`First shirt I saw upon entering the market yesterday. There was a whole shipment from Iowa City and surrounding area. How weird is that??? First time I ever go to the yovo market in Cotonou, where all the huge bags of salvation army clothes, etc, wind up as merchandise under little shacks on the road. The first one we came to after searching for awhile for t-shirts, and they're all from Iowa. It was too weird. Scott bought one with "Iowa City Softball" on the front, and I got this one from the Hills Bank summer reading program. What a bizarre, connected feeling.Tuesday, January 26, 2010
`First shirt I saw upon entering the market yesterday. There was a whole shipment from Iowa City and surrounding area. How weird is that??? First time I ever go to the yovo market in Cotonou, where all the huge bags of salvation army clothes, etc, wind up as merchandise under little shacks on the road. The first one we came to after searching for awhile for t-shirts, and they're all from Iowa. It was too weird. Scott bought one with "Iowa City Softball" on the front, and I got this one from the Hills Bank summer reading program. What a bizarre, connected feeling.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Pictures!
Making soy cheese. The flour of soybeans is filtered through a sieve like making soymilk. Then it is boiled, then curdled using citron juice or akassa water (anything really bitter works). Then you press, cut, boil in ginger and anise sauce, then fry. It can be preserved for a few days in this way and is a good source of both protein and income.
Soy cheese making at my directrice's home. With a little more practice I'll start teaching village women how to make it.
NADINE!!! I love Nadina. She is Hannah's homologue and a Catholic nun. She is like a surrogate mother to our PSL.
The American flag at Obama Beach in Cotonou. It was tattered but made me feel patriotic. USA! USA!
At the entrance to Obama Beach, one of the only maintained beaches in Benin.
A goat: either she's extrmeely pregnant or she jsut swallowed a surfboard.
Hannah's village, Toweta. There are about 200 people descended from the same man living in fifty or so mud huts. Hannah's house is the only concrete structure in village.
The village pump in Toweta. As algae forms around the base of it, the men in village lock it up so that women can't pull water fom it until they've cleaned it. Then, the men unlock it. Did someone say "unionize?"
The gang at Christmas. Nadine, in the center, is Hannah's work partner.
The table they set up for Christmas eve dinner. It was so lovely! We ate all kinds of things.
Lyndi, I don't know if you read my blog or not, but this one's for you. I never saw the antlers again. (Lyndi sent me antlers in a care package and they now live on a convent in --truly-- the middle of nowhere).
Katie, myself and Hannah with our Christmas presents from Kim. Mine was crossword puzzles wrapped in Cosmo magazine paper. WooChristmaswoo!
Happy Hannukah! Matzah Ball soup, Latkehs and appley mush stuff that was DELICIOUS! Hannah and Sarah cooked all day. Kim and I showed up with some bottles of wine, just in time for dinner. Woohannuhakwoo!
I just got two packages: one from my uncle Dave and one from my Dad. Also got one from Aunt Laurie a couple weeks ago. Thanks soooo much everyone! I'm really excited to watch the movies from uncle. I can also buy them here from Nigerians. Totally legit. I'm good to go as far as hair ties, bobby pins, toiletries, etc. I have actually managed to search out spots to find everything I need here, but there are a couple of things I want that aren't available: real coffee (I think there is something like a reuseable camping filter?) and good vitamins. Vitamins don't last long here though because of the heat and moisture so it's a tricky thing. However, the ones they give us are tiny little things with little to no actual vitamins in them. Real coffee would be amazing though. After six months of Nescafe instant coffee. . .
Everything else is still going well. Just got done with a two week IST in Porto Novo. It was semi-productive and mildly interesting but I'm glad to be back at post. I missed my concession. Went to see the Chef du village to discuss starting formation with the women there but he wasn't there. I learned from a neighbor last night why the relationship between my NGO and village deteriorated... AFAP was doing microfinancing with womens' groups there and in short, the women were failing to pay back their money on time so AFAP stopped loaning it to them. The women, in retaliation, decided to stop coming to baby weighings, also run by AFAP. It all comes down to the franc. So, I'm going to try and get things back on track with the baby weighings and health sessions, but I'm staying away from the money stuff. I'll leave that for a SED volunteer. Going to talk to the Chef du village and Chef du arrondissement to get some input and support. Wish me luck!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Community Study
Community Study: Djigbé/Hozin
RCH PCV CALLAHAN Kara
History of Djigbé/Hozin
(As told to CALLAHAN Kara by BOCO Vitale)
In the middle of the 18th century, three brothers from a village called “Djigbé” in the Adjatado region (near the border of Togo), dissatisfied with the current political state of their village, set out to form a new settlement to the southeast. On their trek, they came to a marshy area that was impassable and called it “Agba Bodji,” meaning “after the great swamp” (the name has since been changed to the french pronunciation “avagboji”). Due to the undesirably wet conditions for settling, the brothers moved on.
The brothers came to another, low-lying area that was covered with snails, snail eggs and snail shells. Wênon, the oldest brother, liked the place and decided to settle there. He named it “Hozin,” meaning “of snails,” but the other two brothers were not as enchanted with it and decided to continue their search. After hiking uphill for about a mile, they came to a large, dry clearing. They named the clearing “Agbagbadji,” meaning “open air.” Ganwa Kponnon, the youngest brother, settled there are founded a vodun center which remains there today, albeit its high walls are only open to a select few. Agbagbadji is in the center of Djigbé and is the namesake of its quartier.
The middle brother, Sinla Madjaholou, traveled slightly farther and founded “Madjavi,” a quartier known today as “Madogon.” Together, the two brothers named their new village “Djigbé,” due to the geographical similarities with their home village. Over the next several decades, many others joined the settlement at Djigbé and the village grew in size. After the turn of the century the village split politically and another village was formed nearby called “Lakéd,” meaning “safe over here.” The village is now known as “Laké.”
The arrondissement came to be known as “Hozin” because when it was determined that a localized government structure was necessary, no one in Djigbé volunteered their land or resources for the project. Those in Hozin did, however, and the arrondissement came to be named after the village. In spite of this, the CEG is named after and located in Djigbé, and the citizens here are very proud of their village.
Places of Interest
The village of Djigbé and its surrounding communities contain numerous sacred sites, including the Sacred Forest of Bèmbé, which can be seen from the road between Bèmbé and Hozin. There are many, many fetishes for various Vodun gods, such as the statue of Heviossa in quartier Gbali, a tribute to the god of thunder, or the justice fetish called “Ogou” (“Gun” in Yoruba). There are also statues depicting commonly held beliefs, such as the statue of two women and a panther. This depicts the belief that if a woman practices infidelity, she will be terrorized by images of dangerous animals both night and day. Nearby there is a vodun fetish house. There are numerous Zangbeto houses in Djigbé, and the Zangbeto in Madogon patrols every night at 23:00 (unless there is a fête). There are over twenty quartiers in Djigbé.
Community Life
No one knows precisely the population of the villages or the arrondissement, as usually the only official census taken is during election season, and then only registered voters aged eighteen and older are taken into account. In 2002 a non-election census was taken which put the total population of Djigbe at 2,816, 1,317 being men and 1,499 being women. The average family had 3.6 children and the total population was 10,076. The average family consists of a mother, father, and four to five children, but this familiar structure becomes muddled when one considers that most men in Benin have two, three, or several wives. Djigbé is no exception and the wealthiest man in town is rumored to have over forty children by a dozen wives. People reside in either cement or mud brick homes. Electricity has been available in the village for about ten years and while most homes have it, there remain many which do not. The system of counters is very political and can be confusing, as many families often hook themselves up to the same counter and it is not uncommon to purchase long lengths of cable to connect a house to a preferable counter, even if it is across town.
If a general issue requiring intervention arises, community members can talk to the chef du village, the chef d’arrondissement in Hozin, or a zangbeto. If a PCV living in Djigbé had a problem, it would be advisable to discuss with their homologue(s), proprietor, work contacts, or whoever else could help them solve it. Community members are very concerned if someone needs help and are always willing to do what they can for that person (this probably applies even more to PCVs than to others).
