ONE OF THE GREAT TRAGEDIES OF MAN’S LONG TREK ALONG THE HIGHWAY OF HISTORY HAS BEEN THE LIMITING OF NEIGHBORLY CONCERN TO TRIBE, RACE, CLASS OR NATION. - Martin Luther King Jr.

So I guess I want to thank everyone for their outpouring of support. My last post was quite dramatic, so thanks for not just writing me off due to my craziness. Everyone that wrote me individually expressed that they were proud of me and such, and that is definitely the encouragement I need. But I also want to let you know that I kind of felt like sharing my despairing experience was just necessary to share my full experience. Everyone has their ups and downs. And I’m just hoping that by pointing out my weaknesses that I can move forward. Thank you, family and friends that gave their own support as well as sharing ways of dealing with certain struggles.

Perhaps I do have too high of a standard for myself. But you know, there’s some saying that’s like, “shoot for the moon, even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars.” Maybe it’s a paradox that I say, well I’ll set my standards low for what I can ever actually accomplish in Benin, but set the standards uber-high for myself. I know some of you out there are impressed by what I’m doing, but my parents have always insisted that I hold my standards to myself, and not anyone else. For example, my parents always said that if I got a low grade in a class, it was perfectly fine, as long as I can say that I tried hard. On the other hand, I was never allowed to make the excuse that someone else had done worse than me, therefore making my low grade acceptable. That’s what I want here. I want to give it my best effort, but the final impact isn’t as important. As long as I did my absolute best and at least impact some people. I want to care about people here, and I want to work every day to going out and meeting people and doing a good job.

I successfully started the second Village Savings and Loan group. As in we actually started collecting money and appointed a provisionary secretary and treasurer while we take the time to write out the by-laws. At this point, I have said that anyone can leave for any reason without any consequences. But once we finish the by-laws, and everyone agrees to them, then there would be a penalty for anyone who wanted to quit for no good reason. I have also introduced the concept of rain dates, so we can still have a meeting the next day if it rains. As well as a phone tree, so the whole group can be informed and ready. Both of these ideas were somewhat revolutionary. But I hope they will make a big difference.

Furthermore, I think I’ve gotten more of a focus on what I want to do for the next year. I’m finding that one of the greatest barriers to economic development is that almost NOTHING is actually produced in Benin. All Benin is good for is raw materials, if that. For example, right now, I see so many Shea nuts. The only shea butter that is made is really non-quality butter used for cooking. There are very few companies in all of Benin that make Shea Butter to be sold on a wider market. The same is true for cotton. A few months ago, the roads from Kérou were littered with cotton trucks, so much would fly off the back of them that women would go to the sides of the road and collect the wayward cotton and re-sell it. But no factories in Benin even to make t-shirts. Or take mangoes. The past two months, there were so many mangoes that I couldn’t walk 10 paces without tripping on one. Many of them even went rotten before they could possibly be eaten. But no production. If someone could do something with them, like Mango Wine (btw, did you know you can make MANGO WINE??? I would buy that every day, no joke), that would be something that could help the country. If there could actually be factories, Benin could develop so well, but no, everything gets shipped overseas for the factories. Cashews even get shipped to other countries for processing, then return to Benin at ridiculously high prices. And we supposedly have the best Cashews in the world.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve found as a really cool business opportunity. I’ll spend the next year working with local production—I’ve already got in touch with the guy who is in charge of the Shea nuts gathering/selling in Kérou. Then the year after that, the goal would be to work with a group in Cotonou, and learn more about actual production at a national level and exporting, etc.  Maybe after Peace Corps I could then start up some sort of great international business or something. With MANGO WINE. Or something. I just want to learn more about the realities of exporting items and selling them abroad. If it can even be profitable, etc. I haven’t gotten the placement yet, but I have a whole year to figure it all out. I’ve already talked to Yves, my boss in Peace Corps, about this possibility, and together we’re searching for a good placement. I’m really excited about this, but I’m still keeping other career options open. I still have quite a while before I have to completely decide.

In the mean time, I’ve been talking to Hubert about setting up an irrigation system in Fétékou. He had talked about building a well or something. But I pointed out that many of the women in this group are quite old, and have complained to me in the past that it is very hard to carry water on their heads, even if it’s somewhat close. The advantage of the garden is that there is a water tower nearby, and the pipe leading to the village actually passes right by the garden. So I am looking into the possibility of creating some sort of hose-irrigation system which would be used during the dry season. During the wet season, the women could use this site at no cost, since the rains would be watering everything as they do now. But during the dry season, women could choose to use this site and have the watering be much less labor-intensive—but have to pay for a plot. Or they could choose to go the old site, which would be free, with the water right there. But they would have to carry the water all the time, and would be taking the risk of flooding. But at least that way even the poorer women would still have the opportunity to garden. Plus it might even free up larger and more desirable plots in the old site, as some women move to the new one.

