A picture I took at the orphanage in Game, near Sakete. The birds were so pretty and were obviously a couple, as they did everything together.
<---Where they make palm oil; a river used for fishing/bathing/whatever
A view of AFAP grounds; my work partners from the agency. My homologues are Jean, to the far left, and Gbewa (Bay-wuh) in the solid blue. I work most closely with Gbwea, but Jean lives in Djigbe so that might change. Marie, my supervisor and founder of AFAP, is on the far right. She is AWESOME. They all are.
A view of Djigbe and the lagoon beyond; the girls who greeted me at AFAP HQs; another view of Djigbe.
Marche! Market day. They have a market in my village every other day. When I learn the basics in Goun, which will hopefully be soon (!), I'll do most of my basic shopping there. At the bottom are Erika and I, seriously serious about our shades.
9/6/09
Highlights of my week:
-Sitting outside at the bar with Erika and suggesting we play a game of “Buy Whatever Walks by Next” after seeing a boy walk buy with several planks of wood on his head. The game was a risk because people sell all kinds of things on the street and I really didn’t want to have to explain to my maman why I was arriving home with a goat since I don’t eat meat, a baby’s dress since there are no kids in the family, or an Akon VCD when I am so clearly un-hip. Erika, however, boldly agreed, and the game was on. I volunteered to go first and lucked out; I purchased a small sack of tomatoes from a group of pre-adolescent boys who (I’m pretty sure) implied that I was drunk. Erika also was lucky. The next vendor to pass by was selling bananas. I emphasize our luck because the next boy we saw had a huge platter of what appeared to be boulders piled high atop his head. I was not and am not in the market for a new boulder.
-Almost losing the African Gamble (due to my ongoing giardiasis-yay!) while sitting at the cyber café in Songhai, running to the bathroom, and simultaneously discovering a large tear in the seat of my pants. I put this in the highlights section because of the way that I handled it: I finished my online tasks, sat at the bar and lamented/laughed about my horrible misfortune with good friends, rode my bike home, changed, and went back out. I’m becoming unwittingly talented at going with the “flow.” Hah. Sorry. This one I could have written about in “gross” detail, and it would have really “cracked” you up, however the “butt” of my jokes are usually only funny once in a full “moon,” and poop isn’t really that “funny” anyway.
All characters in the following section are purely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or places is purely coincidental and I apologize in advance if this be the case.
- Seeing my good friend Lou, who is tiny (about 60 bs) and Asian (meaning zero tolerance for alcohol) take four shots of sodabi, which is pretty much the Beninese version of moonshine. After violently lip-syncing some 90’s love ballads into his empty bottle of Beninoise beer, he danced in circles like a fiend to “I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world…” much to the amusement of host country nationals, who looked on with a mixture of curiosity and pity. After being officially cut off, he began feverishly hugging everyone oblivious enough to land in his path, danced with a small brave child, and toppled precariously about the room before we collectively decided that it was time for the night to draw to a close. Louis is now famous throughout the tri-country region for his ridiculous impersonations of a sober, functioning person when we now know the party monster lurking inside him, waiting patiently for its next opportunity to shine. (We love you, Lou).
-Playing Buy Whatever Walks by Next again, this time in another part of town where accessories tend to walk by more frequently than consumables. Erika ended up with a pair of Prada sunglasses for about $1. I purchased a belt which I will never wear for about $2. Good fun arguing over prices and again, taking the risk of buying a live cow or chicken (I would of course be purchasing its freedom, for the record).
9/10/09
Site visit is in full effect. Yesterday I was picked up at Songhai by my homologues, Jean and Gbewa, and the director of AFAP, the NGO I will be working for. At the AFAP (Association Foi a la Providence, or Association for Faith in Providence) office in Porto-Novo, they had hung printed signs along the walls and in the conference room welcoming me. I was flattered and overwhelmed. We sat down for a conference with the secretary, treasurer, director (who is called Marie and just might be the most enthusiastic, spunky, confident woman I have met) and my homologues. A homologue, by the way, is pretty much just a work partner. In this case, they also act as cultural guides and translators.