There is a community development organization, Association de Developpement de Djigbé et Laké (ADDL) which assists with many community projects, including the building of the CEG in Djigbé and providing financial assistance for the maternité et centre de sante there. There are also many NGOs in the surrounding communities which provide assistance in the form of community projects. One such example is Tomorrow’s Children, an orphanage in Djigbé funded by UNICEF, which takes in children in difficult situations and provides vocational training to supplement their formal educations. Borne Fonden is another example of an NGO in the arrondissement which aids mothers and children affected by malnutrition and poverty. It is based in Hozin but works in all six villages of the arrondissement.
The community of Djigbé is affiliated with many religious traditions. Of the Christians, there are Catholics, Evangelicals and Celestials. There are many Muslims, with a mosque at the center of town which can be heard sounding the call to prayer throughout the day. The original spiritual persuasion, Vodun, persists through and has been incorporated into these more modern (to Benin) religions. Belief in witchcraft is very common and is attributed to almost all major events, good or bad. Sorcery is usually blamed for deaths, in addition to (but also secondary to) underlying medical causes. For example, a few years ago a baby choked and suffocated while being force-fed by its mother, but because gavage is a culturally acceptable practice, the death was blamed on witchcraft. The practice of gavage is extremely widespread in Djigbé and there is no stigma attached to it, so sensibilizations aimed at behavior-change would make an excellent primary project for a PCV.
Feeding practices aside, there are also several major holidays which are celebrated in Djigbé. Christmas, New Year, Easter and Tabaski are the big ones. There is a vodun holiday on January tenth celebrated with various displays of magic and followed by a fête (almost all holidays, weddings, funerals, graduations, etc. are celebrated with large fêtes. Deaths, in particular, are marked by loud parades and singing). There are also periodic ceremonies held for other voduns and these are celebrated with dancing and fêtes as well.
Transportation
There are several roads connecting the communities Hozin to one another, but only two main roads in from Porto-Novo. One comes in diagonally from Ouando and goes through Vakon, and one runs perpendicular to the goudron to Porto-Novo. Both are generally passable all year, though immediately following a few days of rain, more time than usual is spent dodging giant puddles. Since motos are the main more of transport, people usually wait until the road is dry or close to it before making the attempt.
Most families in village own at least one moto. There are several motos owned by the families in my concession and because the road is the main byway to Hozin, Hondji and Dangbo, it is very easy to find a zemidjan most days. Sundays and holidays may take longer, but if one is patient, a moto will almost always come within fifteen minutes or so. There is also a chauffeur in town, Ishmael, who goes directly to Cotonou almost every morning, increasing accessibility and cost efficiency. Porto-Novo is about a ten minute moto ride and the cost from Chez Kponou (volunteer’s house) to marché Ouando is 200 cfa, making a variety of foods easily accessible as well.
Safety
The only thing a volunteer in Djigbé could do to increase his or her safety is to watch out for the zangbeto at night. As a woman, I have been warned many times about the potential danger of being caught by the zangbeto. Common sense would indicate locking doors when away or asleep, notifying families in the concession of absences, and going out at night in the company of someone village-savvy. There isn’t much random violence in Djigbé. A few years ago, some students who had come to the area to study agriculture began to have sex with many of the village schoolgirls. When they picked the wrong girl, her particularly aggressive boyfriend decided to get some friends together and show the three newcomers a lesson. There was a large fight and some people were beaten so badly the were hospitalized for weeks. Word spread quickly and after a week, police arrived, taking the aggressors to prison. An incident like this hasn’t happened since.
Violence (as the average American would define it) against children is common but this is violence from an American perspective. Women routinely slap their children, most commonly in the face and head, and hit them with “switches.” This practice may be appalling to an American but is commonplace here, much like gavage. A potential secondary project would be child-rearing practice sensibilizations with the mothers with an emphasis on behavior modification techniques (verbally counting down to punishment to give the child time to adapt his behavior instead of delivering punishment without warning, implementing both negative and positive reinforcement, using reinforcers in placement of punishment, etc). However, the challenge lies in changing perceptions about the harm of physical violence on a child’s psyche, which means shifting a cultural belief with possibly very deep roots.
There is a gerdarmerie in Dangbo, not far from here, and occasionally police pick-up trucks can be seen patrolling the road into town from Porto-Novo. People in Djigbé generally feel safe and are satisfied with the level of protection afforded them by the gendarmerie and zangbeto, though some women have confided that they have more fear than admiration for the zangbeto.
Water and Sanitation
There is a pipe in the volunteer’s concession, chez Kponou, which brings “treated” water from Porto-Novo. The volunteer pays 25 cfa per bidon and the robinet has a lock on it to ensure that others don’t steal water. Because this water is supposedly clean, people do not boil it before drinking it, though recently someone had typhoid fever and diarrhea is not uncommon among children or adults. There are several pumps throughout the village, one in each of the twenty or so quartiers. People use the same water for drinking as for chores. Because the water comes from a variety of sources (wells, pumps, pipes), it is always available. If a pump were to stop working, those who normally use it could go to a pump in another quartier. Water is almost always 25 cfa for a large bowl. People pay before drawing water, and the money goes to the SB (same as for electricity). No one is forbidden from using any of the water sources as long as they pay in advance.
There are latrines in village but they are all private and only some houses have them. Many conessions do not, and these people defecate in the nearby bush. People urinate either in the bush or in the concession. Animals, especially goats and chickens, tend to roam freely throughout the day but some are tied up and let loose to feed or graze only during certain hours.
There is an area where almost everyone puts their trash, in a field right outside the village, and every so often when it gets full, someone sets fire to it. Some people make small, personal trash piles in or around their houses and burn these regularly as well. They burn all types of trash, from natural organic material to plastic (water sachés and black marché sachés). The community is generally clean. People are meticulous about sweeping the yards and roads, so trash is well contained and not of particular concern.
Food and Supplies
There is a marché every night in the village center, though, if someone needs something during the day, everyone knows where the venders live and can just go to their house to purchase something. At Djigbé’s nightly marché, one can purchase soy cheese, tomatoes, onions, pimante, bread, garlic, black pepper, bananas, oranges, pineapples, akassa, maggi cubes, eggs, ice, pasta, rice and a variety of prepared foods. There is also a woman who sells household things like toilet paper, batteries and soap. At nearby Ouando, a person can find literally anything, and though Ouando marché is technically every two days, there are permanent “stores” there that are open every day. There is also a large marché in Hozin every two days, a nightly marché in Vakon as well as a daytime marche in Vakon every two days. Hozin and Vakon alternate and many women go to both of them to vend their goods.
There are boutiques open all the time in village as well where people can find a variety of items ranging from margerine and liquor to hair accessories and beads. There is a season of low production but not a specific season when people are hungrier than normal. There is always food available, it just varies by season.
Income/Business
People work a variety of jobs in the comminuty. Men are menusiers, farmers and moto drivers. They sell cell phone credit, work in buvettes and transport goods. Women prepare food and do transformations for profit, clean their homes and concessions, cook for their families and do most of the other chores associated with household maintenance. They are also responsible for feeding, cleaning and entertaining their children. Some are couturiers or coiffeuses. There are also artisans who make baskets and mats and these can be found in Djigbé’s marché or at Hozin or Ouando.
There is a microfinance organization in Dangbo called CLCAM which distributes loans to women in surrounding areas, and there is a women’s group which meets here monthly to discuss loan arrangements (who is responsible for who in the case of non-payment, for example).
Mais, patate, manioc, beans, rice, cassava, are the main crops are raised in and around the community for both profit and sustenance. Many of the products are transformed and sold at marché. There are mills for processing mais and dry products, and still other mills for processing pimante and vegetables for sauce. There are goats, rabbits and chickens raised for both consumption and profit, cows and pigs for selling at market. In nearby villages Hozin and Vakon, fish are raised for both consumption and sale. The fishery in Vakon is large and well-known in this area. There is a bakery in Hozin which produces a lot of bread for the area.
