Parties, Salt, and History

One of the things I love about my life in Benin is that I'm never sure about what's going to happen next, but my schedule is never tight, so it doesn't really matter.
For example, I've been wanting to volunteer at an orphanage here, and I talked to Jules, the exchange manager about it. He said he would talk to the man who ran the orphanage and then he would let me know. Friday evening Jules took me to the orphanage, for what I thought was just going to be introductions. After greeting everyone, Jules left, and I ended up helping 45 orphans wash their clothes by hand.
3 hours and a dinner of rice covered with thick, salty, spicy sauce later I went home, where I was informed that a group of us would be going to the end of the year party at the local high school. My first thought was, 'Aren't we a little too old for this?' But since it's common for students to repeat grades or take time off from school if their families are having financial problems, a lot of students are in their early 20s when they graduate. The party consisted mainly of a talent show, where a lot of the students sang or danced, but my favorite act was the skit performed by the English Club in which one of the actors cried out, “I am winning you!”
The next day I had another opportunity to be flexible when, without warning, I got dropped off at the house of two girls I had met the night before in order to help them practice their English. We had a great time talking in a mix of French and English while eating raw peanuts, drinking coke, and watching 24 (in English):

The next day I ended up at a celebration of Sita's (the Ivoirian woman who makes me delicious attieke and alloco) daughter's baptism, where we sat around and ate while the DJ played really loud dance music.
The DJ can always be identified as the cool guy wearing sunglasses:

Sita dancing:

That was followed by a tour of the Rue des Esclaves, a 4 kilometer route with monuments explaining the process the slaves went through during the weeks prior to leaving Africa.

Along the way we also stopped at a village where salt is produced. The women who make the salt collect the watery soil in these large baskets, drain the water, then boil it for three hours, and voila: salt! The process is a little more complicated than that, but I'm sure you get the idea.

The tour ended at the beach, where we all sat around and watched the sunset. All in all, a perfect weekend.

Sindédji

Yesterday was my first site visit for my job, which consisted of a 20 minute zemi (scooter taxi) ride out to the village of Tourinou to attend the weekly meeting of Sindédji, a group comprised of women who are trying to earn supplemental income through selling palm oil. They just started working with VAID to attain a loan in order to purchase a machine that would make the palm oil production easier. Right now they're doing all the work by hand, which is very slow and laborious, so they can only produce a little bit at a time, but if they had a machine, they could sell a lot more at the local markets, and could expand even to markets in Nigeria. They have the raw materials, the clients, and the motivation, now all they need is financial, material, and technical assistance.

This is the president, collecting the weekly payment ($2/person) from each member. She can't read or write, so she memorizes how much everyone gives her. In her role as president over the last 12 years, she has never forgotten exactly how much each person has paid!

Group Picture of Sindédji: The two men in the picture aren't members. One of them acts as the secretary, since none of the women know how to read or write, and they both act as regulators in case anything gets out of control at the meetings. Stephanie, the director of VAID is the woman in the front row with the blue head scarf.

And of course no village is complete without a group of children around to profit from the entertainment of getting their picture taken. It was easy to see that I was not the first person with a camera to visit this village, as the children lined up and sat down as soon as I pulled it out.

By the end they realized they could see a reflection of themselves in my camera lens, so they started using it as a mirror, which is why they're staring so intently.

V.A.I.D.

I've been in Benin for one week now, and at this point I'm in training to work with V.A.I.D., the local NGO I've been assigned to help. V.A.I.D stands for “Volontaires d’Actions Intégrées pour le Développement”, meaning they help implement development projects. Their goal is to improve the lives of the most marginalized in society and to contribute to sustainable development through assisting the local communities in creating, maintaining, and improving their own projects. They focus mainly on: community health, providing support for community projects in the nearby villages, defending the rights of women and children, and working with the youth through cultural activities.

My homework over the weekend was to read the ever captivating “Introduction to Strategic Planning” in French. Yesterday and today my assignment has been to read other similar documents, also in French, such as “Self-diagnostics for Civil Society Organizations of Benin” and “The Policies and Procedures of V.A.I.D”. While this hasn't been very glamorous and I'm getting very tired of reading training manuals, it's been a necessary step for familiarizing myself with the work that VAID does, and their approach to their projects. And it's been expanding my French vocabulary, which is never a bad thing.

Reckya, the secretary

Inside the office

The view out the office window onto the common area. Our one room office is part of a mini compound shared with about five similar buildings, all of which are houses.

