More Navigating Porto Novo

I want to start out today’s entry with a public service announcement. This is not directed towards anyone in particular. This is just for all extroverts. And if you happen to be guilty of anything I’m about to go in to, it’s okay. I know you were just doing it because you genuinely wanted me to have fun. But, stop.

Here’s the thing: if you find yourself dragging someone on to the dance floor, who literally is digging their heels into the ground, shaking there head and saying, “no!”: stop. Go sit in a corner, and think about what you did. (Disclaimer, this didn’t happen to me per se, I just witnessed it.)

I know some people who know me well might not believe me when I tell them I’m an introvert. I spent this last year at Oklahoma in very much a leadership role amongst my friends there. Among my family I can be very loud, joking, and so on. I love dancing. I really do. I love it so much that I will get up in the middle of a club and be the first one on the dance floor if necessary. (Of course this situation is not preferred!) But let me just say, it has taken me a very, very long time to get to that point. And furthermore, I often have to get really comfortable with a group of people before I do certain things. I hate forced “icebreakers” (i.e. having to go around with a paper that has categories saying “find someone who…”). I detest any group activity that ends in the mockery of some individuals (all for learning of course!). I will never, ever, ever, volunteer to get up in front of a group, or during the performance of a comedian, etc. If you try to force me to do karaoke, I will contemplate murdering you.

So for real, I am an introvert. I hate bringing a lot of attention on myself, or even doing public things, unless I am around a group of people that I know very well and/or it is on MY TERMS. And these are very specific/borderline crazy terms. For example, if we’re talking about dancing, I prefer it to be night/dark. I can pretend like people don’t see as well. I hate being on the very edge of a group (I feel like voyeurs can be watching me from a far), but I also don’t want to be the center exhibitionist, so the middle of a blob is ideal. Alternatively, a corner in which I can hide is acceptable. Preferably, there is no audience, only other people dancing along. And I like those people to either be: a) complete strangers or b) really close friends that I am totally comfortable around. I like already being really good at the style of dance that is going on; I don’t like to learn it in front of a large group. In fact I like to be really good at that dance, so if anyone does happen to observe me, it would only be to observe how talented at dancing I am. And of course, all of these rules are relaxed when there is alcohol involved, but not completely. Like I said, borderline crazy though my rules are, don’t question them.

So you extroverts, here is what I ask of you: please, if someone isn’t dancing, or participating, etc, this might mean that they genuinely don’t want to. Yes, there are some times when people are waiting on the edges, waiting for a little encouragement to join in. So invite them. Once. MAYBE twice. But ultimately, NO MEANS NO. Don’t believe, that if only they would just loosen up, join in they would have a fabulous time. Maybe they are having a great time just watching or listening (There ARE some Perks of Being a Wallflower). Maybe if they aren’t having a good time, IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE CONSTANTLY THREATENING TO DRAG THEM INTO PARTICIPATING, WHICH THEY DON’T WANT TO DO. Maybe they genuinely don’t like the activity which has been foisted upon them, and are just waiting for it to end. Perhaps they truly WILL NOT have a good time doing the aforementioned activity. These people can make up their own minds. Again, be a decent person and invite everyone in. But don’t force it.

Let me explain where this is coming from. Today we had a “traditional dance” session, which I was looking forward to. I don’t know what I was expecting, because I should have been expecting exactly this. There were musicians as well as dancers (I think those roles were pretty fluid within the group). They started playing and dancing, sharing music from all across Benin. Then they had people come up to join in. At first they requested that everyone who was learning Bariba (a language in the north) come up. And at this point I was so, so happy that I had chosen to stick with French. The next song, they encouraged everyone to come and dance. Some people refused at first (including me), but eventually everyone else at least got up and went to the center. So I got up as well, and just stood on the side and observed. Then at one point one of the dancers tried to drag me further into the group towards the center. I tried to pull away, and kept saying “no.” Luckily, one of the facilitators stopped him, I think telling him, it wasn’t required that everyone joined in or something like that. But the point is, that the moment he let go, I literally started crying. I’ve only had that reaction once before, I think at a middle-school dance, when I feel as though I’m in such a stressful social situation that I want to cry. Of course, I’m embarrassed that I’m standing there with tears in my eyes, trying to blink them away, but I can’t shake the absolute terror I just experienced at the prospect of being dragged to the center of attention. So I just have to close my eyes and listen to the music that I am TRYING to enjoy, while attempting to discreetly wipe away the tears that have appeared. Soon after that, I saw some other volunteers trying to drag another girl to the center; this is the one that was digging her heels into the ground. My point is, please let people make their own adult decisions about whether they want to join in or not.

Okay, this ends my public service announcement. I hope you take it to heart. Pass it on to your extrovert friends, so they can understand. Being and introvert means that social situations are emotionally draining. Don’t make it more stressful. Give encouragement to everyone; be proud of the introverts for even deigning to come out at all.  Give me credit for overcoming my shyness and coming halfway across the world to live in a completely different society to try to make an impact on the world. Let me not dance if I don’t want to. That is all.

Now I will return to the other things going on in my life here.

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

I am really glad that I have had a lot of experience being in foreign places and figuring things out for myself. Today, my teacher had told me that we would be meeting at the one place, called Songhai (basically an environmental compound). So I asked my host mom last night how I would get there, and she had the neighbor that had driven me to the cybercafé take me. He drops me off there, and I’m waiting around, but I see no other Yovos in sight. So I check my book schedule to see if it gives a specific place in Songhai where we are meeting. Then I see that we aren’t, in fact, meeting at Songhai, but at “École Normale Superior,” a school that is another a normal meeting place for us. I have a brief moment of panic, when a string of curse words may have rapidly crossed my mind. Here I am, in some random part of Porto Novo, with no cell phone, no numbers to call even if I did; I have no idea how to get to the ENS, and I have only a vague idea on how to get home, but that would take me probably +45 minutes or so to walk. Then I took a deep breath, and look around. I see that there are plenty of student-aged people around. I can ask them how much a zemi costs to go to the ENS, then find a zemi on the nearby road. So I walked toward the entrance, looking for any other of the volunteers that might have made this same mistake of arriving here (I swear the Peace Corps people kept repeating “Songhai—Tuesday”; I don’t blame this entirely on my teacher), when suddenly, my teacher appears on his moto, says, “Oh, the location changed,” (lies) and whisked me away to the ENS. And so that crisis was averted.