Schools
There is a CEG (College d’Enseignment, secondary school for first cycle students working on their BPCs) in Djigbé, and primary schools in Hozin, Laké, Akpamé, Djigbé, Tokpa, Hondji. The CEG for second cycle students working on their BACs is located in Dangbo, another arrondissement (and village) in the same commune. Students take bicycles or zemidjans from other villages to attend school there, or, if their families have enough money, take personal motos. There are also two primary schools, one public and one private.
The student to teacher ratio is high at all levels. One young women in her second cycle reported that in her class there are forty-four males and four females studying for their BACs. Students can choose what to specialize in after earning their BPC and they have different teachers for each course (subject).
People stop going to school because they become pregnant, as evidenced by the extreme gender gap in later levels of secondary school. They also quit because of finances (twelve thousand cfa for tuition in second cycle; seventeen mille for first cycle, not including books and transportation). Some students just grow tired of studying and are eager to start working and earning money, or find the rigorous coursework too demanding.
Recreation
There are several recreational activities for residents of Djigbé. Children play everywhere in the village and have toys made from spare auto parts and sticks. There are school sports teams in handball, football and “grimpe” (rope-climbing). There is a soccer field in nearby Laké and another at the primary school in Djigbé. There is a handball court behind Tomorrow’s Children in Djigbé which can also be used for basketball. Both men and women play sports but it is primarily a male activity because women have too much to do at home and less free time, but it a requirement that students take a course in physical education and offer options such as gymnastics and tennis. There are not opportunities for recreation in the house but people do spend a lot of time walking around greeting each other. During school vacations, families take their children to the beaches in Ouidah or Cotonou.
Abandoned Children
A child is considered an orphan in Benin if either parent dies. Because of the structure of the familial economic system, if the father dies, there is no money to pay for food or clothing for the children and if the mother dies, there is no one to look after the children or home. For this reason, if either parent dies, the remaining family must almost always move from the home to live with relatives or, worse yet, disperse to lighten the load on those picking up the slack.
There is an orphanage here in Djigbé, mentioned above. Tomorrow’s Children takes in local orphans, who are generally regarded as a drag on society’s resources and of little value to anyone. If an orphan goes to live with another family or relatives, they may be regarded as equal with the other children or treated like a domestique. It is not uncommon for orphans to experience severe maltreatment, including receiving less food and clothing and carrying a disproportionate amount of the household workload. The orphans at Tomorrow’s Children are given the opportunity to learn trades such as photography, weaving, tailoring and hairstyling but are not provided the resources to attend public school.
Children with disabilities
There is a school for the blind and mute in Porto-Novo but it is doubtful that the average family could afford to send their child there. Instead, a child with a physical disability such as deafness would most likely stay at home with her mother during her school years, and either marry or live out her years doing chores without ever having learned to express herself. Physically disabled people are largely left to their own devices, as rehabilitation and special accommodations are reserved for people of means. I have not seen adaptive equipment such as wheelchairs being used in village.
Mental disabilities are another issue entirely. I have asked several people what services the village provides for children who can’t attend normal classes, giving examples of children with learning disabilities, mental retardation or mental illness and brain injury. No one I have talked to has ever heard of any of these things. Rather than thinking of a child being born with an extra chromosome as disabled, they think of him as cursed. Often it is thought that the child is bringing bad luck into the world or that the mother committed a grave mistake while pregnant. I did not find a definitive answer as to what happens to these children but I have not met anyone who has heard of down syndrome or mental retardation to the best of my knowledge.
There is a man who roams the street in an area near my home. People say he used to have a wife and kids, but that he went crazy one day after eating something cursed by a sorceress or sorcerer. The wife and children moved to Cotonou and the man still lives here. When I asked who cares for him now, I was told “No one, but his wife sends clothes back for him sometimes.” People feel a sense of obligation to family members with disabilities, but that only goes so far. The rest is up to the community, and given the ultimate lack of resources for people with disabilities, often falls far short of adequate care.
Violence
Violence is defined by the community as random acts of aggression committed against innocent victims. Breaking and entering is considered violence; hitting one’s child is not. It is not so much an issue of the physical act committed as it is an issue of who committed it against whom and whether they had that right. The fight mentioned above took place four years ago and large-scale violence is rare in village, however, violence as I personally define it occurs here quite often. People hit children and animals, who often can’t seem to ascertain the cause of the punishment.
If a woman is the victim of sexual assault she can go to one of the hospitals in Porto-Novo or the Centre de Santé at Hozin. There is a maternité in Djigbé staffed only by women, which is open twenty-four hours a day and could assist a recent victim in getting the help she needs. Rape is not commonly reported in Djigbé or in the surrounding communities. It is also not common to see a man hitting a woman here in village. Many people report never having seen this happen.
Host Structure
Although Djigbé has a maternité and a health clinic, and Hozin has the Centre de Santé d’Arrondissement, my host structure is an ONG. I have been in contact with the health centers in my area but will use this space to discuss the goals, projects, services and activities of my ONG, AFAP.
Association Foi á la Providence (AFAP) is an ONG founded in 1987 and officially registered as an ONG in 1994. The objectives include improving living conditions in rural communities, specifically: promoting maternal and infant health, reducing the prevalence of infant and child malnutrition, educating women on the preparation of nutritional meals (enriched foods), promoting the education of orphans, increasing literacy, reducing the prevalence of infectious diseases including HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted infections (STIs), contributing to the quality of life of the population, preventing desertion of children by their parents, promoting revenue-generating activities among rural women and facilitating women’s access to microfinancing.
Community-based services offered by AFAP include tracking pregnant women and nursing babies; tracking the growth of infants and children; recuperating malnourished children; tracking and caring for orphans and vulnerable children; transforming and selling soy-based foods and goods; and literacy programs. Microfinance objectives include teaching short-term revenue-generating activities; transformation of agricultural products; purchase, storage and sale of agricultural products and plant and animal elevage. Right now at the headquarters in Gamé women’s groups are transforming the mais harvest.
My specified duties within the child and maternity health program include weighing babies and children aged zero to five; hosting talk sessions, cooking demonstrations and nutritional recuperations; and holding sensibilisations infectious diseases. Related activities include transforming soy and moringa into useable products, teaching conservation of agricultural produce and installing family gardens. Target groups include children under five ( of which AFAP weighs about 700 each month), orphans, women within reproductive age, the poor and women’s groupements. AFAP serves and estimated 1,700 rural women in 160 groups in sixty villages. Twenty-one of the 407 children taken into AFAP’s charge have tested positive for HIV/AIDS.
There are some difficulties regarding these objectives encountered in a regular basis, including limited access to certain villages during the rainy season, insufficient finances to start new women’s AGR groups, lack of subsidy for orphans including food and sanitation; and lack of means of transporting animatrices (ACs sometimes work in villages far from their own and need at least a bicycle but ideally a motorbike to conduct their programs effectively and efficiently). In reality, funding or the lack thereof affects almost every project undertaken by AFAP and remains a central concern for ours and every other ONG striving to serve the needs of a developing rural population.
RCH PCV CALLAHAN Kara
History of Djigbé/Hozin
(As told to CALLAHAN Kara by BOCO Vitale)
In the middle of the 18th century, three brothers from a village called “Djigbé” in the Adjatado region (near the border of Togo), dissatisfied with the current political state of their village, set out to form a new settlement to the southeast. On their trek, they came to a marshy area that was impassable and called it “Agba Bodji,” meaning “after the great swamp” (the name has since been changed to the french pronunciation “avagboji”). Due to the undesirably wet conditions for settling, the brothers moved on.