Venturing Out For Lunch

When in a new country, the most mundane tasks can become an adventure- sleeping, getting dressed, finding a bathroom.
My most recent opportunity to learn more about Beninoise culture came in the form of lunch yesterday, when I was faced with choosing either leftover bread from breakfast or leaving the house in search of something new. Feeling adventuresome as I was, I settled on option 2. Since my internet connection had been miraculously swift around lunch time, I had declined Jules's invite to come with him and his friend to a restaurant for lunch earlier. So, by 2pm, I had developed a remarkable appetite, which was just as well, since the key to successfully trying new food in a foreign country is having a remarkable appetite. This leaves you feeling desperate and willing to try things you might otherwise politely decline. As someone who grew up around African cuisine, I know how easy it is to encounter food that is difficult to appreciate the first time you eat it, so I left the house feeling fully prepared and slightly nervous about what I might find.
After a couple blocks, I stumbled on a corner shack with a table, two benches, and a woman selling food covered by a sheet so that flies wouldn't get to it. Appreciating her sense of hygiene, and not knowing how far I might go before finding another “restaurant”, I approached her, greeted her, and asked how much the food cost. She began listing words I didn't understand, so I explained that I had just arrived in Benin on Tuesday, so I wasn't familiar with the food, at which point she excitedly showed me the selection.

Another crucial element of trying foreign food is commitment. You have to promise yourself you won't chicken out once you've seen it, no matter how appealing leftover bread might seem at that point. She opened a small container revealing a white, slimy, dough-like ball, and asked me if that was fine. I lied, and said yes, and after she plopped it onto a plate, she poured a red tomato-based sauce over it, and then asked me if I wanted vegetables or not. “Vegetables” is a very vague term, but since I hadn't eaten very many of them since arriving in Ouidah, I agreed to the vegetables. Something resembling cooked spinach was then plopped onto my plate, and then some roasted fish after I was given the choice between that and boiled eggs. I smiled and thanked her, took my plate, and sat down at the table.

Feeling nervous, committed, and still hungry, I approached the gelatinous ball of dough first. Slimy, bland, but if covered with enough sauce and vegetables, not too bad. After getting through that ordeal, and knowing the woman would be offended if I didn't finish my food, I gingerly took a bite of fish, and discovered that it was actually quite delicious. When I got up to pay her and thank her for lunch, she informed me that it would only cost 30 cents! I headed home completely full, mouth still tingling from the spice in the sauce, determined to acquire a taste for this food.

Waiting

Waiting: I do a lot of it. Everyday. All day.
Life in general is just slower here, so by waiting I'm learning to adapt. My schedule isn't slotted in half hour increments, and I'm not rushing off from one thing to the next. For now I spend most of my day not even knowing what time it is, although that will probably change once I get settled in with the NGO (non-governmental organization) I'm helping.
The internet connection is slow at the cybercafe, so when a page loads in less than a minute, I get really excited. Sometimes I wait at least 20 minutes for a page to load. So I wait, because there's no alternative. But it's teaching me patience, and giving me the chance to observe the world around me, which I think is one of the best ways to understand a culture. For example, while waiting for my page to load, I took a picture of the woman selling eggs across the street:

I wait at the restaurants too, because it can take a while to prepare the food, but it's always worth it. For example, yesterday I waited about 45 minutes for my foutou banaine (mashed up plantains with eggplant sauce over it), which I got to eat for the first time since leaving Cote d'Ivoire over ten years ago. I'm a little ashamed to say that I've been here four days now, but still haven't tried any local cuisine. But Ivoirian food is just so good; I can't resist!

While my room is not exactly posh in comparison to many standards, I have running water (the tap water in Benin doesn't have to be filtered and it tastes great) and electricity, which has only gone out once, so I'm really happy with my housing. Benin is one of the poorest countries in the world, which means that the house I'm living in is one of the nicest in Ouidah (pronounced Weedah). And no, my bathroom doesn't have a shower curtain or a toilet seat, and yes, my bed is made. It's so hot here that you don't even want a top sheet:

The last few days have been orientation/recover from jet lag days, so we've mostly been running errands.
Wednesday we went to Cotonou, the economic capital of Benin, to register at the U.S. embassy. I have never seen so many scooters before in my life! This picture is taken from inside the taxi we took from Ouidah, but as soon as we arrived in town, we took scooter taxis everywhere, so we quickly became part of the chaos. The taxi drivers can be differentiated from everyone else by their bright yellow shirts.