The training today was a bunch of different things, from “resiliency”, to safety and security, to diarrhea (fun) and other common ailments for those in Benin. The first was “resiliency, which I, perhaps in my vanity, don’t really think I need. Sure, there will be rough times here, whether it’s the culture, some individuals, or me feeling like I’m not accomplishing something, etc, etc. I’ve already described for you different things that have been frustrating (i.e., “oh there is xyz near/far” without more explanation). But these don’t really bother me; I might just roll my eyes and think “C.C.A.”, which means, “C’est Ça, l’Afrique.” (for you non-francophones, that means “That’s Africa!”). And I honestly don’t get stressed, maybe just if I have a lot of papers due. Although here, I might have the opposite problem of having way to much time and not enough to do. But while I may find this frustrating, again, I feel like it wouldn’t ruin my time here. Plus I’m pretty good at trying to figure out what to do. Like lately I’ve felt a little bored, since most of the time my family just watches TV in the evening, and often its soaps and/or bollywood, etc. I don’t really enjoy that. So I’ve asked my host cousin if he can take me to a book shop and show me good Beninese novels, so I can read them in my down time. But okay, when I have a breakdown in a few months or so, you can remind me of this blog entry, so the Peace Corps can then tell me, “I told you so.” Right now, however, being here feels so right, and I can’t even imagine a prolonged unhappiness or frustrations I can’t handle.

My main problem will probably be my hatred of asking anyone for help if I end up actually needing it. I’ve always felt this way. I actually enjoy taking care of people, but I try to never let anyone take care of me (obviously, except for my mom, etc, when I was younger, and even now). So if I am feeling extremely frustrated, or I have a problem, etc, it will take a lot for me to reach out. Granted, the Peace Corps doesn’t want you calling them every time you get a little sad, but they also don’t want you to hide your worries inside until suddenly exploding into a need to quit and leave. They keep encouraging us to use the Peer Support Network, which is made of some current volunteers who can offer aid, encouragement, insight, etc. I doubt I will ever call them, though.

On the other hand, my independence and willingness to problem-solve I think will be a really good trait. For example, today, towards the end of classes, my professors told me that we would be getting our bicycles, and that we could ride them home. In true Peace Corps and/or Beninese fashion (I’m not sure which is to blame), no warning. No, “Oh by the way, make sure you know the route to and from school by Tuesday because you will have to get home on your own.” All we get is a surprised, “What do you mean you don’t know your way home already? This is your second day coming here!” We are given no maps; there are no road signs; no one gives directions. We are not told the “rules of the road” here; I guess we are just supposed to figure it out by observation. So the directors offered to call our families and tell them to come pick us up and show us the way home. But in my head, I just thought, “No, I basically know the way home. And I’ve watched people deal with traffic. I’ll just wing it.” Luckily, there were a few other people who live really near to me, who had basically the same idea. So we winged it together, a little train of yovos on bikes, braving the Beninese traffic and praying that we made it safely. We did, but it definitely takes a lot of focus and awareness. I can’t bike with my hands off the handlebars, pretending I’m edgy and Frenchie. Oh well.

Other than my harrowing experiences, there are some things I would like to note. Firstly, that my family was very impressed by my card-shuffling abilities. Here in Benin, they shuffle cards by holding them long-ways in their one hand, then pulling out random cards and throwing them on top with the other hand. My host cousin, Sasha, tried a few times to tension-shuffle (that’s what I’ll call the American/poker method for shuffling) and then bridge the cards back together like I do, then said, “Ahh, this is just for whites!” and gave them back to me. But then he said to give him two days, and he will be able to do it. So I guess he will practice.

Related to cards, I thought it was really interesting that the night that I played cards in the monastery, the two staff members that played with us showed us a card trick that actually my dad had showed me when I was young. It involves taking 21 cards, putting them in three columns, and eventually being able pick out the other person’s card after they’ve told you which column it is in. I like pointing these things out to remind myself, and everyone reading this, what a small world, in fact, it is.

On another random note, on Monday, my French classes were at my house, but the chairs we were sitting in were very uncomfortable. So I kept moving around, then at one point I laid on the floor on my stomach, then later I sat on the floor and used my chair as a table. Then my teacher asked, “Are you Muslim? Because you like sitting on the floor a lot.” I guess that’s a weird thing to do? Unless you really are Muslim? I don’t know. But it was a really random thing for him to say, I thought.

Thursday, 5 July 2012

Yesterday, I rode my bike to school, very successfully, so I was proud of myself. We had language classes all day. Then at the end of every day, we are supposed to do a immersion, or “community” session, where we go somewhere new and practice our French in the community. We decided to go on a mission to find a map and some Beninese novels. First we tried a “Papeterie”, or basically a “Paper Shop”. There you find things like notebooks, cards, etc. They told us they didn’t have a map of Porto-Novo, but to try the Post Office. The Post Office didn’t have any, so they told us to try to newspaper vendors next to them. The vendors didn’t have any, so they told us to try the Mayor’s Office. Which was too far away. So that part of the mission failed. However, I was very happy to have purchased two books written by Beninese authors: Un piege sans fin and l’Arbre fetiche. They will give me something to do when I have free time.

Since yesterday was the 4^th of July, the volunteers met up. Not all of us together, but a group there, a group here, etc. So our professor left us at the bar where we were meeting, which was close to the bookshop. We hung out, some people got hamburgers, and most people got beers or the like. When we left, Drew and I had a basic idea of the way we needed to go. But we weren’t sure. We ended up getting a little lost. We knew the basic direction that we needed to go, but not the exact routes. Luckily we were on our bikes, so we could ride around pretty quickly. And we asked a few people how to go towards the school, before we finally saw a landmark we recognized so we could get home. It’s a very frustrating experience, but I am glad that we have the French to be able to figure it out pretty easily.

I really do feel for the people here who don’t have the French skills, or perhaps have just never done something like this before. While I wrote yesterday that I feel I don’t really need “resiliency training” (though it will probably come in handy at some point), I completely understand that some people do. I know my first night in France (this was the first time I had ever left the country), I definitely found it really hard to communicate with my family, and I think I went to bed crying. But after hours of refreshing sleep, I woke up, ready to take on the French experience. And I’ve had a lot of international experiences since then, which definitely help me deal with my current situation. So I can’t really sympathize directly with other volunteers who are encountering a lot of frustrations, can’t speak French, or are dealing with culture shock. I do, however, try to be understanding, and maybe give suggestions. Or offer them some things they could say in French if they encountered similar frustrating situations again. I feel like I begin a lot of sentences with “When I was in…” but I hope they take this as me just sharing knowledge, not as a bragging thing.