The brothers came to another, low-lying area that was covered with snails, snail eggs and snail shells. Wênon, the oldest brother, liked the place and decided to settle there. He named it “Hozin,” meaning “of snails,” but the other two brothers were not as enchanted with it and decided to continue their search. After hiking uphill for about a mile, they came to a large, dry clearing. They named the clearing “Agbagbadji,” meaning “open air.” Ganwa Kponnon, the youngest brother, settled there are founded a vodun center which remains there today, albeit its high walls are only open to a select few. Agbagbadji is in the center of Djigbé and is the namesake of its quartier.
The middle brother, Sinla Madjaholou, traveled slightly farther and founded “Madjavi,” a quartier known today as “Madogon.” Together, the two brothers named their new village “Djigbé,” due to the geographical similarities with their home village. Over the next several decades, many others joined the settlement at Djigbé and the village grew in size. After the turn of the century the village split politically and another village was formed nearby called “Lakéd,” meaning “safe over here.” The village is now known as “Laké.”
The arrondissement came to be known as “Hozin” because when it was determined that a localized government structure was necessary, no one in Djigbé volunteered their land or resources for the project. Those in Hozin did, however, and the arrondissement came to be named after the village. In spite of this, the CEG is named after and located in Djigbé, and the citizens here are very proud of their village.
Places of Interest
The village of Djigbé and its surrounding communities contain numerous sacred sites, including the Sacred Forest of Bèmbé, which can be seen from the road between Bèmbé and Hozin. There are many, many fetishes for various Vodun gods, such as the statue of Heviossa in quartier Gbali, a tribute to the god of thunder, or the justice fetish called “Ogou” (“Gun” in Yoruba). There are also statues depicting commonly held beliefs, such as the statue of two women and a panther. This depicts the belief that if a woman practices infidelity, she will be terrorized by images of dangerous animals both night and day. Nearby there is a vodun fetish house. There are numerous Zangbeto houses in Djigbé, and the Zangbeto in Madogon patrols every night at 23:00 (unless there is a fête). There are over twenty quartiers in Djigbé.
Community Life
No one knows precisely the population of the villages or the arrondissement, as usually the only official census taken is during election season, and then only registered voters aged eighteen and older are taken into account. In 2002 a non-election census was taken which put the total population of Djigbe at 2,816, 1,317 being men and 1,499 being women. The average family had 3.6 children and the total population was 10,076. The average family consists of a mother, father, and four to five children, but this familiar structure becomes muddled when one considers that most men in Benin have two, three, or several wives. Djigbé is no exception and the wealthiest man in town is rumored to have over forty children by a dozen wives. People reside in either cement or mud brick homes. Electricity has been available in the village for about ten years and while most homes have it, there remain many which do not. The system of counters is very political and can be confusing, as many families often hook themselves up to the same counter and it is not uncommon to purchase long lengths of cable to connect a house to a preferable counter, even if it is across town.
If a general issue requiring intervention arises, community members can talk to the chef du village, the chef d’arrondissement in Hozin, or a zangbeto. If a PCV living in Djigbé had a problem, it would be advisable to discuss with their homologue(s), proprietor, work contacts, or whoever else could help them solve it. Community members are very concerned if someone needs help and are always willing to do what they can for that person (this probably applies even more to PCVs than to others).
There is a community development organization, Association de Developpement de Djigbé et Laké (ADDL) which assists with many community projects, including the building of the CEG in Djigbé and providing financial assistance for the maternité et centre de sante there. There are also many NGOs in the surrounding communities which provide assistance in the form of community projects. One such example is Tomorrow’s Children, an orphanage in Djigbé funded by UNICEF, which takes in children in difficult situations and provides vocational training to supplement their formal educations. Borne Fonden is another example of an NGO in the arrondissement which aids mothers and children affected by malnutrition and poverty. It is based in Hozin but works in all six villages of the arrondissement.
The community of Djigbé is affiliated with many religious traditions. Of the Christians, there are Catholics, Evangelicals and Celestials. There are many Muslims, with a mosque at the center of town which can be heard sounding the call to prayer throughout the day. The original spiritual persuasion, Vodun, persists through and has been incorporated into these more modern (to Benin) religions. Belief in witchcraft is very common and is attributed to almost all major events, good or bad. Sorcery is usually blamed for deaths, in addition to (but also secondary to) underlying medical causes. For example, a few years ago a baby choked and suffocated while being force-fed by its mother, but because gavage is a culturally acceptable practice, the death was blamed on witchcraft. The practice of gavage is extremely widespread in Djigbé and there is no stigma attached to it, so sensibilizations aimed at behavior-change would make an excellent primary project for a PCV.
Feeding practices aside, there are also several major holidays which are celebrated in Djigbé. Christmas, New Year, Easter and Tabaski are the big ones. There is a vodun holiday on January tenth celebrated with various displays of magic and followed by a fête (almost all holidays, weddings, funerals, graduations, etc. are celebrated with large fêtes. Deaths, in particular, are marked by loud parades and singing). There are also periodic ceremonies held for other voduns and these are celebrated with dancing and fêtes as well.
Transportation
There are several roads connecting the communities Hozin to one another, but only two main roads in from Porto-Novo. One comes in diagonally from Ouando and goes through Vakon, and one runs perpendicular to the goudron to Porto-Novo. Both are generally passable all year, though immediately following a few days of rain, more time than usual is spent dodging giant puddles. Since motos are the main more of transport, people usually wait until the road is dry or close to it before making the attempt.
Most families in village own at least one moto. There are several motos owned by the families in my concession and because the road is the main byway to Hozin, Hondji and Dangbo, it is very easy to find a zemidjan most days. Sundays and holidays may take longer, but if one is patient, a moto will almost always come within fifteen minutes or so. There is also a chauffeur in town, Ishmael, who goes directly to Cotonou almost every morning, increasing accessibility and cost efficiency. Porto-Novo is about a ten minute moto ride and the cost from Chez Kponou (volunteer’s house) to marché Ouando is 200 cfa, making a variety of foods easily accessible as well.
Safety
The only thing a volunteer in Djigbé could do to increase his or her safety is to watch out for the zangbeto at night. As a woman, I have been warned many times about the potential danger of being caught by the zangbeto. Common sense would indicate locking doors when away or asleep, notifying families in the concession of absences, and going out at night in the company of someone village-savvy. There isn’t much random violence in Djigbé. A few years ago, some students who had come to the area to study agriculture began to have sex with many of the village schoolgirls. When they picked the wrong girl, her particularly aggressive boyfriend decided to get some friends together and show the three newcomers a lesson. There was a large fight and some people were beaten so badly the were hospitalized for weeks. Word spread quickly and after a week, police arrived, taking the aggressors to prison. An incident like this hasn’t happened since.
Violence (as the average American would define it) against children is common but this is violence from an American perspective. Women routinely slap their children, most commonly in the face and head, and hit them with “switches.” This practice may be appalling to an American but is commonplace here, much like gavage. A potential secondary project would be child-rearing practice sensibilizations with the mothers with an emphasis on behavior modification techniques (verbally counting down to punishment to give the child time to adapt his behavior instead of delivering punishment without warning, implementing both negative and positive reinforcement, using reinforcers in placement of punishment, etc). However, the challenge lies in changing perceptions about the harm of physical violence on a child’s psyche, which means shifting a cultural belief with possibly very deep roots.
There is a gerdarmerie in Dangbo, not far from here, and occasionally police pick-up trucks can be seen patrolling the road into town from Porto-Novo. People in Djigbé generally feel safe and are satisfied with the level of protection afforded them by the gendarmerie and zangbeto, though some women have confided that they have more fear than admiration for the zangbeto.
Water and Sanitation
There is a pipe in the volunteer’s concession, chez Kponou, which brings “treated” water from Porto-Novo. The volunteer pays 25 cfa per bidon and the robinet has a lock on it to ensure that others don’t steal water. Because this water is supposedly clean, people do not boil it before drinking it, though recently someone had typhoid fever and diarrhea is not uncommon among children or adults. There are several pumps throughout the village, one in each of the twenty or so quartiers. People use the same water for drinking as for chores. Because the water comes from a variety of sources (wells, pumps, pipes), it is always available. If a pump were to stop working, those who normally use it could go to a pump in another quartier. Water is almost always 25 cfa for a large bowl. People pay before drawing water, and the money goes to the SB (same as for electricity). No one is forbidden from using any of the water sources as long as they pay in advance.
