori warmly welcomed me and I waited for her to finish her meeting. Afterward we went to her house and talked and ate for an hour. She also exposed her breasts to me as we talked. I guess that means we're tight.

I left Tori's to go greet a woman named Germaine who works at the pharmacy on the border of town. She just arrived here 2 months ago and doesn't speak any Bariba. I would like to develop a relationship with her.

Headed back into town after that. Stopped to talk to one of the directors at the primary school beforehand. We arranged for me to start sitting in on classes October 12th. That will be good to see how teachers here manage their classrooms, what teaching styles they use, etc. I also talked to one of his wives who is potentially going to serve as my Bariba tutor. I'm also interested in making candy with her just for fun. She seems very entrepreneurial.

Had to stop and charge my phone at a telephone cabin before my final trek home as I don't have electricity up in my house. Met the dude who operates the joint. His name is Vincent. We made some decent small talk. Hopefully enough so he never tries to switch out my battery while it's being charged or something like that.

Finally made it home and did regular end of the day things-cleaning, bucket showering, etc. I feel so anti-social with no electricity. I usually close my door around 7:30pm because it's already dark. Sat in bed and read before crashing. I'm reading this French novel OBJECTIF REAGAN. It's about international terrorists trying to assassinate President Reagan. I like it so far. Real good.

September 26th, 2010

The Day I Biked 80 KM

Today I accidentally biked 80 km. I have a meeting tomorrow with the UN Volunteer Program in Kandi where my workstation is located. It is roughly 80 km between Founougo and Kandi. I did not measure this out before I left. I decided I was going to bike maybe yesterday or the day before just on a whim. It seemed doable. Why not? I'm an EA volunteer afterall, right? It's about 20 km of terre rouge leaving Founougo before I hit paved road. That terre rouge was long and bumpy. I was going so slow too because I had a 30 pound satchel on my bike. But I kept on telling myself, as soon as you make it to the goudron baby, you're good. Two hours later I hit the goudron. Sweet. Two more hours I think to myself. All of the sudden I see a sign that says 60 to Kandi. No. That can't be right. 60? Surely not 60 km. Hmm. 20 km later I was forced to admit to myself that yes indeed, that 60 meant 60 km. Couldn't really turn back at this point. I kept moving.

My first stop along the goudron was extremely brief as these small flies attacked my legs and actually drew blood. Had to get out of there. All of my stops were like that-short due to killer bugs. About 20 km before Kandi I ran out of water. There was absolutely no place to buy bottled water. I usually drink filtered and boiled well water to make it potable. While passing through a larger village along the goudron I had to do it. I asked for water. Oh so kindly a young woman came up to the goudron with a bowl of water. I had to drink it and suffer the consequences later. Two minutes after that I rolled up to a buvette. I was so thankful. I had been praying for a buvette for the last 15km. They didn't have any water either. I drank some more tap water and then downed a grand coca. It was here that I met my soul sister Maimouna.

Maimouna was a young bar wench. Fulani. Beautiful. She sat with me as I breaked for 30 minutes to recover from the last 60 km. I told her that my name was Maimouna too (a Muslim name my host family had given me in Senegal). My heart became so happy when she told me her name was Maimouna. She is the first Maimouna I have met since I've been in Benin. She is 21 but still hasn't finished school yet. She has 2 more years left. A man came up to us while we were talking and was trying to shame her for not already have finished school. It was bizarre. He was not her father. It's possible he was inebriated. After he left I let her know that I knew it was very difficult and rare for Fulani children to go to school and that I was proud of her and knew she would finish because she was already so close. She starts school again in October. Good for her. After some talks with Maimouna I decided I needed to get out of there to avoid getting into Kandi in the dark. She helped me get my bike back on the goudron and bid me farewell.

I finally arrived into Kandi at 6:25pm as recored in the workstation sign-in book. My brain is going so crazy. I am in shock to say the least.

