Thursday August 9, 2007
First, in case of confusion I want to explain the apparent disorder of the posts. Since the computers in the cyber-café are painfully slow, I write these posts at home on my laptop, and then post a bunch of them all at once when I can…so the most recent “posts” are always at top of the blog and go down in reverse-chronological order. The sub-posts within each post are dated by the day I write them and are in chronological order. I hope I have confused you even more now…
Well, today was the long-awaited post-assignment day. I now know the (village/town?) where I will spend the next two blissfully grueling (gruelingly blissful?) years. Due to security concerns, I’m not allowed to actually name the place on my blog, but suffice it to say its on the gudron (paved road) between Cotonou and Abomey. See the map in my links on the top right of this blog (It also begins with the same letter as my brother’s name and ends with the second letter of my brother’s name. I hear it has electricity, and its position on a main road an hour and a half from the biggest city in Benin means something, although I’m not quite sure what. I do hear that there will be an abundance of fruits and vegetables (compared with more remote villages in the dry north). I’m pretty sure it is mostly Fon people (who dominate Benin), and they will mostly practice vodun, although here in Lokossa there are a lot of Christians, so that wouldn’t surprise me there either.
Being in the south means that it will be less hot, and greener than the north. The people are said to be more fiery here, more intense. Sunday, the Director of the school where I will be teaching is coming here for a conference, and he will take me back to the post for a three-day visit. I will have some sense of my new home when I come back next Friday.
I have been getting up at 6am to go running every morning. Its fun to explore different directions and get out of the city and have a taste of the rural outskirts. People seem a bit surprised to see a Yovo (white guy) running alone in the middle of nowhere, and they are quite friendly. Women and kids often carry baskets of stuff or bundles of sticks on their heads, and some of the men have machetes. The other day I passed a tree that had thousands of roosting bats hanging in clumps from the branches, making a racket.
Saturday, a few of my friends and I went to Bar Dancing Vince to see a live group play. They never showed up, but there was a DJ instead. I brought along my 9 year-old brother and 14 year-old sister. My brother was the first brave guy to jump on the stage and start the dancing. I followed, and soon we had a small but enthusiastic crew of PCT’s and local kids dancing around the stage. I have learned a few local moves, mostly from kids, and they love it when I bust them out.
Tonight I’m supposed to go meet the trumpet player from Papa’s group. There’s also another guy who plays Bob Marley tunes on guitar in the buvettes (bars) who I have talked to. He told me he also plays some kind of traditional drums which are (unless I completely misunderstood) tubs or basins upside-down on water (tam-tams aquatique or something like that…) So I’m happy to have made a few musical contacts…
Other than that, life goes on—I’m getting used to peeing in a hole in the cement shower, sometimes missing the hole and splashing my legs (one unlucky friend has no hole in the shower). I’m becoming a regular sight outside of my host-mama’s photo shop where I sit each night after dinner talking to my sister and photo-shop apprentice/house-help. I’m almost comfortable enough to tell my mama straight-up what foods I do and don’t like. I helped wash dishes and I aim to help with that, and even cook once in a while…
It ain’t half-bad…
Friday, August 24, 2007
It’s been a while—a busy couple of weeks—since my last post…
The village visit was good, although for three days the only time I had to myself was when I bathed or slept. My worries about the village being too “modernized”, cosmopolitan or otherwise tainted due to being on the “highway” have been put firmly to rest. True, a more remote village farther from the big cities of Benin would be a different experience, but I am happy from my first acquaintance with my new home.
The “highway” is a two-lane, well-paved country road. Between villages, as well as in the villages, rickety bikes and motos cling to the side, as do walking people, while rickety taxis and trucks speed past each other. All along the paved road there are tables with bottles of yellowish liquid--small bottles, gin bottles, huge round bottles. I was surprised to find out that these are gas stations.
The most common form of long-distance transport is taxi. Just when you think they are full, they will stop to pick up a few more passengers, squeezing three or sometimes four people in the front, and maybe five in the back of a regular size car.
Entering my village, the cars pull over to stop in front of the market positioned just beside the road. Marche Mamas and girls with trays of bananas, tomatos, bread, peanuts and other snacks swarm the cars, competing for the passengers’ attention.
The houses are cement or terre-rouge, a reddish mud. Roofs are corrugated metal, or at times thatch for smaller huts. It turns out there are a lot of Christians in the area, but many still participate in more traditional African ceremonies. Walking by the Catholic church, I saw a band inside for the Mass of the Assumption or whatever it is. There was a tenor saxophonist! I didn’t hear him, but it might be interesting to talk to him sometime.