The first step, though, is to talk to the person at the Mayor’s Office to confirm that the water tower could actually supply the water necessary for the garden, and still continue to supply the town. Then we have to figure out exactly what we would need, and how this whole system will work. I’m really excited to start, however, and see how it goes.

Another project I will be working towards is with Constant. He wants to have a handball tournament with girls and boys at the local schools. Then the winning teams would receive school supplies. He already did this with Thomas, so it should be relatively easy for me. And it’s something that Constant is really excited about. Plus it will give me a chance to start working more with kids. Plus, when school starts in October, I want to actually start the business club that I was supposed to be doing. I randomly met an economics professor at the high school at the bar, and he seemed really interested in helping me.

So a lot of stuff looking up. Of course, I’m never sure if it will all work out. I’ve had so many plans over the past year, and a lot of times they just don’t pan out. But at least one or two things have to work, right?

I am still very stressed about how Hubert is always trying to get rid of Pierre. However, I talked to my boss in PC, Yves, who is awesome. He really understands volunteers and their needs, and stands up for us. He realizes how important Pierre is to my work, and the volunteer that might replace Anna. So he has promised to talk to Hubert about keeping Pierre. Although at this point, Pierre might just be better off moving on with his life. I just feel bad for the next person that Hubert will sucker in.

I also took a little break from Kérou, and came down to Cotonou for some fun. I had a fun weekend going out with Maria and some other volunteers. Plus we went to the beach a few times, which was really relaxing and awesome. It was exactly the break I needed, plus I got to talk to Yves about projects and other things. I did discover that I may have torn a ligament in my hand (I SWEAR I COULDN’T MAKE THIS STUFF UP IF I TRIED), so I’m in Cotonou now getting physical therapy to try to get back movement and strength. Sigh. I wonder what’s it’s like to be healthy the majority of the time…

At the Beach with Friends

 

A Pretty Picture of Me

Thoughts on America

And even though I’m in Africa, I still keep up on American news. Especially when I’m in Cotonou and don’t have a lot of better things to do with my time. What has been on my mind—and many others—has been the George Zimmermann trial and verdict. Over a year ago Trayvon Martin was stalked and killed for no other reason than being black and suspicious. And now his killer has gone free. I saw a picture of Trayvon’s dead body, lying on the grass, his eyes open and lifeless and I cried. But, as another person mentioned, at least my white privilege means that I am simply reading things of Facebook, looking at articles and pictures, but I am not being forced to return to my home, long bereft of my dead son, and feeling the weight of never being able to get him justice.

But you know, one day, that could be me. One day I could stand on a podium and say, “If I had a son, he’d look like Trayvon,” because let’s face it, I have dated almost all black guys, with one Asian and a few Hispanics thrown in (technically I could say that would lend to having a son that looked like George Zimmermann. But if my son were ever such a racist prick, I would have already disowned him). Maybe one day I can say that my son would—or does—look like Amadou Diallo, Travares McGill, Oscar Grant (and SO MANY others) or perhaps my fiancée could look like Sean Bell (shot the night before his wedding). And if you don’t know any of those names LOOK THEM UP.

According to the laws, I guess Zimmermann should walk free. And I value a justice system where, if I am charged with any crime, the prosecution must prove my guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

But what kind of country do we live in that it is legal to think that just because someone happens to be a young, black male, that he may be stalked by a non-police (or in many other cases actual police), then when they turn around to confront this possibly psychotic stalker, shot dead. How can anyone look at the situation—the situation that Zimmermann got out of his car—and not find him culpable? It sickens me that this is possible and correct under the law.

But beyond that, I am sickened by our entire country and our way of dealing with race. Paula Dean says something racist, but it’s not shocking because she’s southern and old. THIS IS WRONG. Stop it, you northerners, feeling all high and mighty. Stop it you liberals, feeling justified by your “black friend” that may or may not actually exist (and YES, I am both Northern and Liberal). People in the North can be hella racist, and just because you once talked to a black person and don’t actually refer to people as “black”, but rather “African American” doesn’t make you less of a racist.

Let’s have a real conversation about race, nationally. Let’s talk about black people that are black, white people that are white, brown people that are brown, red, yellow, (okay, for some reason the last ones are slightly more offensive, but the team the Redskins is okay?) blue, purple, green, orange, pink, aqua… you get my point. (And along the way, also talk about mixed children, because apparently people go crazy when they see a half-black/white child in a Cheerios commercial.) The point is that there is still racism. History and subconscious feelings don’t go away just because you want them to. And it’s really, really bad that we don’t have a justice system that will address this. Our justice system insists on being “colorblind” so much, that it actually refuses to listen to claims of racial profiling. Even if you present in a case studies that show that statistically black people are arrested at a higher rate, prosecuted for crimes more intensely (in terms of prosecutorial discretion for similar crimes), given longer sentences, and so on, this can’t be shown in court, because it’s not proven that there was racial profiling for THIS PARTICULAR CASE/person, it is therefore invalid.