There are latrines in village but they are all private and only some houses have them. Many conessions do not, and these people defecate in the nearby bush. People urinate either in the bush or in the concession. Animals, especially goats and chickens, tend to roam freely throughout the day but some are tied up and let loose to feed or graze only during certain hours.
There is an area where almost everyone puts their trash, in a field right outside the village, and every so often when it gets full, someone sets fire to it. Some people make small, personal trash piles in or around their houses and burn these regularly as well. They burn all types of trash, from natural organic material to plastic (water sachés and black marché sachés). The community is generally clean. People are meticulous about sweeping the yards and roads, so trash is well contained and not of particular concern.
Food and Supplies
There is a marché every night in the village center, though, if someone needs something during the day, everyone knows where the venders live and can just go to their house to purchase something. At Djigbé’s nightly marché, one can purchase soy cheese, tomatoes, onions, pimante, bread, garlic, black pepper, bananas, oranges, pineapples, akassa, maggi cubes, eggs, ice, pasta, rice and a variety of prepared foods. There is also a woman who sells household things like toilet paper, batteries and soap. At nearby Ouando, a person can find literally anything, and though Ouando marché is technically every two days, there are permanent “stores” there that are open every day. There is also a large marché in Hozin every two days, a nightly marché in Vakon as well as a daytime marche in Vakon every two days. Hozin and Vakon alternate and many women go to both of them to vend their goods.
There are boutiques open all the time in village as well where people can find a variety of items ranging from margerine and liquor to hair accessories and beads. There is a season of low production but not a specific season when people are hungrier than normal. There is always food available, it just varies by season.
Income/Business
People work a variety of jobs in the comminuty. Men are menusiers, farmers and moto drivers. They sell cell phone credit, work in buvettes and transport goods. Women prepare food and do transformations for profit, clean their homes and concessions, cook for their families and do most of the other chores associated with household maintenance. They are also responsible for feeding, cleaning and entertaining their children. Some are couturiers or coiffeuses. There are also artisans who make baskets and mats and these can be found in Djigbé’s marché or at Hozin or Ouando.
There is a microfinance organization in Dangbo called CLCAM which distributes loans to women in surrounding areas, and there is a women’s group which meets here monthly to discuss loan arrangements (who is responsible for who in the case of non-payment, for example).
Mais, patate, manioc, beans, rice, cassava, are the main crops are raised in and around the community for both profit and sustenance. Many of the products are transformed and sold at marché. There are mills for processing mais and dry products, and still other mills for processing pimante and vegetables for sauce. There are goats, rabbits and chickens raised for both consumption and profit, cows and pigs for selling at market. In nearby villages Hozin and Vakon, fish are raised for both consumption and sale. The fishery in Vakon is large and well-known in this area. There is a bakery in Hozin which produces a lot of bread for the area.
Schools
There is a CEG (College d’Enseignment, secondary school for first cycle students working on their BPCs) in Djigbé, and primary schools in Hozin, Laké, Akpamé, Djigbé, Tokpa, Hondji. The CEG for second cycle students working on their BACs is located in Dangbo, another arrondissement (and village) in the same commune. Students take bicycles or zemidjans from other villages to attend school there, or, if their families have enough money, take personal motos. There are also two primary schools, one public and one private.
The student to teacher ratio is high at all levels. One young women in her second cycle reported that in her class there are forty-four males and four females studying for their BACs. Students can choose what to specialize in after earning their BPC and they have different teachers for each course (subject).
People stop going to school because they become pregnant, as evidenced by the extreme gender gap in later levels of secondary school. They also quit because of finances (twelve thousand cfa for tuition in second cycle; seventeen mille for first cycle, not including books and transportation). Some students just grow tired of studying and are eager to start working and earning money, or find the rigorous coursework too demanding.
Recreation
There are several recreational activities for residents of Djigbé. Children play everywhere in the village and have toys made from spare auto parts and sticks. There are school sports teams in handball, football and “grimpe” (rope-climbing). There is a soccer field in nearby Laké and another at the primary school in Djigbé. There is a handball court behind Tomorrow’s Children in Djigbé which can also be used for basketball. Both men and women play sports but it is primarily a male activity because women have too much to do at home and less free time, but it a requirement that students take a course in physical education and offer options such as gymnastics and tennis. There are not opportunities for recreation in the house but people do spend a lot of time walking around greeting each other. During school vacations, families take their children to the beaches in Ouidah or Cotonou.
Abandoned Children
A child is considered an orphan in Benin if either parent dies. Because of the structure of the familial economic system, if the father dies, there is no money to pay for food or clothing for the children and if the mother dies, there is no one to look after the children or home. For this reason, if either parent dies, the remaining family must almost always move from the home to live with relatives or, worse yet, disperse to lighten the load on those picking up the slack.
There is an orphanage here in Djigbé, mentioned above. Tomorrow’s Children takes in local orphans, who are generally regarded as a drag on society’s resources and of little value to anyone. If an orphan goes to live with another family or relatives, they may be regarded as equal with the other children or treated like a domestique. It is not uncommon for orphans to experience severe maltreatment, including receiving less food and clothing and carrying a disproportionate amount of the household workload. The orphans at Tomorrow’s Children are given the opportunity to learn trades such as photography, weaving, tailoring and hairstyling but are not provided the resources to attend public school.
Children with disabilities
There is a school for the blind and mute in Porto-Novo but it is doubtful that the average family could afford to send their child there. Instead, a child with a physical disability such as deafness would most likely stay at home with her mother during her school years, and either marry or live out her years doing chores without ever having learned to express herself. Physically disabled people are largely left to their own devices, as rehabilitation and special accommodations are reserved for people of means. I have not seen adaptive equipment such as wheelchairs being used in village.
Mental disabilities are another issue entirely. I have asked several people what services the village provides for children who can’t attend normal classes, giving examples of children with learning disabilities, mental retardation or mental illness and brain injury. No one I have talked to has ever heard of any of these things. Rather than thinking of a child being born with an extra chromosome as disabled, they think of him as cursed. Often it is thought that the child is bringing bad luck into the world or that the mother committed a grave mistake while pregnant. I did not find a definitive answer as to what happens to these children but I have not met anyone who has heard of down syndrome or mental retardation to the best of my knowledge.
There is a man who roams the street in an area near my home. People say he used to have a wife and kids, but that he went crazy one day after eating something cursed by a sorceress or sorcerer. The wife and children moved to Cotonou and the man still lives here. When I asked who cares for him now, I was told “No one, but his wife sends clothes back for him sometimes.” People feel a sense of obligation to family members with disabilities, but that only goes so far. The rest is up to the community, and given the ultimate lack of resources for people with disabilities, often falls far short of adequate care.
Violence
Violence is defined by the community as random acts of aggression committed against innocent victims. Breaking and entering is considered violence; hitting one’s child is not. It is not so much an issue of the physical act committed as it is an issue of who committed it against whom and whether they had that right. The fight mentioned above took place four years ago and large-scale violence is rare in village, however, violence as I personally define it occurs here quite often. People hit children and animals, who often can’t seem to ascertain the cause of the punishment.
If a woman is the victim of sexual assault she can go to one of the hospitals in Porto-Novo or the Centre de Santé at Hozin. There is a maternité in Djigbé staffed only by women, which is open twenty-four hours a day and could assist a recent victim in getting the help she needs. Rape is not commonly reported in Djigbé or in the surrounding communities. It is also not common to see a man hitting a woman here in village. Many people report never having seen this happen.