Today I took my first zemi, which my host cousin called for me. It was fine; no helmet-banging. We had language classes in the morning, then after lunch we had a session called “Gender and Development.”

This is a topic that is very interesting to me. And its obviously important. I think it was Warren Buffett (renowned and awesome billionaire) who said something to the effect that, yes, he was very successful, but in reality it was easy since he only really had to compete against 50% of the population. Its important to consider in developing countries—and even in our own—that if women are undervalued, then you aren’t utilizing half of your population. Imagine the amazing discoveries that could be made, the breakthroughs in every field, if women were given the same resources and opportunities. Its sad to think of the lost potential for the world, just because someone with the brain to make or discover something, was born with the inopportune trait of having a vagina. Nicholas Kristof (NYTimes writer) wrote a book called Half the Sky, which I really wanted to read before I left, but I didn’t have a chance to. But he talks about the importance of women and their potential.

In developing countries, women are especially important because of the role they do play in the family. If they have an increased income, then the household tends to be much better off: the kids eat more, have better nutrition, are more likely to go to school, and so on. In our roles in the Peace Corps, we have the opportunity to consider gender in the various things we do, and even take on side projects that address this issue directly in our community. Of course there are many cultural things to consider; you can’t just change gender roles in a community with one lecture or workshop. However, empowering women and girls even on a local level can have a resounding effect throughout the entire country. Listening to these sessions, I am ready and pumped just to jump in to my assignment. I am excited to begin, although, of course, I haven’t even been given a specific city or project yet. I must be patient. But I hope to recall all this enthusiasm I have for issues like Gender in Development when I am actually at my post.

After classes were done, my host mom picked me up and took me to her family house. I am learning more and more about the city layout, and am starting to figure it all out. I think Porto Novo is actually smaller than I first imagined. Anyway, I got to meet some more of her siblings, including Sasha’s father. He is an awesome old man, with silver hair. He normally lives in Northern New Jersey, and actually knew where Frederick is! I really, really like this extended family I have here. For a brief moment, I imagined it would be cool to have so many siblings; then I realized that was crazy. I think my sisters and I were enough for my parents to handle. And I enjoy all the time I spend with them. I just had a moment when I looked at all the older brothers, sitting around, chilling, in this huge house, where every day would have felt like a gathering to me, and thought that might be cool. I think it’s awesome as well, how many cousins I have. Built in friends.

I have truly been blessed with my host family experience. I know its not always guaranteed to work out. But my first family, in France, was just my host mom, then her boyfriend. She was really nice, but also really chill, and let me do whatever. And of course, I love my Senegalese family. I became really close with my brother when I was there, and my host mom was wonderful. This is a completely different experience; having a pretty huge (extended) family. But it’s really exciting.

Saturday, 7 July 2012

Yesterday we had our language class, as usual, but this time, we met at our professor’s house. We always have a “pose”, which is a break. During this time he left and went to make photocopies at the school. When he returned, he started telling us about how recently a law was enacted in Porto-Novo that you have to wear helmets when riding a motorcycle, but policemen have just been using this as an excuse to stop people, and make them pay the officer as a bribe to not get the ticket. Apparently there was one on his route, and he was not wearing a helmet (he was only going a short distance and forgot). When we asked him how much the fine/bribe was, he said, “Non, j’ai fui!” Which means, “I fled!” At the point, the other student, Drew, and I started laughing hysterically. We imagined our professor in some harrowing chase. We explained to him that fleeing would be a terrible idea in the US, but he said that here, you just make a few turns on your moto, and can lose the officer on the backroads or in traffic. Additionally, the officer will usually be scared to follow someone, because they might lead him to their house then beat him. Drew and I continued laughing, and concluded that our professor is a bad-ass. When he explained the story more, however, I think we had misunderstood a bit, because he said that other people had told him there was a police officer waiting around to find someone to extort, so that’s how he knew to “flee”. So ultimately, I think it was more like people in the US flashing their headlights to warn other drivers of a speed trap, rather than a grand fleeing a cop. Although the first version was a little more awesome. Since then, however, he has been careful to always where his helmet.

We had lunch at the Ecole Normale, and a lady walked in selling coconuts for about 20 cents. I definitely bought one. They were enclosed, but once I indicated that I wanted one, she hacked away at it with a machete-looking thing, so that there appeared a small circle from which I could drink the liquid inside. Then once I had finished that, I gave it back to her, and she cut open the coconut completely, and scraped off the “meat” part of it, which is just a thin layer with a rubber-ish texture. But it tastes pretty good. Not at all what you would imagine it tasting like, if you’ve only ever had the sweet coconut we get in the states. But still pretty awesome nonetheless. I felt really cool standing there thinking, “Oh, no big deal, I’m just drinking/eating from a coconut.”

We also had a session on bicycle maintenance. I think this was really awesome. We learned how to clean the cables and chains on our bike, how to address problems that might be occurring, and how to fix a flat tire. I really like this ability to take care of my own issues. Whenever I’ve had a problem with my tires, I’ve always had to take it to a bicycle shop. Now I will be able to just do it all on my own! Provided, of course, that I have the proper supplies.

That evening, I attempted to ride bikes with my cousin, so he could show me some of the city. But unfortunately, the family bike was broken. I joked that he could just sit on the back part of the bike, where there is a place to put things over the back tire. We ended up just walking around. I asked my brother, just for information, if it was okay to buy liquor from the small shops we passed along the side of the road. He said no, because apparently those could be fakes. So he ended up taking me to a supermarket to by some rum, even though I tried to explain that I didn’t need some now, I just wanted to know for the future. But then I found some Sobabi, which is kind of like the local moonshine, made from palm oil. This one said that it was 45°. I have no idea what that means. 45% alcohol? 45 proof? The opposite, aka 90% alcohol? I guess I’ll find out at some point. At the moment I was buying it, however, I realized how dramatically inappropriate I was at the moment. Here I was, wearing a spaghetti-strap, since I had thought I would just be sitting around the house, and the dress code isn’t as important there. Moreover, I was a female, out at night (it had gotten dark while we were walking), with a man, buying alcohol. If anything were to earn me this feared “reputation” the Peace Corps keeps warning me about, that would be it. I really hadn’t intended for any of these things to happen, but they did thanks to broken bikes and miscommunications, and simply me not really thinking about what I was doing. Yes, I do kind of resent that my movements and actions are restricted in this country, because I am a woman. And if I get a bad reputation, I won’t be as respected in my work, and may not be able to make the impact that I would like to make. But I will try to adhere to these cultural expectations, at least to a large degree, though also its sometimes hard to think about everything that I’m doing, like, “will this be taken wrong?” At least we have these few months in Porto Novo, to make all these cultural faux pas, learn from them, and then move away to somewhere where no one knows about the inappropriate things that we’ve accidentally done. Or purposefully done. For example, my host cousin, Sasha, has promised to take me to a nightclub, so hopefully we will go there tonight. I had asked current volunteers what the dress code was for going out, and they responded that girls don’t get dressed up to go out to bars. Firstly, I don’t actually believe that. And secondly, I was talking more about nightclubs, rather than just simple bars. So I asked my host cousin what people wear to clubs, and he responded, “tout”, which means “everything”. He told me I could where the shortest of short skirts if I wanted. This I also don’t believe. Even in the US, a dress that is “too short” can earn you some unpleasant labels. My plan is to err on the conservative side, then if I find that there is a more permissible dress code, then I can wear something different the next time I go out.