We discussed, over soy bignets, fried bananas and baobab juice, the many objectives and activities of the NGO and the role I will be playing. At least, I surmised this from the fact that I was present and was being treated as a guest of honor. In reality, I understood only a small fraction of what was being said and consequently did a lot of smiling and nodding. I do know that the NGO has animatrices in every village who conduct lessons with the residents. It starts with baby weighing. If a baby is the right weight, you talk with the mother about what she is doing and encourage her to keep doing it. If the baby is malnourished, or underweight, the mother is invited to a cooking demonstration to learn how to enrich her family’s foods with nutrient and protein dense supplements like soy and moringa. I’m quite thrilled that part of my job includes pointing out to people the economy of substituting meat with soy.
The lessons also consist of family planning discussions, specifically encouraging mothers to wait at least 2-3 years between children so that her body can recover, she can attend to her current infant properly, the family has time to save money and develop a birth plan for the next child, and resources/responsibilities are more evenly spread throughout the family. I’m very excited to being work but will have at least a couple more months of French tutoring and practice before I attempt this.
After the conference, I went to Hozin with Jean and Gbewa to meet my host family (famille d’accueil) for the evening. They were very hospitable and we had a little meeting in one of the houses for them to welcome me and for me to thank them. My room was up on a second level and I had an amazing view of the market and lagoon beyond. We went to meet the chief of the village and I kind of choked. It’s hard to speak through a translator when you know neither of the languages he speaks! Afterward we returned to my temporary room. Once alone, I immediately commenced sleeping due to exhaustion from overstimulation. I awoke to a man who I believe was trying to tell me he lived in the same house, but I wasn’t sure and told him so. He seemed upset when he left and I sat in my room and bawled, telling myself “I’m not cut out for this. I can’t do it. I’m too sensitive to the rejection I’m going to face on a daily basis for all my obvious differences here.” I called friends, got it out of my system, and made myself leave the house.
It felt good to walk in my village, even just the short distance to my host family’s home, and greet people. It boosted my confidence enough to get me through the day. Overnight, I had no idea where to go to the bathroom… THAT proved interesting. If you want the hilarious story, you have to call me.
Today, we went around to the different villages of Hozin. Hozin is actually comprised of six small villages (Hozin, Lake, Djigbe, Tokpa, Akpame, and Hondji), all quite close together. I’ll be able to bike to each of them. We met the animatrices and visited the the health centers. We went to the AFAP office in Djigbe and the orphanage next door called Tomorrow’s Children (they take in victims of child trafficking). We visited families and friends and workers and neighbors and in my memory is it all a whirlwind. In Hondji I was met with singing and dancing by about eighty women. When they finished, I introduced myself and spoke a little about the work we will do together, as well as thanked them for their hospitality. Gbewa was translating for me, thankfully, because I don’t speak Goun yet. I think I was well received, but it’s hard to tell
We spent about 8 hours going from place to place. We went to the house I will live in: it has a large living room and two bedrooms. There is no running water but there is a pipe right outside and I think others in my concession might have plumbing. There is a private latrine, which is nice. I asked if I could paint it and received permission; the living room is a cerulean color and the bedrooms are dark green. I think I need light, airy colors to reflect the sunlight and make it feel less hot! Lou has agreed to help paint. Meg, the volunteer who lived there before, has graciously left plates, Tupperware, spices, mats, buckets, silverware and other essentials. THANK YOU MEG!! She’s also coming to visit in two weeks when I officially move in.
Eventually I ended up back at my regular host family’s in Porto-Novo and here I am. Tomorrow we are going to the seige, or seat, of AFAP in a nearby village called Sakete (Saw-keh-tee). I’m utterly exhausted, completely terrified, and almost fulfilled. When I move in, find my niche, get into the village groove and learn a little local language I’ll be good to go. Looking forward to my yoga mat-- Thanks Dad and Jackie!!!!! I’ll put pics of my house up when I get the chance to take them; felt a little awkward asking to do so the first time I saw it. Taking pics is not the same here, symbolically, as it is in the US. K bye.