Host Structure
Although Djigbé has a maternité and a health clinic, and Hozin has the Centre de Santé d’Arrondissement, my host structure is an ONG. I have been in contact with the health centers in my area but will use this space to discuss the goals, projects, services and activities of my ONG, AFAP.
Association Foi á la Providence (AFAP) is an ONG founded in 1987 and officially registered as an ONG in 1994. The objectives include improving living conditions in rural communities, specifically: promoting maternal and infant health, reducing the prevalence of infant and child malnutrition, educating women on the preparation of nutritional meals (enriched foods), promoting the education of orphans, increasing literacy, reducing the prevalence of infectious diseases including HIV/AIDS and other sexually transmitted infections (STIs), contributing to the quality of life of the population, preventing desertion of children by their parents, promoting revenue-generating activities among rural women and facilitating women’s access to microfinancing.
Community-based services offered by AFAP include tracking pregnant women and nursing babies; tracking the growth of infants and children; recuperating malnourished children; tracking and caring for orphans and vulnerable children; transforming and selling soy-based foods and goods; and literacy programs. Microfinance objectives include teaching short-term revenue-generating activities; transformation of agricultural products; purchase, storage and sale of agricultural products and plant and animal elevage. Right now at the headquarters in Gamé women’s groups are transforming the mais harvest.
My specified duties within the child and maternity health program include weighing babies and children aged zero to five; hosting talk sessions, cooking demonstrations and nutritional recuperations; and holding sensibilisations infectious diseases. Related activities include transforming soy and moringa into useable products, teaching conservation of agricultural produce and installing family gardens. Target groups include children under five ( of which AFAP weighs about 700 each month), orphans, women within reproductive age, the poor and women’s groupements. AFAP serves and estimated 1,700 rural women in 160 groups in sixty villages. Twenty-one of the 407 children taken into AFAP’s charge have tested positive for HIV/AIDS.
There are some difficulties regarding these objectives encountered in a regular basis, including limited access to certain villages during the rainy season, insufficient finances to start new women’s AGR groups, lack of subsidy for orphans including food and sanitation; and lack of means of transporting animatrices (ACs sometimes work in villages far from their own and need at least a bicycle but ideally a motorbike to conduct their programs effectively and efficiently). In reality, funding or the lack thereof affects almost every project undertaken by AFAP and remains a central concern for ours and every other ONG striving to serve the needs of a developing rural population.
Lately
I’m starting the second week of IST. We’re staying at a hotel in Porto Novo. It’s exciting, because there are showers, but I’m slightly disappointed that SED and TEFL are being fed while RCH and EA are not. That means street food three times a day, and there isn’t much around here. But there is air conditioning. There are always ups and downs.
It’s strange to be trying to come up with something to share with you at home when new and interesting things happen everyday. I read once that the price of abundance is constant indecision (can’t remember the author. Sorry, author) and that applies here. It’s unclear to me which of these experiences would accurately portray what my life is like, or if that’s even the type of story which should take precedence. What would you like to know?
I fell down some tiled stairs in the rain the other day. Landed on my butt in front of ten people. That was fun, because the ensuing lack of shame indicated I’ve already lost most of my pride through activities like misinterpreting local language, contracting numerous parasites, pooping myself, losing keys and learning life lessons from eight year olds. It’s liberating, really, to realize how insignificant you are and that some people watching you fall on your ass is still in the lower echelons of Embarrassing Moments.
Christmas was wonderful. I spent it in Toweta getting drunk with nuns, so it had all the elements of festivity and religiosity one expects but with elements of the unexpected. For example, the nuns had choreographed hip hop dances to pop music (ask about the video when you next see me). This was not Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act, these were real Beninese nuns in a remote village community in a very isolated setting, so when we asked them if they knew Brittany Murphy had died and one answered “Yeah, cardiac arrest. That was a few days ago…” I was rather bemused.
I spent New Year’s Eve at the host family’s in Porto Novo. We ate, watched TV, drank a little, then I got ready for bed. At midnight, as I was climbing into the sheets, my host sister exclaimed, “But the party’s starting! We’re all about to leave!” I passed out at 12:10 a.m. and left them to it. I heard all seven of them stumble back in at about six a.m. New Year’s Day at post wasn’t much different in terms of me not knowing the routine: people coming to my door all day asking, “Where’s my fete?” and holding out their open palms. I just wished them all a joyous New Year but some persisted. It’s always awkward explaining to someone who doesn’t speak French why you refuse to buy them something. All in all, the holidays went well. I gained the requisite few pounds, thanks in no small part to care packages (thanks, guys!!!) from the states.
Work is going well. I’m learning about a lot of possible funding sources at IST right now. I’m afraid that my ideas for projects are slightly different than my NGO’s. They want me to be in charge of nutritional recuperation and I want to specifically focus on gavage (force-feeding), but I think these two can be combined and tweaked to fit together nicely. I’ve spent the past couple weeks preparing a power point and report about my village which I’ll present here in a couple of days. I’ll put the report up on a separate post here in case any of you are interested in details about Djigbe.
I’m looking forward to seeing all of you in May!
It’s strange to be trying to come up with something to share with you at home when new and interesting things happen everyday. I read once that the price of abundance is constant indecision (can’t remember the author. Sorry, author) and that applies here. It’s unclear to me which of these experiences would accurately portray what my life is like, or if that’s even the type of story which should take precedence. What would you like to know?
I fell down some tiled stairs in the rain the other day. Landed on my butt in front of ten people. That was fun, because the ensuing lack of shame indicated I’ve already lost most of my pride through activities like misinterpreting local language, contracting numerous parasites, pooping myself, losing keys and learning life lessons from eight year olds. It’s liberating, really, to realize how insignificant you are and that some people watching you fall on your ass is still in the lower echelons of Embarrassing Moments.
Christmas was wonderful. I spent it in Toweta getting drunk with nuns, so it had all the elements of festivity and religiosity one expects but with elements of the unexpected. For example, the nuns had choreographed hip hop dances to pop music (ask about the video when you next see me). This was not Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act, these were real Beninese nuns in a remote village community in a very isolated setting, so when we asked them if they knew Brittany Murphy had died and one answered “Yeah, cardiac arrest. That was a few days ago…” I was rather bemused.
I spent New Year’s Eve at the host family’s in Porto Novo. We ate, watched TV, drank a little, then I got ready for bed. At midnight, as I was climbing into the sheets, my host sister exclaimed, “But the party’s starting! We’re all about to leave!” I passed out at 12:10 a.m. and left them to it. I heard all seven of them stumble back in at about six a.m. New Year’s Day at post wasn’t much different in terms of me not knowing the routine: people coming to my door all day asking, “Where’s my fete?” and holding out their open palms. I just wished them all a joyous New Year but some persisted. It’s always awkward explaining to someone who doesn’t speak French why you refuse to buy them something. All in all, the holidays went well. I gained the requisite few pounds, thanks in no small part to care packages (thanks, guys!!!) from the states.
Work is going well. I’m learning about a lot of possible funding sources at IST right now. I’m afraid that my ideas for projects are slightly different than my NGO’s. They want me to be in charge of nutritional recuperation and I want to specifically focus on gavage (force-feeding), but I think these two can be combined and tweaked to fit together nicely. I’ve spent the past couple weeks preparing a power point and report about my village which I’ll present here in a couple of days. I’ll put the report up on a separate post here in case any of you are interested in details about Djigbe.
I’m looking forward to seeing all of you in May!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
An interesting bug chilling on the window screen. In another life I was an entymologist.
Jeanne chopping up a coconut, given to me by my NGO, with a machete. The kdis in the concession had a lot of fun watching this.
Christmas party in Game. Louise is the one in the middle and I work most closely with her in village. Meg is the volunteer who I replaced (she took a job with Population Services International doing HIV/AIDS work in Cotonou) and she is still in close contact with AFAP.
Handing out bags of beans to celebrate Christmas with original AFAP board and groupement members.
People affiliated with AFAP's headquarters in Game.*
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The next two pictures were taken at the nutritional recuperation center at Game.
