This hat belongs to Glenna. It is a fancy hat. It repels bugs, rain, bad karma, salespeople and requests for fashion advice. If you find a hat like this one and send it to me, I will make absolutely positive that something good happens to you sometime down the line. Swear. (Seriously, I need a sun hat. Takers?)
Beachy! Celebrating my birthday (early) in the sand with a Beaufort as the ocean sprays my face: mille francs. Forgetting I am or that there's a beggar sleeping a few feet away or that this sand is gonna stick to me for days because I don't have a shower: priceless!
Woohoo! Beer! Benin! Blast! Bombastic!
Lucy, a neighbor, with the doll Meg gave her and a necklace I made her. She goes all over with that doll tied to her back.
Enjoying the 90 degree, 99% humidity day. I kid you not- we were swimming around my concession looking for air pockets just to breathe...


11/27/09

An American friend who has lived here for a year told me one day, “You know, I love Africa like you love a retarded child.” He didn’t have to explain it to me: a retarded child is completely dependent yet completely charming. The love you feel for him or her is of the purest nature but the inherent desire for improvement is ever present. It’s something you feel guilty about even though you know you aren’t responsible; something you want to change but don’t have the tools for.

Chicken and children. They create the buoyant energy that keeps the village awake and alive during the oppressively hot and humid mid-days. Their footprints intermingle in the dust and tell stories of chases, captures and conquests.

One of the best things you can do in the heat is to go to a cafeteria and order a cold coffee. Coffee beans are impossible to find here, but Nescafe, instant coffee, is everywhere. Cold coffee means a bowl with sweetened condensed milk, instant coffee and ice. You add your water to reach the desired consistency then dip bread in it. It is the most delicious, refreshing thing and I’m becoming addicted. We went for one yesterday and I couldn’t count the flies but I didn’t care. When it’s that hot, you start to see flies as little tiny fans. They are the only things stirring the air and in a humidity-induced haze, you actually start to welcome their incessant nagging at your face, because you can feel the wind from their wings.

I saw a maman force feeding a baby the other day. I ran home, grabbed a spoon, then calmly but purposefully walked over and presented her with it. I said “Pour le bebe” but I knew she didn’t speak French. She nodded and smiled her thanks, tucked the spoon into a nearby bag, then waited for me to leave. When I didn’t, and continued to stand there under pretense of enjoying myself, she gave in and washed and dressed the baby. Having successfully interrupted a force-feeding, I patted myself on the back, despite knowing that no education had taken place. It dawns on me now, however, that next time she will probably just do it somewhere out of my range of sight. I’m going to write a grant to start holding nutrition classes for mothers with infants.

It is impossible to become entirely clean.

I had some other volunteers stay with me over the weekend. Meg made chili and I made oatmeal/banana/M&M cookies. It was amazing. We also went to “Fete de la Biere,” at which one could pay the equivalent of less than a dollar then drink all the beer you wanted- bottles. Of the good stuff, too, not just cheap crappy Beninoise. They had live music and dancing, on a real stage with a real sound system. I have never seen so many Beninese congregated in the same place. We stayed until midnight and had a blast; it reminded me of home.

I’m watching a friend’s cat while she’s up north for a conference. I noticed a roundworm or tapeworm sticking out of her rear the day after she arrived. When I inquired around village about a veterinarian, people became confused, because they know I don’t own a cow and people don’t use vets for kittens here. Kittens either die or they don’t; because they provide no income, they receive no resources. I finally learned of the veterinary clinic in Porto Novo, asked a friend to take us, put Sadie in her makeshift leash, and off we headed. I don’t know if you’ve ever been on a moto hurtling over uneven ground with a feisty kitten (who has been sharpening her claws on my grass mat incessantly since she arrived) in your arms, but I have, and will have the scars to prove it. The clinic experience was ridiculous (they gave her two shots which they would only tell me were for “protection”) and we made it home alive, but Sadie told me that next time she would prefer to just deal with the worms. She snubbed me for awhile but did accept my consolatory offer of dried fish.

My friend Jolene sent me a package which included, among other things, bouncy balls. Word has spread all around the village and I now have kids lined up outside my house asking to do chores for me. Toys = power. Power = laziness. I had one of them do my dishes the other night and the laundry pile is growing… This whole “taking pride in doing everything myself” mentality is getting exhausting. If you want to send something send toys. They make my life so much easier.

I just finished The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien and it was a life-changing experience. I’m going through two to three books a week right now and am in heaven.

I cook most days. On those days which are too hot/long/tiresome for me to cook, I walk to the marche and get beans from the same woman, each time. I also have a banana lady, an orange lady, and a soy cheese lady. Also a tomato/onion./garlic/black pepper lady. Each night they can be found selling their goods in the same place, by the same oil lanterns. It’s easy and comforting and stable. I am happy here. Life is real. I don’t need a treadmill because there are places to walk to. I don’t need free weights because water is heavy. I don’t need a system cleanse because everything I eat is organic, I don’t smoke and my pores are always open. I’m feeling a very natural balance for the first time in my life; the true order of things has been restored and most important of all, there is time to enjoy it.

There are twin babies in my concession. They are eleven months old. I love them. Enough said.

It’s the dry season, although with climate change nobody really knows what that means anymore. If you ask them when the rainy season starts, they will tell you when it used to. It’s throwing off the whole flow of food-production but citizens are largely unaware of the causes, and the smog in the cities remains thick.

I’m coming to the states to visit May 15-31st. Air France has me booked as Monseiur Kara Callahan. I’ll have to figure out how to fix that.