September 30th, 2010

Address

Please note my change of address:

01 BP 37

Banikoara, Benin

L'Afrique de l'Ouest

Only envelopes please! Padded envelopes work, just no packages : )

I will not have internet access for quite a long time so feel free to write!

July 23rd, 2010

Zemidjans!

On Tuesday I got trained in how to ride on a zemi! Zemis are motor bikes that serve as the main public mode of transportation in the cities. I have ridden on the back of a motorcycle before, but this was more thrilling because it's ten times more dangerous in a developing country! Ah the excitement. We also were trained in haggling over prices with the zemi drivers. Very useful. Almost anything that has a price on it here can be disputed. I feel that haggling suits my personality very well so this will work out great.

We have arrived in Porto Novo. We met our host families at Centre Songhai which is a compound focused on sustainable agriculture practices. There is a lot of greenery in the compound, which is nice considering how polluted Porto Novo is with the noxious fumes of zemis, autos, burning garbage, and the like. My host mother is a cool mom. She is young and hip. She was just married in January to my papa, Robert. Her name is Florence and she takes very good care of me. They have a 2 year old named Marie-Joelle.

After Mama Florence met me at Songhai we were picked up by a driver who actually hit a zemi on our way out. No casualties except for our driver's rear view mirror. He kept on telling me that the zemi driver was dérangé, but if you ask me, they were both dérangé. If you live in Cotonou or Porto Novo, you have to be a little dérangé to operate a motor vehicle on the streets here.

After we dropped my luggage at the house we went to a large market via zemi where my mama picked up various goods. Our first stop was this Western style market and as soon as we walked in I knew that the only reason she was there was because of me. It was very interesting to observe her picking up various "Yovo" foods and assessing if that was the right Yovo food for me. Our adventures that followed were much more stimulating. I had never watched a teenage girl de-scale a fish with a machete before . . . It was everything you could imagine and more. Unfortunately during our market adventure I started feeling venomously ill because I had chugged a ginger soda drink earlier at Songhai. My mama was serious about rolling out of Songhai stat, so I chugged this ginger drink in my hand not thinking of the repercussions of my actions. I almost vomited when I arrived home. But I didn't! And that's what counts.

The next morning we, again, took zemis to our desired destination which was a school at which I train. The thing I am struggling with the most is not having a good sense of orientation. It's hard for my brain to contrive accurate directions when I am noting landmarks like baby pigs or dirty children who lack pants. But it will come, peu à peu.

July 24th, 2010

Tittie Grabbing Greetings

One topic that I didn't get a chance to talk about in my last post was my first tittie grabbing experience in Benin. When I went to the market with my host mom the first night I arrived in Porto Novo, there were many women who greeted my mom at the market. Among them, was one woman in particular who deemed it necessary to greet me by grabbing my nipples: First my right and then my left. And it wasn't just any old boob grab, I would definitely have categorized it as a "tittie grab." She laughed, said some things to me in local language, and then continued on her way. It was pretty awesome. Beninese culture was clearly meant for me.

July 25th, 2010

La Fête de Marie Joêlle

Today was the birthday party of my baby host sister, Marie Joelle. She just turned two. Some of you may remember "Bad Baby" from my Senegal experience. Bad Baby was my Senegalese host sister's baby who was also 2 years old during the time of my visit. Needless to say, she was a bad egg. I never managed to gain an affinity for the kid. Now we have Marie Joêlle. She's also kind of a pain, but at least sometimes she's cute. For the most part, she has some major abandonment issues and throws horrendous temper tantrums when her mom or dad leaves the house.

In celebration of Marie Joêlle's birth, my Beninese parents hosted a big party at our house with lots of children. I hooked the kids up with bubbles and pop rocks. They dug on both accounts. Marie Joêlle stayed cool for most of the party, but also had a couple fits of uncontrollable screaming. Overall, great party. Awesome outfits, cake, and beignets! My mom makes beignets fresh! What a talented lady. She showed me how to make these delicious donuts. It's pretty easy. All you do is make this batter and then fry it in palm oil. Aside from the obvious donuts requiring oil in their production, I've noticed that almost all meals here all doused in oil. Fortunately, I cook for myself when I get to my assigned post. But in the mean time I will be bathing in palm oil.