Well that’s all for now. I will continue to keep you updated on my success (or lack thereof) in navigating Benin.

As I get adjusted…

Sunday, 1 July 2012

While I am sitting in my room listening to the water drip through my water filter, I have discovered that I find that very annoying, yet I find listening to the water drip off the roof from the rain is soothing. I don’t know why I feel that way, but there it is.

I had a long talk with Sasha, who is my (male) cousin. I made him explain to me who everyone was, or at least try to. I have discovered that pretty much everything in my previous post was wrong. There are some people that I thought were identified as my cousins, but really are neighbors. I’m not sure whose fault that is, because in French the two words are very similar (cousin/voisin). So it’s possible that I just misheard on some of them. On the other hand, Beninese people tend to call people their “cousins”, or “uncles”, or “aunts” who really aren’t. For example, I am 80% sure that Maman introduced someone as her sister the other day, who is in fact our neighbor. Or I am just getting confused. But regardless, for someone like me, who really values precision, this is going to be hard.

Additionally, Maman mentioned having 18 brother and sisters (did I hear her right?), and I think she also mentioned something about me meeting them sometime in the future. So I will get to meet a lot of them, plus of course their plethora of children. So that should be a fun time, trying to remember everyone! Yikes!

A lot of the neighbors in this area seem to be close, or at least close with my family. Because the person I thought was perhaps an uncle the other day, turns out to be just a neighbor, although Maman was perfectly okay with letting him take me on a motorcycle ride to an internet café.

So this brings up another topic, and that is that I feel like I haven’t actually been in Benin, per se. Like I arrived at the airport, was thrown on a bus, transported to inside a monastery. Then driven from the monastery, and into the Peace Corps office compound (and back and forth a few times). Then I got in a van to drive to Porto Novo, went into some environmental compound, and from their left with Maman to go to our house. Each time I’ve left (only twice so far), I’ve been transported on a moto directly to my destination. It feels kind of bizarre. In thinking about it, maybe that is actually normal for many Americans who have to drive everywhere. I, however, am so used to walking, especially when I was at school. Now I feel like I am in this prisoner-esque state where I have to be escorted in a van or on a moto everywhere, or else remain inside locked walls. I know I’ve been here less than a week, so hopefully I will be able to get out and explore soon.

Also it’s driving me crazy that I can’t find a map of Porto-Novo. When I was in Senegal, I was given a beautiful map, but perhaps that was because Dakar is a better-known destination for Westerners. But I am very visual when it comes to location, and I just want to be able to figure out where the heck I am, and where everything else is in relation to me. Maybe I’ll pdf the google-map of Porto-Novo, if that is even an option, to study it. Also, what else is even out there for me to see in Porto-Novo???? I really need to get out.

Another perplexing thing for me is that I have a foot-locker in which to keep my valuables, as well as the ability to lock my room. The lazy part of me finds this annoying (*gasp*, actually having to put things away every time I use them). I also don’t want to have to lock my room every time I go out to the family room. Although I was explaining this to Sasha, and he pointed out that I’ve already seen tons of people go in and out of the house. Obviously, I trust my family, but what is to stop a random neighbor from taking something? Especially since it would be hard to trace the blame to anyone, seeing as it could a bunch of people. Sigh, I know this is true. This would be true in any country, city, etc, when there are a lot of people coming in and out of my house. I guess I will, at the very least, have to lock up any valuables I am not currently using in my locker, and Maman insists that I lock my room every time I leave the house.

Communication is still an issue. My family jokes in the local language all the time, so they will just start laughing and I will have no idea why, I just kind of smile awkwardly. And my French is so-so. I’ve also discovered that a lot of the time, my family expects a response, I can’t just smile and say “Oui,” when I don’t understand them. A lot of times when I don’t understand or can’t hear someone in the US, I just smile and nod, and that’s fine, but it’s not doing me any good here. I think now I just look dumb or something, oh well.

Monday, 2 July 2012

Okay, so perhaps I should remember to be careful what you wish for. After writing yesterday about how I was upset that I hadn’t really had a chance to leave the house, today, during the break, I maybe wished I could just go back to being there. So French class was actually scheduled at my house, but we had to get lunch on our own. So we asked our professor where we should go to eat, and his response was just, “Oh, there are places around,” before hopping on his motorcycle and heading off. So I asked my family, and their response was, “Well, there are no good places here, so you have to take a zemi.” And I’m not sure if its just a miscommunication thing, or an African thing (I experienced similar frustrations in Senegal), but this information is not exactly helpful. I don’t understand why it is so hard to say, “Oh, why don’t you take a zemi to Point X, and go to this place called, ‘XYZ’”? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHAT “YOU HAVE TO TAKE A ZEMI” MEANS? To WHERE? Someone please tell me.

So sent on our way, with this absolutely unhelpful information, my classmate and I (there are only two of us) simply decided to walk along the main road and look for food. The problem is that it isn’t necessarily a good idea to buy veggies that don’t have skins, etc off street vendors, because they can be really dirty or have been washed in dirty water. Although I will soon learn how to properly clean veggies and fruits if I do want to eat them fresh. (Sidenote, I learned recently that apparently the skins of Mangos have something similar to what is in poison ivy in them. So therefore, if you are very sensitive to poison ivy, it is recommended not to eat them like Beninese people to, which is basically take a hug bite out of one side, but not swallow it, flip it around and eat the yummy inside, then suck the rest of it out through the hole you just made. I haven’t seen this done yet, but I have seen it done with oranges. It looks kind of bizarre, but I guess it works. They probably thought I was bizarre when I peeled my orange, and especially when I was so proud of myself for getting it off in one piece).

