Where Did December Go?

Earlier this month, I attended a 10 day in-service training in Parakou, a big city in the north of Benin. It was my first trip out of the south and it took 9 hours in a 20-passenger van. It should have only taken 6, if not for the constant stops whenever anyone saw some snacks they wanted to buy on the side of the road... I have never eaten so much on a road trip, but every time someone bought something they made sure the yovo got to “gout et voir” (taste and see!). It was amazing to see how much the landscape changed along the way, and once I got there, the differences in local languages and even culture made me feel like I’d travelled to another country!

Even though the strangers I travelled with were kind enough to keep me well fed along the way, I experienced one of my most discouraging moments so far while in the van. I had been keeping a sachet noir full of trash from the trip that I intended to dispose of properly. These infamous black plastic bags litter Benin, and refusing them when you make a purchase generally requires putting up a fight and climbing onto the soap box. When the chauffer spotted it, he snatched it up and threw it out the window, despite my protests. Most of the other passengers didn’t notice, as they too had been throwing their wrappers and bottles out the window along the way... He laughed in my face and spoke to me in Gun, saying he didn’t care about dirtying Benin, as long as his van stayed clean. I tried to stay calm and unemotional, explaining to him how I am an environmental volunteer, brought to Benin because some people do care about keeping their country healthy. My work partner jumped in to defend me, and told him I could easily go back to my own country, a land of recycling bins and reusable bags, but I choose to be here because I believe change is possible. His response: “You should get married. Then your opinions will change.” Two weeks later, I’m still not sure how I should have responded to that. All I did was look out the window at the passing piles of trash and try not to yell at him.

After the hustle bustle of in-service training, it was a stark change to get back to village life: slow days, long weeks, and an empty stomach (we had been fed non-stop all week. Glorious things like cheese and bread and salads!). It is nice to be back though, and it really does feel like home here now. December is party month here in Benin, and all my neighbors are preparing for Christmas, the New Year, and also wrapping up any lose ends with funerals… Funerals are the large occasion among the Beninese, and quite a bit of time and money is put into preparing the music, feast, and logistics for a gathering of everyone who ever knew your deceased loved one. Because of my travels and the constant Fête-ing (Fête = party) in village, work has slowed down and my past month has felt rather unproductive... Lucky for me, the world didn’t end, and I get another chance at change in 2013!

There's a Snake in my Douche!

First thing’s first: “douche” is the French word for shower / bathroom area.

A couple weeks ago, I wandered into my douche to find a long, skinny, green snake relaxing in the corner, causing me to forget I had to pee and run out of the house for help. I know the majority of snakes in Benin are not poisonous, but I don’t know exactly which ones are, so I’d rather not take chances… My 17 year old concession sister, Gloria, and my 10 year old concession brother, Cedric, came to help me. Cedric tried to squish it with a stick, but it escaped and slithered over the wall into the brush, while Gloria assured me that the snake was very bad… Most Beninese are terrified of all snakes, not only because of venomous bites but for superstitious reasons as well. I was just happy to have it out of my house, but ten minutes later, Uncle showed up with a coup coup (machete), ready to snake hunt. I tried to tell him it was not necessary, but eventually I followed cautiously behind as he stalked through the brush and whistled a tune to “draw out the serpent.” Lucky for the snake, and much to my nature-respecting relief, we did not find him… Today, Google tells me the snake I encountered was not poisonous. But once again, it was a fun cultural experience to see the Beninese reaction to a snake, and comforting that so many people came to help me, despite their own fears.

Halloween Sucks, Obama Wins, and I’m 2 Months Down

Halloweener

I knew Halloween would bring nostalgia for all things American, because nowhere else in the world can people dress up like idiots and eat their weight in high fructose corn syrup, and have a damn good time doing it. So I decided to be proactive and attack Peace Corps goal number 2 by sharing culture. I was lacking in decorations, a costume, or fun size candy bars, but I invited my farm friends over to my house for an “America party.” The party was planned for 4 PM since I go to bed early here (it’s dark by 7 o’clock and the only safe place to hang out after dark in malaria-ville is under my mosquito net, so why not just call it a day?).

By 3:55 I had Michael Jackson, Akon, and Celine Dion (Beninese favorites when we’re on the subject of American music) queued up on my iPod, a giant pot of mac and cheese, and a pitcher of Kool-Aid ready to go. Four hours later, when everyone finally showed up, my eyes were red from crying about getting stood up in my vulnerable, homesick state. And it was past my bed time. 