My mom is originally from Cameroon and most of her family still lives là-bas. However, fortunately her super sleazy brother lives in Cotonou and made his way up to Porto Novo for the party. Within the first 45 seconds of talking to me he let me know that I was going to marry him. Whenever my introductions to African men go down like this I always let them know that I am already married. Most of the time they do not care if I am already married, but my host mom's brother let up almost right away. Regardless, he was still super creepy during the whole party. Me and my other Yovo friends sat at a table with small children and my new friend Mouka who frequents my host mom's cyber boutique. The uncle sat there and did not say a word the whole time and just drank a whole lot of african whiskey. Awkward. On the plus side, me and my American girlfriends were able to ask Mouka tons of cultural questions regarding Benin. He is super righteous and even invited us to an event in celebration of Benin's 50th year of independence from France.

The party started at 2pm and didn't end until about midnight. The only downfall of this was the blaring speakers my mom had rented for the party. Yes, huge speakers. My mom does not mess. There's nothing worse than trying to watch Step Up 2 in the living room and there being giant speakers conquering the beats of the street!

July 27th, 2010

Birthday!

Today is my birthday! I got really lost biking home but then my mom gave me a big plate of donuts and took me to her cyber boutique. Unfortunately I tried accessing gmail for 20 minutes and could not connect. Tomorrow is a new day!

July 29th, 2010

Gardening

Today in our EA (Environmental Action) technical session we raised garden beds. I had never done this before so I was very excited. I am working on a superior hoeing technique. I got really sweaty and acquired a bandage tan from my vaccinations taken earlier this week. This is our practice garden during our time in training. It is not required that the EA volunteers plant gardens at their respective posts, but it is good information to have nonetheless. You may be wondering, "Why is there so much trash in your garden bed?" or "Summer, you are planting your garden next to a miniature landfill, what's up with that?" Well friends, the soil is very rich within our landfill so it is a good place to plant. I'm not sure what I'm planting in my bed yet but I'll keep you updated!

July 30th, 2010

This Summer Yovo is the New Toubab

So the word for "foreigner" in most parts of Benin is "Yovo." In Senegal, the word was "Toubab." For some reason I personally like the sound of Toubab better, but I guess I don't really have a choice in the matter. The kids here really get into it. They have a song prepared for when we foreigners pass by and everything. I want to know who started this and why the Senegalese kids don't have a song.

July 31st, 2010

Cooking and Birthday Cake

Today was a great day! I had language from 8am-12:30pm and then went on an epic bike adventure. I biked through the main stage where all visiting diplomats will be sitting for the Independence Day parade tomorrow. Benin will be celebrating its 50th year of liberation from France. I biked to the house of the current SED/EA PCVs. We made guacamole, salsa, corn bread, and even tortillas from scratch! I was most excited about the tortillas as I had never made them by hand before. Very easy, very delicious. One of the SED volunteers made chocolate cakes for all the July birthdays so that was deliciously happy. Unfortunately I did not take a picture of the cakes, but they were great. I miss cake so much! I have been on a cake detoxification the past couples weeks.

The one thing that was supposed to happen today that did not was going to the fête Mouka invited us to! After my epic bike back to my house I bathed and got ready to go, but then my host mom and I talked and she convinced me that I better not go because it would be too crazy and it's really late. Gotta trust mom when it comes to safety. I was kind of bummed because I really want to bien intégré, but there are a million other things I can do to bien intégré so I guess I can't beat myself up too much. Better rest up so I can get my fête on tomorrow.

August 1st, 2010

Bonne Fête Bénin!