ANYWAY, we ended up just buying two avocados, then two baguettes, and heading back to my house to make a sandwich. Maybe next time I will start off with a better plan, like asking my family, can you take me to buy xyz, or to a restaurant, etc.

Then at the end of the day, my professor took us to a cybercafé to practice using our French to talk to the proprietor of the shop, then of course to use the internet. He just leaves us there, and is like, “You can get back to your house, right? Just walk or take a zemi.” No helpful information like, “It could cost ___” or “tell the zemi driver to take you to this landmark.” Good thing I’ve had plenty of practice navigating foreign places, so I can figure it out.

Well that’s all for now. Wish me luck!

Days of Confusion

Thursday, 28 - Saturday, 30 June 2012

So later on Thursday I had an interview with my directors of the CED (Community Economic Development) to start talking about my placement. Although we didn’t really talk about that, but about random things like my home, or what I know about Benin. Then I left, feeling like my interview had missed the point, but oh well. We will have another one in a few weeks that should clarify things more.

I officially decided to go with French. I really want to learn it. Also I’m glad I did, because I have tons of questions about the way to say certain things to my family, etc. One being that I wanted to ask where I can get actual coffee grinds. Here, Nescafe, which is instant coffee, is very prevalent. But I want real coffee. I kept repeating this, “vrai café” but to no avail. My professor informed me that it is called “café granulé”, which I guess literally translates to granulated coffee. So hopefully my family will be able to find it for me in the supermarket. And hopefully, then won’t bring me Folgers, or I might cry. But my attempts to describe what I wanted last night went something like: “You know, coffee, that’s been grown on a farm. And you take the bean and cut it up into little pieces, put it in water and then after a little bit you separate the beans from the water.” My host brother just looks at me and says, “Why do you want such complicated coffee??” Also, he didn’t understand my use of “instant” coffee. So my hope is that I will eventually be able to make myself very clear in French, not just semi-clear in French and even less clear in a local language.

It’s interesting to think that I only went for my first ride on a motorcycle less than a month ago, but now it looks like I will be riding them all the time. This is the most prevalent way to travel around Benin. In most countries, the Peace Corps (PC) strictly forbids any volunteer ever from riding a motorcycle. If you are caught, the will “separate” you. Which I guess basically means fire you. Or dishonorably discharge you, whatever you want to call it. They take safety very seriously, because it’s important for the volunteers as well as the PC image. In the case of Benin, we can ride motos, but if we don’t wear a helmet, then we can be automatically separated. (On a side note, not sleeping under a mosquito net can also merit separation. As can visiting restricted countries, such as Niger and Nigeria.)

When we were at the PC headquarters, we had a training session for the “zemis” which are the moto-taxis. They are strictly regulated in Benin (another reason why the PC is probably more apt to let volunteers ride them), and easily identifiable. But we had to practice calling them, telling them where we are going, and negotiating the price. Then the zemi drivers that were there took us around in groups for a quick ride.

So in every movie ever, girls always ride a motorcycle by putting their arms around the guy in front of them. I thought this was the only possible way to ride a moto. But here, touching the driver is kind of taboo. So if you are nervous, or feel off-balance or whatever, you can hold on to the metal bar behind the seat or something like that. But most people seem to ride around perfectly relaxed, just going with this flow. We even saw a yovo (that is the most common word for “white person” in Benin) the first night, who was riding on the back of the moto, arms folded, just looking around. Some women might but their kids right in front of them, and a lot of people just put their hands on their knees. I tried this, but then I banged my helmet against the driver’s helmet when he changed gears. Oooops… I felt really bad, and then just clung on to the back the rest of the time. Driving is very…let’s say unconventional, but one person here commented that it seems like Beninese drivers are forced to be much, much more aware of their surroundings at all times. That means no texting and driving!!! lol.

My host mom also owns a moto, and she took me to my language class on Saturday. Then my professor brought me home, so he could check that my water filter was put together properly. On the way, he was running out of gas, so he just pulled over to a shop, where some kid brought over a glass bottle filled with gasoline, and dumped it in. Kind of random, but I guess that works.

Okay, and I know that I said I should stop comparing Benin and Senegal (and Cameroon), but I just wanted to point out some differences. I think Benin and Cameroon are more similar in some ways (which I guess makes sense based on their geographical vicinity). For example, I remember seeing tons and tons of motos in Cameroon, but not so many in Senegal. Also, both Benin and Cameroon have a very, VERY strict policy on returning glass bottles when you are finished. Bottles are used over and over again, so if you don’t return the bottle you are actually charged more. I think this is really awesome, as it cuts down on trash, which is a problem, especially in the cities. And of course, in general, it makes a more sustainable world. It saddens me that Americans are lazy and can’t deal with returning bottles to the store or don’t want to deal with glass in general / our government doesn’t insist upon this happening. I am happy with places like my county where recycling is easily available for every inhabitant. But then places like Stillwater, where recycling takes a lot more effort (and therefore many people don’t do it), are frustrating. Senegal, too, does not really have a great reusing/recycling program, which I think would be extremely helpful. Especially when I walked by piles of burning garbage many days on my way home from school. Although I’m pretty sure the garbage-burning is a problem here in Benin too.

So anyways, back to my adventures here: Friday was chaotic, and we arrived in Porto-Novo two hours late (African Time, ftw!). But when I finally arrived. I met my host mom, we listened to a few words from the PC directors, etc, got my bags and then headed to my new home.

When I got a picture of my family, it was just of my host mom, and two boys (looking like young and older teens). So I thought it might be a small family, like I had in Senegal. But when I arrived at the house, there was actually a lot of people. So far, I know that I have a brother and sister my age-ish, and a younger brother, an aunt (my mom’s sister), then her young daughter, which would be my cousin. I think I have another older female cousin. Plus I went back to the family room after dinner, when my family was watching some soaps dubbed in French, and there were other people sitting there to whom I had not yet been introduced. Then today, I met another man, who seems like me may be some sort of uncle? I’m not quite sure. Plus there were other girls that came by, and I’m not sure if they were just friends or cousins, or really how fluid those definitions are. So…yeah. Once I figure out who everyone is, I may just have a lot of friends/family here. Although this is definitely going to be hard, since I absolutely hate asking people what there name is, especially if I know I’ve already been introduced. Usually my strategy (such as when I was working at Outback or just now learning the names of the PC volunteers), is to wait around for someone to have forgotten MY name, and ask me, then respond with theirs. Or to listen for someone else to say their name. Although this might be harder when everyone is speaking French, plus it all fails when you need to get someone’s attention or ask them a question; it’s been two weeks, and you still don’t know there name. :( Ahh, wish me luck!

