IB

"It's Benin," we tell ourselves over and over again. It's both a spiritual exercise and a realization that becomes less and less shocking with each utterance. It is spiritual in the sense that it takes the place of so many other things a person could exclaim in the ourageous, outlandish situations one finds oneself in almost daily: the 30km trip that ends up taking four hours, smaller quantities of things costing more than their larger counterparts, having conversations in three languages at the same time... these are weak examples and I promise to keep better records of the good ones, but rest assured that when I could justifiably scream and laugh maniacally and pull my hair out and set fire to something with frustration, I'm completely accostomed now to saying to Lou on the phone or myself in my head, "It's Benin." This has become it's own reason and has nullified my original foolhardy desire to try to control anything at all about my circumstances. Others have taken to saying "Wawa": West Africa Wins Again. God, it feels good to give up. Now maybe I can get some work done.