Well, folks. I made it through stage and am now officially a volunteer! The swear-in ceremony was on September 21 at the US Ambassador’s house in Cotonou. There were representatives from each Beninese Ministry that we’ll be working with (artisan/tourism, education, health, and environment). The best thing about swear-in; however, was the abundance of incredible mustaches. Yea, you heard me. The SED guys first decided to grow “swear-in beards” for 9 weeks, but that later changed to a “swear-in stache.” Represented staches included the Chester A. Arthur and Nintendo’s Mario, among others.
After the ceremony we went back to our training site town for a few days to pack up our stuff and head to post. I left for my town last Monday morning with another volunteer who is posted in a nearby town. Hopefully, I’ll get some pictures up soon because it’s incredible how they load things into these cars. I’ve definitely seen some taxis with so much stuff on top that they look like they’ll tip over at any moment. Anyway, I got to my post and unloaded my things and then went to a nearby town to get some furniture that a previous volunteer left for me. Unfortunately, my house isn’t finished yet, so I’m staying in another apartment right next door. I should be able to move in next week and finally get settled into my first house!
Oh! I bought a cat! She doesn’t have a name yet, and any suggestions would be welcome. I bought her at the marché in my training site town and brought her with me to post. She was definitely terrified in the taxi ride over, but she’s ok now and will probably enjoy her life as Benin’s most spoiled cat.
My first few days at post have been really great. I walked around the marché and other areas of the town with my postmate. The marché isn’t too impressive, but you can find all the basics like tomatoes, onions, rice, beans, oranges, bananas and stuff like that. My postmate and I are going to attempt to cook a few times a week, but we’re both pretty lazy when it comes to stuff like that, so I’ll probably end up eating street food a lot. Street food probably sounds a little sketchy, and it can be, but I’ve found some good places that serve rice and beans and yam pile, which is this delicious mashed yam dish with peanut sauce.
The one thing that I really love about my town is that it’s beautiful and fairly tranquil. A large road goes right through the town, but my house sits far enough from that road that the nights are really peaceful. I have also had the chance to go running this week on this dirt road that branches off from the main road. It’s a little hilly, but that makes my run even better because you can see the countryside when running away from town, and then you can see the town (which sits atop the hill) when you run back. Most of you know that I’m definitely a “big city” girl who still thinks Central Park is all the nature one needs, but I think I’ll really appreciate my 2 year break in “real” nature. I like to think of it as my version of Walden.
This week I also went to Porto Novo for a day with some other volunteers and then went to Cotonou because I went to my host mama’s papa’s funeral ceremony today in a town north of Cotonou. The cousin of my host family drove me up there and it was a really great experience. It was basically a big party with lots of food, music, and people dressed in similar tissue. While people are definitely sad when a loved one dies, the ceremony itself is more about celebrating their life than mourning their death. I don’t think that’s something that could be done everywhere, but it’s just a different take on that.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Post visit
(This is a really old post, but thought I would put it up anyway)
My visit to post (my home for the next two years) was definitely the most bizarre, awkward, and wonderful part of stage thus far. I left my training site town for Cotonou with another stagaire and our homologues, and after getting dropped off we went to search for a taxi to my town. After finding one (and knowing it could take hours for it to fill up) we walked around Cotonou and did some shopping (and by shopping I mean it was me just awkwardly following her around the marché while she bought some things). Anyhoo, we get back to the taxi and end up waiting for at least an hour and a half before it finally leaves.
I guess I haven’t really described the “bush taxi” experience yet, so here goes. First, imagine the oldest, most rusted car you’ve ever seen. Now, make it a Peugeot and add fifteen years to the car, and that’s the general state of most taxis in this country. I would be scared for my life every time I get into one, but usually I just think about how hilarious it is that I’m even in that sort of situation. I mean, how can you be sandwiched between a car door and a woman twice your size with her elbow in your back and not laugh? If you’re now wondering about the space issue in the taxis, I’ll try to clear things up. There will always be three people in the front- the driver, the person in the front seat, and the unfortunate person who is stuck between the two and who must be careful not to hit the stick shift or any of the exposed wires that are surely sticking out from under the dashboard. The backseat will always have 4 people (of varying sizes), hence the being smashed up against the door part. On my way back from my post visit there were actually 11 people in a station wagon taxi with 3 in the front, 5 in the middle, and 3 in the back.
