My host family in Lokossa-we are dressed up for a "party" at the mayor's office to thank the families and the city for welcoming us there. I gave a speech in French which was written by a Beninese PC staff member. giving eloquent speeches in foreign languages is fun :)
This is my friend Parfait. He is a beautiful guy, with a sweet wife, and he has truly welcomed my with open arms and made it his mission to make me happy. He spends all week happily growing cabbage, carrots, and lettuce, in a village 7km away, and takes one day a week to go to church and see his wife and baby girl. Always smiling :)
The house on the right is chez moi, my home. There are four apartments on the left. One family with 2 boys and a granny, a veteranarian of my age, a gendarme and his wife, and the owner and his wife. Next time Ill take som pix inside too...
The ubiquitous enthousiastic-kids-in-underwear. They will go around like this, even sometimes in the market. I think this was the first time they had seen a frisbee, but they got the hang of it immediately, and even invented new ways to throw it...they are awesome. The one on the left, Victor, is in my concession, and is impressively mature, respectful, and good-spirited (as are a large proportion of the kids here)more photos to come...
Friday, November 9, 2007
This morning, I am enjoying the rare luxury of a greasy morning (la grasse matinee), as the French say. I woke up not because my alarm compelled me to rise even before the sun to complete the lesson plans I had been too exhausted to finish the night before, but because of the light and the sound of someone drawing water from the well not far from my window.
Having enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of peanut butter, nutella and bananas on French bread, and my daily cup of “coffee” (Nescafe seems to dominate almost all poor countries), I have now decided to ride my bike 8 or so Kilometers to visit my friend Parfait the gardener and his fields of cabbage, carrots, lettuce, and other luxury produce. Aside from his crops, one finds just onions, tomatoes, garlic, corn, manioc, okra, beans, a couple types of leafy greens, papayas, pineapples, oranges, bananas, and a few others.
Okay, I admit it, when you make a list, it seems like a lot of choices, but if you people in rich countries even tried to make a list of the produce you could easily get your hands on, you’d die before you listed half the choices.
Anyway, I’m interested in seeing his methods (he actually studied gardening in a technical school for a couple years), and getting my hands dirty for the first time since arriving in this country of farmers.
Last weekend was a rare PC-sanctioned trip to Cotonou where I represented my fellow newly sworn-in volunteers in a conference aimed at improving next year’s training of incoming volunteers. I would say I profited nicely—beyond adding my two cents to the conference itself, I crammed a whole lot of big-city fun into my few days there. I prepared a decadent American meal of eggplant burgers, French fries, cole slaw, and chocolate cake with a friend who lives there. I went swimming at the pool of an American Diplomat who makes his fabulously luxurious pool available to us once a week. I spent hours at the PC Bureau trying to catch up with my cyber-life (on that subject, from now on, just use the my first and last name @gmail dot com). I danced for hours to a live band with a friend and some French girls we met, a decent portion of a bottle of tequila in my stomach.
Maybe most excitingly, I attended (for an exhorbitant $10) the Miss Benin pageant, whose winner will go on to represent Benin at the Miss World or Milky Way or Universe or whatever it is. My two friends and I were about the only people there at the advertised starting time of 9pm. The show started right on time, about two hours later. Interestingly, the contest was conducted like a science experiment, where variables were carefully limited. Instead of expressing individual tastes and displaying differing manifestations of beauty (of which there was an abundance), the ladies paraded one after the other in identical outfits, with even the same hair-style. Hmmm…
Instead of the usual singing and dancing which you find at our Pageants, we were pleased to see the women display their traditional dances, even if their “traditional” outfits were generally more like comic-book versions of traditional African garb. Think mini-skirts made from whole animal skins, helmets with antelope horns, coconut-shell bras, etc. (Why, oh why do I always forget my camera at the worst times?!?!) Silly and degrading or not, the effect was generally alluring. (But then isn’t that usually the case with Beauty Contests?)
Tempted to stay and find out the winner, not to mention hearing the entertaining “interview” portion, we left at 3 a.m. overcome with exhaustion. The two women whose responses we heard left me with little hope of hearing something profound. Asked about Benin’s energy issues, the first contestant suggested that people not open their refrigerators so often. I’ll spread the word around the village for her, even if I don’t know anybody with a fridge. The second interviewee (who I later learned was the winner) was asked about global warming. Now my French is mediocre at best, but I could have sworn she said she would tell all her friends, family, and neighbors to “go plant a tree”.
Coming back from an exciting weekend in the big city is always a great feeling. Inevitably, upon stumbling out of a taxi packed with people like a circus act, I am welcomed home by many familiar faces even before regaining sensation in whichever limb fate had destined to go numb this time. (It’s incredible just how many different ways there are to be uncomfortable in a bush-taxi, I reckon the possibilities are near-infinite.)
I take a few breaths, and look around, smiling. I am set at ease by the sound of women, children, and men murmuring in the market, the flicker of orange flames from small lanterns made of used Nescafe tins. The inevitable questions are asked—have you been traveling? From where? What have you brought me from your trip? Interestingly, it is quite similar to what I feel when coming back to New York from a trip to the country. It is a feeling of security, of belonging, of being once again home.