I stayed with a man who has somewhere between three and five wives, depending on who you ask. On two consecutive mornings, I introduced myself to two baby goats who had been born overnight. I ate pate (mushy cornmeal porridge cooked until it is almost firm) with green leaf sauce and fish with my hand. It was the best I’ve had yet here.
They watched a ton of music videos, but the good new is that most of them are of traditional music, just drums and cowbells and voices, and they are great.
My house is brand new, made of cement, with a large living room, two bedrooms, an outside cooking area, “shower” (a cement space with a hole in the floor) and a latrine ( a cement toilet seat over a hole in the ground). I had a covered cement space in front of my door to sit and receive visitors. My house is in a concession—it is built within a wall and I share a yard with four small connected “apartments” and another house. I have a well just outside my front door, so I suppose no one should worry that I am not getting exercise (water is heavy!!the well is deeeeep!!).
I only got a small taste of my post, but it seems great, and I am excited to be going there in about three weeks. I must admit I am a bit jealous of some of my friends who will be in more remote and exotic villages, but I would find somebody to be jealous of no matter where I was posted, so I don’t dwell on that.
We are a week and a half into model school, I have been teaching real classes of up to 75 students, but I will write about that later. Suffice it to say it has been challenging and exciting. E yi hwedevonu! (until next time!)
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Friday, August 3, 2007
Where to begin?
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Where to begin? I have been in Benin just a week and a half, and already New York and everything I have known my whole life feel quite far away. I am settled in with a host family here in Lokossa, and I feel more comfortable every day.
Cotonou was interesting--a dirty, bustling little city full of colorful things. The streets are incredible. Although there are painted lanes, traffic flows like liquid, heedless of them. Vans, trucks and small cars travel on the left, while countless motos battle for position along the right. Families ride a single moped or small motorcycle—Papa driving, Mama behind with a baby strapped to her back with a colorful pagne or length of local fabric. A larger child may ride in the middle between Papa and Mama. Two men may share a moto, and I saw one balancing a full-sized mattress on his head, just cruising, all nonchalant.
Zemijdans (the Fon word for “get me there fast”) are everywhere, yellow-jerseyed drivers taking passengers anywhere from a few blocks to a few hours’ journey on a moto-taxi. A five minute ride may cost 50 cents or so. I expected our zemi training to be incredibly embarrassing—60 yovos (the Fon word for foreigner, or white guy) getting a special lesson in how to ride on the back of a moped—but it turned out to be really fun. We learned how to beckon the zemi (“KEKENO, WAAA”), how to negotiate the price, and how to safely ride and even ask the guy to slow down (“doucement”). “Doucement” means literally “sweetly”, and it is used for everything here.
After a few days of the necessary orientation-type activities in Cotonou (shots, health talks, intro to Benin, intro to TEFL, walking tour, medical interview, language evaluation, etc), the 20 TEFL (English teacher) trainees came by bus to Lokossa, while the other 39 trainees went to nearby large towns for our two months’ training.
Arriving just before the rain (a good omen that we have been lucky enough to enjoy almost every day J ), we sought out our host families outside the Marie, or City Hall. Mine had left my picture at home, and I had buried theirs in my luggage, but I picked them out easily enough—my host mom, 14 year-old sister, and 9 and 3 year-old brothers were all there to welcome me.
I there experienced my first official greeting ceremony, which I have since repeated, and I imagine I will repeat endless times in the next two years—Les “Grands”, or important people, give speeches whose content doesn’t so much matter. “Soyez les bienvenues…” “Be the welcome ones…”etc. The PC country director, the Mayor, the Gendarme Director, and the Police chief all took their turns mumbling. My little brother was running all over creating havoc. We happily sipped our fizzi pomplemousse sodas, and the rain beat down…
My Papa showed up on his motorcycle and then found a car to take my stuff home. I felt lucky to be able to make small talk in French, and I found my family very pleasant.
The house is quite large, with concrete floors and walls, a bit less decorated than I am used too—they have nice furniture but only a calendar hangs on the wall. I have a room with a large desk, a decent bed with a PC-issued mosquito net, and a stove for boiling my water. I have a large aluminum bucket for washing my clothes (more about that later), and a small broom made of some twigs for sweeping.
Only Papa sleeps in the house—one wife lives behind in another section of the building/coumpound with my brothers, and the other wife lives next door with my sister. (Figuring out all the relationships in French is an ongoing and difficult process…)
Generally I eat with my sister Michelle and the older boy Judo, and we follow a strict protocol—Mama leaves the food on the table in pots, with everything covered in small cloths or lacey coverings. I serve myself first, and then my brother and sister. She always clears after asking if I have finished.