ALSO… there are two dogs that I guess would be considered family dogs, because they stay in the front porch area at all times, plus one even has a collar. They don’t go inside, however, and they seem like they definitely aren’t used to being petted a lot. And that’s all I want to do, but I’m not sure if it’s the best idea. The one (Malicky) is SO adorable, because it is only one month old or so. I just want to pick it up and cuddle, but again, probably not the best idea. And I think the family thought I was weird for even petting them a bunch. Oh well.

One challenge I’ve had so far is figuring out the water situation. I definitely have electricity (although that can change due to frequent black-outs that occur); however, I’m just not sure what is going on with the water. The bathroom is just this huge cube-shaped room, in which there is a toilet, bidet, sink, and a shower-stick with no curtains or anything. The toilet didn’t flush last night, so I just took a bowl of water out of one of the buckets and dumped it down the toilet to make it flush. But then this morning, I went in to take a shower, and the faucet below the shower area was running water into the buckets! And I was able to flush the toilet. Then I went to take a shower, but I was worried because the buckets were almost full, and I didn’t want to waste a ton of water (it was coming out really fast). So I am in this bathroom, trying to shower really quickly, so the buckets won’t be full before I was done, but then I tried to turn the shower on, and it squirted a bit, then stopped. So I fooled around with that for a while, panicking that the bucket was going to fill up too quickly, finally gave up on the shower, and just started using the buckets. (Although, I must say, I almost prefer bucket showers since you don’t have stand under the cold, running, water, you just throw it on the necessary parts of your body). But alas, the bucket was full and overflowing, so I try to turn the faucet off, but I keep turning and turning it, but the water would not stop. And I can’t go get anyone to help, since obviously I am taking a shower and not decent. So finally I figure out to push the faucet down, then turn, and the water stops. So I finish bathing, then try to turn it back on to rinse, but of course that doesn’t work either. So I used the water from the buckets to rinse off, then throw on my clothes, and run to my room, hoping no one notices the vast amounts of mistakes that I clearly made.

I talked to my French professor today, and he pointed out some things that I could maybe explain what happened, and encourage me to ask my host family to show me how to use the shower. Which I probably should do ASAP, rather than waiting 2 months to be like, “Btw, how does the shower actually work?” But knowing me, that is an entirely likely situation. Or me taking bucket showers when a real shower is perfectly available is probably more likely. We’ll see.

So yeah, a bunch of confusion on my part. Hopefully I will figure everything out in time. Also, there is a closet in my room, but apparently the keys have been broken on it, and no one has ever bothered to fix it. My host mom was like, “Why can’t you just fold your clothes and put them in your trunk?” And in my head, I’m thinking, “Because you see that pile of clothes on the floor that I just pulled out from my suitcase? Yeah, that’s probably the cleanest it will ever get,” but I just responded, “Oh, I’m just really disorganized.” So hopefully I will have a closet to shove clothes in soon. I think shelves are still a thing, but lets get real. I don’t really hang my clothes up at home. A while after laundry, they are just helter-skelter in my closet, but at least in there, they are hidden from people that walk by.

I think that’s all for now. I hope you enjoyed my somewhat humorous struggles through Benin.

Sunday, 1 July 2012

So just a quick update as I post:

First of all, I figured out the water situation. Apparently there is a big switch in the back of the house that my family turns on only occasionally, when they feel like filling up the buckets. So looks like its bucket showers for me! And always a fun time flushing the toilet; pouring a big bowl of water, hoping it forces everything down.

Also, my family brought me back a big container of “café soluble” which is basically the same thing as NesCafe, but I guess just a different brand. They were like: this is it, right? Then when I tried to further explain the difference, they said that it is actually impossible to get café granulé here. One must venture to Cotonou, and it is not entirely guaranteed to find it there. I refuse to accept this. I will venture through the supermarkets of Porto-Novo. Or I will just have my family send me some from the states. Kind of ironic that we get a lot of our coffee from Africa, yet I have to have it sent to me from the States. But of course, that is capitalism at its (un)finest. Or well… I guess I could go into a whole rant about capitalism and hypocrisy, and Multi-National Corporations, the WTO, World Bank, etc, etc. But I’ll leave that to your imagination.

In other, better news, I have finally caught up on sleep, which is good. I took a nap yesterday, and when I came out, my family offered me a glass of wine. Then the main females of the family just sat around drinking and laughing. I think I will fit in well here! Unfortunately, most of their discussions are in whatever local language they speak, so I pretty much miss all of the jokes. But hopefully I will be able to participate more fully as time goes by.

The First Few Days

So this is just an overview of my travels and the first few days in Benin. There isn’t too much exciting things going on, just a lot of traveling, waiting, paperwork, and more paperwork. But I guess you can just read about my tedious adventure getting here to Benin!!!!

Monday, 25 June 2012

So I’ve officially started my Peace Corps adventure. There isn’t really much to report except long lines. We had an intro session yesterday after all the paperwork was complete, but it was just a lot of stuff we already (should) know.

Today, the check-in at the airport took TWO HOURS to get everyone through. (Although, we did get the express lane at security, so that was helpful) I mean there are 60+ of us, but it shouldn’t take that long. I spent the entire time telling people that tried to get in line behind us to not go here, go around to the other side and check in with the computer, or talk to the lady in red. Because we were such a large group, the airline was letting people go around us to the other lines, while a specific group of workers dealt with us. One thing that was significant, at least for me, was that at one point, when our line was actually dwindling, there was a Muslim family behind us (the woman was wearing a hijab), and I explained to the husband that he actually needed to talk to this one employee that had been helping people the whole time, and she would point them to a shorter line. So he went to check with her, while his wife and kids stayed behind. The wife said that they were cutting it close time-wise, but then she said, “It is what it is.” This kind of made me stop for a second, because that is a phrase that my mom and one of my friends use ALL THE TIME. For me it was a quick reminder that people can be from all different backgrounds, and you still find little connections with them, even in their attitudes on life. I just smiled at her, we exchanged a few words, and then her family was off to the shorter line.

So now I’m just sitting in the airport. We have A LOT of that to look forward to. A whole additional 24 hours, yay. A good portion of that time will just be sitting in airports.