They are pictures of a four year old boy with extreme marasmus, a type of malnutrition in which the body does not receive enough calories (as opposed to kwashiorkor, in which the body receives calories but not enough variety, as in a diet consisting only of rice or tortillas). The boy in the pictures is 4 years old and weighs about 6 kilos (13 lbs). He is staying at the center and being recuperated with soy based meals (for protein) and enriched with powdered moringa leaves (for calcium and vitamins). He is eating a variety of foods, including eggs and vegetables with carbohydrates, starting slowly until his body adjusts to it. He will stay at the center until he is at a healthy weight, but currently he is in very fragile condition.
Please be aware the the photos are graphic.
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These are "before" pictures I took while visiting the center. He is the first case of this severity that I have seen. We invite children to the center when a mother brings them to a monthly baby weighing and we find that they are in the "red zone," meaning that based on their weight-for-age ratio, death is imminent. Usually, she has not brought the child to be weighed for quite some time. If a child is in the yellow zone, or stage 2 malnutrition, we take proactive steps and hold cooking demonstrations to show her how to enrich the food.
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After a child is sent home from the nutritional recuperation center, APAF follows up by checking in on the family to ensure the child has not lost the regained weight. Because poverty and lack of access to resources is often a large part of the cause in the first place, many children relapse back into stage 2 or 3 malnutrition after returning home.
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So, now some happier things. Here is the view from outside the center.
Here is my host sister Liliane, at home in Porto-Novo with her two week old baby, Maurice!!! I took occasion of my visit to share with her the critical important of exclusive breastfeeding. : )
The orphans in Game eating the Christmas cookies I made them. The cookies were ugly but no one complained. Or that the sugar cookies had only half the sugar called for. The kids were grateful for some treats!!
Another beautiful critter resting on the sunny wall of my home. This moth was travelling in a group of three.
Last year, for the christmas fete at the orphanage, the NGO lacked a Santa mask. They had the outfit, but no face. So, someone ran out quikly to find one and this is what they came up with. Yeah. This is the face that gave Christmas presents to orphans last year. In the spirit of Freddie Krueger, Dracula, and the Thing . . Merry Christmas.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Je Te Manque, U.S. de A.
Me at the first annual "National Agriculture Day." The office of the minister of agriculture sponsored a contest for groups which conduct transformations of Beninese produce. We work with soy so we set up a booth demonstrating the processes of making everything from clothing dye to food to soap. Our project manager presented to representatives from the minister of agriculture and my NGO won first place, the equivalent of about $300 (or, like, $5, from what I hear of the US economy right now).
Not our main booth, but this one shows the transformation of raw foods into useable products. Palm nuts (vitamin A extravaganza) into palm oil, eg, and the pulp left over from making peanut oil rolled into doughy strips and - what else? - fried.
We just kind of threw out a cornucopia (sp? also, def?) of visual aids belonging to various projects ranging from family planning to nutritional recuperation. On the right is a makeshift scale and some moringa, on the table are bowls of soy in various stages of processing, and on the ground are pineapples, which are make into juice in Game.
The "halftime show," for lack of a better word. A troupe performed traditional dances with agricultural themes: fishing, planting, harvestring etc.
The moon outside my house one night. It was so close you could smell its moon-fumes.
I have not proof-read this blog. Pardon me, please.
There are maybe five gas stations in the country. Really- they are few and far between, and even where “stations” do exist, they consist only of a sleepy man in a rickety wooden chair sitting beside a free-standing pump. That is to say, you can’t go inside and use a flush toilet while deciding between combos and corn nuts (mmm… corn nuts) because there isn’t a building. There were a couple of Texaco stations in Cotonou which have since been closed and probably looted, they weren’t even slightly reminiscent of the gas stations that come to mind upon mention in the states.
The solution to this predicament, as probably one in ten people owns a motorbike here, is to “import” (tap a line and smuggle) gas in from Nigeria in large glass bottles and plastic five-gallon jugs strapped to the backs of still more motos. (I was originally supposed to be placed in Game, the site of my NGO’s headquarters, but my APCD [Associate Peace Corps Director] changed her mind upon noting that the headquarters [which consist of an orphanage and health center/maternity ward] were located right on the main road in from Nigeria. For some reason she didn’t think it safe to live a few yards from rusty 1970’s mopeds strapped down with dozens of containers of sloshing gasoline and balancing precariously on partially deflated tires as they hurtle over dusty, rutted roads plagued by potholes and boulders. And she’s right. I’m much safer here in Djigbe living a block from a Zangbeto which, if it sees me out alone at night, will kill me [traditionally; in reality, not so much]). It is thusly distributed throughout the country, becoming more expensive as one moves away from the border.
To buy gasoline in Benin, one need only stop at one of the small wooden tables which reside every few hundred yards along the roadside. Upon the table sit old coke bottles and medicine jars full of gas. Behind each table sits a maman or a papan selling it by the litre, usually for about 275 CFA (about 60 cents). This is the only practical way to buy gasoline in Benin, but it’s illegal, so any time a “cop” (used extremely loosely here and as another example of my newfound love of the USA) wants to harass (extort money from) a gas peddler, he can. And yeah, I used “he” intentionally there.
So the economy, which is based largely on personal transportation, forces people to either buy and sell gasoline illegally or stay home. And although staying home seems to suit most people just fine, it’s hard to see how a nation can develop when even its most basic needs are hindered by the corrupt system of law enforcement that should be serving it. I know, I know. Corruption in a third world country: shocking, right? It’s not news, but this particular example is new to me, and I find the lack of logic laughable: everybody rides or drives, therefore everyone’s a criminal. America’s War on Drugs, anyone?
The Beninese culture is an extremely aggressive, confrontational and violent one. Sometimes I think I would have been much better suited here at age sixteen than I am now. The emotional atmosphere is certainly that of the land of teens. I see adults throwing fits, throwing shoes, throwing down. Shameless displays of foot stomping, scowling and arm-flailing often accompany price discussions. If a child or animal is annoying you, you’re perfectly in line if you beat it with your fists as hard as you physically can. Not only in public, but all the more if you have an audience; there’s a highly theatrical element to the abuse here (it isn’t surprising then that the children and animals play their roles as victims quite well).
Desensitization. Acclimation. Habituation. Assimilation. Pick a word: the more time I spend here, the less shocked I am. Maybe it’s critical to my work that I begin to think of these actions as normal and necessary. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’d have to do were I to cling to my American values, including the one of defending one’s values at all costs. Maybe it’s pointless to wonder because now that I have a workable level of French, I understand that it’s futile because most mothers haven’t been to school and the thought of starting over with (desperately tonal) Goun horrifies me. Seriously, what am I supposed to do at a baby weighing when I see a woman punching her child off in the weeds and the only other French speakers are the animatrices, who are busy and who for all I know have no moral qualms with child-punching? If I speak up, my moral objection becomes an issue, everyone belly-laughs like they’re at a (pre-Elf) Will Ferrell movie and I’m left there with my silly American sentimentality like a fool in the rain or a PCV in Benin.
I decide to go the work route. Some Good Will Come of This is my mantra. “Your child is very malnourished:” I point to the plot of her child’s weight for age: almost in the red zone. They know what the growth charts mean. They keep them in their home between weighings and are familiar with the colors and range of severity. “Aphoun gploke gbapodo badeya,” the woman translating for me says in Goun. At least, it sounded like it. I didn’t understand a word and she carried on for what seemed like an impossibly long time for translating such a short sentence. Both of the women ended up in laughter, apparently joking about something other than the possible death of her child. The mother is eating rice and beans she bought from a wandering vendor and as she eats her daughter reaches for the food to be met with a swift swat on the arm and a shout of “AHWAWANOPONOUGON!” which I’m assuming means “Stay the hell away from my food you little brat!” but I’m embellishing a little bit because I feel frustrated right now.
