Porn + Politics = Ready for a Vacation

While Peace Corps predicts the first three months in site to be the loneliest and most challenging, I fared pretty well with the “integration period.” Now, as life in Benin becomes more routine and less exotic, I think I’m hitting a 7^th-month slump… Here’s a 2-days-in-the-life story from last week to exhibit how some days, I’m pushed right up to the edge.

I’m working on some grant applications for my upcoming girls’ camp, so I needed to print some paperwork. Finding the appropriate technology to do so in village is often difficult, but after asking around all morning, I located two equipped boutiques. I waited a half hour at the first one, while the dinosaur of a computer tried to recognize my USB key. After no luck, I took my key and headed to option #2…

Upon arrival, the owner of the shop greeted me by saying “What do you want? If you’re just here to say hello, I don’t want that. What did you bring me?” Despite the rudeness of this greeting (which is extremely out of character for the Beninese, who are generally very welcoming and hospitable), the part that bugged me most was the last question: “What did you bring me?” I’ve recently decided this to be my least favorite phrase here in Benin, trumping even “give me money,” “are you married?” and the yovo song. Being my father’s daughter (and therefore an enthusiastic proponent of quality customer service!), I was tempted to say “screw you, jackass!” and walk away. But also being in  village, with limited printing options and a reputation to uphold as a Peace Corps volunteer, I forced myself to say “I have brought you good health... And I want to print something.” The first answer is a generally accepted response to the question-from-hell, but peoples’ faces still fall like they don’t believe the yovo doesn’t have money or presents for them. Whatever.

I waited another long while before my USB came up, only to see that attempt #1 had in fact recognized my USB after all… at least enough to corrupt all the old files and replace them with porn. My virus ridden key was polluted with folders entitled “dirty,” “XXX,” and “Porn!!!” warranting many odd looks from the already judgmental proprietor. And it didn’t help that the folder I kept trying / failing to open was entitled “Girls” – as in girls’ camp, girls’ club, etc. A sense of humor and an appreciation for the ironic are all too important in this life I’m living... So I admitted defeat and trudged home, only to be accosted by the village drunkard, who followed me half way home repeating “What do you have for me? Give me something. Yovo, yovo, why don’t you want to give me a present? You are selfish...”

Day two, I headed out early for a 9 AM meeting with the mayor. At 1:15, he showed up. This is, unfortunately, typical for the Beninese, though I suppose I expected the Mayor’s office to run differently? When he did finally get there, he spent the majority of our meeting scolding me for having lived in his commune for so long and not yet having stopped by to greet him (even though “stopping by” is a half hour, 1000 CFA zem ride away – far and expensive by village standards). As if he would have had time for me! Not only was he 4 hours late for a scheduled meeting, the meeting itself was a circus… People kept coming in and out of his office, asking questions, pushing their own agendas, or just saying “I heard you had a yovo in your office and wanted to greet her…”­­ He also received over 20 calls and texts, answering them all in my presence (again, not out of character for Benin). I calmly but sternly asked him if this was typical of a professional workplace in Benin. His response: “There’s no problem! I’m listening to you!” all the while looking at his phone. Interactions like that make me feel like two years will never be enough to contribute to the development of Benin, let alone finish a sentence with the mayor.

Icing on the cake that day: when I got home, my zem driver raised the price upon arrival (one always agrees on the price and destination before getting on the zem! Raising the price once you get there is NOT ok, and Beninese people won’t put up with that – when it happens, it’s plain and clear prejudice). He said “you’re white; you can give me more than that.” I told him how bad that was of him to do, but he continued to bother me. I was so fed up and tired from the bullshit of the day that I forfeited my principles, tossed him an extra 200 CFA, and walked away. He called after me: “My dear, are you married?”

Aside from the many culture clashes I’ve been having lately, this is also the longest period of time I have ever gone without seeing kin… Thankfully, the ‘rents are on their way! Starting tonight, I will be taking a 12 day vacation to show Benin to my parents. I’m hoping their visit will give me a break from routine and some fresh eyes to appreciate the good things about Benin once again. The agenda includes a visit to my village, a tour of Pendjari Wildlife Park, and a marathon in Parakou. This will be a lot of new territory for me as well, so I’ll be sure to update about our adventures in the coming weeks! 

Voodoo Fête

January 10 is a national holiday to celebrate traditional religions of Benin – namely, Vodun. I joined two of my close-mates and a HCN (“Host Country National”) for the festivities at a nearby mayor’s office. The HCN is affectionately known by several volunteers in my region as “The Voodoo Man.” Voodoo Man is one of those awesome HCNs who made friends with a PCV once and now says “hey, you’re a foreigner, and there’s some cool stuff in this country – let me share it with you, for nothing in return but your company!” I love it when I meet people like this, and I have had some of my best culture-sharing adventures here with them. Voodoo Man is a priest and authority figure of a regional vodun cult. He often invites PCVs to witness ceremonies, and many volunteers have gone to him to receive scarification – a common body modification practice in Benin, like tattooing, that denotes your heritage and has spiritual (or souvenir-ical) significance.

When I arrived, I found my party with 3^rd row seats on stage! From there, we sat among the Voodoo Man’s colleagues and important kings from the region, and we got to witness all sorts of costumes, dancing, and music!

