[Monday, July 18, on…]
First of all, this whole week of initial training has been ridiculously organized and beneficial. We have been given a breakdown on each process that we go through in order to become official volunteers (I’m technically a trainee right now until I get sworn-in at the end of 9 week training). The medical, safety, language, and technical training are supposedly the best training for any job I will probably ever receive. For security, they have a great relationship with the police in every region and also make it very clear that an American volunteer will be living in their jurisdiction. PC staff visits each site to make sure it is safe, that the door is secure, the windows can be locked, etc. Dad, you’ll be happy to know that I get a lockbox as part of my supplies ;) Also, I will be living among another family at post, meaning my hut/shack/teepee (okay maybe not teepee) will be in a commune kind of thing with other houses right next door. I cannot wait to become a bit more fluent in French too cause man oh man you have to be able to bargain for everything here! And of course they see “white girl” and automatically think MONEY! Little do they know, I’m a volunteer J.
The current volunteers have been awesome to have around! They answer all of our questions and are very very reassuring whenever we are doubting our skills. Anyway, there are a few new posts that have either never had a volunteer or the previous one was from a different sector; I think I’d really enjoy being the first one at a new post. I could do so much and be the first American that the village will really know, which has its pros and cons! My director and his assistant are incredible and I cannot wait to start my technical training. During training we have our own gardens, our own tree nursery, and we even learn how to make mud stoves, which reduce the use of timber. We also get trained in environmental education. It is all very exciting but intense. We have training 6 days a week, 9 hours a day, for 9 weeks!!
The highlight of my week so far was learning how to ride the zems or moto-taxis. Peace Corps hired about 15 drivers to teach us how to get on and off and also how to barter for the price. There is no meter on the zem, you decide on the price before you get on behind the driver. It was soooo funny; not only are we a bunch of “yovos” which means foreigner in Fon, but we all have to wear these extreme moto helmets. If you’re caught not wearing it, you get sent home, period. Picture a caravan of little motorcycles driving through the busy streets of a chaotic city with a bunch of white people wearing helmets (by the way we are the ONLY people who wear helmets, we stick out); I was cracking up!
Tuesday, July 19, was also my first encounter with the “real” marketplace. We have been somewhat restrained at the hotel and the Peace Corps headquarters for the last few days so they gave us a walking tour of the Ganhi Marché…it was overwhelming. Yes, the streets are full of people selling anything from fruits and vegetables to shoes, belts, surge protectors, and converters (weird huh, but they are very easy to come by) to fan-milk (a delicious ice cream-like treat) to live chickens and everything in between. I’m not going to lie, I felt a little bit of culture shock when I walked by the meat counters…lets just say I may become a vegetarian while I’m here or else I’ll be killing my own chickens. Its not that the meat looked rotten; I just saw about every part of the animal that you probably down want to see, for example the head of the cow walking past you, the butt of a goat just sitting on the counter, or the skin of the pig being sliced and soaked in water. It was a lesson in butchering nonetheless.
HOST FAMILY stuff… In order to become a host family the Peace Corps goes through a hefty interview process with families that want to be a host, then they check the house and the room to make sure it can be locked and meets other requirements, then the family has to sign a registration form, then the higher-ups visit each house to double check the room, then they bring all the families together for an informational session on “how to live with an American” where they learn about our culture and such.
Wednesday was my favorite day…I got 9 new siblings and a host Mama and Papa, I got my famille d’accueil (host family). So, I didn’t really realize how important the host family was to my whole cultural experience until I met them today. After arriving in a new city, Porto Novo, the capital of Benin, I was united with my host Mama. She had to find me using just a picture =) and she immediately made me feel comfortable. The whole family knows before I arrive that I don’t speak much French so I was already feeling more comfortable. After all 60 of us were joined with our new families we had a little orientation with all the families. The PC staff explained to the families to be patient and tolerant of their “new kids” and also to keep us safe as best they can. After that, some of us piled into a van to be taken to our new homes. [Every time you drive in Benin it is an experience all in its own. (here’s a bit of a tangent…) On the way from Cotonou to Porto Novo let me tell you just a few things that I saw…baby goats, tons of “gas stations” meaning water and/or glass bottles full of gas that people are selling on the side of the street, people selling all sorts of food, chickens, etc…then we hit Porto Novo and were back on the dirt roads.] my drive around Porto Novo led me to understand the wide-spread use of “yovo” which can mean foreigner, white person, etc…not exactly a term of endearment yet not exactly an extremely negative term. Kids were waving and yelling “yovo” at our bus at it tore through the roads. I couldn’t help but smile and wave back.