I don’t think the taxi experience is too terrible because people get out along the way and it isn’t always that cramped. Also, there will usually be some crazy story that’ll come out of it.
My taxi ride was pretty interesting mainly because it involved me almost being “kidnapped” and married off to this woman’s son. I was sandwiched between my homologue and this crazy woman who didn’t speak any French. She had her daughter sitting on her lap so it wasn’t too crowded. However, this woman kept on staring at me, and since I am habitually awkward in those kinds of situations, I just kept smiling at her. Then she starts touching my hair. And hugging me. And saying things in a local language that I don’t understand. Luckily, my homologue was able to translate for me and the woman was basically asking if I was married and telling me that she had a son whom I could marry. She said that she lived in a neighboring town and that I should just stay in the taxi with her so I could go meet him. I just laughed the whole time because that’s what I do best. I only got a little nervous about the whole thing when I tried to get out of the taxi and she held on to me (but not too tightly) and kept yelling the name of her town and trying to get me to come with her. Good times.
I stayed at my homologue’s house for the whole visit and had my own little room on the other side of her courtyard. After napping for a few hours (the trip ended up taking about 8 hours) I woke up to a courtyard full of about 20 people. I later found out that they are the presidents of each association within the collective of artisans in my town. There are 21 associations for each trade (ex. furniture makers, seamstresses, mechanics, etc.). Everyone was so nice and welcoming, but the experience itself was pretty awkward because I had to go around the circle of people and “saluer” or greet everyone and also sit through a meeting that was entirely in Nagot (the main local language).
The next day I was taken around town by the VP of the collective on the artisan collective moto. I met the mayor (a woman), but didn’t really have a chance to speak with her because she had to go to a meeting. I also went to the offices of the police and the gendarme. Then we went to the CET (artisan technical school) where some of the artisans teach their apprentices a few times a week (the apprentices are at the artisan’s workplace the other days of the week). I’m hoping to be able to use the classrooms once I start teaching savings, credit, marketing, and accounting formations, but who knows. I also saw a classroom full of computers so I think I may have the opportunity to teach computer formations as well. Also, because my town is pretty close to Nigeria, I think there are a lot of artisans who are interested in learning English so that may end up being one of my side projects.
My two favorite stops of the day were visiting the king of my town and my new house. The king is this hilarious little old man who I want to be my new grandfather. I walked into his compound and saw him sitting on a throne-like chair in his courtyard. There were a couple people sitting by him and one man was kneeling in front of him saying something in Nagot. The VP tells me that he is praying to the king for the well being of our town or something along those lines. Then, the kneeling man whips out a few shots of sodabi (strong Beninese alcohol), and the king and this man start drinking. I guess I should add that this was probably around 10 or 11 in the morning. After that the king comes over to greet us and I find out that he speaks some English. He’s just so funny. I wish you all could meet him right now. I’m sure I’ll have some funny stories about him in the future.