The TV is relentless, and seems to be the major source of excitement for my brother and sister, who are on summer vacation. They religiously follow the two Mexican soap-operas which air three times a week here—“Crossed Destinies” and “Rubi”. I indulge too and tell myself that I just want to learn French…Every night after dinner we watch the death show, where pictures of recently deceased people fill the screen while an announcer tells about whomever has died.
Fate smiled down on me when I was placed (randomly) here in the home of a man who does the sound and sings for a local dance band. He also DJ’s parties, and I believe he is DJing the party Wednesday for Benin’s Independence Day. Twice a week his group will rehearse, and I am excited to check that out if I am not in class.
Right now, I am waiting for his motorcycle to roar up the driveway so we can walk to the local nightclub where he has promised to take me dancing. Tomorrow I have a free day (finally!) and I plan to go with some kids to play soccer at the sports field. Now I will have a breath of fresh air and we shall continue another night…
Monday, July 30, 2007
I have just eaten, and it is now “repos” or siesta time. It seems that most people here come home for lunch if possible and take a little time after eating to relax and digest. Not a half-bad idea if you ask me… Today I ate with my sister and two brothers as usual. We had Pate Noir—basically yams pounded and cooked until it becomes a gooey glutinous mass, served today with a gooey green snot-sauce made of cooked greens of some kind and I-don’t-want-to-know-what-else. Plus some nice chunks of fish . I was scared at first, after yesterday’s pate blanc. Yesterday’s pate (made of corn meal) was fine, but the sauce was dry cooked greens and little fishy fish, I did my best to choke down half a plate. Luckily Mama sensed my lack of enthusiasm and brought me some grilled corn-on-the-cob. Today was much better, and I had three helpings.
Yesterday I went in the morning to the terrain, a big soccer field with a large concrete structure of bleachers. We played a game of soccer, and I was made to feel big, goofy and inept by some 10 year-olds. After a mid-day repos, I brought my two brothers back to watch the match there. Admission, two small bags of peanuts and a bottle of home-brewed sweetened bissap iced tea (hibiscus) set me back 325 Francs or about 65 cents.
I couldn’t tell what kind of teams they are, perhaps “professional” or just good amateur teams. Everybody came out in their nice clothes made of good tissue (local word for fabric).
Speaking of which—the clothes are fan-freaking-tastic. Bright colors, different styles, almost all handmade. You buy tissue at the Tissue store or at the market which is held here every four days, and bring it to a couturier or tailor. There you can draw what you want, or show a picture, or have them copy some piece of clothing that you bring them. If you trust them, you can tell them just to make anything they want. I am taking my time before I start commissioning clothes, but I am very excited to pimp up my wardrobe.
Im getting used to stuff faster than I expected, like the two-inch roaches which take over my shower (which doubles as a urinal) every day at nightfall. (I quickly learned to take showers in the morning, not at night).
The nightclub Saturday was fun, and it gave me some perspective on this city. Kass Club animates only on Saturday nights, and has a disco ball and a DJ booth. I was a bit intimidated at first, but as the evening progressed, it become more and more clear that this is a small, out-of-the-way place. The mix of music was fun, but some of it was decidedly unsophisticated—club anthems mixing with 50 cent, Cuban Salsa, Beninese hits of the moment and some scrapings from the barrel of forgotten Eurotrash favorites.
Since homosexuality isn’t really acknowleged here, men dance with men freely and happily. One dapper young man took my hand during a Salsa tune, and we danced. I must admit, I was a bit surprised and uncomfortable, but I like the openness—men here often walk hand in hand, or absent-mindedly touch each other in a comfortable way.
Bon—il faut rentrer a l’ecole…It’s time to go back to class…
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Today is Benin’s Independence Day, one of the biggest fetes of the year. Here in Lokossa there was a parade, and a lot of small groups came to represent their villages from the region. They brought drums and after the parade they set up small circles of drummers with dancers. I danced once when I was dragged into the circle, but I’m shy to dance because only a few people dance at a time and everybody else watches them. When I learn some more of the local moves I will dance more…
One dancer had a fake penis strapped on which she would pull out from under her dress. Then in quite dramatic fashion she would mount a female friend and make incredible faces of ecstasy. I wish I had my camera!
Speaking of which, I didn’t want to bust it out right away, and I will be here two months, but I promise pictures will be coming!
I have been in good health, and have even started running or doing yoga most mornings. The two-inch cockroaches who share my urinal/shower bother me less each day. French classes are going well every day, and slowly I’m learning the Beninese accent and their words. My sister is my best teacher. We talk, and when she gets started, she will go on and onand on, and I just try to understand as much as possible, grunting every now and then.