I safely watched the Independence Day parade on TV today for 4 hours. I definitely fell asleep half way through. It was interesting to see the Beninese style parade adapted from traditional Chiniese performance. Definitely not as intense as a Chinese parade but culturally informational nevertheless. Several neighboring country diplomats attend the celebration which I found interesting. I am not even familiar with what festivities go down in D.C. on the 4th but I'm pretty sure that neighboring country diplomats or our former colonizers do not attend. After I watched the parade on TV for a ridiculous amount of time I helped my mom make pâte which is a traditional Beninese dish. All it is is a pancake made out out of corn flour and water. But do not be deceived, it does not taste as delicious as a pancake especially due to the tomato sauce that accompanies the dish. Later on we went to the trade fair en ville which was super intense because it was Independence Day. My mom looked at cheap tacky things imported from China for awhile and then we went home. I road on the back of my host dad's motorcycle with my baby sis which was pretty bad ass. I can only imagine how bizarre this looked to a local.

August 2nd, 2010

The King of Porto Novo

Today I met the King of Porto Novo. He doesn't really do anything political at all. Just serves as an ambassador for Porto Novo. There was a handful of us who went to his "palace" where we listened to his monologue for 1 1/2 hours straight. Boy can that king talk. He pretty much recounted the entire history of kings in Porto Novo, starting in 1677. He literally did not take a pause during this whole speech. It reminded me a lot of my homeless friend pops back in LA, who Josh and I once listened to for 3 hours at a Starbucks. The only difference was that he was speaking in French jibberish and held a silver cane with an elephant on the top. Since 1976 the kings of Porto Novo have not held any strong political power. I think it has something to do with the fact the my older sister was born that year. I'm still unclear on the details.

August 6th, 2010

Post!

Posts were announced today! I will be living in Founougo, Benin come September 19th! Founougo is in the north positioned right in between Parc National du W and Parc National de la Pendjari. I am very much so looking forward to living there. I will have no electricity or running water. Imagine all the fossil fuels I will be saving in the next 2 years! Very exciting. I am replacing a volunteer who has done a sprinkling of things in the community from working with women's bee keeping to environmental education clubs with kids. In early September I will visit her at her post and begin to assess how I can pick up where she left off. The primary language spoken in Founougo is Bariba which I look forward to learning. I have been taking French since I arrived, but will soon switch to local language now that we have been assigned our posts. There is also a handful of Fulani who live around Founougo. At some point I would like to learn the language of the Fulani but one step at a time. The Fulani are a nomadic group who can be found across Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Benin. From what I hear, they are known for taking something plain and making it really cool. I also believe they do a lot of cocaine.

August 15th, 2010

Azové

From the 11th-14th I was in Azové for a technical visit at a Current Peace Corps Volunteer's (CPV) house. Azové is in the southwest of Benin, very close to Togo. I went with my fellow EA comrade Andrew who is coincidentally also from Minnesota. I would categorize him as a true Minnesota. His ancestors actually lived in the territory which is now Minnesota even before 1858 when the state was established. But anyway, we did a mud stove demonstration for an orphanage and also painted a mural illustrating the importance of trees at a school with the same orphans. It was good times. The best thing about the mud stove demonstration was that the next day, Andrew and I went back to the orphanage to verify that the stove had not yet been destroyed, and the orphans had made two more stoves with the left over terre rouge from the day before. Andrew and I were very proud. It couldn't have been a better example of sustainability. I was also fortunate enough to meet the CPV who I will replace in Founougo in September. She came down to pass the long weekend with us. Other than that we just walked around the community greeting neighbors, etc. All in all, successful weekend.

July 17th, 2010

Are You Here?

I would say I did pretty well for myself today. I made three Beninese friends before I even touched down on Cotonou. There was a young adult dance group on the plane from Benin. I got their contact info so we can be homies in Benin. Regardless that it was two 13 year old girls and one 16 year old boy, I was still pretty happy about the whole exchange. I had the opportunity to talk to them for 8 hours! They helped me out a little in my Fon learning language skills. It was a great exercise in Fon and French due to the fact that they did not know any English. They were very confused about the fact that I had never been to Cotonou before, yet I knew all these random phrases in Fon such as "A do fine a?" which literally means "Are you here?." It is a common phrase used to ask someone how they are doing or if you just need something to say to fill in an awkward lull in conversation. One of the 13 year old girls tried to get the flight attendant to serve her wine. Not a good idea kid. She tried to lie and tell the attendant that she was 16 years old, but even with that, he would not serve her alcohol. So I guess I can assume that she wasn't Muslim. Not a conservative Muslim in any case. Although she was acting like a hellion, I was still impressed with her boldness.