On to my house…it’s amazing! I really can’t believe how nice it is. I’ll eventually put up pictures, but for now I’ll just say that I am not living in a mud hut. My house/apartment is part of this bigger house that houses an NGO and some other people. It has a metal gate surrounding the fairly big concrete courtyard. I have my own set of stairs that leads up to my part of the house. It wasn’t completely finished when I went to see it, but there were 4 rooms (living room, bedroom, small kitchen, and bathroom) and they all had tiled floors. Also, I have electricity and running water!!! My house is definitely too nice to be a PC house, but I’m not complaining. =)
The next day was by far one of the most ridiculous days of my life. There was a fête (party) for all of the artisans. I think it was National Artisan Day or something like that. Anyway, the party included a parade around town followed by a speech, lots of food, and a football (soccer) match. The best part of the whole experience was that most of the artisans had matching “tissue” or fabric. My homologue is a seamstress and made me a skirt and a shirt so I could match the rest of the artisans. I guess this is a good time to explain the fabric/clothes customs here. While people do wear Western style clothing here, for celebrations and everyday life people wear clothing made from brightly (and sometimes oddly colored) fabric called “tissue.” Some of the designs are actually really beautiful while others have prints of things like cuckoo clocks, chickens and eggs, or flip flops. After you buy a couple pagnes (pahn-yuhs) which equal 2 meters of cloth, you take it to the tailor or seamstress to be made into clothes. The outfits for women usually include a long, tight fitting, uncomfortable skirt and a shirt with crazily designed sleeves. I am now the proud owner of a shirt that has sleeves resembling wings. It’s fantastic. Men normally wear tissue pants and a shirt called a boomba. The boomba can have pockets, interesting embroidery, or my favorite thing, tassels. The fashion sense in this country is amazing. Besides my new love of tissue, it amazes me that while it probably hasn’t dropped below 70 degrees since I’ve been here, a day hasn’t gone by where I don’t see someone in a colorful stocking or ski cap. Funky hats are pretty big here and I did see someone in a red, white, and blue cowboy hat the other day.
Anyway, the rest of the party was great. I took pictures with a ton of people because everyone wanted to be photographed with the new town “yovo.” I really think my town is the perfect place for me. The town sits atop a hill so you can actually see the countryside from the main road. It’s pretty spread out and my house is kind of far from the center of town, but I’m really happy about everything I’ve seen so far. Also, the road to and from Cotonou is really nice (meaning not completely covered in pot holes), so that makes riding in bush taxis a bit more bearable, too.
The rest of my post visit was pretty uneventful. I just hung out with my homologue and her family the next day and even got to watch some TV in English. I was also able to experience the cinematic genius that is Nollywood (the Nigerian movie channel). I won’t have a TV at my house, but I think I’ll be able to get some Nigerian channels on my radio so at least I can listen to the news in English.
After my visit I met up with another stagaire from a nearby town and we took a taxi to Cotonou together where I was able to check my email and reconnect with the outside world. We also met up with the two stagaires who will be posted in Cotonou, and went and got pizza and ice cream! Mmm. I’m still thinking about how good it was. It’s nice to know that if I’m really craving those types of foods that it’s only a two hour taxi ride away.
Overall, my wonderful post visit is what’s basically getting me through stage. I can’t wait to start living and working on my own and meeting people in my community. I know it’ll be really difficult the first few months, but I’m definitely ready for it. Since my post visit, nothing too exciting has happened back in my training site town. It’s been raining pretty hard for almost a week straight and at one point, the road in front of the volunteer house turned into a river and we couldn’t leave for a while. Luckily, it was the day of our Iron Chef cook-off so we didn’t have plans to go anywhere. Most of you know that I can’t cook/hate doing it, so I was a little nervous about having a cooking competition within our sector. However, it was actually really fun and my group ended up winning best appetizer! I think more importantly, it got me really excited to attempt to cook once I get to post. I may end up returning to cereal and sandwiches like I did in college, or I may just end up “surprising” my neighbors around dinner time and hopefully they’ll feed me.
Well, that’s it for now. I hope I didn’t bore you, and I hope all is well in the land of constant electricity, delicious and readily available dairy products, and clean water you can drink from the tap.
My visit to post (my home for the next two years) was definitely the most bizarre, awkward, and wonderful part of stage thus far. I left my training site town for Cotonou with another stagaire and our homologues, and after getting dropped off we went to search for a taxi to my town. After finding one (and knowing it could take hours for it to fill up) we walked around Cotonou and did some shopping (and by shopping I mean it was me just awkwardly following her around the marché while she bought some things). Anyhoo, we get back to the taxi and end up waiting for at least an hour and a half before it finally leaves.