Now back to my family, my Mama Jocelyn and I arrived at her house and were greeted by 4 little munchkins. (don’t ask me their names yet…) Twins, a boy and a girl, who are 3, a 7 year old named Natasha, and a 10 year old named Priscille…there are a few more too! I also met 4 sons but I don’t really remember their names. Immediately the kids grabbed my hands and I don’t think they stopped touching me until I said goodnight J. They are my “petites souers” (little sisters) and have begun calling me “grand-souer” or big sister. Shortly after being sat in front of the tv I was brought a huge bowl of pasta and two pieces of fried fish. The pasta was pretty good but I just can’t seem to get used to the way the fish is fried here. I shoved most of it down but still felt bad for not eating all of my fish… anywho, while I was eating my petite souer Brasil said after you eat, want to go to the market. Of course I said yes without even thinking. With the blessing of my host Mama, me, Priscille, and Natasha (who insisted on carrying my water for me) were off to the marché.
The walk to the market was maybe the most out-of-place I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Picture a crowded dirt road with small huts on the side where people are buying/selling food and junk and me with two little girls holding my hands, guiding through the traffic. I was cracking up! What a sight and believe me I did not go unnoticed. “Bonsoir yovo” was said at least 100 times and what did I do in response? I would said “Bonsoir, comment ca va?” (Good evening, how are you?) At the market I talked to people even though people would literally stop doing whatever they were working on to look at me and watch me. Guess what the first vegetable that Priscille bought was? Okra! She also bought me some weird root that you chew on and spit out. It was pretty good. Back at the house I learned how to play “pique,” a card-game that Purcel, one of my “brothers, ” who actually speaks a little English, taught me. I have no idea how big this house is either, there are doors and rooms everywhere but they are all empty.? I’ll have to wander around when I get time off.
The “Papa” is in the military and is in the villages Monday through Thursday and is here on the weekends. He has a study with a really nice flat-screen tv so I’m guessing this family is wealthier.
Overall, it was an amazing night and I am writing to you from my own “apartment” within the house. I can lock just about every door between me and the bottom of the stairs, including the one that is at the bottom of the stairs. There is a brick wall surrounding the house too and a big locked gate at the front. I did have to shower with a cockroach and am sleeping with about 100 spiders in my room but its all good. I’m safe and sound, about to fall asleep to the noise of the zems, the crying of babies, and the occasional rap-song that comes on from someone’s cell phone.
My first weekend with the host family…July 24-25
[Its Saturday 24.7.10]
Papa has arrived…I finally met my host Papa today. He has been in the villages around Benin I believe because he is in the Jandarme (sp?), aka the military. He is definitely a man of power and even though I couldn’t understand the Fon that everyone was speaking, I felt the air tense a bit while the Papa made his rounds around the house. Sometimes when I think my French isn’t so great because I can’t understand anything people are saying, I remember that they know local languages, or they are probably speaking Fon! Funny thing happened too, Papa asked Mama if the “backyard” (which is actually a dirt area behind the house that is home to the pigeon’s house, the latrines/showers, and the kitchen) was swept. Well, I just happened to be sitting there earlier when the “aide” who is actually a 6 year old girl who may or may not be one of the sisters, swept the ground…naturally when Papa questioned Mama she looked at me and I had to say yes, it is true that it was swept earlier. I was giggling on the inside cause the situation could have been anywhere in the world and twas familiar.
Papa brought a bundle of bananas, a sack of onions, and a baby goat, among other supplies for the next week! The goat was cutest thing I’ve ever seen, even though a few hours after I first saw him, he was roasting over the fire in the back of the house and shortly after that he was sliced open as I walked by my brother Thierry. Lets just say I didn’t get a photo cause he was sliced and diced before I knew it. This family is so traditional in terms of food and cooking. Mama crushes the veggies on a stone and hand-makes the sauces that she feeds me. The family eats really late at night so she gives me food earlier. Tonight I ate the traditional dish called pate (pronounced like pot), which is basically a refined version of grits. Its pretty good and comes in all different forms, it is even fermented and eaten, but I prefer pate blanc, simple and flavorless. Unfortunately, she gives me tons and I never finish it but there are ALWAYS little ones around to devour it all. Who, by the way, are totally growing on me and I have a new appreciation for them every time we are all together. I’ve been doing my best to integrate and participate in the family matters and am beginning to fell much more comfortable like this is my new home for a while. My host Mama is so kind and understands that I do not want to offend her in anyway but their customs are very different than ours, so I’m sure I’ve offended without even knowing it…oh wells.