Thursday was spent relaxing, so we toured the Python Temple, which is the Voodoo center in Ouidah (Voodoo originated in Benin), and got to hold a couple of the temple snakes, which are completely tame. I am aware that this sounds like something out of an Indiana Jones film, so here's proof that I'm not making any of it up:

After that, we headed for the beach, which is about ten minutes away by scooter. The beaches are completely empty during the week, so Gaurav and I contemplated the idea of relocating our offices to this more scenic area of Benin. This idea has not been completely dismissed yet.

The lagoon on the way to the beach

"The Port of No Return" -A sobering reminder of slavery's impact on Benin

The unbelievably gorgeous beach where we spent the afternoon

The "Crew"- Me, the American, Jules, the exchange manager, who is from Cote d'Ivoire, and Gaurav, the other volunteer, who is from Canada

A Feeling of Belonging

Whether I'm reuniting with some of my best friends for the weekend in an unfamiliar city, or whether I'm meeting new people in a familiar place, there's something indescribable about the feeling of belonging somewhere. While this would probably go in the category of “Feelings You Won't Experience” when arriving in a new country, Benin reminds me a lot of my childhood in Africa, especially the ten years I spent in Cote d'Ivoire, so I've been incredibly happy. The moment I stepped off the plane onto the tarmac and felt the thick, warm, salty wind at 5am, I knew I was home. My homecoming was especially confirmed when I got to customs, where after realizing that I had forgotten my immunization card, I was ushered into the “Health Office”, where I paid $20, wrote down my name and the year I had gotten my yellow fever shot, and went off to wait for my suitcase. I'm not sure what the going rate for a yellow fever shot is these days, or how the government of Benin is going to confirm that I really did get a yellow fever shot in the year I said I did, but if it's cool with them, it's cool with me.
After I was warmly greeted at the airport by Jules, the exchange manager, and Gaurav, the other volunteer, we all stuffed ourselves into a taxi for the 45 minute ride home. After drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours, my day then started the way any good day in West Africa might- with a baguette and a cup of Nescafe. Here's how the rest of my day went (commuting between all these things involved dodging potholes at swift speeds on the back of Jules's motorcycle):
Stop 1: Cybercafe, where the connection is so slow that I decide to use the most efficient method I can think of to notify people that I'm alive and well: update my facebook status. I left the cybercafe hoping that the news of me arriving alive and well would make it to my parents, since I wasn't able to email them.
Stop 2: Buy a pagne (a piece of material that you wrap around as a skirt) at the market so I can fit in with all the cool girls and stop scandalizing the city by wearing pants.
Stop 3: Visit the orphanage where I might be working for the next two months. The kids are great, their sanitation situation is not.
Stop 4: Buy a cheap cellphone, also for the purpose of fitting in, but also so that I don't find myself stranded anywhere due to my terrible sense of direction.
Stop 5: Back home for a brainstorming session with Jules and Gaurav on the best ways to help the orphanage.
Stop 6: Dinner at an Ivoirian restaurant, where I'm happily reunited with some of my favorite childhood dishes: attieke and alloco (Jules is Ivoirian, so he's been spoiling me by taking me to all the good restaurants in town).
Back at home I try to sleep, but give up after realizing that jet lag has finally caught up to me after I've managed to elude it over the weekend in England. So I type up my blog post, and as I'm finishing it's almost midnight, I'm covered in a light sweat because of the humidity, and I'm slightly concerned that my computer is going to overheat.
Number of white people sited today: 2.
End of day 1.

Picture 1: I was excited to find these products at my new home, since I had them growing up.
Pictures 2 & 3: The view from my balcony

And I'm Off!

Visa for Benin? Check. Suitcase packed? Almost.
Freedom from all academic responsibility for the semester? Check.
Mixed emotions of disbelief, curiosity, slight anxiety, and sheer excitement? Check.

As I’ve been shoving all my earthly possessions into various storage boxes over the last few days I’ve been marveling at how fast the time has gone by. Even though it was months ago, it feels like just yesterday when I decided to go on this internship. There are so many people who have helped me get to this point that I don’t even know where to start in showing my appreciation.

Actually it wouldn’t be hard to start, but knowing where to stop would be the greater challenge. I’m really thankful for everyone who has encouraged me, shared my excitement, and helped me out financially. Along with this, many of you came to my art show, and put up with both my absent-mindedness and my incredibly busy schedule. You’re all really great, and I hope that you’ll enjoy reading my blog over the next couple months.