Last night I arranged for three friends who are current volunteers to come have dinner at my house. My mama prepared fish in a tomato sauce and rice, and a very nice salad with lettuce, avocado, carrots, potatoes and tomatoes. I insisted that she sit and eat with us; it was our first time eating together, so I think we both enjoyed it.
Today we have the day off for the holiday, and I will meet some friends at the buvette for a beer. To anyone who has written me, sorry, but I have not yet been to a cyber café since I arrived in Lokossa. I will try to read and answer emails, but I hear the connections can be quite slow, and it will be difficult to read everything… I hope everyone is well and congratulations if you actually read this entire post. A tout a l’heure…
Where to begin? I have been in Benin just a week and a half, and already New York and everything I have known my whole life feel quite far away. I am settled in with a host family here in Lokossa, and I feel more comfortable every day.
Cotonou was interesting--a dirty, bustling little city full of colorful things. The streets are incredible. Although there are painted lanes, traffic flows like liquid, heedless of them. Vans, trucks and small cars travel on the left, while countless motos battle for position along the right. Families ride a single moped or small motorcycle—Papa driving, Mama behind with a baby strapped to her back with a colorful pagne or length of local fabric. A larger child may ride in the middle between Papa and Mama. Two men may share a moto, and I saw one balancing a full-sized mattress on his head, just cruising, all nonchalant.
Zemijdans (the Fon word for “get me there fast”) are everywhere, yellow-jerseyed drivers taking passengers anywhere from a few blocks to a few hours’ journey on a moto-taxi. A five minute ride may cost 50 cents or so. I expected our zemi training to be incredibly embarrassing—60 yovos (the Fon word for foreigner, or white guy) getting a special lesson in how to ride on the back of a moped—but it turned out to be really fun. We learned how to beckon the zemi (“KEKENO, WAAA”), how to negotiate the price, and how to safely ride and even ask the guy to slow down (“doucement”). “Doucement” means literally “sweetly”, and it is used for everything here.
After a few days of the necessary orientation-type activities in Cotonou (shots, health talks, intro to Benin, intro to TEFL, walking tour, medical interview, language evaluation, etc), the 20 TEFL (English teacher) trainees came by bus to Lokossa, while the other 39 trainees went to nearby large towns for our two months’ training.
Arriving just before the rain (a good omen that we have been lucky enough to enjoy almost every day J ), we sought out our host families outside the Marie, or City Hall. Mine had left my picture at home, and I had buried theirs in my luggage, but I picked them out easily enough—my host mom, 14 year-old sister, and 9 and 3 year-old brothers were all there to welcome me.
I there experienced my first official greeting ceremony, which I have since repeated, and I imagine I will repeat endless times in the next two years—Les “Grands”, or important people, give speeches whose content doesn’t so much matter. “Soyez les bienvenues…” “Be the welcome ones…”etc. The PC country director, the Mayor, the Gendarme Director, and the Police chief all took their turns mumbling. My little brother was running all over creating havoc. We happily sipped our fizzi pomplemousse sodas, and the rain beat down…
My Papa showed up on his motorcycle and then found a car to take my stuff home. I felt lucky to be able to make small talk in French, and I found my family very pleasant.
The house is quite large, with concrete floors and walls, a bit less decorated than I am used too—they have nice furniture but only a calendar hangs on the wall. I have a room with a large desk, a decent bed with a PC-issued mosquito net, and a stove for boiling my water. I have a large aluminum bucket for washing my clothes (more about that later), and a small broom made of some twigs for sweeping.
Only Papa sleeps in the house—one wife lives behind in another section of the building/coumpound with my brothers, and the other wife lives next door with my sister. (Figuring out all the relationships in French is an ongoing and difficult process…)
Generally I eat with my sister Michelle and the older boy Judo, and we follow a strict protocol—Mama leaves the food on the table in pots, with everything covered in small cloths or lacey coverings. I serve myself first, and then my brother and sister. She always clears after asking if I have finished.
The TV is relentless, and seems to be the major source of excitement for my brother and sister, who are on summer vacation. They religiously follow the two Mexican soap-operas which air three times a week here—“Crossed Destinies” and “Rubi”. I indulge too and tell myself that I just want to learn French…Every night after dinner we watch the death show, where pictures of recently deceased people fill the screen while an announcer tells about whomever has died.
Fate smiled down on me when I was placed (randomly) here in the home of a man who does the sound and sings for a local dance band. He also DJ’s parties, and I believe he is DJing the party Wednesday for Benin’s Independence Day. Twice a week his group will rehearse, and I am excited to check that out if I am not in class.
