Stories

I’ve spent over a month in site and I am happy, healthy, and learning something new every day. It’s about time I share some stories!

Work Success Story

I’ve continued building mud stoves with various women around town, but my pride and joy so far is this double-marmite stove for the farm. 

Farm friends, Laurent and Dede, helping me construct the stove!

After it dried, they taught me how to cook pâte rouge, the delicious national dish! A few days earlier, they had prepared me another Beninese delicacy – bush rat. They gave me the best parts: the claw and the heart. The former was too chewy for my tastes, but the latter was delicious! Gotta try anything once.

 I promise I don't dress like this much of a hippie everyday...

Work Struggle Story

Last weekend I started my own garden on the farm! Even though there is decent soil and climate here to grow a variety of things, people tend to stick with the “condiment crops” – tomatoes, onions, piment peppers, and garlic… All delicious, but it makes for a nutrient limited diet. So in effort to push my food security agenda, I’ve got lettuce, carrots, cabbage, onions, soybeans, dill, and cucumber (I’m totally going to make some pickles…) in the ground. 

Farm friends, Martiale and Rodrigue helping me start up my garden

It felt great to finally put it all together, but it was also a bit frustrating because everyone on the farm (and then everyone else in the community, once the word spread) was trying to tell me what and how to plant. After a college degree and months of training, I know that a lot of what my colleagues and community gardeners practice could be improved upon. But people are naturally resistant to new ideas and change, so it was a bit of a realization for me that the future of demonstration gardens and environmental sensibilisations might not be as easy or productive as I had hoped... I suppose my environmental agenda is difficult to push in the U.S., where I am already comfortable with the language, culture, and current practices – why the hell didn’t I think this would be harder?! Oh well. I know I will learn a lot and be a stronger person for it in the end.

Cultural Success Story

                I can now carry my own basin of water on my head for a whole 1.2 kilometers! Never mind that the children who help me are a quarter my age and carry twice the volume… I’m learning! Cultural hurdle #1 of ten billion: mastered.

Cultural Struggle Story

I thought it’d be frustrating to listen to a language I don’t understand all day long (and I was right!) But sometimes it can be even more frustrating to actually understand what’s being said to me… As it turns out, the phenomenon of mothers commenting on their daughter’s physique is not cultural, but rather a reality of womankind. And they don’t even have to be your real mother, for that matter. Yesterday I was sitting outside with the mama in my concession when she said “Michelle, you like Houeda, no?” I responded in the affirmative. “You’ve gotten fatter!” She added. Ugh. Now in Beninese culture, this is a compliment. Full cheeks and a full belly are desirable. But my American cultural standards are such that it was really hard to fake flattery and mutter a “merci…” And for the record, I have not gotten fatter. She was just being nice. 

More pictures here!

Technical Training, Swearing in, and Moving to Post

Three months ago, I rushed through the Atlanta airport to get to my gate and start my Peace Corps adventure. I felt excited and nervous and scared as hell. Reflecting on all those familiar emotions, I realize that I overlooked the fact that the real “adventure” part would be delayed for another three months... Stage was a hand-holding, taste-testing, toe-dipping approach to immersion: five weeks of intensive core training (language, health, culture), two weeks to introduce myself to my post (more language, exploration, too much free time), and four weeks of technical training (trees, mud stoves, machetes), and I’m supposedly ready for service. On September 14, I swore in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin. Now it gets real.

Technical Training

The last month of stage was technical training and I learned all sorts of things such as how to plant and maintain an all natural garden, stomp in a pile of mud and then turn it into a stove, conduct an environmental education lesson, and use a machete (because honestly, they are useful for EVERYTHING). Technical training took place at Songhaii Center, a really awesome, zero-waste, synergistic approach to farming. Songhaii accepts applicants from all over West African villages to intern, learn good farming practices, and then relay their education back home. Check it out HERE. It’s a must see if you come visit!

Swear in Ceremony       

After technical training, we took buses to Cotonou to formally swear in as volunteers at the Ambassador’s house. We then spent the afternoon at the beach and the supermarket. Cotonou is the commercial center / expat city, and after only three months in country, it felt like America. The supermarché (which actually calls itself a “hypermarché,” and I found that hilarious) was incredibly overwhelming. There were brands to choose from, nutrition facts to consult, and pre-determined prices on every item! And when I ran out of fingers to count all the white people I felt weird. It actually made me very eager to get back to village, and then I had a hard time imagining the reverse culture shock I’ll experience in 2014…

First 2 Weeks at Post

                The next morning, a tiny taxi was packed with my bike on top and mattress hanging out the back, and I felt ready to leave Porto Novo, but scared too. When I arrived, my counterparts gave me a cultural welcome by pouring water on the ground at the entrance, which I then stepped through to christen my new home! Chez moi has two rooms with concrete floors and walls (which they painted bright colors for me!), and wood ceilings. A kitchen area is out back, along with the bathroom where they built me a western style toilet on top of the latrine (I bucket flush with the water I pump not far from my house. My arms hurt, and I’m trying to get the kids to let / teach me how to carry it on my own head). I was actually disappointed that I don’t get to squat, as I find it a very effective and a once-in-a-[American’s]-lifetime-opportunity method, but also this will cut down on my cockroaches and scorpions, so I’m good. My house is really bare at the moment, and as I write this post (another surprise, my house has electricity!) I sit on the floor among piles of books, clothes, dishes, etc.

                The day I moved in, my homologue gave me a kitten! My host mama from my previous 2 week stay in village saved her for me. I was a bit hesitant at first, seeing how I was not at all prepared to take on a pet yet, but I fed her all I had to offer (some peanut butter and a coconut), and then she got diarrhea… we suffer together. I am really glad to have her; Geo is good stress relief when I am feeling lonely and sad and asking those stereotypical Peace Corps questions like “why did I come here?” and “can I do really do this?” And she is happy to have me too, since I feed her and don’t abuse her (an unfortunate fate for many pets here).

                I did not sleep well my first few nights at post, because the Oro came out! The Oro is a Voodoo fetish that takes place in August and September. Men parade around and celebrate all night with tamtam drums and another traditional instrument that makes an awful siren noise, like a zipper moving back and forth. Also, Oro is a fetish that only men are allowed to see. So when the Oro comes out during the day, women must stay indoors at the risk of being killed... It is said that women will die if they see the Oro because they are weak. It might also be due to the machete bearing, gin glugging, male guardians of the Oro… but hey, culture. The Oro kept me trapped in my concession for a couple days, during which I felt pretty lonely and purposeless, but I caught up on sleep and watched Geo kill bugs.

                The days go by slow, but the first week seemed fast. I take a lot of walks to greet people in village, help work on the farm, and meet with a language tutor to get my Wemε down. It’s a tonal language, which makes it difficult because when I walk into a room and say “εku!” I could either be saying “Hello!” or “Death!” Either way, the people here seem happy that I am trying. One guy gifted me a bag of oranges after I successfully learned the word for orange (which if pronounced incorrectly would have meant “respiration”) – that’s some positive reinforcement learning right there! If only that worked for all the things I miss from America... How do I say “mom’s salads,” “moose tracks,” and “NPR”? Anyway, I feel safe here and as comfortable as I can, knowing that my every move is being watched (and often times laughed at). So far, I think that the hardest part will be not being so hard on myself, as it will take a long time to understand, integrate, and be effective here. Until then, I strive for patience and try to focus on one day at a time and the small triumphs each one brings.

Pictures are here.
I really need to take some more...