But my friends were ready to party, and they had even partially understood what I was trying to explain about wearing costumes… They were all in plain clothes but introduced themselves as “Barack Obama, Bob Marley, and Martin Luther King Jr.” If that wasn’t entertaining enough, they all also put tape on their nostrils to look like a nose piercing à la Michelle. This should have made me laugh, but I was too grumpy. I had to explain to them why I had been crying, so I said that I was homesick for my friends and culture, and how showing up 4 hours late to a party in my culture means that they don’t want to come, don’t care about me, etc. 

No one got it. They were all shocked and confused at my sadness and proceeded to lecture me about how in Benin, people never show up on time, no one actually parties until it’s dark, the host should never prepare food until people actually get there, and adults are not allowed to cry unless a child dies. So much for me sharing MY culture…

On days like that, it feels like I will never get a grip on Benin, that I will never be understood here, and that I should forfeit all efforts at a social life and bury myself in work or limit myself only to the PC community. But the way I’ve been thinking about it lately, the people on the farm are becoming like family – even if we don’t understand each other, they support me and I learn a lot from them. And in the end we did eat cold mac and cheese and dance the Thriller.

GObama!

I don’t have great access to news here – no T.V., internet, or newspapers. But on election night, I was able to channel in Radio France International on my cell phone, as well as receive texts from well-informed volunteers. As the news has slowly travelled to village, I’ve received numerous congratulations and jokes about the success of “my husband.” Benin likes Obama!

22 to Go

I think the last two months have flown by. I feel very much at home in my village now, but I still spend most my time meeting people, observing life here, and looking for work opportunities. I meet weekly with a women’s group of gardeners, and this weekend I am starting an English club with some of the neighbor girls. I’ve also been spending a lot of time at the schools: a primary school across the street from my concession, and a CEG (College d’Enseignement General = secondary school) about 7 km away. After the Christmas break, I plan to start environmental clubs at both and a girl’s club at the CEG, as I have been observing that the number of girls in school here drops off throughout secondary school – the ratio of boys to girls is about 10:1 by the time students get to their terminal year and the Bac, the exam that allows them to graduate and attend university. I’m still taking Wemε lessons, tending to my own garden (the cabbage and carrots are on their way!), and learning the ways of the farm. Geo is grossiring, I am not, and all is well!

How to Break Hearts in Benin

In an earlier post, I mentioned how it is the cultural norm for men here to be very forward and persistent when interested in a woman. It is custom for the man to ask the woman out at least three times before she agrees. Just saying “no” means nothing and is even considered a standard part of the courting procedure. If she says yes any earlier, she is considered ­­desperate, easy, and undesirable. Thus, guys don’t give up… Many women deal with such advances on a daily basis, so how does one get rid of an unwanted male suitor in a culturally appropriate manner? Some volunteers have researched the matter, and the necessary process is as follows:

Step 1: Respect your suitor.

The American methods of rejection including ignoring texts/calls, a polite but obvious display of disinterest, or even a frank “’no” are off the table here. The first two won’t work, due to previously mentioned persistence, and the latter is incredibly disrespectful. According to my source, a Beninese couple, disrespecting your suitor can mean your safety is at risk! Not in a violent stalker way, but due to the risk of gris gris, a voodoo curse that your suitor could create to either cause you harm or force you to fall in love with him against your will. (Side note: while the point of this culture-informing entry is not about religion, the mixing of traditional and other religions is widely practiced here, and many religious people also believe in the powers of vodun. The couple who informed me of this is Pentacostal, but still takes gris gris very seriously. Interesting!). So how do you show your suitor you respect him? You meet him in a public place, buy a non-alcoholic beverage for each of you, and calmly explain that you do not wish to date him, incorporating the following steps.

          Step 2: Lie.

Even if you are single and looking, to say you are not interested in this particular suitor will not work. It is disrespectful (danger!) and may encourage further wooing. Therefore, it is necessary to come up with a “more valid” reason that you cannot date this person: “I have a husband,” “I am here to work and not play,” “My bride price is too expensive for you,” etc. To ensure you don’t excite him with a challenge, proceed to step 3.

         Step 3: Give him fear.