9/12/09
We discussed, over soy bignets, fried bananas and baobab juice, the many objectives and activities of the NGO and the role I will be playing. At least, I surmised this from the fact that I was present and was being treated as a guest of honor. In reality, I understood only a small fraction of what was being said and consequently did a lot of smiling and nodding. I do know that the NGO has animatrices in every village who conduct lessons with the residents. It starts with baby weighing. If a baby is the right weight, you talk with the mother about what she is doing and encourage her to keep doing it. If the baby is malnourished, or underweight, the mother is invited to a cooking demonstration to learn how to enrich her family’s foods with nutrient and protein dense supplements like soy and moringa. I’m quite thrilled that part of my job includes pointing out to people the economy of substituting meat with soy.
The lessons also consist of family planning discussions, specifically encouraging mothers to wait at least 2-3 years between children so that her body can recover, she can attend to her current infant properly, the family has time to save money and develop a birth plan for the next child, and resources/responsibilities are more evenly spread throughout the family. I’m very excited to being work but will have at least a couple more months of French tutoring and practice before I attempt this.
After the conference, I went to Hozin with Jean and Gbewa to meet my host family (famille d’accueil) for the evening. They were very hospitable and we had a little meeting in one of the houses for them to welcome me and for me to thank them. My room was up on a second level and I had an amazing view of the market and lagoon beyond. We went to meet the chief of the village and I kind of choked. It’s hard to speak through a translator when you know neither of the languages he speaks! Afterward we returned to my temporary room. Once alone, I immediately commenced sleeping due to exhaustion from overstimulation. I awoke to a man who I believe was trying to tell me he lived in the same house, but I wasn’t sure and told him so. He seemed upset when he left and I sat in my room and bawled, telling myself “I’m not cut out for this. I can’t do it. I’m too sensitive to the rejection I’m going to face on a daily basis for all my obvious differences here.” I called friends, got it out of my system, and made myself leave the house.
It felt good to walk in my village, even just the short distance to my host family’s home, and greet people. It boosted my confidence enough to get me through the day. Overnight, I had no idea where to go to the bathroom… THAT proved interesting. If you want the hilarious story, you have to call me.
Today, we went around to the different villages of Hozin. Hozin is actually comprised of six small villages (Hozin, Lake, Djigbe, Tokpa, Akpame, and Hondji), all quite close together. I’ll be able to bike to each of them. We met the animatrices and visited the the health centers. We went to the AFAP office in Djigbe and the orphanage next door called Tomorrow’s Children (they take in victims of child trafficking). We visited families and friends and workers and neighbors and in my memory is it all a whirlwind. In Hondji I was met with singing and dancing by about eighty women. When they finished, I introduced myself and spoke a little about the work we will do together, as well as thanked them for their hospitality. Gbewa was translating for me, thankfully, because I don’t speak Goun yet. I think I was well received, but it’s hard to tell
We spent about 8 hours going from place to place. We went to the house I will live in: it has a large living room and two bedrooms. There is no running water but there is a pipe right outside and I think others in my concession might have plumbing. There is a private latrine, which is nice. I asked if I could paint it and received permission; the living room is a cerulean color and the bedrooms are dark green. I think I need light, airy colors to reflect the sunlight and make it feel less hot! Lou has agreed to help paint. Meg, the volunteer who lived there before, has graciously left plates, Tupperware, spices, mats, buckets, silverware and other essentials. THANK YOU MEG!! She’s also coming to visit in two weeks when I officially move in.
Eventually I ended up back at my regular host family’s in Porto-Novo and here I am. Tomorrow we are going to the seige, or seat, of AFAP in a nearby village called Sakete (Saw-keh-tee). I’m utterly exhausted, completely terrified, and almost fulfilled. When I move in, find my niche, get into the village groove and learn a little local language I’ll be good to go. Looking forward to my yoga mat-- Thanks Dad and Jackie!!!!! I’ll put pics of my house up when I get the chance to take them; felt a little awkward asking to do so the first time I saw it. Taking pics is not the same here, symbolically, as it is in the US. K bye.