My point is this: it’s very, very hard to get through to people who don’t already see a problem that needs solving. Sometimes I turn it around in my mind, which isn’t easy but it’s interesting. Do it with me. You’re sitting there at Starbuck’s or at work or just on your porch. Some very, very dark-skinned African woman approaches you and begins to lecture you on the contents of your egg sandwich or cup of coffee. She greets you: “Good morning,“ in a holy-cow-she’s-not-from-around-here accent and waves awkwardly. She tries to be culturally sensitive, albeit rather transparently, as she provides you with unsolicited advice on what you should and shouldn’t eat, explaining politely that although your scientific upbringing was nifty and/or your religious beliefs quaint and nostalgic, there’s also this thing called gris-gris (gree-gree) and your neighbor, who knows exactly how many times your dog pooed on his lawn last week, has most certainly cursed your food so that if you eat it, your dog will die.
What do you do? This is so out of context that you are in a bit of a state of shock, but to humor her and because you aren’t sure exactly why she’s here or what she wants from you, you set down the sandwich and finish the conversation as politely and quickly as possible so that when she leaves you can finish your freaking sandwich. It’s like that here. One conversation isn’t going to change behavior. The babies will just be force-fed out of my earshot and people will have conversations about the hilarious yovo, who has never had a baby, giving advice to the pros on how it’s done. But maybe after two years of this, ashift will happen. Best case scenario: I start with anatomy 101. Food groups. Esophageal tract not the same as windpipe but both connected to mouth. Body temperature (baby doesn’t need hat when it’s 40 Celsius). If mothers know how the bodies work they will be better equipped to care for them. I don’t know. I have ideas every day but can’t communicate them and I curse Peace Corps every day for teaching me French instead of Goun. And even then, it’s only an easy target. Worst case scenario: in two years, the babies might be able to run away when mom lurches forward with a tepid bowl of bouille.
The bus ride to Cotonou Sunday was interesting, as they usually are. The bus was at least 75 years old and was like a mixed-media contemporary art piece: sheet metal, wood, rubber hosing and chains dangled and clashed in what could scarcely be called a vehicle but for purposes of this story will be referred to as a “bus.” Comfort not being a top priority of the operators of these torture-mobiles, the bus suffered a debilitating lack of shock absorbers- it was like riding in a sleigh made of bricks. This fact wouldn’t be so bad (or unusual) except that there were more than the average 650 people jimmied into the space designed for twelve, as it was Sunday, and that the road to Cotonou from Porto-Novo is riddled with potholes and speed-bumps. It makes for inadvertent intimacy with one’s neighbors, but we’ll get to that.
In Benin, annoyance and disdain are expressed by a loud tooth-sucking smack, a sort of exaggerated version of the American “tsk.” As anyone who has ever hurtled over a large, jutting speed bump in a rickety death-trap knows, disdain and the expression thereof is the only available option to those at the mercy of the ruthless and vengeful driver. So every time our bus clanged and jangled its way through a pothole or wobbled and crashed over a speed bump, a wave of lip-smacking tsks would sweep over the heads of its chiropractically-distressed passengers. The tsks would start at the front of the bus and progress toward the back, going in stages as each section was consecutively subjected to the violent thud immediately preceding the bump. They furrowed their brows, rolled their eyes, rolled their heads and scowled in the direction of the driver and at each other as they experienced anew the disappointment that the shocks had not been mysteriously replaced since the last wave of extravagant .
Their continued hyperbolic smacking and apparent expectation that it would lead to immediate changes in the anatomy of the bus were what amused me most. In America, we learn early on that doing something which has no result is invariable not worth doing. These buses are anonymous: there are fifty million of them in Benin, most aren’t registered in any sort of way, and the drivers will suffer no consequences if his customers are displeased. Tsking at a bus driver here would be akin to chastising a New York City taxi driver for the gum stuck to the floor of his taxi. Not his problem. They will never see him again and therefore any expressed complaint is completely futile or simply self-serving. Either way, to hear the Beninese smacking after each spine-crushing blow you’d know the true power of an a capella percussion section, or at least feel like you were on hidden camera in the filming of an ad for chewing gum.
I took steps to avoid imminent laughter (how “culturally insensitive” would that be?) and took out a book that I keep handy for just such occasions. It was then that the Beninese English student two seats away noticed my book happened to be English as well, leaned over and began reading the back cover. I pretended not to notice and he eventually stopped. Thinking I was in the clear, I absorbed myself in the crescendo to the climax of the Tom Robbins book I’d been saving, leaving the bus entirely and basking in the delight of a Robbins lingual drum-solo when I was yanked violently from my literary haven by the loudly but brokenly spoken “I wish you nice read!” Okay, fine. I’m on it, dude, thanks. I gave the student a polite (if not slightly confused) smile, nodded thanks, and returned to my book. After twenty minutes or so, the man sitting between us got off, at which point the student (whose name, pronounced “monkeys,” is actually spelled Mounkiss) scooted over next to me and began reading over my shoulder.
Okay, I thought. He is learning English and although this would normally be invasive, given the fact that I’m on a bus which necessitates being physically entangled with and sitting on the laps of other passengers, anything I bust out is fair game, including this book. I managed to escape once again (Plucky Purcell had just gotten Jesus safely back to the roadside zoo) when I heard my neighbor whispering to me. “…the nation itself is wedded to their aggressive mediocrity…” Oh my god. He was reading aloud. In my ear. I laid the book in my lap, stared at him, then returned to reading with the book angled away from him and toward me, so that I was now facing him with the book positioned directly between our faces. Undeterred, he leaned in even closer, his face next to mine now and almost resting on my shoulder, and, completely forgetting the motive which drove him to whisper during our prior read-along session, began again in a normal speaking voice: “…it is upon their reaction to the discovery of Christ’s body that the future of Western civilization may well rest….”
Whether Mounkiss thought he was reading American history or an official religious document remains unclear, but rest assured that despite my own brand of tsking and eye rolling, he was failing utterly to acknowledge my despair and carried on in English, in my ear, as I held the book in my lap (facing him, now; I had given up) and stared out the window, defeated. After trying to justify allowing him to continue and finding it impossible as my blood had reached boiling point and I had no chocolate with which to cool it, I knew some action, any action, must be taken. Mounkiss smiled at me and wished me nice reading again. With a final, gavel-like smack of the lips I dog-eared the page, closed the book like a coffin and gently lowered it into my backpack. Benin wins again.
I cast a sickly sweet, wide-eyed grin at my neighbor. “So, you’re a student of English?”
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Djigbe!
The marche in my village. Every night there is a market in and around these pavillions and across the street from them. Prepared food (rice, beans and bouille), oranges, bananas, pineapples, plantains, tomatoes, garlic/pepper/pimante, fried tofu (when they call soy cheese) and gelatinous wheat/mais/cassava products like akassa are among the things available every night.
Sins for various schools and churches. This is in the center of my village, where the road forms a Y to head to Hozin or Hondji.
A statue of two women and a lion. According to Vodun, if a woman is suspected of cheating on her husband, she enters a house ith only women and looks into a pot of water. If she is innocent, the water will swish. If she is not, the faces of all the men she has cheated with will appear in the pot. If the woman is guilty of cheating, deermined by the non-swishing water, she will see lions everywhere she goes for the rest of her life. So this statue is a tribute to the horrors suffered by women in Benin who have slept with someone other than their husbands. Most men in Benin have two or three wives.
Palm patties drying on the side of a house to later be burned for fire. They squeeze the oil out of palm nuts and then use the remaining pulp to make patties. They smell awful but apparently burn wonderfully.
Not your Iowan cornfield!! That's cassava off on the left, and palm in the background.
A vodun ceremony in village.
The road tp Hozin. I buy phone credit from the little yellow and green "cabine" on the left.
Statues in my village. The one of the left is the God of Thunder and the ones on the right, I forget. Should have done my research but here I am in Cotonou and no one to ask. Guess you'll just have to come to Benin! : )Hozin or Hondji.
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