I guess I haven’t really described the “bush taxi” experience yet, so here goes. First, imagine the oldest, most rusted car you’ve ever seen. Now, make it a Peugeot and add fifteen years to the car, and that’s the general state of most taxis in this country. I would be scared for my life every time I get into one, but usually I just think about how hilarious it is that I’m even in that sort of situation. I mean, how can you be sandwiched between a car door and a woman twice your size with her elbow in your back and not laugh? If you’re now wondering about the space issue in the taxis, I’ll try to clear things up. There will always be three people in the front- the driver, the person in the front seat, and the unfortunate person who is stuck between the two and who must be careful not to hit the stick shift or any of the exposed wires that are surely sticking out from under the dashboard. The backseat will always have 4 people (of varying sizes), hence the being smashed up against the door part. On my way back from my post visit there were actually 11 people in a station wagon taxi with 3 in the front, 5 in the middle, and 3 in the back.
I don’t think the taxi experience is too terrible because people get out along the way and it isn’t always that cramped. Also, there will usually be some crazy story that’ll come out of it.
My taxi ride was pretty interesting mainly because it involved me almost being “kidnapped” and married off to this woman’s son. I was sandwiched between my homologue and this crazy woman who didn’t speak any French. She had her daughter sitting on her lap so it wasn’t too crowded. However, this woman kept on staring at me, and since I am habitually awkward in those kinds of situations, I just kept smiling at her. Then she starts touching my hair. And hugging me. And saying things in a local language that I don’t understand. Luckily, my homologue was able to translate for me and the woman was basically asking if I was married and telling me that she had a son whom I could marry. She said that she lived in a neighboring town and that I should just stay in the taxi with her so I could go meet him. I just laughed the whole time because that’s what I do best. I only got a little nervous about the whole thing when I tried to get out of the taxi and she held on to me (but not too tightly) and kept yelling the name of her town and trying to get me to come with her. Good times.
I stayed at my homologue’s house for the whole visit and had my own little room on the other side of her courtyard. After napping for a few hours (the trip ended up taking about 8 hours) I woke up to a courtyard full of about 20 people. I later found out that they are the presidents of each association within the collective of artisans in my town. There are 21 associations for each trade (ex. furniture makers, seamstresses, mechanics, etc.). Everyone was so nice and welcoming, but the experience itself was pretty awkward because I had to go around the circle of people and “saluer” or greet everyone and also sit through a meeting that was entirely in Nagot (the main local language).
The next day I was taken around town by the VP of the collective on the artisan collective moto. I met the mayor (a woman), but didn’t really have a chance to speak with her because she had to go to a meeting. I also went to the offices of the police and the gendarme. Then we went to the CET (artisan technical school) where some of the artisans teach their apprentices a few times a week (the apprentices are at the artisan’s workplace the other days of the week). I’m hoping to be able to use the classrooms once I start teaching savings, credit, marketing, and accounting formations, but who knows. I also saw a classroom full of computers so I think I may have the opportunity to teach computer formations as well. Also, because my town is pretty close to Nigeria, I think there are a lot of artisans who are interested in learning English so that may end up being one of my side projects.
My two favorite stops of the day were visiting the king of my town and my new house. The king is this hilarious little old man who I want to be my new grandfather. I walked into his compound and saw him sitting on a throne-like chair in his courtyard. There were a couple people sitting by him and one man was kneeling in front of him saying something in Nagot. The VP tells me that he is praying to the king for the well being of our town or something along those lines. Then, the kneeling man whips out a few shots of sodabi (strong Beninese alcohol), and the king and this man start drinking. I guess I should add that this was probably around 10 or 11 in the morning. After that the king comes over to greet us and I find out that he speaks some English. He’s just so funny. I wish you all could meet him right now. I’m sure I’ll have some funny stories about him in the future.