Also, I can’t remember anyone’s name to save my life. I try repeating it out loud, saying it 500 times (ok slight exaggeration) in my head, etc. Luckily, however, most people seem to have that problem, so I just have to listen in when someone else asks another person, “So what’s your name again?”

The next day…

Okay, so we spent almost 2 hours just sitting on the plane on the tarmac, waiting to take off. This was my first (and hopefully only) experience with NY airports, and it was pretty miserable and stupid. I didn’t sleep much on the plane, oh well. Then we had hours of waiting at the airport in Brussels, then the flight to Benin. (Side note, I’ve concluded that the service received on European airlines is FAR, FAR superior to those received on the various American airlines. Like not charging you for e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. and also making sure you get the things they’re giving out, even if you may be sleeping. I’m just saying.

ALSO, we finally made it to Benin. The first thing I noticed was the existence of stoplights in the road and then that DRIVERS ACTUALLY FOLLOWED THEM. From my previous African experiences, this is an absolutely remarkable breakthrough. Following traffic lights/signals/signs: what a novel idea!

Although I will say that I really need to stop comparing every to Senegal. It’s so easy, because I lived there fore 3 months, and certainly Benin has similarities. So sometimes, when others may be surprised (i.e., :look, there are no lanes for the road; everyone just drives like they want!), then my response—mentally—is “duh!” However, on the other hand there are many things that are different, and I need to start comparing.

Another random thing that I notices was that at some of the shops they set up on the main road had flatscreen tvs set up, like little mini bestbuys or something. It cracked me up.

The day after that…

Just a lot of training today. It was more introductory stuff, just an outline of what we will  be doing, what to expect in the country, blah, blah, blah. Although one of the sessions was specifically for women volunteers, and I found that to be helpful, yet at the same time disconcerting.

After all the sessions, a group of us decided to play some cards, and also get some beers. It is interesting that we are staying in a religious compound / monastery, yet can be served alcohol. Maybe that’s just me still being naïve and what not. For some reason, I was the last one of the volunteers to stay playing cards. I just looked up, and everyone was gone, except I think for some of the compound staff. On the plus side, I learned what all the suites were called in French, so I view this as a success. Although I stayed up way to late and will probably regret this when 6 AM roles around tomorrow, and I have to wake up. Oops.

Thursday, 28 June 2012

So today was some training, but mostly interviews, etc to start determining our eventual placements, etc. I also was informed that I did well enough on the French language interview to merit proceeding directly to a local language. It’s not required to do that, but its and option. And while it may be completely out of character for me to think of refusing the chance to learn yet ANOTHER language, I’m thinking about it. The main issue is that Benin is, in fact, filled with so many languages, that learning a language intensely might eventually prove useless, when you actually arrive in village or town that speaks an entirely different language, or a kind of sub-language of the one you learned.

Furthermore, I always feel like I can communicate in French, but do so haphazardly. I think my grammar is horrendous, and sometimes my grammar might be limited. I want to be able to communicate precisely, especially when dealing with the business-related-things for my assignment. Plus I think my long-term goals are possibly leaning towards translating, or diplomatic things, and unfortunately the local languages of Benin are very, very limited in their applicability worldwide. That may be a little selfish, but I feel like I can justify it by saying that I also want to get really good at French so I can use it to better relations between the US and French-speaking (African) countries. Maybe I doubt my French too much (I usually underestimate my abilities in a lot of things, or maybe that’s just me being irrationally humble), but I also don’t want to spend a few months learning something that might potentially be no use to me. The only real advantage would be that I would be able to understand (again, provided I learn the right language) when to Beninese people are talking to each other in my presence.

So that’s pretty much all that’s going on for now. Hopefully I will have more exciting updates soon!

Peace Corps Update

So due to the awesome efficiency of our government (not), the Peace Corps recently conducted an overview of the Small Enterprise Development program in Togo, and concluded that there weren't any good projects. For some reason this wasn't done BEFORE they started assigning people there. The long and short of it is, however, that I am no longer going to Togo. Instead I am going to Benin, as an Economic Development Advisor. So basically, I am going to be one country over, doing (almost) the same type of thing. So after a bit of freaking out, I simply went a slightly un-dramatic change. And I will be leaving a month later which allows me a little more time to prepare, visit with family/friends I am leaving behind, etc. So all in all I think this has worked out for the better. I am really excited about this new assignment. For now, I am just trying to get everything in order before I leave and finishing up with school.

It just occurred to me that it was this time of year, almost exactly three years ago (Okay, three years and two weeks) that I was in Africa for the very first time. I went there as an Alternative Spring Break, bringing computers to some schools in Cameroon. What an amazing journey since then. How blessed I feel to have been able to go back and study in Senegal, and now I have this chance to go live in Benin for over two years!

Peace Corps Assignment

So I just found out about a week ago that I will be going to Togo, in West Africa for my two years (and three months) in the Peace Corps. I am very excited! I will be leaving next June, less than a month after I am done with school here in Oklahoma. So that will be a lot of work in the month of May, packing up from Oklahoma, driving all the way home, unpacking, then repacking to go to the Peace Corps. HOLY SHIT I'M SO EXCITED! I will be in West Africa, speaking French to my heart's content, and being warm all the time!

My work assignment is to be a Small Business/NGO Advisor. Which is ironic, since I resisted my parent's efforts for so long to have anything to do with business ever. But I guess that's what I'm meant to do anyway. I sure know enough about small businesses, having vicariously run one for the past almost 20 years. Plus, of course, the courses I am taking in my masters program are designed to get me to work in the international (business/NGO) community. So it works.

Okay, I probably won't have any more updates until May/June or so. Now back to the life of a graduate student...

So I’m back in the states, safe and sound, although I’m very cold and have been kind of sick.

But anyway, a few stories from my last days in Senegal. Thursday we had our Wolof exam, and then we were done. Although some of us had papers left to write, but I had made sure to finish all of mine by Thursday. Allison was having some problems with her computer, her power cord wasn’t working so she had to go home to borrow her neighbor’s. So Ryan and I went to Caesars for the last time. When we were leaving, Ryan asked me if I thought this one talibé would want a t-shirt (she was giving away some that she didn’t really need anymore). I looked at the talibé and said, “Well, he’s not wearing one.” So she gave him a t-shirt.