Back your lies up with a threat. To complete the above examples: “Said husband will beat you up,” “Peace Corps will send me home if I date you,” “If you continue to pursue me, I will tell the whole town and you will be embarrassed because you can’t afford me,” etc. 

           As far-fetched as some of this may seem, it is not so much the content of what you say, but the way you go about saying it. The cultural protocol is such that even if your lies and threats are unbelievable, he will see that you are doing so in order to politely reject him and spare his feelings.

Interestingly enough, this dating and heart-breaking procedure seems to fit pretty well into what I am learning to be socially acceptable behavior here in Benin, which often includes around many lies and excuses for the sake of preserving someone else’s comfort and self-perception. Sometimes I consider it polite, sometimes two-faced, and often times inefficient... But I suppose it’s not really my judgment to make, as long as I understand my environment and act accordingly. With as much as I’m learning every day, two years might not even be enough for that!

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...

Post Visit

Back in the city again!

Two weeks ago I left Porto Novo with my homologue (my counterpart for the organization that requested a environmental PCV to work in Todé). Though I was nervous the morning that we left, my excitement started to build as I climbed on the zemi for the 45 minute ride out of the city and into the village, and everything became less crowded and greener. 

Before departing for site, Peace Corps warned us that conditions in village were not likely to be as luxurious as with our host families in Porto Novo. I was 100% ready to rough it by the time the zemi pulled up outside my host family’s compound in Azowilisse, the large village where I stayed. Azowilisse is the biggest village in the area and I will need to go there to get to a school or market, etc. It is about 3 km from Todé, the village where I will actually work on the farm, and 5 km from Houeda, the village where I will actually live.

As it turns out, my 2 weeks of “roughing it” became a 2 week vacation. My host mom, the sister of my supervisor, is a preschool teacher, but she also runs the closest thing I can imagine to a Beninese bed and breakfast… I was given my own room with a bathroom which included a flushing toilet and a SHOWER! And for the first 2 days of my stay, I shared the guest house with 2 French tourists who had come for a taste of village life. (Family and friends, take note: if you come visit me, I have connections for an excellent place to stay… you will be able to see where I live and work, what village life is like, and also have the luxury of electricity, running water, and a woman who knows how to prepare excellent meals / water for your sensitive American stomachs!). I think at first it actually bothered me a little bit that I wasn’t getting the nitty gritty village experience, but then I realized that I will have 2 years to experience that in my latrine-equipped home, sans running water or electricity. Let the vacation begin!

My mama and my three host brothers (ages 14, 19, and 22) were incredibly welcoming and interested in talking about our different cultures. Admittedly, the first couple days with the brother my age were a bit awkward. General cultural note: Beninese men are extremely forward and macho. It can get exhausting having to ward off romantic advances and flattery: “You are so beautiful; It pleases me when you wear your hair like that; I like the shape of your body; Ma blanche, vient” etc… Pretty much I ignore such comments or just say merci with a straight face and move on. If you giggle or smile, it is considered an invitation to continue. This is difficult for me, to avoid smiling and laughing, not because I’m flattered, but because I find it a little creepy and ridiculous, and that’s my “I feel awkward right now and don’t know what to do” default response. I’m becoming more used to it by now, so it doesn’t bother me much, and it also makes for good conversation about cultural differences. 

Over the course of the two weeks, my brothers paraded me around and helped me complete various tasks to get to know the village. I got to take a gorgeous canoe ride around the large river that goes through the valley that is my village, meet with several authorities and community members, and tour the farm at Todé and my compound at Houeda (I am renting a small house in a concession with 2 other families. I won’t actually live where I work, because the “Peace Corps appropriate housing” is one village over). The stay was very different from training so far, in that I got to make my own schedule and there was a lot of down time. But I really enjoyed the quiet village life and getting away from the city. I basically just did a whole lot of resting and eating and networking, especially with different women’s groups in the area. I walked around a lot to greet people and introduce myself as a volunteer, and like my host family, most people were just really excited to have me there. One group of women even sang for me at the end of our meeting, as an expression of their gratitude for my coming to Benin to learn and work with them! It was a very touching and incredible cultural experience.

After speaking only French during my stay (with the exception of a 20 minute phone chat with my mom!) and living with a family who had a real interest in me and my work, I think I learned more about the language and culture in the 2 weeks I spent with them, than in the past 5 that I’ve spent in training. Now, I am excited for how much more I will learn once I participate in the upcoming technical training and finally move to my site.