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.
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