The best moment of the day was when I came home from a walk with my fellow “stagiere” (trainee and neighbor) Summer to find all my brothers and two boys I didn’t know sitting at stools in the foyer, practicing math on a chalkboard while their “professor” taught them. Of course, I was awkwardly sitting in the room right next to them just watching while I ate my pate and vegetable sauce; oh and four oranges that were peeled just for me. I’ve been eating a whole pineapple for breakfast every morning (the pineapples are much smaller here J ) and half a loaf of bread. I got two hard-boiled eggs this morning but I didn’t eat the yoke; I told my Mama that I didn’t really like the yoke, so of course for lunch I got a salad with just the eggs whites. They are so sweet and just trying to please me in every way.
Beninoise, not so different than Americans, well, kind of….
[Sunday 25.7.10]
What a day! It started with me, my friend Angela, and her two “brothers” Mielle and Taroot going to the market to buy a present for the birthday party we attended. Well, Angela and I didn’t realize that the market was about a 30 minute walk away but it was still pretty cool. Taroot and Mielle speak bits of English so at least the conversation was good J. They teach English in grade school here; it’s a sign of being educated. The present we bought was for the birthday party of our other friend’s “sister” who turned 2. We bought a little dress and a necklace for the little one but didn’t have any wrapping paper. Well, in Benin, the “coiffure” or hairdressers also wrap presents. So, naturally, the boys found a coiffure and we all sat and watched her take 20 minutes to perfectly wrap the little present. Again, I was giggling inside cause it really did take 20 minutes to wrap this present. Needless to say it came out beautiful and we didn’t have to show up to the party empty-handed.
The party: so of course we were excited to be invited to a party on our first weekend here... around 14:00 we headed to Summer’s house for this grande fiesta. First off, the Mama and Papa rented about 50 chairs and some tables for the occasion and also hired a DJ, all for a 2 year-old J. We felt a bit like the guests of honor or possibly the entertainment but either way it was a very cool cultural experience. I’ve told you guys about the “tissue” aka the tradition African outfits that people wear here, well when you go to a party or church families will often wear the same pattern of dress. Every family that showed up had some elaborate outfit with 3 or 4 kids to match. It was very cute. We ate, of course. I find it ironic that starvation is so prevelant cause all of the Mama’s I’ve met/heard of so far are very forceful when it comes to food. I suppose malnourishment is a bigger issue… anywho, the family even sang Happy Birthday in English. I forgot my camera which I was so upset about but I’m going to try to get a hold of my friends’ pictures to show you guys the event.
After returning to my house, I hungout with my Mama. Even though we have a huge language barrier, I think she likes me to just sit and be around everyone. She asked me again tonight if I was happy/cheerful. Its funny cause she thinks that since I don’t eat 10 pounds of food every night that I am unhappy. I told her over and over that I am tres bien and basically looked up every other word in my dictionary that is a synonym for happy in French to show her that I’m not lying! Her favorite phrase is “c’est vrai?” Its true? She uses this when I say that I am full. Naturally.
I found out that we have a domestique too, which is a servant. I saw her yesterday but she was making fun of me, I believe. I was asking Purcel, mon petit frère, how to say something in French. So I made a point to talk to her extensively tonight, which really meant I attempted to speak very broken French to prove myself. I think she was just kind of afraid of me…? I don’t know why cause I’m always smiling; people probably think I’m an idiot or something. Oh well. My favorite part of living with this family and this culture in general is that they are always together. Every person works for the good of the whole family and even though they may seem to struggle a bit, I remind myself that its just their culture. The kids are incredibly responsible and are expected to be able to run errands like buying food/stuff for the Mama.
Right now, I’m writing to you from my room…next door to me is my Papa’s salon and he seems to be entertaining some dignitaries. They are drinking rum, I think, and watching his really nice flat-screen. I’m 99% sure that he has others wives too. Polygamy is pretty common here and he seems to be older than Mama. That’s culture for ya. Of course I had to go and say goodnight to him and I look like I’ve been rolling in dirt from my various adventures around town. But, I’m so happy to have American friends living near me. One of the current Peace Corps volunteers came to visit me yesterday too. They visit every trainee to make sure that all is well at the host family’s house. The PC wants to know everything, especially if you don’t feel like you are getting proper nutrition or if you don’t feel comfortable in your home, or feel unsafe etc… luckily, I truly am happy where I am living and feel very safe. I am eating well and get lots of fruit, which is excellent! I plan on giving the family a few presents this week…I’ll let ya know how it goes.