9/12/09
My NGO’s website, if you’re interested: http://www.afapbenin.org/
Went to the seat of the NGO yesterday in Game, near Sakete, and saw the orphanage, health center, pharmacy etc. A group of girls from the orphanage, which is for victims of child trafficking (HUGE problem here, as people sell their children when they run out of money) sang and danced for us when we arrived. I didn’t understand most of the song but “Bienvenue Dada Kaka” stood out: welcome, big sister Kara. Most of the kids here say “Kaka” because the Rs are difficult. It was quite the welcome and as always I was embarrassed to be honored in such a way. I spent time sitting in front of a women’s group not knowing what to say, then took a tour of the grounds. Gorgeous!! There’s a room there for me in case I want to stay when I’m working. Also saw some ridiculously gruesome pics of what happens when you allow microbes to eat your skin for an extended period of time and someone wants to take a pic just before you become an amputee. I’m paying very close attention to all things cutaneous, needless to say. There is a large acreage covered in trees where the girls collect firewood. It ends in a river where they draw water and catch fish. There was also a cement basin for producing palm oil; not entirely clear on the process as of yet. Deforestation is evident but not staggering in the area. The village is in a hilly, plush, beautifully green area of the countryside about an hour north of Porto Novo. It was gorgeous.
This morning I woke, excited to go pick up my swearing-in dress, and to kill time in order that I might draw out the anticipation, I dawdled, did laundry, took a little nap, talked with the family etc. At noonish, my maman’s sister asked if I wanted to go to her village with her. I said sure, because I thought we were just driving her home in Papa’s car, so I was mildly surprised when we pulled into a funeral and spent eight hours there. I wish I’d had the chance to don something more formal,
On the way home I was contemplating the next two years of my life here, thinking about my work and being excited to commence it, when I noticed the radio was playing an American song. By the way, when the station is coming scratchy, fuzzy or fade-y, they leave it, cause they’re getting receiving station, which is awesome. So Gwen Stefani came on and was puckishly pouting about a perfect world and for some reason I felt oddly comforted by her contrived, bratty voice. I found myself wondering if Gwen Stefani had had this calming effect on me while I lived in America, and decided definitively that no, she hadn’t. So why, then, was I so soothed by it now? Perhaps I have severely underrated sheer familiarity thus far in contemplating what I miss about home. Ah, there it is: I miss hating pop music. I miss having an outlet for my negative energy that doesn’t include myself or my inability to communicate or to integrate effectively yet. Thanks, Gwen, for giving me back that part of myself tonight. I hate your voice and your music. Keep up the good work!
This morning I woke, excited to go pick up my swearing-in dress, and to kill time in order that I might draw out the anticipation, I dawdled, did laundry, took a little nap, talked with the family etc. At noonish, my maman’s sister asked if I wanted to go to her village with her. I said sure, because I thought we were just driving her home in Papa’s car, so I was mildly surprised when we pulled into a funeral and spent eight hours there. I wish I’d had the chance to don something more formal,
On the way home I was contemplating the next two years of my life here, thinking about my work and being excited to commence it, when I noticed the radio was playing an American song. By the way, when the station is coming scratchy, fuzzy or fade-y, they leave it, cause they’re getting receiving station, which is awesome. So Gwen Stefani came on and was puckishly pouting about a perfect world and for some reason I felt oddly comforted by her contrived, bratty voice. I found myself wondering if Gwen Stefani had had this calming effect on me while I lived in America, and decided definitively that no, she hadn’t. So why, then, was I so soothed by it now? Perhaps I have severely underrated sheer familiarity thus far in contemplating what I miss about home. Ah, there it is: I miss hating pop music. I miss having an outlet for my negative energy that doesn’t include myself or my inability to communicate or to integrate effectively yet. Thanks, Gwen, for giving me back that part of myself tonight. I hate your voice and your music. Keep up the good work!
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