Friday I went into WARC. I spent some time on the internet, and then we had a final goodbye dinner. Waly, Awa, and Adji, who all work at WARC, went with us to dinner, we went to this place called “Balajo” which was only a 15 minute walk from WARC. It was actually very nice. Kind of a yuppie-looking place, it had stuff on the menu that no one knew what it was. But it was really delicious, and it was nice to spend some time with Awa, Adji, and Waly.

Afterwards, Ryan, Allison, and I went downtown to go to this bar, which we had read had a panoramic view of the city. We went to walk in, and there were only three guys sitting there, watching TV, and it was all kind of dark. Apparently the whole hotel was actually closed (although it was weird that doors were still open so you could walk in). So we walked a block down to another bar, and just chilled there. Of course, we got harrased by guys when we were going in and out, people trying to sell stuff and also possibly grab things out of our bag. Ryan lost her insulin pump, and we think it was one of those guys. Although, we were trying to imagine their anger when thy realized the little electronic device they grabbed was really worth nothing, unless they knew someone who had diabetes, lol. But it really sucked for Ryan.

Saturday night we went to the French institute, which was of course delicious. There was also a movie showing there which was about travel in Dakar. It was a musical about traveling on the sept-places from Dakar from St. Louis. It was really funny for us, because we just kept thinking during the whole movie, “Yep, that’s so Senegal!” and laughing at transportation we recognized. When I got back to my house, Aziz and I went for a walk to the park and then just chatted for a while.

My host mom with the Cantonese Rice she made

Sunday, Ryan, Allison, and Bobby came over to my house. We shared all of our pictures, which took a really long time. Then we ate a delicious meal of Cantonese rice prepared by my host mom. We also took some time to show off all of our clothes that we had tailored, plus some jewelry, etc that we had bought. That was really fun. One of Aziz’s friends was there for a bit as well. He was one that had helped me with some computer problems that I had been having. There was also one kid that came over. His name is Mohammad, and he is friends with Aziz. He is about 13. He had asked me to teach him some English, or at least help him with things he was having problems with in class. But mostly, our review sessions, when they happened, turned into him asking questions in French. He came over, and talked to Allison, Ryan, and I in French for a while. At one point Ryan had to give herself insulin, and being that her pump was stolen, she had to use a needle. So she just stuck it in. Mohammad saw this, and his eyes got really big, but he didn’t say anything, and we didn’t explain at all. But the look on his face was priceless. Other than that, he was just his usual talkative self, and was really funny.

Some of our dresses, etc:

I have a bag made from Ryan's material

So much green!

Aziz is in his dressy outfit.

Ryan’s flight was the next morning at 6 in the morning, so she was just planning on staying up until she had to get a taxi. Everyone left in the evening, and then I just finished packing.

"Garage" where Babacar took his car.

The next day I went over to Babacar’s house. His phone was working, so I had his brother let him in, and I think he really disproved. But Babacar had to go to the garage to get his car fixed so he can sell it. So I decided to go with him so we could spend the day together. The “garage” was actually this piece of land, where there were sections where different people worked on cars. Each section was a mix between a junkyard and a car repair shop. For lunch, we went across the street to Cap Asie, this restaurant Allison really wanted to try, but we never got around to it. It was pretty good, and had a wonderful selection of nems. We went back to the garage. On the way, Babacar bought a BMW logo that goes on the front of the car, because someone had stolen his. I asked him if I should get a Mercedes one, and then put it on my car an tell everyone I have a Mercedes. I don’t think he thought it was that funny. But anyway, his car is all fixed up, and we drove around a bit then hung out for a bit more.

Babacar looking really excited in the BMW he is about to sell.

Chillaxing in some random car seat.

Then it was time for me to go home so I could eat, and then go to the airport. My family came with me to the airport to say goodbye. I forgot that you have to have a passport to get into the check-in area, unlike the states, where you just can’t go past security, but that is after you check your bags. So I realized once again that my white skin is a sort of passport in and of itself, when I walked right threw the gates, no problem, but security stopped my host mom and Aziz and asked them if they had a flight. So I said goodbye to Aziz and my host mom there. I will really miss Aziz so much.

So in the states, when they tell you to be there 3 hours before your flight, that means you better be there and check in at least 3 hours beforehand or they will get angry. In Senegal, 3 hours means they start thinking about checking in people 3 hours before the flight time. I got there a little earlier than I needed to, but I didn’t know how long the taxi ride would be. So by the 3 hour mark, everything was set up to check people in, as well go through the extra security measures required by the US. But then the staff had a meeting for 20 minutes, and then we had to wait for another 15 for an official police officer to show up to supervise the inspection of luggage. I think hypothetically, everyone is supposed to have their luggage gone through, but they started running out of time. So I went through that security, and then the normal security, which is twice as much as a I went through to get to Morocco. Oh having to travel back to the US.

So I finally made it on the plane, and it was pretty uneventful. We hit some turbulence, and at one point it was scary, because we hit turbulence, and the map showed us going over “Bermuda” and I thought, “Oh no!” but everything was okay, we just took an hour longer in our flight.

So I made it back to the United States and then immediately got really sick. It was quite unpleasant. I spent Christmas Eve in the hospital, because I thought I was getting better, but then towards the evening I felt so sick, and nothing else was open. They gave me a lot of tests, and then gave me some morphine, which just put me to sleep. Then I went and got some prescriptions from the only CVS open 24 hours, and then went home. I spent Christmas day really hopped up on pain meds, which was kind of fun. But the antibiotics started working really well, so I felt tons better. Then my sinuses started acting up too. But I think I’ve been sick enough to last me a while.

It’s been funny being back in the states though, the moments I haven’t been under the influence of narcotics. I went to a restaurant and the server came right up, introduced himself, took our drink orders, then later our food orders. He came back multiple times to check on us; it was incredible. I also went to Target, and there was just an entire drawer filled with change. I said to my family, “Wow, look at all that change!” Although a disadvantage of not being in Senegal is the loss of an ability to talk about people who are right there. A lot of times we would all just talk in English about say, a taxi driver, or anyone who was doing something we wanted to point out. But when I said this in Target, the cashier, who probably spoke English perfectly, or at least close, kind of looked weirded out by me, and I lamely tried to explain why I was so excited by change, but it was just awkward. Oh well.

Anyway, I’m enjoying being back in the luxaries of the US, but I miss the nice weather of Senegal. But I DO NOT miss cold showers...mmm I love hot showers. I guess the hardest part of traveling, though, is leaving little bits of my heart all over the world. I do miss the people I met there, both Senegalese and American, and it’s weird suddenly not being around them after a semester.