Tuesday, July 28, 2009

How Have You Benin?

I arrived safely in Cotonou four days ago. Any fears I had about nervousness or uncertainly were completely unfounded. It was 8 o'clock in the evening and the first smell that hit me we a mix of rust and dust. Baggage retrieval was absolutely chaotic; they do not form "lines" in Benin. People just congregate and herd. As soon as we walked through the doors outside, a group of Peace Corps Volunteers (PVCs) in-country we there waiting for us, cheering us on. Hot, tired, sweaty, and anxious, we all piled into old vans that transported us to a small compound in more suburban Cotonou. The ride was amazing. Brightly colored shacks lined the red dust streets. The one, large main road that runs the length of Benin was packed with small motorized bicycles called zemidjans. Traffic laws are mere suggestions. The dichotomy of lifestyle was apparent even at street level - a Texico gas station that catered to nice automobiles was located directly across the street from a man selling oil in old glass liquor bottles.

The compound were are staying at is nice, but holds no ammenities. Glossamer panes of mosquitos netting guard my very simple bed set - a small plastic mattress, a thin cotton sheet, and a well-worn, flat pillow (I was so glad that I had the foresight to nab the travel pillow off the plane). The bathroom is basic, too. There is just a showerhead and a large tin bucket with a small plastic bowl inside of it. They have not cut the water yet, so I can still take cool, refreshing showers at night without having to use the bucket shower system. I am relishing each shower I take. Last night, I even let the shower flood the room, just because I knew that my times with water raining down on me from a faucet were numbered. Packing an alarm clock was very unnecessary. Very conveniently, there's a rooster that starts up about a half hour before breakfast every morning.

I'm a human pin cushion at this point. I don't even remember all the things I've been vaccinated for now, but I am on weekly malaria meds (which I started the night I arrived in Cotonou), and I know I got a yellow fever shot (the nurse that injected me for that was very funny). I was not sick or irratated at all from the med influx, and I have had no digestive problems to speak of thus far (knock on wood).

The food is surreal. Carbohydrates are my best friend. Breakfast is European-style - tea, a baguette of light, crisp bread and jam. Training Volunteers tell me that the bread is typical; the jam is a treasure. Lunch and dinner are light meals, filled with staple produce such as peas, carrots, tomatoes, beans, and onions. Rice with intresting sauces is served at every meal. I ate goat for what I believe was the first time yesterday and really enjoyed it. Bottled water or "passsatomo" is readily available at our compound. Yesterday, I bought a pineapple off of a woman selling them off of her head (think Chiquita banana lady). She stripped the pineapple expertly with a blade and handed it to me with a tooth pick in a small black plastic bag. It was pure white, sweet, juicy, and absolutely delicious. An entire pineapple cost me 100 francs (twenty cents), which was "expensive" in the city. Currently, it's the waning end of mango season in Benin. Never in my entire life have a I had such a fresh piece of fruit. I bartered for it at the marketplace today. It was beautiful, rose-orange, sweet, and lush. My lips were covered it juice with each bite from the saturation. On a walk around the neighborhood near our compound this past Sunday, we got a delightfully little treat from a street vendor. It's popular all over West Africa; it's called FanChoco. It's a frozen treat served in a plastic packet (about the size of a bar of soap), and it tastes exactly like cold, milky chocolate pudding. I could go on forever about food, but I want to talk about other stuff, too!

This may seem completely ridiculous, but my favorite thing about Benin thus far are the little children. Even in Cotonou, seeing a white person is a very, very rare occurance, so they become so excited to see - from a distance or right up close. In the market today, a little girl ran up to me and just wanted to touch my hand. It made her so happy her eyes tighted up and she squealed the most adorable sound I've ever heard. Our rooms are on the third floor that has a balcony that overlooks a neighboring village. It is here that I discovered my new favorite game. When a group of us white Volunteers at the balcony, the children scream "Yovo!" (which means white person). In response to there gleeful shouting, we wave, and the kids go berzerk. They completely lose there mainds. Hands in the air, feet stamping on the ground, wild head jerks - all in completely jubiliant elation. I feel like a Beatle.