You should read a book called “The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness.” I know some people might jump back, because it is quite an intense name, and quite an intense idea. But in it, Michelle Alexander lays out a thoroughly convincing case, with a plethora of statistics and facts (you know, those pesky things). It lays out how the War On Drugs has become—and this is not a conspiracy theory, but simply the way things have evolved due to lingering racial prejudices—a systematic way to imprison predominantly black males, and force them to a status of second-class citizenship for a very long time. They are second-class citizens because drug laws force those convicted to never be allowed to have things like food stamps, public housing, pell grants for college, and furthermore, are forced to put this on every job application, meaning there chances of actually getting a job and reintegrating back into society are very slim. They are legally discriminated against for the rest of their lives.

And I know there are plenty of people out there that will say, “Just say no [to drugs]” to these black people. But the reality is that people of every race USE AND SELL drugs at about the same rate, and young white people actually use drugs at higher rates than pretty much everyone else. Yet black people account for a significantly higher rate of those actually arrested, prosecuted, and imprisoned for such crimes. In fact, the United States imprisons black men at a higher rate than SOUTH AFRICA UNDER APARTHEID did (just let that one sink in). So the real issue is here, is that police and prosecutors can make choice about who to target and prosecute, and they overwhelming choose black men. (With a few white people thrown in to “legitimize” the system as non-racist)

Because society tells them these are the real criminals. When white people smoke marijuana, they’re just relaxing, spreading world peace. But when it’s black people do it, they’re criminals. Ask any person in America to draw a picture of a drug dealer. Most likely the person they draw will be black.

Michelle Alexander’s sums this up: “When black youth find it difficult or impossible to live up to these
standards— or when they fail, stumble, and make mistakes, as all humans do— shame and blame is heaped upon them. If only they had made different choices, they’re told sternly, they wouldn’t be sitting in a jail cell; they’d be graduating from college. Never mind that white children on the other side of town who made precisely the same choices— often for less compelling reasons— are in fact going to college.”

And this is what needs to stop. We first of all need to break out of prejudices. It’s not that we need to stop seeing color. But is it impossible to see color and yet love the people of a different culture? I love different cultures. I love fried green tomatoes, quiche, tikka masala, fried tostones, kebabs, plus many other items from cuisines across the world, and I love my aunt’s sweet tea. I love different values that people in different parts of the world have. I love that people here in Benin will invite me as I walk down the street to come eat with them. I love my own culture too, that people value my time enough to call me if they’re running late. I don’t love everything about every culture, and not everything about my own culture and history. But that doesn’t mean we can’t reach out. To grow and evolve together, while maintaining our own unique identities. To know that NOT EVERYONE HAS THE SAME EXPERIENCE. Maybe you or your parents worked hard and they made it. Maybe that drop-out black kid’s parents’ worked just as hard and didn’t make it, because life isn’t fair, and also because our nation still has many racial prejudices it hasn’t dealt with.

Because in the end, even if one day I do marry a white man, and we have white babies, IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER. Because I will still care about people that are oppressed, harassed, treated as second-class citizens, and occasionally gunned down. Whether or not they look like me or my offspring, I want to still care. I don’t want to live in a society that continues to ignore racism because it’s unpleasant, or doesn’t coincide with the nation we want it to be. I want there to be a nation where criminals are criminals, period, and race doesn’t change anything. And I certainly don’t want to live in a nation where a murderer walks free just because his victim’s race made him less valuable.

Because that was a lot of the arguments that were trotted out on the internet. That suddenly, when Trayvon had a little bit of marijuana in his system, was once suspended, suddenly he deserved it. As one article points out: “Whether or not Martin was a good kid or a bad kid, an angel or a thug, a normal teenager or a dangerous deviant, he had every right to walk in the streets of his soon-to-be-stepmother's neighborhood without fear of being shot. A criminal record, a manner of dress, a height: none of these make the shooting of an unarmed, law-abiding teenager justified. And yet here we are, forced to defend Martin's honor, as though if he had been a gangster there'd be nothing to say. As though the minute a black man is anything but a choir boy it's okay to shoot him in the street.” (http://gawker.com/5896490/your-guide-to-the-idiotic-racist-backlash-against-trayvon-martin)

So let’s try to shake this image. Let’s not cross the street in fear when you see a black man coming your way. Let’s extend love across racial lines, across neighborhoods, and begin to truly care. Begin to understand the realities that exist for other people that don’t exist perhaps in your own life. Try to walk a mile in people’s shoes. Or at least read about it. And CARE. And do something, even something small, in your own life.