Right now, I am waiting for his motorcycle to roar up the driveway so we can walk to the local nightclub where he has promised to take me dancing. Tomorrow I have a free day (finally!) and I plan to go with some kids to play soccer at the sports field. Now I will have a breath of fresh air and we shall continue another night…
Monday, July 30, 2007
I have just eaten, and it is now “repos” or siesta time. It seems that most people here come home for lunch if possible and take a little time after eating to relax and digest. Not a half-bad idea if you ask me… Today I ate with my sister and two brothers as usual. We had Pate Noir—basically yams pounded and cooked until it becomes a gooey glutinous mass, served today with a gooey green snot-sauce made of cooked greens of some kind and I-don’t-want-to-know-what-else. Plus some nice chunks of fish . I was scared at first, after yesterday’s pate blanc. Yesterday’s pate (made of corn meal) was fine, but the sauce was dry cooked greens and little fishy fish, I did my best to choke down half a plate. Luckily Mama sensed my lack of enthusiasm and brought me some grilled corn-on-the-cob. Today was much better, and I had three helpings.
Yesterday I went in the morning to the terrain, a big soccer field with a large concrete structure of bleachers. We played a game of soccer, and I was made to feel big, goofy and inept by some 10 year-olds. After a mid-day repos, I brought my two brothers back to watch the match there. Admission, two small bags of peanuts and a bottle of home-brewed sweetened bissap iced tea (hibiscus) set me back 325 Francs or about 65 cents.
I couldn’t tell what kind of teams they are, perhaps “professional” or just good amateur teams. Everybody came out in their nice clothes made of good tissue (local word for fabric).
Speaking of which—the clothes are fan-freaking-tastic. Bright colors, different styles, almost all handmade. You buy tissue at the Tissue store or at the market which is held here every four days, and bring it to a couturier or tailor. There you can draw what you want, or show a picture, or have them copy some piece of clothing that you bring them. If you trust them, you can tell them just to make anything they want. I am taking my time before I start commissioning clothes, but I am very excited to pimp up my wardrobe.
Im getting used to stuff faster than I expected, like the two-inch roaches which take over my shower (which doubles as a urinal) every day at nightfall. (I quickly learned to take showers in the morning, not at night).
The nightclub Saturday was fun, and it gave me some perspective on this city. Kass Club animates only on Saturday nights, and has a disco ball and a DJ booth. I was a bit intimidated at first, but as the evening progressed, it become more and more clear that this is a small, out-of-the-way place. The mix of music was fun, but some of it was decidedly unsophisticated—club anthems mixing with 50 cent, Cuban Salsa, Beninese hits of the moment and some scrapings from the barrel of forgotten Eurotrash favorites.
Since homosexuality isn’t really acknowleged here, men dance with men freely and happily. One dapper young man took my hand during a Salsa tune, and we danced. I must admit, I was a bit surprised and uncomfortable, but I like the openness—men here often walk hand in hand, or absent-mindedly touch each other in a comfortable way.
Bon—il faut rentrer a l’ecole…It’s time to go back to class…
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Today is Benin’s Independence Day, one of the biggest fetes of the year. Here in Lokossa there was a parade, and a lot of small groups came to represent their villages from the region. They brought drums and after the parade they set up small circles of drummers with dancers. I danced once when I was dragged into the circle, but I’m shy to dance because only a few people dance at a time and everybody else watches them. When I learn some more of the local moves I will dance more…
One dancer had a fake penis strapped on which she would pull out from under her dress. Then in quite dramatic fashion she would mount a female friend and make incredible faces of ecstasy. I wish I had my camera!
Speaking of which, I didn’t want to bust it out right away, and I will be here two months, but I promise pictures will be coming!
I have been in good health, and have even started running or doing yoga most mornings. The two-inch cockroaches who share my urinal/shower bother me less each day. French classes are going well every day, and slowly I’m learning the Beninese accent and their words. My sister is my best teacher. We talk, and when she gets started, she will go on and onand on, and I just try to understand as much as possible, grunting every now and then.
Last night I arranged for three friends who are current volunteers to come have dinner at my house. My mama prepared fish in a tomato sauce and rice, and a very nice salad with lettuce, avocado, carrots, potatoes and tomatoes. I insisted that she sit and eat with us; it was our first time eating together, so I think we both enjoyed it.
Today we have the day off for the holiday, and I will meet some friends at the buvette for a beer. To anyone who has written me, sorry, but I have not yet been to a cyber café since I arrived in Lokossa. I will try to read and answer emails, but I hear the connections can be quite slow, and it will be difficult to read everything… I hope everyone is well and congratulations if you actually read this entire post. A tout a l’heure…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