Most of my first few days were spent on the compound in various lecture sessions regarding Pre Service Traning that will be starting on Wednesday. We've had lectures on health, safety, security, technical training, gender roles, and culture. There are three sectors of service in Benin that Volunteers belong to: Enviromental Action, Rural Health, Economic Development, and English Education. Most of it is preliminary and introductory, but everyone is quick to answer questions and very insightful. The lectures are hosted by Traning Volunteers, contracted PC Beninese workers, and PC Benin Staff members. We've met the acting Country Director and other administrative higher-ups over the past few days. French is the predominate language in Benin. I've tested to be intermediate (thanks Rosetta Stone and Madame Nikolic), and we have French classes in small groups (I have three in my group). My instructor's name is Abel. According to all our Training Volunteers, in three months from right now, I should be conversationally fluent in French. The idea of that is so alluring and exciting, but when I open my French books to study at night, it seems daunting.

Not that all my nights are spent studying. The compound has a small outdoor bar area with a cement enclosure, but we all line up tables outside. Beers cost less than a dollar, and most nights my fellow Volunteers and I gather after dinner and studying and lecture sessions to throw a few back and talk about our day. We've been dancing and discussing and getting to know each other. It's been lovely. All the volunteers are so interesting, worldly, and intelligent. It's great to trade stories and ideas. I'm having a great time.

Yesterday, I rode a zemidjan for the first time. A zem is a motorized bike that is the main mode of transport around the country. They are fast, quick, and efficient, and Benin is one of the few Peace Corps posts where Volunteers can ride them. However, it is easy to pick out Peace Corps Volunteers; we're required to wear helmet. No one else in Benin even thinks about wearing a helmet. The Corps takes it extremely seriously. A Volunteer can be administratively terminated on-the-spot for being caught on the back of a zem without a helmet on. Zems are taxi transport here in Benin so we got riding lessons yesterday. We are not allowed - under any circumstance - to drive a zem, but riding them will be a necessary part of our lives. They are surprising stable to ride, but completely thrilling. I love the fresh wind in my hair . . .


Tomorrow, we are leaving the compound in Cotonou and going to Porto Novo to stay with our host families for the next 9 weeks. I am so excited to meet my host family and to see another city in Benin that is supposed to be amazing. I'm having a great time, meeting tons of great people, and seeing and doing some very cool things. I'll keep in touch!

Monday, July 13, 2009

Loren's Peacin' Out

As of July 23, 2009, I officially PEACE OUT.

For the next 27 months, I will be living in Benin, West Africa, teaching ESL as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I started this blog as a way to chronicle my adventures — there is no doubt in my mind there will be some intense, harrowing, heartbreaking, side-splitting, eye-opening, soul-searching adventures. Friends and family, I'll make you a wager: if you keep reading, I'll keep writing. 

Great Expectations

I think the best possible way to attack the beast of completely uprooting my life as I've known it, packing all my belongings into a 60-pound glorified duffel bag, and moving across the Atlantic Ocean - sight unseen - to West Africa is to have as few expectations a possible. Granted, I'd safely venture to say that I know more than most 22 year-old Pennsylvanians about Benin, in so much that I can easily pick it out on a world map and probably prattle off some basic country profile statistics. But beyond that, I intend to initially treat this experience like a sponge; the goal is to remain constant and allow all the porous holes in my thinking soak up the environment, people, customs, and culture around me. However, considering I have only a few expectations, I figured I'd take this opportunity to write my first blog and share them with you.

1.  I can almost guarantee the second I step off the plane in Cotonou, I am going to take one 360 degree spin around and think to myself in a nerve-grating panic, What in the name of all that is holy have I just gotten myself into? Inevitably, my breathing will become labored, dizzying thoughts will cloud my mind, but I will press on. 

2.  I have a funny feeling that there are going to be some really basic things in my current, privileged American life that I've been taking for granted. The absence of such luxuries may become air apparent almost immediately and others will wheedle their way into my consciousness from a slow build. Either way - I'd like to take this opportunity to give some high praise and encomium to some of my favorite things:  Charmin toilet paper, mozzarella cheese, electricity, my brimming bookshelf, microwave technology, indoor plumbing,  bubble baths, wireless internet access, my washer and dryer, eye contacts, and the ability to have exhausting cell phone conversations at length whenever I want to for as long as I can remain awake. My things:  I love you; I'll miss you; I'll be back.

3.  This experience is going to change me. That's a given; I know. Like the wise, old sages of days-gone-by proclaimed, "Change is the only constant."  I have no idea what I am going to look, think, act, or feel like in two years. That's the best part in my opinion. I don't get to know what is going to happen to me. It's a giant surprise gift just waiting for me unwrap in a distant future I can't even fathom right now. The person I will become will be changed not only physically, but mentality, not only spiritually, but culturally. I'm really excited to meet that young woman. I bet she's going to have some amazing stories to tell (and with any luck, she'll be able to tell them in English or in French).

4. This will be difficult; this will be worth it.