On to my house…it’s amazing! I really can’t believe how nice it is. I’ll eventually put up pictures, but for now I’ll just say that I am not living in a mud hut. My house/apartment is part of this bigger house that houses an NGO and some other people. It has a metal gate surrounding the fairly big concrete courtyard. I have my own set of stairs that leads up to my part of the house. It wasn’t completely finished when I went to see it, but there were 4 rooms (living room, bedroom, small kitchen, and bathroom) and they all had tiled floors. Also, I have electricity and running water!!! My house is definitely too nice to be a PC house, but I’m not complaining. =)
The next day was by far one of the most ridiculous days of my life. There was a fête (party) for all of the artisans. I think it was National Artisan Day or something like that. Anyway, the party included a parade around town followed by a speech, lots of food, and a football (soccer) match. The best part of the whole experience was that most of the artisans had matching “tissue” or fabric. My homologue is a seamstress and made me a skirt and a shirt so I could match the rest of the artisans. I guess this is a good time to explain the fabric/clothes customs here. While people do wear Western style clothing here, for celebrations and everyday life people wear clothing made from brightly (and sometimes oddly colored) fabric called “tissue.” Some of the designs are actually really beautiful while others have prints of things like cuckoo clocks, chickens and eggs, or flip flops. After you buy a couple pagnes (pahn-yuhs) which equal 2 meters of cloth, you take it to the tailor or seamstress to be made into clothes. The outfits for women usually include a long, tight fitting, uncomfortable skirt and a shirt with crazily designed sleeves. I am now the proud owner of a shirt that has sleeves resembling wings. It’s fantastic. Men normally wear tissue pants and a shirt called a boomba. The boomba can have pockets, interesting embroidery, or my favorite thing, tassels. The fashion sense in this country is amazing. Besides my new love of tissue, it amazes me that while it probably hasn’t dropped below 70 degrees since I’ve been here, a day hasn’t gone by where I don’t see someone in a colorful stocking or ski cap. Funky hats are pretty big here and I did see someone in a red, white, and blue cowboy hat the other day.
Anyway, the rest of the party was great. I took pictures with a ton of people because everyone wanted to be photographed with the new town “yovo.” I really think my town is the perfect place for me. The town sits atop a hill so you can actually see the countryside from the main road. It’s pretty spread out and my house is kind of far from the center of town, but I’m really happy about everything I’ve seen so far. Also, the road to and from Cotonou is really nice (meaning not completely covered in pot holes), so that makes riding in bush taxis a bit more bearable, too.
The rest of my post visit was pretty uneventful. I just hung out with my homologue and her family the next day and even got to watch some TV in English. I was also able to experience the cinematic genius that is Nollywood (the Nigerian movie channel). I won’t have a TV at my house, but I think I’ll be able to get some Nigerian channels on my radio so at least I can listen to the news in English.
After my visit I met up with another stagaire from a nearby town and we took a taxi to Cotonou together where I was able to check my email and reconnect with the outside world. We also met up with the two stagaires who will be posted in Cotonou, and went and got pizza and ice cream! Mmm. I’m still thinking about how good it was. It’s nice to know that if I’m really craving those types of foods that it’s only a two hour taxi ride away.
Overall, my wonderful post visit is what’s basically getting me through stage. I can’t wait to start living and working on my own and meeting people in my community. I know it’ll be really difficult the first few months, but I’m definitely ready for it. Since my post visit, nothing too exciting has happened back in my training site town. It’s been raining pretty hard for almost a week straight and at one point, the road in front of the volunteer house turned into a river and we couldn’t leave for a while. Luckily, it was the day of our Iron Chef cook-off so we didn’t have plans to go anywhere. Most of you know that I can’t cook/hate doing it, so I was a little nervous about having a cooking competition within our sector. However, it was actually really fun and my group ended up winning best appetizer! I think more importantly, it got me really excited to attempt to cook once I get to post. I may end up returning to cereal and sandwiches like I did in college, or I may just end up “surprising” my neighbors around dinner time and hopefully they’ll feed me.
Well, that’s it for now. I hope I didn’t bore you, and I hope all is well in the land of constant electricity, delicious and readily available dairy products, and clean water you can drink from the tap.
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