I am currently staying at a compound 6 minutes away from the Cotonou airport. It is a very nice facility in terms of West African standards. I feel very comfortable. I would not go so far as to say I feel at home already, but I am anxious and looking forward to feeling at home. We will be placed with our host families in Porto Novo in a couple days, after protocol is gone through and what not. Thanks for listening and é-dà-bòh!

July 18th, 2010

Mouth of the River of Death

Since our arrival in Cotonou, I have gained a further sense of geographical orientation beyond being close to 0,0. The compound we are staying at, Centre Codium, is on a street that runs from east to west. If you go east of the compound you will hit La Lagune de Cotonou. If you go west you hit the international airport. Directly south is the Bight of Benin. Not much seems to be happening immediately north of the compound but you will eventually run into train tracks if you walk several blocks. Apparently there is a rail line that runs from Cotonou to Parakou (approx. 167 miles north), but it is very slow and there are faster options via bus or taxi.

Some of the current Peace Corps Volunteers took us out today to show us some different shops and markets. We went westbound on Road of Centre Codium. Streets for the most part don't have names here, but some of them do which I find very impressive. I helped one of my fellow Peace Corps Trainees haggle in French. It has been too long since I have haggled in French! It can be quite the challenge but quite satisfying when successful. If only more haggling were had in the United States. Oh what fun it would be! We were not very successful in our haggling endeavors today, but there is no doubt in my mind that there will be plenty more haggling opportunities provided during our time here in Benin.

Another major characteristic of Cotonou that I find very impressive are all the stone roads. What a paradise! This place sure is fancy. Not to mention that the food we have been served at Codium is fabulous. Apparently Peace Corps has very strict standards about our eating habits in country. I had no idea, but I'm glad! I've generally been hitting all food groups every day.

So in Fon, "Cotonou," means "mouth of the river of death." How terrible. That is all I have to say about that.

Early this morning we met with U.S. Ambassador Knight as well as the regional security officer stationed in Benin. The regional security officer seemed righteous, while the ambassador seemed rather overblown. Most unfortunate for him! Oh silly government officials.

My work is done here. Until next time.

July 19th, 2010

Coconut Crunchies!

So I decided today that what I have deemed to be "coconut crunchies," do indeed strike my fancy. They are these tiny coconut shreds that have been fried in oil (from what I can tell). During our break times at Codium, Peace Corps staff provides us with some miscellaneous snacks, including these delightful bits of coconut crunch. I decided that once I move to post I should probably stock up on coconut crunchies and eat them as cereal with soy milk. You can find soybeans here! They are most likely not GMO free but, you do what you can in a developing nation. Mmmm coconut crunchies with soy milk. Delicious.

Mi Kwabo! For the next 27 months I will be stationed in Benin, West Africa serving as a Community Natural Resource Advisor in the United States Peace Corps. Benin (pronounced buh-nin OR buh-neen) is a country the size of Pennsylvania located in the "arm pit" of Africa. The country is bordered by Togo, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Nigeria. Take a look!

About 50 different native languages are spoken in Benin! If you ask me, communicating with your neighbor sounds like a hassle. Fortunately, the French colonized present day Benin on June 22nd, 1894 uniting the country through the French language. Problem solved! When people aren't speaking French, some more commonly spoken native languages include Fon, Yoruba, Bariba, and Dendi. "Mi Kwabo" means "Welcome" in Fon.

For the next 3 months I will be training outside of Cotonou, Benin. While Cotonou is not the capital of Benin, it is however the largest city in Benin as well as the seat of government. Porto-Novo is the official capital of Benin and is Portuguese for "new port." Good to know.

I will keep you updated as adventures progress.