3 weeks

Almost three weeks have gone by since I got to post, and I can honestly say that not much has changed from the first week, except for the fact that I know my way around town a little better. My house still isn’t finished (my proprietor said it would be done this week, but that really means next week or never), but I guess it’s not really that big a deal. I’m just bummed because I feel like I’m in this sort of limbo between the idea that this is home for the next 2 years and the reality that this is home for the next 2 years…if that makes any sense at all.

I also just can’t wait to decorate and use my pastel pink toilet and sink.

Anyway, my postmate and I have walked around a lot together and that has lead to some encounters with some interesting people. Most of the time people just want to know what we’re doing here, but sometimes we get the pleasure of dealing with the folks who want us to bring them back to the States. I haven’t thought of a great comeback yet, but I’m thinking I’ll say something along the lines of, “Well, you can come back to America with me, but men there cook, do laundry, and take care of the kids.” Since these fun tasks belong to only women here, maybe they’ll think twice about wanting to relocate. Also, I was walking down the street the other day when a man held his baby up to me and said (jokingly?) something about bringing her back to the States. Maybe I should have just grabbed the baby and walked away to see what he would have done.

The two things I do love about exploring my town are discovering new food places and coming across the town crazies or “fous” en francais (they usually just yell things and are often missing some major article of clothing, like pants). I also love having my regular bread, fruit, chicken, and cheese ladies that I always go to for, well, bread, fruit, chicken, and cheese. It kind of reminds me of some of the regular food places I had back in NY: Rabin Raj for egg and cheese sandwiches, Mamoun’s for falafels, and Grey’s for hot dogs. Sigh. Close enough right? Oh, and don’t get too excited for me that I found cheese in my town. When I say cheese, I really mean a mixture between mozzarella and ricotta that doesn’t taste like either of those. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it’s white and round and doesn’t melt. I think the whole point of cheese is for it to melt, but I’ll take it because it’s the closest thing to cheese for more than an hour away by bush taxi.

Also, during my nine weeks of training, I only ate yam pile (my favorite Beninese dish) twice, but during my three weeks at post, I’ve probably had it 5 or 6 times. My postmate and I went to check out this yam pile place last week and we were deciding what type of meat to get. Our choices were fish, goat, and ‘agouti.’ I went with the goat, but my postmate got the ‘agouti’ even though she wasn’t quite sure what it was. She pointed to a picture of this rabbit on the wall and asked the woman who works there if ‘agouti’ was similar to rabbit. The woman said, “Yea.” Well, my friends, we later found out that ‘agouti’ means bush rat. It really isn’t as bad as it sounds (I tried a little bit), but I’ll probably stick to goat or chicken.

In other news, I finally named my cat after just calling her “cat” for 2 weeks. Her name is Magnolia. I’m not sure if I was really craving a cupcake when I thought of that name or if it was just too perfect for me to name her that, but there it is. You may or may not be judging my mental stability at this point (I don’t blame you since I did name my cat after a bakery), but I can assure you that my malaria medicine (the one that gives vivid dreams and hallucinations) has not made me crazy (yet).

Speaking of baked goods. I made my first cake in Benin! Yes, my initial fear that I wouldn’t be able to bake for 2 years is long gone. I made a pineapple upside down cake for my birthday party last week. I was a little nervous because 1. I’ve never even made a pineapple upside down cake in the States and 2. There are no such things as real ovens in PC houses and you have to construct a Dutch Oven with a big pot, old tomato paste cans, and a baking pan. Anyhoo, it turned out really well! Long live Martha.

My birthday party was a lot of fun. I went to a nearby town to visit some friends on my actual birthday, but we had a little shindig in our town the weekend after. My wonderful postmate hosted the party since I’m kind of homeless at the moment. We made a bunch of food and some sangria (made from boxed wine and mixed in a bucket…a classy bunch we are), and surprisingly, everything turned out really well! I was just so happy to be celebrating birthday #22 with a great group of people. I woke up on my actual birthday feeling pretty indifferent towards the whole day, which for me is not at all normal. Luckily, I was lifted out of my slump and ended up having a great week =)