  

Like most clothing in Benin, the costumes of these voodoo spirits and traditional medicine man were incredibly colorful and elaborate!

 

 

These haystack looking things are called “Zangbetos.” They are spirits, and their apprentices will dismantle them to prove there is nobody underneath, just a talisman or animal of some sort.

When someone performs for you, dancing or drumming, it’s custom to place money on their forehead. These guys made bank today.

               

Holidays and Harmattan

I spent December 24^th – 27^th at the beach in Grand Popo (the beach town was named by Portuguese explorers and means “Giant Poop.” But really it’s a very beautiful place…). Several volunteers met up to take a few days to finally act like tourists. We stayed at hotel Lion Bar, self-proclaimed “Happy Reggae Place Forever.” The hotel was essentially a tikki bar, next to which we pitched tents on the beach. Perfect way to spend my non-Christmas feeling Christmas!

  

"Happy Reggae Place Forever"

Breakfast view. Corona commercial?

When I returned to village, the following week was all about preparing for what Beninese consider to be the real holiday of the season – the new year! On the eve of the 31^st, the singing and drumming started, and children dressed up, covering their body head-to-toe in clothing, complete with homemade masks. Kids went door to door with their tam-tams, dancing in return for candy or money. Beninese Halloween! (But way cooler, because kids dance and sing and play drums incredibly well here, which is far more impressive than saying “trick or treat” from under some WalMart mask). I passed out Girl Scout cookies (shout out thank you to Uncle Tom for the care package!!!) and sat outside with my concession family until midnight, when everyone cheered with Beninoise (beer) and Sodabi (local moonshine), yelling “Alleluia! 2013!” We turned on Beninese music videos, most of them about Jesus, and Maman and Tannyi (aunt) prayed passionately for health and prosperity and many other things I didn’t understand, as usual. But I was glad to be included.

In Benin, the grand celebrations take place on New Year’s Day. I woke up early, ready to witness some partying, but the village was quiet and empty… Finally, I was told everyone was busy preparing a feast, and I too should be cooking my meal to share! My close-mate (volunteer who lives closest), Zoe, came over and we scraped together some mac and cheese (my go-to when people expect me to share American food with them) and curried couscous with lentils… In the afternoon, we came together with our international feast in front of us. New Years day is like Halloween for adults, as neighbors circulate to taste each other’s food and share drinks. We agreed to start with the Americans’ contributions, and Zoe and I were entertained by my Beninese friends and neighbors, chatting curiously amongst themselves and straining to finish their plates of bizarre-tasting food. When it was time for the Beninese portion of the meal, however, it became clear that it was no easier for us: I was teary-eyed and sniffling from the spicy sauce, and Zoe was picking out pieces of fish from her pâte... We all laughed about it and congratulated each other on the meal. Culture exchange: success. Afterward, I followed tradition and made the rounds to visit my farm friends and host family, sharing in the Beninese cuisine and drinks.

New Years Day with the concession family

But the fête didn’t stop there! January 2 is meant for resting, finishing leftovers, visiting the people you didn’t quite get to, and one final evening dance party, which was my favorite part to see! Most of Houeda gathered in the public space outside my concession to watch men with tam-tams and cowbells. At the beginning of the ceremony, prayers were chanted, and the instruments and money jar were doused with sodabi and gin, as per tradition. Children were then allowed to come in the circle and show their dance moves. Adults later got in on the fun, and respected men danced with bull tails in hand, apparently a practice started by ancient kings of Benin. When a dancer performs well, it is custom to put coins on their forehead, which they then contribute to the musicians’ money jar. The party continued until midnight, and guns were fired to officially end the fête. People kept feting on and off until January 10, vodun day, a national day to recognize traditional religions - blog post on that coming up! The next party season is Easter, and I hear Pentecost is wild, so stay tuned.

Now it’s back to work for the village and me… Though the first “meeting” of the secondary school science teachers was actually an extension of the fête. Several of them are helping me get my environmental club started, so they invited me to dine and drink with them. I was the only woman among 15 men – Benin needs more women in science! Good thing my girls’ club officially started this week (over 100 girls signed up!), and planning for the girls’ camp is underway.

In other news, Harmattan is here. This means it is the dry, windy season. The afternoons are scorching, but it can actually get down to about 70 degrees F in the morning and evening with a nice breeze that rolls through, which is ideal for Michigan blood, but the Beninese are freezing their butts off. I’m still romping around in my sandals and t-shirts, while they’ve busted out the second hand ski jackets and wrapped themselves in multiple layers of tissue (fabric), and I’ve even seen socks! But I’ve been taking advantage of the cool mornings to train for the marathon (less than a month to go!) and expand my garden, since eating that which I’ve grown has been so rewarding. I’m thrilled I get to eat a few salads a week now, and my neighbors are even starting to take an interest in crop diversification and nutrition when they see what see what sort of fresh goodies I bring home from the farm! Also this week, I was able to hop on and host a bike tour of volunteers who are crossing the country (http://bikebenin.blogspot.com/) – great idea and super fun, so I’m looking into setting up a tour of my own, later on this year. More pictures are finally up here! 

I made  grew this. Yum.